#so !! warning !! if that makes you uncomfortable- just letting ya know so you can avoid!!

[anoddopal]

Gonna go ahead and open up one art trade slot!!

[kaciebello]

Dangerous mail

Masterlist Badger express ★ Mattheo Riddle x Hufflepuff!reader (fem) Summary: Mattheo needs to use the Badger post to send threats. There is only one person who can help him.  Warnings: no use of y/n Authors note: Haiya! This is a sequel series to the whole delivery one. This one is gonna focus on the boys separately! hope you enjoy it! English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes beforehand. Proofread by me and me only (Ｔ▽Ｔ) word count: 1.2k Song: Babydoll - Dominic Fike

 Mattheo vowed to himself never to use the delivery service. That's why his steps were fast and his looks were sharp. When the vow is only in his mind, it is as easy to break as a twig. Trying to find the Hufflepuff Girl turns out to be a rather difficult task. The note was bent, almost burning a hole in his back pocket.

He has already scared a bunch of first-years trying to find the girl, he has searched from the dungeons to the towers and she was nowhere to be found. If he was to guess, the girl was just a few steps faster than him. So when he arrived at the greenhouse where herbology classes are held, he swore angles were upon him when a beam of light shined at the girl.

She was, for some reason, sitting on the top of the highest cabinet. The one where you need to climb to get on top. Now, Matteo has learned not to question the Hufflepuff way of sitting in the most uncomfortable places in the most uncomfortable positions. He once saw her hang upside down from the broom, intentionally. 

He made his way to her, the girl seemed to be dozed and sunbathing in the beam. Her hair was let down but he could still make out the yellow bow in it. He knocked on the cabinets to get the girl's attention. She looked down at him with no other reaction.

“Oi,” He said looking up. She didn't answer him, just waved at him as she swayed her legs back and forth. Mattheo had to step aside otherwise he would have been kicked straight in the face.

“Can you come down?” He asks grabbing her leg, effectively stopping it from swinging. She tried to move it, but his grip was strong.

“And why would I do that?” She argued back, looking down at him she made sure to shield her eyes from the sun.

“Because I wanna talk to you.” He hissed back in truth slytherin fashion. She just looked at him and signaled for him to talk. He just sighed and accepted his fate and the fact that she was not gonna come down from her throne. He assumed that the minute she would have got down, another wild Hufflepuff would have taken her place in seconds.

“I need to use the Badger post.”He says avoiding her eyes. Looking around, making sure nobody hears them.  She raised her eyebrows at him. Not once has one of the boys asked to use her services. Yes, they have received notes and love letters, but not once have they sent something back. Truly playing to the heartbreaker personas. She had a shocked expression on her face for a second before it turned into a wild smile.

“Oh? And who owns the honors to receive a love note from you?”

“It's a treat.”

“Oh,” she pauses. “That makes sense.” She extended her arms to him. For a moment he thought she was asking him to help her down, but he quickly realized that she wanted the note. He reached into his back pocket, pulled it out, and handed it to the girl. She took it from him and immediately opened it.

“Hey!” He yelped and tried to take it away from her, however, she moved it out of his reach.  He murmured something about privacy, she just waved at him again.

“Please, that applies to love notes, not this. I wanna know who you want to kill. Again.” She said and finished reading. Impressed she gave Mattheo a thumbs up. He rolled his eyes at her.

“Well. will you deliver it?” He asks her with urgency. Some people walking by give him weird glances, so he gives them the death glare. She just lifted the note against the sun.

“Ya know I was talking to my friend the other day.” She says now looking at him. He gave her a weird look, not understanding where she was going with this.

“And one of them said my dad is hot. Is your dad hot Mattheo?”

“He's the dark lord.”

“Ahh, is that a no then?”He just shook his head, choosing not to answer the girl. For both of their sakes. 

“Will you please deliver it?” He asks her again. She extended her hand to him and made a motion that could only mean one thing. Mattheo reaches again into his back pocket. Pulling out 5 galleons and dropping them in her palm. The girl thum glazes over them and then places them in her skirt pocket. The note soon followed.

“Please doing business with you.” She says pulling her legs up and starting to sunbathe again. Mattheo huffed in disbelief. 

“I kinda need you to do it now.” He says, nervously stepping from side to side. She signed and looked at him again. She let her feet down and scooched to the edge of the cabinet. Mattheo was watching her. It took him a few seconds to understand she was training to get down.  Looking around trying to calculate how and where to jump. Her eyes landed on him.

“Catch me.” She says. He just signed and extended his hands to catch her. He placed his hands around her waist before she jumped. He helped her down slowly, setting her gently on the floor. She was a little bit too close. He could feel her breath on his face. He was so close he could count the eyelashes on her eyes. Her eyes were sparkling in a way he had never seen before. His eyes shift to her lips for a second before going back to her eyes. One of his arms left her waist, moving to her face and pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. He leaned in a bit.

“It's extra.” He stopped in his tracks. Pulling away to look at her straight in the face.

“What?”

“Express delivery, it's 2 galleons extra.” She says looking at him with a very serious face. He chuckles and takes a few stapes away from her. Nodding his head he, he reaches for his back poked and pulls out the 2 galleons.  Placing them in her hand. She doesn't move a muscle, looking at him wide-eyed. 

“You are impossible, you know that sunshine?” He asked her. Her nose scrunched before she shrugged her shoulders at him.

“I will get this delivered by tonight.” She says, now back to her happy persona. She waved at him and left. He watched her as she skipped down the hall. Her robe followed her every movement. He was so close and yet so far. Maybe next time she won't slip away from him. And maybe he won't be so against using the delivery service.

Tag list: @daisiesformylove , @klimovatereza-blog , @lafrone ,@enfppuff , @rafegfs , @frogtape , @lovelyygirl8 , @catiwinky, @anyam444 , @leeleecats , @ghostgardn , @reverse-soe , @ultramarinetovelvet , @iwishigotswallowed , @jazz-berry , @justatadbonkers , @partnerincrime0 , @schaebickel , @bunnyhopsstuff

[nahoney22]

Congratulations on the followers⭐️ I have a scenario I think you’ll absolutely smash! If possible can I have the prompt “I want to help you… if you’ll let me.” With Hunter and a F!reader.

Hunter is quite hard on reader but only because he’s protective but it comes across super badly and one night you had enough of his nagging and go to a bar for a drink but start getting a bit hassled by a drunk patron and hunter comes to help you out? BUT reader can fully handle herself bc bossbitch 😆 Would love it to be angsty, classic enemies to lovers and it may end with a little smooch?

Thank you if you do this and no worries if not ♥️

4000 Follower Prompt Celebration

Hunter X F!Reader

word count: 3.3k

prompt:

“I want to help you… if you’ll let me.”

authors note: thank you for the request! Love this idea. Enjoy and sorry for the wait 🤍

warnings: enemies to lovers, drunk patron who can’t take no for an answer, canon typical violence, angsty, mild injury to reader, reader gets insulted, female reader, hunter is a bit of an arse at first, first kiss which is a little steamy, protective hunter. I

The aftermath of the latest mission left a sour taste lingering in your mouth, the tension between you and Hunter palpable in the crowded bar. Despite the success of the mission, Hunter couldn't resist injecting his bitter critique into the - what should be - celebratory atmosphere.

As the squad was basking in victory, clinking cups and allowing Omega to indulge in a very sugary concoction that almost had her bouncing off the walls, Hunter's biting words tainted the mood.

His critique of your tactics cut deep, branding you as reckless and a threat to safety, all delivered in front of the entire squad.

Flushed with embarrassment and fueled by anger, you hastily abandoned the bar, seeking refuge in another dimly lit establishment down the strip. Unbeknownst to you, the others exchanged scornful glances, Echo remarking, "She gets it from you, you know?" A subtle nod to your adoption of Hunter's techniques, albeit with less finesse.

Swallowing his pride, Hunter trailed after you with a heavy sigh, the weight of his words hanging heavy on his shoulders as he tried to find a way to make it up to you.

Meanwhile in the new bar, a sketchy run down looking thing with flickering strobe lights, you find yourself situated between two patrons in a world of their own.

As you waited for the service droid to serve you, a small shift from you caught the attention of the man on the left. A rugged looking man with a rather stale odor to match.

“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” His inquiry, laced with unwanted charm, sent a shiver down your spine as you maintained a polite smile, avoiding direct eye contact.

“In this dump? Not quite sure. But, just here for one drink,” you replied, hoping to discourage further conversation.

The man chuckled, a smug grin etching lines on his worn face, followed by a troubling cough that was hacked into a dirty rag that makes you squirm. “That so?” He asks after his coughing fit. “Mind if I get ya one?"

"I'll get it myself. Thanks for the offer," you replied, freezing him in his tracks.

"Heh, you think you're too good for me?" he retorted, his gaze piercing.

Sighing, you turned to face him, attempting to maintain composure amidst his growing aggression. "I didn't say anything like that. I'm here to buy my own drink and leave."

But as his tone escalated and his proximity grew, you reached your breaking point. Despite your attempts to politely decline, he persisted, his invasive advances refusing to relent, leaving you feeling increasingly uncomfortable and trapped.

Until you snapped.

Hunter found himself darting his head into every bar and club, your current whereabouts unknown. Frustration gnawed at him as he went to check your location only to see you had switched it off, thwarting his attempts to track you down.

However, a subtle whiff in the air caught his attention, and his stomach churned. The same sensation he developed whenever the smell hit him. He finds himself gulping a little as he instantly recognised the faint scent of the floral soap that only you used.

It left a lingering trace, teasing him that he was on the right track. A part of him wanted to clear the scent away; he had smelled it so often in the Marauder that it always sent his mind into a spiral of confusion and found it rather distracting.

His thoughts on your scent dissipated as the sound of loud banging reverberated down a stairway to a rundown bar. Hunter froze, his senses sharpening as he listened intently. The familiar sound of your voice had him bolting down the steps, instincts kicking in as he rushed to your aid. Or so he thought he had to.

Upon entering, Hunter's heart quickened its pace as he was greeted with the sight of you, hands raised in a defensive stance, facing off against a man whose laughter echoed brashly in your face. The tension in the air was thick as you snapped, “Keep your dirty, mucus breath away from me!”

The man, undeterred by your sharp words, retorted with a smirk, “That ain’t very ladylike of you, sweet cheeks. Calm down and have a drink with me.”

Your nostrils flared in anger, steam seemingly emanating from you as you glared daggers at him. “I said no,” you snarled, your voice dripping with venom. “And call me ‘sweet cheeks’ one more time, I’ll kick you between the legs so hard it won’t be the cough you’re choking on!”

As the confrontation intensified, Hunter's eyes widened in surprise and concern as he watched from a few feet away, momentarily frozen by the scene unfolding before him.

Then, his protective side kicks in, taking a step forward, the need to intervene pulsing through his veins. He speaks your name which causes you to freeze and glance over your shoulder to meet his penetrating gaze. Great.

Meanwhile, the man, sensing the shift in dynamics, glanced over your shoulder too and directed a question at Hunter. “Oi, bandana, does she belong to you?”

Your eyes flashed with defiance as you interrupted before Hunter could respond, your voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “I don’t belong to nobody, let’s get that right,” you hissed, your gaze locked in a fierce glare with the patron.

“You best listen to her,” Hunter piped up, stepping in between you and the man with a protective stance. “But,” he continued, turning to look at you, “I think me and you should get going.”

You stared at the clone, a wave of anger and confusion washing over you. What game was he playing? First, he mocked you, and now he was trying to act like Prince Charming? So, you shook your head adamantly. “I’ve still not had my drink.”

“I said I’ll buy you one,” the patron quipped.

“Will you shut up?” Both you and Hunter snapped at the same time, sharing a surprised glance at the oddity of the moment, but quickly brushing it off. You nudged past him and leaned back on the bartop, determined to get the attention of the service droid.

Hunter's sigh was loud as he stood beside you, gesturing for you to follow him, but you persisted with a shake of your head. You came for a drink, and you would leave with one.

Just as you thought things couldn't get any worse, the patron approached you, reaching a hand towards you. But Hunter was already on the case, swatting the man's hand away with a swift motion. “Lay a finger on her and I’ll break all of yours. Leave.”

You stared at the back of Hunter’s head, your eyes wide in surprise at his tone and sudden threat. He was always a commanding presence, but never to this extent. It made you feel a strange mix of emotions, a tingling sensation spreading from your belly to the tips of your fingers.

The man glanced between you and Hunter, his expression a mixture of defiance and resignation, before taking a final swig of his drink. With a nod of his head, he seemed prepared to leave, but not without delivering a parting shot.

“Put her on a leash next time.”

Despite Hunter's heightened senses, he was not quick enough to respond as you pivoted on your heel and unleashed a hefty punch straight to the man’s nose. The force of the blow sent him sprawling to the ground, landing hard on his rear.

The man, stunned and ready to retaliate, found himself abruptly halted by a boot pressed firmly to his chest, courtesy of the tall Clone. With his hands raised in defense, he hesitated.

“Apologise to the lady,” Hunter demanded, his voice firm and unwavering.

“Forget it, Hunter,” you muttered, adrenaline still coursing through your veins as you shook out your hand. “I’m not going to ask someone or force someone to apologise to me.” There was a certain edge in your voice, a subtle reminder of Hunter's own failure to say sorry for his earlier words.

Unfortunately, the disruption had drawn the attention of the service droid (finally), and you and Hunter were promptly forced to leave.

As you were ushered out, you wasted no time in striding ahead, your steps heavy with frustration. The rhythmic tap of your boots echoed against the pavement, a stark contrast to the fading sounds of the bar behind you.

"Hey, wait up!" Hunter's voice called after you, but you were resolute in your determination not to stop. You didn't want him to see your tears, didn't want to show any vulnerability in front of him. Not after everything that had just happened. Not after that painful punch that felt like hitting a brick wall.

Ignoring his calls, you continued forward, your jaw clenched tightly to hold back the emotions threatening to spill over. But your pace was abruptly halted as Hunter caught up to you, using his body as a barrier as he stopped directly in front of you.

"Come on, we need to talk. I need to—Are you crying?" Hunter's voice softened, concern evident in his tone as he noticed the telltale signs of tears glistening in your eyes.

"No!" you snapped back, a reflexive denial, but the tremble in your voice betrayed your true emotions.

Hunter sighed softly, his shoulders slumping slightly as he realised the depth of your distress. "Let’s get back to the ship. We can talk there," he suggested gently, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

A part of you wanted to stay stubborn, to refuse his offer and continue on your own path to perhaps another bar. But the night was growing darker, and the pain in your hand from the earlier punch was becoming increasingly unbearable. With a resigned nod, you reluctantly allowed Hunter to guide you back to the port.

Once inside the ship, the air felt heavier with tension as you stood in the cramped space, watching intently as Hunter meticulously sifted through the clutter of supplies and equipment scattered around. With a focused determination, he located a medkit.

When you insisted that you didn't need him to attend to your injury, considering it wasn't that serious, Hunter's expression hardened, his voice taking on a stern edge. "Yeah? Want to explain why there’s now blood on the ship floor?" The sharpness in his tone made your face flush with embarrassment as you glanced down, noticing the small tear in your skin that had resulted from the brief scuffle.

"Oh," you muttered awkwardly, feeling hot under Hunter's scrutiny.

“Sit here.” Without missing a beat, Hunter gestured for you to sit on a nearby crate, his demeanor firm yet oddly reassuring. As he patted the surface in front of him, you couldn't help but wonder about his motives. Was it your earlier words about his lack of apology that lingered in his mind, prompting this gesture of care? Or was there another reason behind his actions? The uncertainty gnawed at you, but deep down, a part of you couldn't deny the comfort of his presence in that moment.

“I don’t need coddling,” you mumbled half-heartedly, attempting to maintain a facade of independence despite the conflicting emotions swirling within you. Nevertheless, your feet moved almost of their own accord, carrying you towards Hunter as you settled yourself onto the crate in front of him.

"Oh, I know, you handled yourself well," Hunter chuckled softly, his hands moving deftly as he pulled out pads to dab at your skin, preparing to disinfect the area. “I want to help you… if you’ll let me.”

You grumbled in response, your eyes trained on his hands as they worked. "Ha, next joke please."

Hunter raised a brow at you, his expression serious for a moment. "I mean it," he insisted, his tone earnest.

You couldn't help but scoff, the bitterness of his previous criticism still fresh in your mind. "Yet I’m reckless and a danger to others?" you retorted, your voice tinged with sarcasm and frustration.

A heavy sigh escaped Hunter's lips, and he paused in his actions, looking you directly in the eye, though you were doing your hardest not to meet his gaze. "I want to say sorry for what I said. I… I should have said it to you alone. And differently."

You could hear the slight awkwardness in his tone, but it did come across as honest. Yet, you were still annoyed. “Yeah well, you completely embarrassed and upset me.”

He blinked, gnawing on the inside of his cheek as your voice took on a gentle tone tinged with sadness. “I know, and I am sorry. Truly. But, I only said it because…” he trailed off for a moment, his eyes trained on the medkit again, as if searching for the answer within.

“Because?” You prompted him, giving his leg a small nudge with your foot.

“Because I care. I don’t want you taking risks like I do. Like what the others do.” Hunter's admission hung in the air, revealing a layer of concern and perhaps a touch of vulnerability.

There was a gravity to Hunter's words, a weight that seemed to hang in the air, stirring up a whirlwind of emotions within you. It was as if his sudden sincerity reached out and tugged at the strings of your heart, tempting you to lean into the warmth of his presence. But you resisted, holding back the urge to act on the tumultuous feelings that were suddenly swirling inside you.

“You certainly have an odd way with words in that case,” you found yourself saying, your voice slightly breathless as you struggled to make sense of the complex emotions churning within you. Hunter seemed to notice the subtle change in your demeanor, his senses catching the telltale signs of your heightened heartbeat.

“You’re not wrong,” he admitted quietly, his own voice apologetic. With gentle precision, he applied some bactaspray to your knuckles, his touch light yet reassuring. As he dabbed away the blood, you couldn't help but hiss in pain, the sting overlapping the odd flutter in your heart.

“My apologies,” Hunter murmured, his gaze meeting yours with sincerity.

Despite the slight discomfort, there was a flicker of amusement in your eyes as you watched him meticulously care for your hand. Never had you seen him so gentle and so indulged at the task at hand.

As you watched Hunter, the smirk gradually faded from your lips, replaced by a sense of awe as your eyes traced the finer details of his face. His strong jawline, the depth of his intoxicating eyes, and the tattoo that adorned his skin, its colors slightly faded but still complimenting his rugged appearance perfectly. His long locks, usually tucked back by his bandana, had fallen forward, framing his face in a way that emphasised his rugged charm.

You came to a sudden realisation of just how handsome he was. Of course, you had always known it on some level, but now it struck you with a new intensity that made your heart quicken and your cheeks flush with a sudden shyness.

“So, do you forgive me?” Hunter's voice broke through your reverie, pulling you back to reality and you found yourself momentarily lost in the depths of his gaze.

“Sorry, what?” you blinked, feeling a flush of embarrassment heat your cheeks as you snapped out of your reverie, realizing you had been lost in awe-struck admiration of Hunter.

He chuckled softly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he raised a brow at your dazed stare. “No, it’s me who is the one saying ‘sorry’ this time.” With a gentle touch, he guided your attention back to your injured hand, his movements careful and deliberate as he applied a dressing before neatly packing the medkit away. “But I’ll ask again, do you forgive me?”

“Oh,” you mumbled, feeling a mixture of confusion, shyness, and bashfulness under his attentive gaze. “I suppose… just please don’t do it again.”

“You have my word,” he nodded, his smile warm and reassuring. When his gaze met yours, the swirling storm of your emotions came back, and your heart raced even faster than before when he extended his hand towards you.

You tried to play it off as a simple gesture to help you off the crate, but as you placed your good hand into his, there was a gentle squeeze in his touch before he effortlessly pulled you forward, almost causing you to stumble into his chest.

“Oh!- oh,” you stammered, quickly steadying yourself but growing increasingly aware of the proximity between you and the Sergeant.

His eyes remained locked on yours, his head tilting slightly to the side as he studied your reaction. “Everything alright?” he asked, his voice soft, the warmth of his hand still lingering on yours.

“Yes, I’m fine,” you nodded firmly, though the erratic thumping of your heart betrayed your composure, and you couldn't shake the feeling that Hunter could sense it, a twinkle of amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Tell me,” his voice was hushed, his warm breath brushing against your features as he leaned in closer, “why is your heart beating so fast?”

You gulped, feeling his proximity overwhelming your senses as you searched his eyes for an answer, but all you found was a reflection of your own turmoil. The truth was written in the depths of your gaze, but your words failed you, and you found yourself stuttering over your thoughts, unable to form a coherent sentence. It was as if the weight of your unspoken feelings hung heavy in the air between you.

“If I’m not mistaken,” Hunter spoke aloud, his other hand moving to gently push a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “I can’t help but wonder if you…” He trailed off, uncertainty lacing his words, but he couldn't ignore the palpable tension that crackled between you any longer, “if you have feelings for me.”

“Do you truly care about me?” you asked, your voice a delicate whisper tinged with a shyness as you found yourself yearning to inch just a tad closer to Hunter's body. Every nerve in your body seemed to hum with anticipation, the air thick with unspoken desires.

Sensing your feelings, Hunter gently pushed you back with his body, his touch sending a shiver down your spine as your legs hit the crate behind you. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “You don’t understand how much I care,” his voice rumbled low, the depth of his emotions evident in his tone. “I’ve never cared about anyone so much in my life.”

With just the two of you here, the atmosphere crackled with an electrifying tension, each heartbeat echoing in the silence as you teetered on the edge of something unspoken yet undeniable.

“Well,” you whispered, your injured hand reaching out to touch his chest, your fingers tracing the contours of his shirt as if seeking reassurance, “maybe I do too. Maybe I do have feelings for you.”

A sigh, almost a mix of a moan and relief, escaped Hunter's lips at your words. “Come here to me,” he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

Without hesitation, you closed the distance between the pair of you, your lips meeting his in a somewhat long-awaited embrace. Hunter's arms enveloped you, one hand cradling your body with a firm yet gentle touch, while the other slid to the back of your head, holding you close with a tenderness that made your heart flutter as his fingers tangled in your hair.

Lifting you, you're placed on top of the crate once again, Hunter sandwiched between your legs as you both savor the quiet and serene moment. Your bitterness had vanished, replaced with the soft taste of his tongue dancing with yours. An alcoholic tang.

For a moment, all the tension, all the longing and arguing melted away as you molded into each other, lost in the sweetness of the kiss and the warmth of each other's embrace. “Hunter,” you whimper breathlessly.

You hoped the others wouldn’t come back for a while.

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[misc-obeyme]

I really debated with myself about posting this lol. I don't often write headcanons from my own ideas because I get so many good requests for them. But I was feeling inspired to write this. It's pretty personal. I've been wanting to write some headcanons for a fat MC for a while, so here it is. I wrote something similar about beauty standards, but this is more specifically about weight.

They were getting wayyy too long, so this is just the three older brothers. I haven't written the others yet, but maybe I will. We'll see!

older brothers x fat GN!MC - NSFW MDNI

Warnings: discussion of weight and body image, suggestive content

Lucifer

He notices almost right away that you're insecure about your body. He can tell by the way you move, how you often avoid anything that you feel will call attention to parts of yourself that you don't like. He won't say anything to you about it at first. He doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, especially in the beginning. But in a quiet moment, away from the others, he will deliberately compliment the things he knows you struggle with. You'll probably catch on and tell him to stop, but that will only make him do it more.

Lucifer always pays close attention to you - he wants you to be happy and comfortable as much as possible. If you're in a relationship with him, he spends even more time around you and sees you in more vulnerable moments. He sees the way you might look in the mirror with a frown. The way you grab hold of your round belly or your thick thighs and sigh unhappily. He finds this very upsetting.

Unsurprisingly, he actually scolds you about it, but he softens it with kisses, touching you gently in every place that you seem to dislike. His scolding turns into whispers of how perfect you are, how much he loves every inch of you. He hates the way these words make you teary. He hates that you feel that way about yourself in any capacity. Don't you know that you're his? Do you not trust his judgment, MC?

Be careful what you say. If you continue to disagree, he's going to make sure you understand exactly how he feels. You're insecure about the size of your body? You're worried that it's too big, as if that even matters? You think you might be too heavy? Picks you up just to carry you to his bed. He's going to show you just how glorious that body of yours is by having you ride his cock so he can watch every part of you jiggle.

Mammon

Doesn't even realize that you might be struggling with this at first. You're perfect, everybody knows that, even you. It doesn't even cross his mind that you might not think about yourself the same way he does. But he figures it out. He starts to notice the way you act sometimes, the way you won't do anything too physical, like you're afraid of the way your body will look while you do it. Doesn't say anything, but might try to coax you into things. For example, he might grab your hands and get you to dance with him if he hears one of your favorite songs playing. Feels like he's succeeded if he's made you laugh.

It bothers him a lot, but he won't say anything, especially in the beginning. He doesn't like that you worry about something so unimportant. If you're in a relationship with him, though, it bothers him even more. Mammon knows that you feel like you're not good enough because of your body size. You may have even mentioned it briefly in passing. You aren't saying it to him directly, but he can still tell. And he doesn't like it at all.

Not going to beat around the bush. He calls you out on it. Asks you exactly what you're feeling, why you think he cares about your size. He wants you to be honest, so if you try to avoid the discussion, he won't let you. Gets unusually serious, even honest, tells you that you're everything to him, that he loves you more than anything. Maybe you can't feel that way about yourself, but you can at least trust him on this, right? He wouldn't lie to ya, MC. Not about this.

He's going to deliberately worship parts of you that you complain about. Stretch marks on your belly? He's peppering them with kisses. Don't like your love handles? He's holding onto them while thrusting into you slow and sweet. Worried that you're too heavy? He's absolutely going to make you sit on his face. No, you won't suffocate him. You'll be too distracted by the heat of his mouth unraveling you to worry about that.

Leviathan

Insecurity solidarity. He knows he's out of shape, but he's a shut in otaku! That's just how it goes! At first he doesn't realize how difficult it is for you. He's unaware of the way you've been treated by human society because of your weight. He figures it out the first time he wants to make a cosplay outfit for you. When you tell him very clearly that most things don't fit you, so if he wants you to wear them, they'll have to be altered first. The way you won't look at him when you say it. Then he's quick to reassure you. Don't worry about that, MC! He's really good at making outfits, so of course he'll be sure it's the right size for you. It'll fit perfectly!

He notices the way you react to fat people in media the two of you consume together. You point out how fat people are always the comedic relief or the villains. He never noticed this before, but you're right. Starts trying to find media where that isn't the case. Where there's some representation of your body type that's positive. Loves the way you grin at him when he shows them to you. Hates the way you sometimes cry when you actually experience the story.

In a relationship, Levi won't push you to talk about it in general, but he'll say something if he thinks you're worrying about it. He doesn't want you to think that your weight has an impact on how he feels about you. When you're getting down on yourself about it, he takes you swimming, just the two of you, in a secluded place. You're comfortable enough with him to wear a swimsuit, right? Holds your hands while you tread water. See how light you are? The water can hold you no problem and so can he.

Absolutely loves to bury his face in your soft body. Tummy, thighs, chest, anywhere there's rolls, he's snuggling in happily. Grips every part of you because he just loves the way you feel. Worried you won't fit in his bathtub? He's more than prepared to make you feel good even in a tight squeeze. But if you're uncomfortable, he has no problem bending you over his desk, too.

part two with the younger brothers | part three with the dateables

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[xxfromthestartxx]

Don't Give Up On Me (Todo Aoi x Reader)

pairings: Todo Aoi x Fem!reader

summary: After the fight, you were visited by none other than Todo himself.

warnings: MAJOR JJK SPOILERS!! Violence, Language, Implied Sexual Themes (?)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

You didn't know what happened after the fight, all you know is that you are in your dorm room with needles attached to your body. You stared at the ceiling for what seemed like hours to you, no one knew that you were awake, and you're planning on keeping it that way.

You replayed what Mizuki had told you during the fight, "You need to let some of us go." You clenched your fist, knowing that if you did, the upper-ups would suspend you. You let out a sigh, closing your eyes. "You're getting weaker." You cringed at Hanami's words, even a cursed spirit can see through you.

"Breathe." You whispered, taking a deep breath, hands relaxing. You let out a small smile, finding a bit of peace even in your situation. That peace was quickly snatched from you when 3 loud knocks were heard from outside your door. You knew who it was immediately- but you were not ready to see just yet.

The door creaked open and you heard his heavy footsteps. You stayed still, breathing evenly as he approached you. Todo carefully walked over to you, seeing how peaceful you were in your slumber.

"Hey," He whispered, trying not to startle you awake. Once he knew you were asleep, he approached your bed, sitting on the edge. He stared at you, in awe at your beauty even in your sleep.

He was about to reach for your wounded cheek when he stopped mid-air, awkwardly putting back his hand on his side. He sighed, taking in the design of your room, and for a minute, your heart sped up when he stood up and went somewhere in your room.

"Huh..." Todo whispered, noticing certain familiar pictures pinned on your pinboard. He walked slowly, smiling a bit when he finally reached the board. He removed one of the pictures and stared at it. "You never burned it, huh?" He mumbled, taking in the picture from your first year.

The two of you were in town, having a date when you noticed a photobooth and dragged him along. He has the same picture on his wallet, though it was hidden.

He pinned back the picture, he then took a glance at you, a smile forming on his lips when he saw your eyelash twitch.

"How low are you planning on pretending to be asleep, huh?" Your heart raced, knowing he caught you. He sat back to the edge of your bed, smirking widely.

"Yeah, totally awake." He reached your wounded cheek this time, and you flinched, eyes fluttering open. "Hey." You were met with dark brown eyes staring directly at you, you could feel the soft pad of his palms covering the scar.

The two of you stared at each other until you spoke, "What are you doing here?" Your words are sharper than you intend to be. He saw the hint of annoyance in your eyes and pulled his hand away.

Regret quickly made its way into your chest- wishing he was holding you softly once again. "Just wanna check on ya." He then stood up, "And by the looks of it, I should call Ms. Shoko."

You quickly grabbed him by the wrist, still lying on your bed. "Wait!" He turned to look at you, eyes furrowed with confusion. You slowly sat up, letting out a soft groan when you tried to kove your sore muscles, Todo in an instant was beside you, guiding your movements.

"Don't call anyone..." You whispered, shaking your head. He thought for a second before nodding his head, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. "I won't, but why?" He asked- you huffed and rolled your eyes.

"I don't really want to see anyone right now." You avoided his prying gaze, knowing that he would see through you if he did see the hurt in your eyes. "It's nothing, really." You shook your head, not wanting to talk about the issue further.

"Ms. Shoko told me why you're so exhausted during and even after the fight." He stated, his stare stern and disapproving. "How many spirits are inside you?" You let go of his wrist as you bow your head in embarrassment.

He crossed his arms, muscles bulging from the tight pressure. "'M fine." You grumbled, cheeks burning. "Yeah? Kamo told me that you were slow on the battlefield, that's not like you." You clutched to your blanket, nose stinging from anger and being upset.

The last thing you want is a scolding from your ex-boyfriend. "What do you know about me?" You snapped, finally looking at him, eyes brimming with unshed tears.

He noticed it quickly and stayed quiet, the question hitting him hard in the chest. "You don't get to just care for me- you don't." You wiped your eyes, angry at yourself for crying because of a small thing.

"Why did you leave me?" Todo asked, his usual cocky and rough tone replaced by uncertainty and regret. You furrow your brows, the question was unexpected- and you thought the two of you were past these point.

"I know that I'm not from one of the most powerful clans like you- but why did you give up on me so easily?" You turned to him, in disbelief of what you were hearing.

"Give up on you so easily? Give up on you?! I fought for you in ways you didn't know. You are here because I fought for you. For us." You raised your voice pulling away your blanket and setting your feet on the edge of the bed.

You stood up, face to face with him as you spoke. "You are still in Jujutsu tech, because of me. Because I fought literal demons of the clan heads. I walked through hell and back to make sure you're safe." You pushed him by his chest, eyes and nose stinging. "So don't give me the crap that I gave up so easily on you. On us."

You finally shed a tear, then another- then another until you were crying. It has been what- 3 months? 4? After the 5 months you were enduring all the pain and suffering from physical and mental pain you are in, you were finally letting it all out.

"You're right- you were not from any clan and that made my parents hate you, but I fought. Even went so far that I almost got disowned. But I always thought of you- I needed to protect you- like you protected me from that grade-1 cursed spirit that day."

You rambled, "Everything I did back then, I did it so you could be strong and protect your own- I avoided you like the plague every time we were partnered together on missions just so I wouldn't come back crying to you.

You were the first person in Jujutsu tech who showed that even after all the power that I hold, I'm still a person." The both of you stared at each other, him trying to process what you had said.

"How could you think I gave up so easily on us?" You asked, lips quivering as you hugged yourself in shame. "I'm sorry, I got carried away-" You didn't even get to finish your sentence when you felt his warm hands on both your cheeks. You stopped rambling, eyes focusing on his.

He always does this back then, when you get so carried away with things and you can't stop. He easily makes you focus on him instead. "Hey." Your eyes stung at the memory, you didn't know how much you missed his presence until now.

"Hey..." you mumbled back, tears on your cheek. "Come here." You didn't have to be told twice, you hugged him by his torso, burying your head in his chest.

He welcomed you fully, rubbing soothing circles on your back as he let you cry your heart out. After crying for long, you finally pulled away, avoiding eye contact. "Feeling better?" You nodded, finally noticing that you'd ripped the needle out of you.

"Look, I know you're parents do not like me but I like you. I love you. I never stopped loving you, so please, give me another chance to prove myself worth it." You would've cried at his words but it was a bit weird and cliché so you chuckled a bit.

"You going soft on me, Aoi?" You gasped when he got on his knees, "I'm serious, I won't stand up until you say yes." He was committed, and it was a bit hilarious and sweet.

"You're not giving me much of a choice here." You shrugged, "but... yes. This time, I won't let my parents pull you away from me." You grabbed his arms and helped him stand up, not expecting him to lift you from the ground.

You squealed, instinctively wrapping your arms around his neck. "Fuck, I missed you so much." He hugged you close, nuzzling his face on your neck. "Aoi, calm down! That tickles!" You tried to push him away with your other hand, laughing at the way he whines.

He finally stopped trying to tickle you but still held you up. The two of you were staring at each other, "You look so tired," he said, squeezing you a bit. "I have been for the past weeks." You confessed, smiling sadly.

"You need to let them go." He let you down, letting your feet touch the ground. "I will, but not until I give them the ceremony that they deserve." You replied, taking his massive hands on yours. "For now..." you tangled your hands together, getting closer to him. "Get Ms Shoko because I'm sure I still need to get treated."

"You really gonna tease me?" He furrowed his brows, squeezing your fingers back. "What are you talking about?" You feigned offence, gasping a bit. "Stop that, I won't hold back." He grinned bending on your height.

"Yeah?" You challenged, leaning closer. "What you gonna do, kiss me?" You mocked, making kissing noises. "Maybe I will. You would want that, would you?" He then let go of your hands, putting it both on the either side of your cheeks.

"Yeah, maybe I do." You breathe out, staring at his eyes. He stared back, a smirk on his face. "May I?" His eyes took a glance at your lips before returning to your eyes. At that moment you knew what he was asking, and you knew what you wanted.

"Yes." It was all the answer that he needed before he pressed his lips on yours, his hands roaming from your cheeks to your waist. Your hands unconsciously snaking to his neck, pulling him closer.

The kiss was full of many things, it was warm and sweet, full of passion and regret from the past. You pulled away, looking at him before kissing him once again, this time, it was more messy, licking his lower lips as he allowed you to explore his mouth.

Let's just say that the two of you have to make up for the lost time.

A/n: Should I make a part 4 or???

[milfgyuu]

Bubble Boy Pairing: Song Mingi x GN!Reader Tags: 2.3k, Neighbors!AU, F2L, Fluff, Kissing booboos. Series: Mr. Right Next Door Summary: It always starts with a loud thud or groan ringing out before your sweet but terribly uncoordinated, accident-prone neighbor is knocking at your door. The only thing lucky in Mingi’s life is having you to put him back together. 

Warnings: lots of injury talk but nothing explicit, some kissing and suggestive tones toward the end.

Mingi should have known better than to attempt taking all of his groceries up in one trip but he lives in a third floor apartment and can’t fathom performing the extra work necessary to take multiple trips just so he can carry slightly lighter loads. Not after the longest work day ever. 

That is how he first found himself seated in your living room, anxiously drumming his fingers against the edge of your couch cushion while you cleaned and treated his raw and bloodied knees, elbows, and chin. He’d made it to the third floor only to misstep on the last stretch of stairs and eat the concrete. You’d found him with his groceries scattered, in the fetal position, hugging his knees to his chest and grumbling a string of profanities under his breath.

Still in your scrubs and just home from the hospital, you’d carefully helped him pack the spilled items back into the bags and carried half the load into his apartment. When he explained he didn’t have so much as a simple Band-Aid and insisted he’d ‘be alright’ you spent another five minutes arguing with him about infection before you’d just dragged him over to your apartment next door and broke out the first aid kit. 

After that, you very quickly learned that Mingi was somewhat of a disaster. 

Cuts, burns, bruises, scrapes, bumps, hives - you name it - Mingi has been a patient in your home for it. Your first aid kid saw more action than a sporting spectator and over many long months of nursing him back to health time and time again you realize there’s been a shift in your dynamic of neighborly nurse and patient.

At first it feels like a shock, like it’s happened all of a sudden but laying in your bed tonight, listening to the background sounds from the television you replay in your head some of the moments that led up to such a startling discovery.

Frankly, it wasn’t new or sudden at all.

There was that one morning Mingi burnt his arm in the kitchen and then tried to hide the injury from you in the mail room. You brought him back up stairs to clean and treat it, carefully avoiding his quivering bottom lip because he was trying to be brave and you let him think you didn’t notice. He gifted you a basket of muffins the next day with a little hand written note to thank you and poke fun at himself by saying there were no big idiots harmed in the making.

Another night, another knock on the door, which you opened to reveal Mingi, red, splotchy, and covered in hives up his neck and down his arms. Turned out, he was allergic the new houseplant he bought - because ya know, he’s also allergic to animals and wanted something to care for. You slathered him in itching cream, gave him Benadryl, and sat nearby as he snoozed on your couch, getting up every few minutes to see if the reaction was getting better. 

You personally re-homed that plant to an elderly woman two floors down in another building and then accompanied him to the pet store to buy a fish. Mingi had been elated and also dumbstruck that he hadn’t thought of a fish in the first place. You named him together and Mingi constantly sent you pictures of his best buddy, Aloe, the betta fish. 

The memory of Mingi’s frantic call in the middle of your shift still gives you chills and you twist uncomfortably in bed. He’d somehow managed to get his hand smashed beneath some heavy machinery at work and had called for advice. Heart filled with dread and beating out of your chest, you unintentionally yelled at him to get to the emergency room immediately, where you paced and paced until he’d arrived. 

Three broken fingers and a fractured wrist later you swore up and down that you’d put him in a bubble if that’s what it took to keep him in one piece. Mingi just chuckled and used his good hand to gently pluck a fallen eyelash off your cheek. You’d gone absolutely silent and your cheeks grew hot when he lifted it to your lips and told you to make a wish. 

Presently, you squeeze your eyes closed and try to quell the jittery feeling in your bones. 

It only brings about another memory of the time Mingi had caught the flu. You had gone over to his door the moment you read his text, ‘hey….what’s considered a fever?’

He was still in his pajamas, hair mussed and sticking up in the back, his cheeks red, and eyes drooping. He still smiled at you and your heart clenched almost painfully as you walked him back into his apartment. You changed his sheets, set out fresh clothes for him after a hot bath, cleaned his home, cooked his meals, held his glass of water as you fed the bendy straw between his lips. He indeed had a fever and continued to sweat through the blankets you piled on at his request but he never stopped smiling at you. 

Mingi was always smiling at you and the realization pushes sleep even further from your reaches. That’s how you hear the crash between your thins walls so easily. 

It’s cold outside and you regret not throwing on a jacket or a pair of pajama pants beneath your night dress but Mingi doesn’t leave you out in the cold for long after you rap your frozen knuckles against the blue door of his apartment. 

Because the peephole is mysteriously shattered and the management company has yet to fix it, he curiously cracks the door, peering out with one cautious eye before realizing its you.

Who else would be on his doorstep at eleven at night?

“Oh, hey!” he opens the door further, dim light illuminating your pitiful shivering, “What are you doing here so late?”

You step forward to duck under his arm and into his home, the warmth of it seeping a little too slowly into your bones. “I heard the crash,” you mutter in response, furiously rubbing your arms and focusing on his television oddly set to the same channel yours was left on.

Mingi grabs a blanket off the couch and sets it over your shoulders. He pulls together the two ends until you’re wound like a burrito and rubs his hands up and down your arms with a soft grin. “Better?”

You nod for him and scan his lanky frame head to toe. There doesn’t really seem to be anything amiss aside from the slowly blossoming red mark on his forehead, just above his glasses. 

Narrowing your eyes, you point a blanket covered finger at it. “What did you do?”

He lets out a little embarrassed chuckle. “Oh, this?,” he points at it himself, “I made some popcorn to watch a movie but when I went to grab a bowl, all the Tupperware sort of tumbled out like a landslide and I tried to catch them all at once but I bent down too fast and hit my head on the stovetop.”

Biting your lip to contain the laughter that threatens to etch a smile onto your face, you cover your mouth and snicker into the blanket instead. Mingi pokes your shoulder. “I know you’re laughing at me. It’s okay.”

You cross your arms, fortifying your blanket cocoon, and grin. “You’re hopeless.”

“At least I have you to fix me.”

His voice is too soft when he says it and it empties your brain of any potential responses. 

A minute goes by where neither of you say anything. You simply stand there looking at each other and then you realize it’s too quiet and someone has to say something. 

“Well, um,” you avert your eyes to the ground as if the answer is there before looking back to him, “I suppose you look alright…I should probably get back home…”

“You should stay.”

He says it so quickly you’re not sure he meant to say it at all. 

“I mean,” he shifts on his feet, scratching at the back of his head, “You should stay, if you want to, and uh, watch the movie with me,” he presses his lips together and rocks on his heels before throwing a thumb up in the direction of the kitchen, “I made popcorn…”

“I like popcorn.” Not really an answer but he takes it, breaking into a smile.

“Cool.”

Hanging out with Mingi has never felt so nerve wracking until now but you’re chalking that up to the fact that you’ve never been in his home so late at night, in your pajamas, huddled up on the couch to share a bowl of popcorn and a movie. And the fact that you’d been spending the entire evening just before this replaying all of Mingi’s greatest hits in your mind trying to track down when and where you started falling for him. 

More than once, you’ve reached your hand into the bowl only to find Mingi’s and vice versa, the both of you awkwardly laughing and pulling away. The plot of the film he’d chosen is easy to pinpoint but the tension between your shoulders is not and you hope he doesn’t notice when he throws his arm over the back of the couch, his fingers barely brushing the material of the leather couch where you sit. 

It’s seemingly unintentional because he is entirely focused on the screen and laughing at the movie. The rest of his long, lean body is relaxed, slouched against the cushions, with his legs spread wide, one foot kicked up on the edge of the table. He’s simply getting comfortable and then he’s looking over at you and you realize you’re still looking at him and his brows furrow. 

“What’s wrong?”

You tuck your legs a little tighter beneath you and straighten your spine. “Oh, nothing, I was just checking your head, there is still a red mark there.”

Hardly. It’s well on it’s way to disappearing entirely and he laughs. “I don’t suppose you have any magic tricks to fix it, do you?”

You relax a little, smiling back at him. “I don’t think I’ve got anything for this one.”

Mingi purses his lips as if he’s disappointed. “I mean,” his eyes dart up to yours and he smirks, “You could probably kiss it and make it better.”

With a huff of laughter you stare back at him in awe. “I don’t think that’s scientifically proven.”

He shrugs, still grinning. “Worth a try.”

“Come here,” you inch your finger and the amusement in his face dies down a little as he leans in just close enough for your breath to hitch. You look at him for a moment, appreciating his handsome face in your close proximity and then you reach up and…flick him in the forehead. 

“Hey!” he pouts, sitting up to rub the spot with his fingers before you grab his arm and tug him back down. This time you cup both cheeks in your hands, rubbing your thumbs over his soft skin and you kiss his forehead softly. When you try to let him go, Mingi catches your wrists and stills you before you can pull away. 

“Better?” you whisper quietly, just like his question earlier. 

But he shakes his head, eyes never leaving yours. “Worse,” he whispers back, “Now I won’t stop thinking about kissing you.”

You swallow around nothing. “Something wrong with your lips too?”

Mingi smiles, his tone ringing with amusement. “Something like that.”

He slips one hand around to cradle the back of your head, two of his fingers still wrapped and healing and he presses his lips to yours. For all his clumsiness, Mingi doesn’t tremble the way you do when you bring your arms around him. He pulls you closer, almost into his lap and you let him, welcoming his warmth and gentle touch. 

Dipping your fingers beneath the neckline of his loose t-shirt, you find a small raised scar and you trace over it a few times before you pull back to smile at the beautiful, uncoordinated man beneath you. “What’s this one from?”

He huffs out a laugh and traces his thumb over your cheek. “My brother tried to throw a toy car at the back of my head when we were kids,” he explains and then smirks, “He missed.”

Your eyes catch on another scar, just near his collar bones. He shivers when you run your fingertip over that one too. 

“Accidental burn when I first started welding.”

It’s his turn to hold his breath when you lean down and kiss the scar but your confidence evaporates as you straighten yourself, avoiding looking him directly in the eye. Mingi’s hand cups your chin and he makes you look at him, so similar to the way you’ve done in the past when cleaning up that cut above his eyebrow, the scar hardly visible now. 

“If you’re going to kiss every scar, you’ll be here for a very long time.”

“I think I’ll let you take me on a few dates before I start kissing things in places no one else can see.”

Mingi’s cheeks burn and he steals a quick kiss. “We can go on as many dates as you want.”

“Where should we start?”

Fingers now comfortably laced behind your back, he grins, “How about the trampoline park?”

“So you can break a leg?” you raise a brow at him to be serious but he only grins. 

“I’m not worried,” thumbs rubbing little circles into your skin, “I’ve got you, right?”

Indeed he does.

Series M.List  | ATZ M.List | Main M.List

[shimmerwindow]

I Never Really

Part Eighteen

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Angst, alcohol use, smut

Sexual content: Fingering n' fuckin. (it's a quick one)

Playlist | Masterlist

Tag List: @jazzyfigz @dont-go-home-without-me @poochiesworld @stardustcatcher @83rkblogs @jaketsguitar @dannys-dream @gretavanfan @do-it-jakey-baby @gvfpal @ignite-my-fire @gardensgatekeeper @torniturntomyarrow

“Are you busy tonight?” Josh’s voice was cheery on the other end of the phone you held to your ear. “You should come out with me and Danny!”

You had no desire to leave your dorm whatsoever. You hadn’t felt the need to leave, except for classes, for the past two weeks straight. Most of your free time was consumed with sleeping, to avoid the aches in your heart. “I really shouldn't. I’ve got some homework I should catch up on,” you lied.

“That’s what you said last time,” Josh said, sounding a little whiny. “Just come out. You won’t regret it.”

“I can’t. Have a good night, Josh.”

“Wait! Listen, you’ve been cooped up in there for weeks, haven’t you? That’s so terrible for the mind. Just a few drinks, nothing ridiculous, it’ll make you feel better, I promise.”

He’d called you a week ago asking the same thing, but he hadn’t alluded to knowing anything about the situation. You figured he must know, but he was giving you the space to only ask for support if you wanted it. And you didn’t feel like you deserved anything of the sort. “I feel fine.”

“You sound like you’ve spent the whole day fuckin’ crying. Just come out with us. Just for an hour, that’s all I’ll ask.”

He clearly wasn’t going to take no for an answer, stubborn as he was. You wouldn’t be surprised if you said no, he would come knocking at your door within minutes. “Fine. One hour. Then I’m going home.” You figured that was as long as you could hold it together for, anyway.

“Be there soon.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he hung up.

You pulled on something halfway decent-looking, trying your best in the mirror to cover up the dark circles under your eyes. You still looked a mess, but in the dark lighting of a bar, nobody would be able to tell you’d spent the last two weeks crying your eyes out nightly.

You met the two outside, Danny pulling the car around with Josh riding shotgun. You slid into the back, your mind in a daze, still unable to pull yourself out of the fog you’d been in.

“Hey, how ya doing?” Danny asked, turning around to give you a smile before he drove off.

“I’m alright.”

“You sure don’t look it. No offense,” Josh said, turning to face you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled. “None taken. Life’s been a bit hard lately.”

“I hear that,” Danny replied. “Sounds like you need a drink. Or five.”

“Not too much, now,” Josh said.

“I’m guessing...you guys know…” just attempting to say the words wracked your body with indescribable pain. The two of them stiffened, shifting uncomfortably in their seats. You wished you’d never brought it up at all.

“I mean, we don’t really want to…” Danny started.

Josh picked up where he left off. “If you want to talk about it, we’re here to listen. And help. If you want it, of course.”

“I don’t want to trouble you with all of that.” You waved a hand and offered a weak smile.

“It’s no trouble at all.” Danny flashed a grin at you through the rear view mirror.

“We can talk about it later,” you replied.

Later came quickly, several drinks in, as you and Josh slurred your words and spoke far too loudly over Danny, the only sober man in the room. One hour turned into many, and your heart finally opened, and you began to pour out all of the words you’d let linger inside of you. Voices drowned out most of your ramblings, as did the droning country-pop blaring from the radio.

“They’re both just fucking assholes,” you said with a flourish of your drink, nearly knocking a bystander in the head with it. “Both of them.”

“I don’t think you mean that.” Danny had been attempting to be the voice of reason, though it was difficult while caught between you and Josh.

“This whole situation is fucked up. I don’t get it, why didn’t you just tell Sam?” Josh asked.

“Because I knew he was fucking around with that other girl!”

“So what?” Josh gave an exaggerated shrug. “Fuck her. You deserve him more.”

“I think she was trying not to be a homewrecker, Josh,” Danny said.

“Exactly.” You set your drink down a bit too hard, sending droplets splattering onto your arm. “I really like him, I– I love him, so I didn’t want to hurt him.”

“You didn’t want to hurt him,” Danny began. “So you slept with his brother. Right.”

“Listen, I just thought…” You stopped in your tracks, the weight of your actions washing over you like waves of mercury once again. He had a point you couldn't refute.

“Those two, they’re always, like…” Josh snapped his fingers a few times, his eyes to the ceiling, searching for words. “They’ve got the same taste in women, I think. Causes problems sometimes.”

“Has anything like this happened before?” You asked.

“Not quite this severe.” Danny rested the toes of his shoes against the bar, leaning his chair back a bit. “You’ve got both of them all shook up like I haven’t seen before.”

“They don’t usually fight like that,” Josh added.

“Jake, he had a–” you gestured to your cheek, motioning in the shape of the bruise you’d seen. “Sam didn’t do that, did he?” You weren’t sure whether you actually wanted to know the answer.

The two exchanged glances, and Josh nodded, slowly.

You groaned, running a hand across your face. “Don’t tell me Jake busted Sam’s pretty face, too.”

Josh squinted at you, holding up two fingers in a pinching motion. “A little.”

“Jesus, I’m gonna kill both of them. Fighting over me like fucking cavemen.”

“It’s par for the sibling course, darling. Don’t worry about it too much,” Josh said. “We’ve all taken and given our fair share of ass-kickings.”

“Still doesn't make it right,” you sighed. “I wonder if Sam ever even liked me the way he said he did. Maybe he was just messing around so he could fuck.”

Josh blinked at you. “What on god’s green earth would make you think that?”

“Well, he just…he was able to move on so fast–”

“First of all,” Josh began, “All he’s talked to me about was you for the past fucking month. Also, he didn’t move on.”

“He didn't?”

“Of course not,” Danny chimed in before Josh could speak. “I don’t even think he’s seen anybody else since you. Not that we’ve heard, at least.”

“But I haven't seen him…not even once. Clearly he doesn’t care that much if–”

Josh cut you off with a loud, exaggerated groan. “Why are you arguing?”

“Josh,” Danny urged. “Be gentle.”

“Gentle? I don't need to be gentle. You–” he grabbed your shoulders, his light touch contrasting the edge to his words. “Need to realize that he loves you.”

“We never said that,” you said, struck suddenly by how Josh and Sam shared the same eyes. So kind, and inviting. “We never said I love you.”

“Then maybe you should. Because he's said it about you. Maybe not to your face, but he's made it plenty clear.”

“You just need to talk to him, honestly,” Danny said, gently lifting Josh’s hands from your shoulders. “Have you tried reaching out?”

“I haven’t,” you said, a bit guilty. “I thought that if he wanted anything to do with me, he’d have texted me first.”

“Then that’s exactly what you need to do. Call him, text him, hell – go knock on his door. Talk to him in person.” Danny watched you as your lip began to quiver, thinking about the anxiety of having to address your wrongs straight in the face. “It’s not gonna be easy. But you can’t just let this…fester. You two were made for each other.”

“Jesus, you really think so?”

“Everyone thinks so,” Josh said with a wide smile.

"Even Jake?" Just the act of letting his name grace your lips brought forth an entirely new wave of anxiety.

The two men paused, glancing at their drinks, though the silence was not awkward. "I think Jake..." Josh started, finding the right words. "I think he just wants you to be happy. He didn't really understand what was going on between you and Sam."

"Clearly," you mumbled.

"Jake is a bit territorial," Danny added, spreading his arms wide. "When Jake thinks a girl is his, he takes it seriously. More seriously than he probably should."

"Especially when he's not trying to date anyone." Josh's words betrayed a deeper annoyance, like this exact situation had played out far more than once. "It's partially on Sam for not mentioning how serious the two of you were sooner. But Jake won't sabotage you now that he knows," he shrugged. "But you still need to talk to Sam."

“Fine, then.” You took another deep swig from your drink. “I’ll talk to him. I’ll tell him everything. Tomorrow.”

“Atta girl!” Josh exclaimed, giving you a pat on the back.

“I need a fucking cigarette,” you mumbled.

Outside, the sound from the crowd drained away, only the loudest of shouts and heaviest of glasses clinking audible behind the glass doors to the patio. You were too drunk at this point to keep a steady conversation going, but it was pleasurable nonetheless. Josh and Danny were an incredibly funny duo, and just a few minutes of casual talking had your sides in stitches from laughing.

You felt, dare you say, better. You did seem to have a terrible knack for avoiding talks you didn’t want to have. But Danny and Josh had assuaged those worries that kept you from saying what needed to be said. It was likely mostly the alcohol speaking, but you were feeling confident in your ability to finally speak to Sam. It needed to be done, no matter what. If nothing else, he deserved closure from you. An admission of the truth, straight from your lips.

The three of you couldn’t last long in the cold, huddling together to shield yourselves from the wind that whipped past the nearby buildings. Josh and Danny cracked first, and with a “fuck this,” they headed back into the bar, with you in tow. The two of them had just barely passed through the hallway back into the main section of the bar when they stopped dead in their tracks, so quickly you ran into Danny’s back, bumping your glass on him and sending an ice cube tumbling over the leather.

“Shit, sorry,” you mumbled, peering around both of them to see what had stopped them so suddenly.

It all seemed to happen so fast. Both of them turned around at the same time, stepping towards you, blabbing nonsense about how you should go back outside. But not before you caught a glimpse of the bar, straight ahead. Many unfamiliar faces, among them two you knew. One of which you knew well.

Sam sat at the bar, a drink in his hand, his arm around a girl, who was resting herself against him. A girl you recognized from your worst nightmares, some of which were waking. He was talking to her, a smile on his lips. In an instant, his eyes caught yours through the gap between Josh and Danny’s shoulders. His smile faded, turned into something you’d never seen. Like his lips would never know the sweet feeling of a smile again. And he turned away.

Josh and Danny had to nearly drag you back to Danny’s car, as your legs threatened to give out with every step with the force of your sobs. People stared, whispered at each other under their breath, but you didn’t care. You wished you’d gone blind. Your stomach churned on the ride home as you prayed to any god to turn back time just a few months.

Everything was a blur. You barely processed anything as Josh rubbed your back through your heaving cries, or kind words were offered from Danny when you screamed that Sam never cared about you at all. You wished you were being dramatic, you wished this was all not as serious as you were taking it. You wished you’d never thought of your future with him, that you’d never given yourself the space to hope and dream. The walls he’d broken down would be replaced swiftly, and sturdier than ever, you thought.

Danny, ever the caregiver, sat with you as Josh stumbled his way to bed. He gave you all the blankets you needed to quell the shaking your body refused to quit, as many tissues as you needed to dry your eyes. He listened as you rambled, drunkenly, about the same topics over and over. Rehashing the events of the past months, trying to make sense of it all, trying to find a solution, though there was none.

You'd taken Danny for some kind of frat-boy-type, player, seducer. But sitting in the living room with him, letting him hold your hand for support while he told you everything would be alright, you realized you’d painted him as far too one-dimensional. He was kind, and only wanted the best for you, even though he didn’t know you all that well.

You insisted you didn’t want to be a bother, and that you’d walk yourself home. He physically held you back as you tried to get up from the couch. “Absolutely the fuck not,” he said.

You’d pushed, saying you needed to be alone, you didn’t want to keep anyone up with your crying. “I should just go,” you insisted. “I can't–”

“Shush.” He placed a hand on top of your head, ruffling your hair a bit. “I didn’t bring down all those blankets and pillows for fun. Use them. Go to sleep.”

Sleep seemed like an impossible, far-away pipe dream right now, even through your exhaustion. Still, you were thankful he'd given you a warm place to rest your head, where you wouldn’t be entirely alone. “Thanks Danny,” you said, almost able to force a smile onto your face. “I’m sure I’m being a lot right now. I–”

“Don’t even think about apologizing. You needed a friend, that’s alright. Now go to bed.”

You did as he said, resting your head on the pillows. “Is…is he coming back tonight?” You glanced at the front door.

Danny followed your gaze to the door, looking at you plaintively. “Probably not. And Jake’s gone for at least the weekend. Don’t worry about that right now, though. You’ve been through enough tonight.”

You nodded in agreement, letting your swollen eyes slip shut as Danny turned off the lights. “Sleep well. We can talk in the morning.”

In the darkness, alone, your mind wanted you to think it all over again. You were exhausted, drained beyond belief, unable to even comprehend the events laid out in front of you. It took great effort, but you were finally able to relax just enough to drift into something resembling sleep.

That is, until you heard keys rattling in the front door. You shot up, staring at the door, your heart pounding immediately. Someone was out there. Someone was about to walk in. You prayed it was Jake, prayed he would simply walk right past you with nothing more than a half-smile and a nod. The door opened quietly, and you watched closely at the way the person swung it quickly past the points where it would creak.

Sam stood in the doorway, motionless, the door still open behind him, cold air pooling over you. He said your name, questioning, just barely loud enough for you to hear. You said nothing – what was there to say? You wished he would just ignore you, walk past you, go up to his room and slam the door. Instead, you watched, captivated, as he took his coat and shoes off, locked the door behind him, and sat down on the other end of the couch, cross-legged, facing you.

“Hey,” he said. A forced casualness tainted the word.

“You shouldn’t be doing this.” You meant that. There was no saving what you’d had.

“I know.” He let out a shaky sigh. “I don’t…know what to say.”

You could just barely see him, his features only dimly lit from a light in the kitchen. You pointed to his temple, where the remnants of a bruise darkened his skin. “Jake did that to you. Didn’t he?”

Sam nodded. “Does it look cool?” There was not an ounce of humor in the words.

“Why did you fight over me?”

“Because I thought I deserved you more.”

“You deserve far better than me.”

He tsked his tongue, shaking his head. “I don’t want anything but you.”

“But you were with that girl tonight.”

“Because you’re not mine anymore. Or, I guess, you never were.”

“Fair enough.”

“We never fucking talk,” he hissed. You were sure he would have shouted, if he could. “This is our problem. What we're doing right now. We never just fucking talk to each other. I’ve said it before, and neither of us change it.”

“I thought we were doing alright.”

“But you didn’t tell me you had been fucking my brother on the side.”

“It was twice. And I wanted to tell you, I was planning on it, I just–”

“Why? After everything I told you, why him?” You could see tears in his eyes, glistening against the glow from the streetlights peeking through the curtains.

You took a long pause. You wished there was a better answer, something more concrete or absolute, but the truth was all you wanted to say. “I don’t know. You weren’t there, and he was. It was fucking stupid of me. It wasn’t to hurt you, though. Not consciously. I saw you with her, and I figured there was no way you could want me more than someone who looks like that.”

“Right,” he scoffed. “Sure.”

“I’m trying to talk to you.” Another batch of tears was lining up behind your eyes, though you couldn’t fathom having any more left to cry. “I just want you to know the truth.”

“How am I supposed to trust you? Now, or ever?”

You could only shake your head. “I don’t know.”

“It’s been so hard,” he said, his hand coming to idly rest on yours, splayed out on the couch between the two of you. The simple touch felt like grabbing a fistful of snow with bare fingers, icy and shocking. “I don’t know…I’m just not me without you.”

“I know.” Tears started to fall again, and you didn’t bother wiping them away. Your eyes were already irritated enough from the hours you’d spent sobbing in this very spot. “I can’t bring myself to do anything.”

“What are we supposed to do now?”

“I think we have to answer that ourselves.”

“I just can’t survive without you.” His fingers walked up the back of your hand, wrapping gently around your forearm. “But we’re killing each other. I can’t…” He pulled his hand away, and hesitated. Stillness filled the air when his fingers ran across your cheek, wiping away a tear there. “I can’t see you like this. I can’t do this to you.”

“I can’t do this to you, either.” You mirrored his gesture, your thumb running trails over the tracks of tears on his face.

“Can I…” he shifted, gesturing to you to come closer. Despite your better judgment, you fell heavy into his arms, resting your cheek against his collarbone. That scent again, it hit you like waves, dredging up every hope and every wish you’d fought so hard to bury over the past two weeks. You wished you could lay this way forever, a familiar position you used to adopt when the two of you would lounge in bed together.

“Can we just pretend everything is normal?” You said, with the lightest hint of a forced laugh.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Please.” The word was choked, nearly a sob. “Just give me this one night with you.”

“We can’t.” His motions contradicted his words as his hands pulled you closer to his chest.

“Just tonight and then we can both forget.” It stung to say it, like a papercut. “We can forget about each other. I’ll forget about your whole family. It can be like we never happened.”

You heard him suck in a hitched breath through his teeth. With hands that trembled, he cupped the sides of your face and drew you in, stopping short of a kiss. You wanted nothing more than to break past his hands, meet your lips with his, feel every inch of him under your mouth. You needed him more than could be expressed in words or actions, it was far deeper, something soul-crushing and gut-wrenching.

He felt it too. And he was not strong enough to resist. He pulled you in, kissing you, with the fervor of a man who has waited his entire life for this moment. He tasted salty, the taste of your mutual tears collected on the corners of your lips; a reminder of that night at the bar with him, the salt of his neck.

You tried to hold yourself back. You knew you shouldn’t let this go any further, but your hands moved on their own to wrap around his neck. “We shouldn't do this,” you mumbled, peppering kisses along his jaw.

“Then stop.”

You couldn’t, and neither could he. It was so unceremonious, but there was something sacred about your movements. The way he ripped the blankets off of you, the way his hands slipped under your shirt, the way you pulled at his hair and fumbled with the button on his pants. Neither of you needed to ask – you were far past that point. It was all unsaid, as many things tended to be between the two of you. He only needed to give you that look he’d given you however many dozen times in the past, the one that you’d reply to with a nod and dewy doe-eyes.

Things were a blur, hands grasping and fingers trailing over flesh, lips colliding with fervor in dead silence and darkness. You could just barely see his face, but you didn’t need to see much. The sound of his breathing, the scent of his skin, it all led you back home.

He shoved your pants down to your knees, dragging you into his lap, his lips never leaving yours. He shifted your bodies, leaning his back against the couch, straddling your knees on either side of his.

“You always smell so good,” he whispered into the side of your neck. “I dream about it.” He slid a hand between the two of you, running a finger through the wetness already drenching your thighs. “I wake up sometimes and I could swear you’re right there next to me.”

You’d done the same, thought you were crazy for being surprised at the other half of your bed being cold and empty every morning. You couldn’t vocalize it, not when he slid a finger into you and you had to bite down on his shoulder to keep yourself silent. But he could feel it from you, the subtle agreement present in how your nails scratched thin lines into his biceps.

“Is that good?” He asked, his breath warming the shell of your ear.

You let out a muffled mhm, your teeth still sunk into his shoulder. If you hadn’t already broken the skin, you would leave a bruise for certain. He didn’t seem to mind, though.

You trailed your hands over the fabric of his shirt, down to where you'd managed to haphazardly undo the fly of his jeans. You hadn’t realized your fingers were cold until they settled on the warmth of his cock, making him suck a breath in through his teeth and jump back a bit. The two of you stifled muted laughs at the exchange, and even if it was only a glimpse, it was heartwarming to feel a brief moment of humor.

Your bodies moved in time quickly, your hand moving in languid strokes along his cock as he worked you open with his fingers. You didn’t want to wait, having waited long enough, having suffered more than enough lately. It couldn't have been more than a few minutes before you were begging him for it.

He slipped himself into you with little grace or fanfare, desperate for it. You let out a strained breath, watching what little of him you could see in the dark. You weren’t prepped quite enough, the stretch of him knocking the wind out of you.

“Fuck,” he whispered, the word coming out shaky. “You feel better than I remember.”

You let out a downright pathetic whimper, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, your legs already trembling.

“Move.” It was a command, not a request.

It was difficult, trying to force your body to move when each drag of your hips threatened to pull a moan from your lips.

Words piled up behind your teeth when he pulled you closer, his lips dragging across the skin of your neck. Your face buried in his hair, you tried to take all of this in. The silk of his hair against your cheek, the smell of sweat and cologne, the way his shoulders rose and fell with each shaking breath. It was so beautiful, so bittersweet, a gorgeous agony you’d never be able to forget.

“Just say it,” he said lowly. “I can tell you want to say it so just fucking say it.”

“I love you.” It spilled from your lips brutally, the sound crashing against the walls of the room like thrown fine china.

“Say it again.”

“I love you, Sam.”

“More.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you, you’re everything to me, you’re my stars, my sky, my universe–”

He wrapped his hands tighter around you, tight enough that you could barely breathe. But you didn’t feel the need to breathe, not when you were filled with him, surrounded by him. Your mind started to unravel, giving in to sheer, untethered bliss. Your eyes slipped shut and in the darkness you could see gold.

“I love you too,” he said, softly, casually, like he’d said it a hundred times. Maybe, in his head, he had.

This couldn't be it. This couldn’t be the last time you’d feel him this way. He broke into a steady rhythm, keeping himself buried inside you for the most part, grinding his hips against you.

You mumbled sweet nonsense against his neck, planting kisses between every word, chanting his name like a mantra in the hopes you might stay this way forever. “I never want you to let me go.” Both physically and emotionally, you meant it both ways.

“I can’t,” he breathed. “I can’t imagine me without you. I can’t imagine the sky with no moon and no sun.”

You exhaled a breathy laugh against his skin. “Still so corny.”

“I know how much you love it.”

You had to fight desperately to keep quiet when his hands wrapped around the bottoms of your thighs, lifting and dropping you slightly with each thrust of his hips.

“Stay quiet, baby. You’re doing such a good job.”

He’d never talked to you like this before, never during sex. This was more than just sex, though. What you were doing was something intimate, something deeper, something you both desperately needed. Some kind of closure, or the opening of another door, you couldn’t tell which one quite yet.

A quiet moan slipped past your lips when his hand dropped down beneath you to press against your clit, the perfect amount of pressure, just the way you liked it. His free hand clasped over your mouth, gentle but forceful.

“Quiet, my love.”

My love.

You were getting close to a peak you knew you couldn't keep silent, waves of it washing over your body and sending sparks down your spine, into the tip of every limb. He pulled his hand away at just the right time for you to warn him.

“Sammy, I’m–”

“I know. I can feel it.” You could faintly hear the rumble of his own groans that he caught in his throat, keeping himself quiet with what seemed like great effort.

“Is it better?” He asked.

“What?” You gasped, your focus faltering.

“Do I fuck you better than he does?”

There was no hesitation. “Much better.”

He pulled back a bit, searching for your face in the darkness, finding it and catching your lips in a kiss. There were so many words unsaid that passed through that kiss, every confession, every lie you’d ever told, it was all so glaringly obvious in the way your lips met.

His fingers were digging in tighter against you, his legs starting to shake with effort. He was just as close as you were, fighting, struggling to hold himself back.

“I don’t think I can– oh, god, Sammy, I can’t keep this a quiet one,” you warned him.

“Me neither,” he laughed, breathlessly.

His hand shot up to cover your mouth as you let out a sound that was far too loud. He, too, grit his teeth against whatever noise threatened to make itself known as both of you tipped over the cliffside of your peaks, together. A groan like a sob tore itself out of his chest and he had to cover his own mouth, his head falling back against the couch.

You held onto his shoulders for dear life as he plunged you down into a world of untethered pleasure, his name falling from your lips even though it didn’t make a sound. Stars exploded across your vision, your legs failing you as all you could do was grind helplessly against him. Your hips moved of their own accord, chasing the remnants of bliss.

His fingers gripped your waist after a moment, stilling your movements. “Stop, stop, oh my god,” he whispered, a desperate edge to his voice from the overstimulation.

There was no rush to separate. Neither of you wanted this moment to end. It was clear this was not something you could stop. Your love was an unstoppable force, and you both were incapable of living without it.

“Did you mean it?” His tone was nonchalant, as if he didn’t care what your answer would be one way or the other.

“Of course I did.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

The question caught you off guard, diving in so deep so quickly as you were still dripping into his lap. Gazing into his eyes, and the profound sadness you found there, you spoke a thousand words all at once. Wanted you, got lonely, took the next best thing. You could see it in his face; he understood.

“We need distance,” he sighed. An ironic thing to say, given where he was mere minutes ago. “If we’re not going to date. If we don’t trust each other.”

“But tonight…?” you didn’t finish the sentence, letting it play out in each of your heads.

He didn’t reply, only lifting you off of him, the two of you haphazardly pulling yourselves back together, and he lead you by the hand up to his room.

[shelby-fangirl00]

Empty Spaces-Part Three

Part Two

Warnings: Smut, language, cheating, age-gap (Enjoy!)

Word Count: 2028

‘Would you like me to help you with your necklace, Mrs. Shelby?’ You asked as she smoothed down her new evening gown she brought back from London. You couldn’t deny how beautiful she looked. She was a vision. You secretly envied her strong features, her long legs and her small frame. She seemed to just ooze elegance and confidence. You were quite the opposite of her. So much shorter than she was. You weren’t thin like she was; you were fuller and thicker than most of the women your age. You tried to imagine what you would look like in that gown, but a dress like that couldn’t possibly fit, let alone pulling it off as well as she did. They didn’t make fancy dresses for women your size. The emerald sequence on her long gown glimmered as your thoughts raced. 

‘The gold one, yes.’ She said as she fiddled with her hair in the mirror.

You turned to the vanity to grab the polished necklace. As you crept up behind her to place it over her pretty pale skin, Tommy came into the bedroom. 

‘Here, I think I can handle this part?’ He sighed out as he strutted towards the both of you, taking it from your hands. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, hair slicked back perfectly. He looked more than gorgeous, as usual. Your breath hitched as he snatched the necklace, not even bothering to look at you. 

You stepped back and gawked at them a little too long. As he clipped the necklace in place, his hands fell down her shoulders and arms, seemingly admiring her through the reflection in the mirror, like you weren’t even in the room. Like he hadn’t just fucked you senseless only a few feet away from where you were all standing. You felt like you might be sick. 

‘You’re dismissed, y/n.’ Mrs. Shelby’s voice rang out harshly. Quickly walking to the door, you glanced up at Tommy. His face was snuggled into her neck lovingly. She giggled at his burst of affection from behind you. As you shut the door, you practically fell down the stairs and out the front door. Once the fresh air hit your skin, you tried to calm the heavy breathing. 

That was fucking uncomfortable! You thought to yourself. You laughed, shaking your head. Did you really think a man like that would give a damn about a random maid he fucked one time? God, you felt like a fucking fool. He’s married. You reminded yourself. You felt so naïve for thinking that this would be more than just a one-time thing. 

You huffed out and slumped against the bricked wall on the side of the house. You reached for a cigarette under your stocking, lighting it with a match. Tommy and Mrs. Shelby were going to some fancy party tonight, thankfully. The last thing you wanted to do tonight was serve either of them. 

‘Could I bum one from ya?’ Francis said as she came to stand beside you, pulling out her small golden lighter from her dress pocket. You smiled at her, reaching for another cigarette. 

‘’course, Francis.’ 

‘Are you feeling alright, love? You look so pale.’ She said, studying your expression with squinted eyes. 

‘Yeh, just a rough go of it today, no worries.’ You said quickly, avoiding her eyes. You fidgeted with the fabric of your skirt. 

‘hoping she’d be gone for good this time, yeh?’ She giggled out as she puffed on her cigarette. 

Your eyes widened in surprise and you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. Of course, she knew what was going on. You were stupid to think this hadn’t happened before. 

‘How’d you know?’ 

‘I know everything that goes on here at the Arrow House, dear. Even what you and Mr. Shelby do in the shadows.’ She stated matter-of-factly. She didn’t seem angry or upset, she seemed curious. 

‘It all happened so fast. He’s…well he’s as charmiing as they say.’ You giggled.

‘Oh, I’m sure of it!’ Francis proclaimed. 

‘Just thought I had more time, is all. I don’t compare to her beauty. Must have been a moment of desperation for him.’ 

Francis turned to me, gently squeezing my shoulder in her frail hand. 

‘She is beautiful, yes. The moon is beautiful too, and so is a rose or a rainbow. They are all completely different, but no less beautiful. You’re beautiful too, inside and out, dear. It is a rarity to be both.’ She winked at you before flicking her cigarette out into the grass. 

Tears welled up in your eyes as the words comforted you. Nobody had ever said anything so kind to you. 

‘Oh Francis, you’re too good to me.’ You choked out, wiping away your tears. 

‘It’s only the truth dear.’

The Shelby’s had been gone for a few hours now, and you didn’t expect to see them again tonight. Francis had dismissed you from work just minutes ago. You walked yourself towards the shared bathroom. As you stripped off your uniform and jumped into your long nightgown, you couldn’t help but wonder what they were both doing in the moment. Were they getting along now? It seemed that way when they left. They’re probably out having a great time, enjoying each other’s company, as they should. They are married

You shook your head at your pathetic thoughts. 

Just as quickly as you opened the door, Tommy’s body was shoving you back into the bathroom with him. He pressed his hand firmly over your mouth to keep you from yelping. He placed his finger over his lips, signaling for you to keep quiet. Your eyes widened in shock and confusion. His face was inches away from yours. 

His scent and presence were overwhelming, intoxicating. A part of you was so relieved to be near him again. Another part of you was terrified that his wife could catch him at any minute with you.

Inches from yours, he studied your demeanor. His hand fell from your mouth. His eyes rested on your parted and pouty lips. That crooked smile nearly made you melt into a puddle. 

Pushing your hair back from your neck, he leaned in and whispered, ‘I’ve been thinking about your tight little pussy all evening’ His hand traced over the curve of your body lightly. ‘Can you keep quiet?’ Sending a shiver down your spine. You rubbed your legs together needily at his words. You were aching so badly for him. You shook your head yes a bit too eagerly. 

His mouth hungrily kissed down your body, holding your hips in place as he lowered himself. You couldn’t help the small moans that tried desperately to escape each time his lips made contact with your skin. 

When he reached your waist, he bunched up the bottom of your dress to your belly. The air was cold on your skin, but his warm hands lit you on fire instantly. 

‘T-Tommy wait…’ You tried to strain out. His blown pupils fluttered up to you. He tilted his head in question, not bothering to stand up. 

‘Tommy…you’re married…w-we shouldn’t be doing this…I feel so fucking guilty.’ You whispered breathlessly. He stiffened at your words, his hands freezing on your waist. He chuckled to himself before slowly standing up. He was so close you had to crane your neck to look in his eyes.

His hands held onto both sides of your cheeks, lifting your head up even more.

‘Please don’t feel guilty for the choices I make, y/n. Our relationship is far from saving and that has nothing to do with who we are both fucking. Alright?’ He spoke to you so softly, comforting you.  

‘But…this morning…you seemed so happy? You whispered, looking down at your feet in embarrassment.

The widest smile spread across his face as he lifted your chin up to look up at him. ‘Do you want me to go? Because your body is telling me something else, love.’ Just as he said the words, his hand slid up your thigh so softly, sending goosebumps up your legs. As his hand traveled up further, his eyes never left yours. You both let out a small gasp as his shoulders raised and his hand reached into your thin panties. You were so fucking wet, it was embarrassing. 

‘Shiiiiit.’ You moaned to yourself, letting your head fall onto your shoulder. You sucked in a long breath. Your chest rose and your peaked nipples poked through the fabric of your nightgown. The sight of you forced out a low groan from Tommy. 

His fingers quickly found your swollen nub and drew small circles. As he did so, he pushed your thighs open, giving him better access to you. 

His chest was heaving over yours and you steadied yourself on his shoulders, gripping them tightly. You felt his tendons moving as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. His circles became quicker in pace, making you shake. 

‘Fuck, I need to be inside of you again.’ He panted out, letting his forehead rest on yours. His words egged you on. The burning in your stomach was bubbling up, you didn’t know if you’d last much longer. 

His fingers lowered from your clit, finding your swelling hole. Without warning, his two fingers pushed through slowly. Your hand gripped the back of his freshly shaven head. He used the bottom of his palm to rub against your clit and you nearly lost it. 

You could feel Tommy’s cock throbbing against your stomach through his pants. 

Tommy knew you were close from the way you were breathing and the way you were clenching around his pumping fingers. 

He grabbed the back of your head, forcing you to look at him. 

‘Fuck Tommy…’ You barely whispered. 

‘Come. Then I’m gonna fuck you right here against this sink.’ He panted as his fingers pumped at a relentless pace. 

You sucked in another breath and came hard all around him. Just as you started to come undone, he sealed his lips over yours forcefully, cutting off any sounds you could make. You whimpered into his mouth, forcing a groan from him. Your legs were shaking madly and his arms pulled you against his chest. He was indulging in every movement and sound you made just for him. Fire shot through you and you nearly screamed out. 

Before you could even think straight again, he pulled his fingers out of you and lifted you up on top of the sink. His hands reached and ripped your panties down your thighs. He marveled at the sight of your red and swollen mound. His eyes flashed with lust and he smiled devilishly at you. 

He quickly unbuttoned his pants to only free his aching cock. Feeling brave, you pulled your dress up to rest on top of your breast, exposing every inch of yourself to him. 

He pushed your thigh up and over to spread you open for him. As he did so, he lined himself up with your dripping entrance. You watched your bodies connect as the head of his cock finally slipped inside of you. You both let out a long hiss. Inch by inch, Tommy slid inside of you and your walls trapped him in. 

‘Finally…’ Tommy muttered to himself as his eyes fluttered shut. He found a steady pace inside of you. You watched in amazement as his usually tense shoulders and neck relaxed as he fucked into you so painfully slow. His face started to soften completely and his mouth hung open in pure ecstasy. Tommy looked completely relaxed as he fucked you deep into the sink. You locked your fingers together behind his neck as he held you up by your waist.

‘You don’t know how good you feel, love.’ He practically whimpered out. The sound of him completely undone inside of you made your walls clench around him.  

You were both so wrapped up in the bliss of the moment that you didn’t register the doorknob shaking. Banging was quickly followed after this. Tommy’s hand slapped over your mouth again as he froze in place. 

‘Tommy, I know you’re in there!!! Open the fuckin door!!!’ 

Part Three coming soon!

Taglist:

@lyarr24

@forgottenpeakywriter

@casa-boiardi

@tigernach575

@crabat-the-queen

@adaydreamaway08

@trixie23

@star017

@esquivelbianca

@aesthetic0cherryblossom

@thenattitude

[chadillacboseman]

Summary: Part of the Vampire!Graves AU that @gloombride and I are currently going insane over. My original/first snippet is here. Graves is back from the dead and needs to find you. 141 has taken you for interrogation after hearing reports that the commander might be alive. Graves doesn't take kindly to your imprisonment. Reader is gender neutral, but the pet name "baby" is used.

Word Count: 5.1k!!!

Warnings: Oh boy! Major character death, blood, dismemberment, broken bones, vampirism, consumption of blood. The least offensive part of this is the use of guns lol. The moment Price and Graves interact, some pretty graphic descriptions of injury take place and continue until the end.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

--

"What do you know about Phillip Graves being alive?" Captain Price stood before you, his figure looming above your seated form, hands resting on his rifle.

"Nothing."

That was the truth. You'd spent the last two weeks mourning his death after his second in command had came to your door to notify you.

"Bullshit-" Soap piped up from across the room, his voice tinged with barely contained rage. Soap had been one of the few to know about you- Graves had pulled a weathered photo of you from his pocket to show him the night before they'd taken down El Sin Nombre.

"That's my whole world right there," Graves grinned and ran a thumb absentmindedly over your face in the photo, "Gonna make it home safe just to see that face again."

"Didn't peg ya for one to settle down, Graves," Soap raised an eyebrow, "But I can see why."

Graves chuckled and shoved the photo back into his pocket, "I'm gonna hang it up soon, give the Shadows over to Oz- sit my ass behind a fuckin' desk and call the shots from there."

"I don't know anything!" you hissed; tears were threatening to well up in your eyes now.

"Let me clue you in here," Price knelt down in front of you, eyes laser fixed on yours, "You are not leaving this room until I get an answer."

"Fuck you."

--

"Shepherd told me you were dead," Oz's back was against the wall, eyes following Graves as he paced.

"Maybe I was," there was a new glint in the commander's eye that made Oz uncomfortable. His irises were glowing in the dim light, two halos of amber bobbing just above his shark-like grin, "Now I'm gonna ask you one more time, where are they?"

"Those British fucks came knocking-" Oz paused, eyes screwed up, as if he was trying to conjure the memory up in his mind, "They know you're alive. Took 'em in for questioning. That's all I fuckin' know, Graves."

He didn't need any more than that.

"Do me a favor, Osmond," Graves glanced over his shoulder as he exited the room, "Don't tell Shepherd about this conversation. I'd like it to be a surprise."

--

Your house was deserted. Lights were still on, and your phone was sitting at the table. Graves knew you didn't go voluntarily. He inhaled deeply, letting the scent of the place dance through his nostrils and across his tongue. Each scent was a thread, a way to trace back to the source- a way for him to find you.

He got a lock on it, pulled it from the others that surrounded it until it was all he could smell, all he could taste. From there, it was easy- like a bloodhound on the trail he could retrace your every step.

The other scents made his fangs throb, anger welled up in his chest- Soap, Ghost, and two others he couldn't quite place.

It was easy to follow the trail once he had a lock on you. Graves could see the scent now, like a faint fog that hovered in the air.

You were close. And so were the others.

--

"Do you really think he's alive?" The soldier Gaz was posted with was chatty. He hated that.

"Dunno. Price seems to think so," Gaz traced a circle in the dirt with his boot, hoping to avoid further conversation.

"Yeah, but, they fuckin' blew that tank sky-high, right? No shot he lived."

"Maybe he wasn't in it."

The soldier seemed surprised by the suggestion, "Yeah? That could be. Probably put some low level guy in there, made him get blasted."

Gaz simply grunted in response, praying that the man took the hint. He didn't want to be part of the interrogation, in fact, he thought the whole thing was a farce. As if Graves would be foolish enough to tell you he was alive, let alone where he was.

So, Price stuck him outside on "guard duty" with some chatty nobody until they were through.

"I'm gonna do a walk-around, make sure nobody is up to anything," The soldier had clearly taken the hint, uncomfortable with the silence that was left hanging between them.

"Knock yourself out," Gaz leaned back against the cool metal of the wall and watched as the man disappeared into the darkness.

The night was quiet and Gaz could hear the faint sounds of the highway in the distance, muddled with crickets chirping in the field just outside the gate.

The minutes ticked by and Gaz began to wonder if the other soldier had abandoned him. He wouldn't complain if he had, but Price demanded two on the door at all times.

"Oi, you done fucking around out there?" Gaz called into the darkness.

No response.

"Jesus, mate-" He cupped his hand around his mouth and yelled once more, "If I have to come find you, I'm tellin' Price and he'll kick your ass."

Silence.

"Fuckin' hell," Gaz muttered as he flipped the flashlight to life on his rifle and aimed it into the distance.

He wandered between the shipping containers in the warehouse yard, flashlight beam bobbing from shadow to shadow.

"You out here takin' a piss or are you-" Gaz stopped mid-sentence as his beam fell on something dark pooled on the concrete. From it, drag marks had been formed in the liquid, leading off into the darkness. Gaz knelt beside the puddle and examined it closely; he realized with a sudden jolt that it was blood. A lot of it.

"What the fuck-" He lifted the beam of his flashlight, following the drag marks until the dark overwhelmed it.

A thud in the distance, just beyond the reach of the light made him jump; he lifted his rifle to his shoulder and tried to calm his racing heart.

"Somebody out there? Come out with your hands up." Something to his left rustled and Gaz spun on his heel in search of the source.

Gaz had never met Graves in person. He only knew him from photographs and from a brief glimpse of him during their raid of the Fuerzas Especiales base.

But, the man standing before him was undoubtedly Phillip fucking Graves.

Something was off about his uniform, it seemed to shine in the light. It took Gaz a moment to realize that the fabric was covered in blood.

"Gaz, right?" Graves grinned as he drawled on, "Never had the pleasure of meeting you, but I'm sure you know who I am."

"Price is gonna have your fuckin' head."

"We'll see about that. Now look, I think you know what happened to your buddy," Graves nodded to the pool of blood, "But it doesn't have to happen to you. You answer my questions, you walk away. Pretty simple."

Gaz swallowed, hard, and flexed his fingers on the grip of his rifle, "No shot."

Graves sighed and ran his tongue over his teeth, "I know you're smarter than this, Garrick. Tell me where they're at and we go our separate ways."

"I promise you, I'm a man of my word."

--

"Gaz, we're calling it a night. Everything clear out there?" Price released the button on his radio and waited for a response.

Silence.

"Fuck's sake, Gaz," Price shook his head and made his way toward the entry. Gaz was good at what he did, but he never turned his fucking radio on.

Price flung the heavy metal door open and found the entry unguarded. Gaz's rifle was leaned neatly against the wall, and there was no sign of Krieger anywhere.

Graves watched Price from the shadows, listening as his heartbeat grew more rapid with every passing second, no doubt worrying about Gaz's safety. He didn't have to worry- Graves was, indeed, a man of his word. The kid had left without a scratch on him, but he'd made him leave his radio behind; he knew Gaz would try to warn Price. He'd probably gone to circle back and do it anyway, but Graves didn't care.

It would be more fun if they knew he was coming.

Graves waited until Price turned his back and made his move, lunging out of the darkness and shoving him to the concrete. Price grunted as the air was forced from his lungs, thrashing beneath the other man's weight.

"Hello again, Captain," Graves shoved his knee into Price's back and used his weight to keep him pinned, "Long time no see."

"Graves-" Price growled as he tried to free himself from his grip, "What the fuck did you do to Gaz?"

"Nothing," Graves said simply, "The other one, though," he whistled for emphasis, "Let's just say he retired early, hm?"

"I'll fucking kill you-"

Graves used his free hand to shove Price's face into the concrete, silencing him.

"No, no, I think you misunderstand the situation here, hoss," Graves leaned down until his face was just inches from Price's, "See, your little lapdogs thought they killed me down in Mexico. Hell, I thought they did too. But somethin' out there had a different idea, and now-" he flashed his pointed teeth and Price's eyes widened, "I'm gonna make you and your little 141 regret it."

Graves adjusted his weight so he could wrestle one of Price's arms out from under him, easily overpowering every attempt he made to pull it away.

"I'd love to take my time with you, but I don't want the boys inside to get worried and come lookin'- that'd ruin all my plans," Graves angled Price's arm until he felt resistance, the bones trying to prevent him from moving them beyond their limit, "Doesn't mean I can't have a little fun first."

A sickening crack radiated under Graves' grip and Price cried out through gritted teeth as his radial bone gave way, followed by another crunch when the ulna followed suit.

"Hope that wasn't your shootin' arm," Graves joked as Price panted in pain beneath him, "Not that that matters much."

Graves reached for his other arm, wrenching it back despite the other man's efforts against him. This time he twisted, savoring the way Price cried out in earnest when his bone spiraled into pieces, skin already beginning to discolor as blood gathered beneath the surface.

Graves dropped the now limp limb, feeling Price's heartbeat, erratic and racing, thrum in his ears. Oh, how he wanted to break every bone in his body, to make his death as slow as he could. But he didn't have time for that.

Instead, he reached down, taking Price's head in his hands and lifting his face from the pavement, "Take a real good look at the stars, Captain," Graves grinned as he felt the race of blood just under the skin, "At least die lookin' at something pretty."

Price opened his mouth to retort, but Graves wrenched, hard, twisting his head until he felt a pop reverberate through his fingers. Price's body went limp, and Graves stood up, pausing to dust himself off before making his way to the door.

--

Your back ached from the hard metal chair, and the dim lighting was threatening to give you a headache before long. You'd told Price over and over again that you knew nothing, and yet he still persisted.

He'd left you in the room with Soap, who was watching you from the shadows, a look of pure hate painted across his face.

"You can keep lyin' all ya want, but eventually we're gonna get what we want," his Scottish accent grated on your ears after hours trapped in that fucking room.

"I don't know how else to tell you this, you thick-skulled moron-" you shifted in your chair so he could better see your face, "I don't know fucking anything. You telling me that Phillip is alive is just as much of a shock to me as it is to you!"

"Bullshit."

"If he is alive, I can tell you this much-" you were mad now, some kind of volatile mix of anger and grief that had you feeling bolder than you ever had before, "he's going to tear the place apart looking for me."

Soap didn't respond, which only irritated you further.

"And from where I'm sitting, you look like a prime fucking target right now!"

That made him laugh, which sent a jolt of rage through your chest, "Even if your little boyfriend is still alive, he's not making it ten steps into this country-"

His cellphone began to vibrate, interrupting his tirade; when he pulled it from his pocket, you could see Gaz's name on the screen.

"Gaz- what? Slow down, man. What are you talking about?" Soap's brows were furrowed, and you could hear the other man shouting frantically, "I can't- did you call Price? What do you mean he didn't answer?"

Your heart hammered as you strained to hear what Gaz was saying on the other end, you caught bits and pieces- "killed Krieger" and "I ran"; before Soap hung up, you heard "You have to get everyone out."

Soap hammered the call button on his radio, "Ghost, you got ears on?"

There was a pause before his radio crackled to life, and Ghost's gruff voice responded in the affirmative.

"Listen, Gaz just called me- I dunno if he's off his rocker or what, babbling on about Krieger being dead and-" he paused and looked down at you before continuing, "Just...could you go outside and see what the fuck is going on?"

"Roger."

--

Ghost made his way silently through the hallways toward the front entry. This whole affair annoyed him- if Graves was alive, how far could he possibly have gotten? He wasn't an idiot, he'd have kept his status from you for as long as he could for his safety and yours.

But Price's ego was bruised and you were an easy grab- it didn't matter if everyone agreed or not.

Where the hell was Price, anyway?

Ghost flung the heavy metal door open and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness- the small light that had hung just above the frame seemed to have been broken.

Ghost cursed and thumbed the flashlight on his rifle to life, sweeping it over the concrete.

"Price-" he spotted the man, lying limp on the pavement just a few feet away. There was something wrong with the way he was positioned, something unnerving about his neck, "Captain?"

Ghost crouched low to the ground and approached, "Captain?" Once he was closer he realized what was wrong- Price's neck was twisted beyond its limit. His eyes were wide and bulging, bloodshot and full of ruptured vessels.

"Fuckin' hell," Ghost stood straight and hit the call button on his radio, "Soap, we have a problem. Lock the door to that cell and meet me out here."

"Roger."

--

"Ghost?" Soap turned the key in the lock on the cell door as he peered down the hallway, "Ya there, LT?"

Silence was his only answer.

Soap made his way toward the exit; his heart was hammering- what had made Gaz go into hysterics like that? Where was Price?

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud thrum as the power went out in the warehouse, sealing him in total darkness.

"Fuck!" Soap jumped in surprise and fumbled in the darkness with his rifle until the flashlight came to life.

The bright white beam bobbed as he continued his trek in darkness toward the door, "Comin' LT! The fuckin' power went out," he called, hoping Ghost could hear him through the metal.

The door rattled, hard, and Soap stopped in his tracks, "Soap, open the fuckin' door," Ghost's voice echoed over the radio.

"Locked yourself out, eh, LT?" Soap chuckled.

"Fuck off."

Soap approached the door and swept his flashlight over it, confusion taking root in his mind as he took in the chains that were wrapped around the bar.

"LT, something...something is going on with the door-"

Graves watched from the rafters, feeling Soap's pulse grow more rapid by the second, savoring the thrum of it in his ears. He had wanted to save the Scot for last, but fate had other plans.

Soap examined the chains, running his gloved hand along the metal, "LT...there's chains on the door."

"What?"

"There's chains, keeping the door shut."

"What the fuck are you on about, Johnny?" Ghost sounded annoyed; the door rattled as he put his full weight into it once more.

Graves was tired of the pathetic display below him- while Soap fumbled in the darkness, he was able to see everything in perfect totality. Every finite detail, every color. Another benefit of his new condition.

Graves dropped from the rafters, silent as a predatory cat, moving as if he was one with the shadows until he was behind Soap, close enough to hear his every breath.

"Hey Soap, long time no see."

Soap was quick, Graves had to give him that much. He swung his rifle, nearly connecting with Graves' head, and managed to strangle out "GHOST, GRAVES IS-" over his radio before it was ripped from his vest.

"Soap? Johnny??" Ghost's voice faded away on the abandoned radio as Graves dragged the Scot down the hall.

--

"Wakey wakey, Soap," Graves brought his hand down, hard, across Soap's face, the sound ringing through the empty room.

The Scot's eyes fluttered as he regained consciousness, eyes flitting around the room frantically. He was seated, his wrists bound to the arms of the chair he was in. His ankles were bound as well, held tightly in place with some kind of cord.

The room was dark, save for one single bulb that hung above his head, casting harsh shadows on his figure.

"What the fuck-" Soap hissed as his eyes struggled to adjust to the pitch blackness, limbs straining against his bindings.

"You wanna know something, Soap?" Graves paced around the chair, his Southern drawl echoed off the walls of the room, "I wanted to like you. Hell, I did like you. But you just couldn't let it go."

"You took Alejandro's base!" Soap spat, "You wanted us to just 'let that go'?"

"I'd be willing to let bygones be bygones, too. Bury the hatchet. When I crawled outta that tank, I was just happy to be alive."

Graves reached for the crowbar that hung from the back of his tac vest, wrapping his fingers around the cool metal and snagging it from the loop that held it.

"But then I come home to find that you and your little gang of assholes had the gall to use someone I love to try and hunt me down," he brandished the crowbar, its silver finish glinting in the harsh light, "And I can't forgive that."

The crowbar came down swiftly, connecting with Soap's knee, its clawed head dragging the flesh and connective tissue with it. Blood splattered to the floor and Soap let out a pained cry through gritted teeth.

Graves raked his eyes over the soldier's panting form, calculating where he should strike next. This time the blow came to his chest with the blunt side, taking the air from Soap's lungs with a dull crack.

The Scot coughed, a faint wheeze at the crest of his next breath. Graves grinned wolfishly, waiting for him to recover, the crowbar tapping absentmindedly against his flattened palm.

"Ghost...." Soap wheezed, his head lolling slightly, "Is going to fuckin' kill you."

"Better give him a good reason, then."

Graves brought the sharp teeth of the crowbar down, with his full strength, onto Soap's right fingers. The metal cut through in one motion- muscle, tendons, and bones giving way easily under the blow. The force was such that the teeth lodged themselves into the wood of the chair as blood oozed from the two severed fingers in thick rivulets.

Soap let out a genuine cry of pain, his muscles flexing on instinct, struggling against his bindings. Graves gave him no time to recover, swinging the weapon upward and striking him in the jaw with a wet whacking sound that reverberated through the metal.

Blood gushed from his cracked jaw, spilling down his fatigues and pattering to the floor. He let out a pained groan as more blood rolled over his lips and down his chin.

Another blow landed on the side of his head and for a moment, he danced on the edge of unconsciousness, his skull throbbing in time with his pulse.

"Ghost-" blood clung to his lips as he spoke, weak pleas falling on deaf ears, "Simon, please-"

Graves laughed outright at that, "He's not coming to save you. By the time he gets in this building, you'll be long gone."

"Fuck....you," Soap wheezed. His face was covered in blood now, caked in his stubble and soaked into his uniform.

His other hand took the abuse this time. The crowbar's sharp clawed end ripped through two of his fingers, sending a spray of crimson to the floor. Graves waited until blood had pooled on the metal, then raised the weapon to his mouth and ran his tongue along it, pointed fangs glinting in the harsh light.

Soap could barely muster a cry of pain this time, instead making a pathetic moaning sound as the fresh blood joined the rest on the floor at his feet.

"Aw, come on now, buck up, sport-" Graves positioned the crowbar under Soap's chin and tilted his face upward, "Don't be blacking out on me just yet. I'm not done havin' fun!"

He tossed the crowbar to the side and Soap's head dropped to his chest once more, his breaths coming in shallow waves. Graves unsheathed his combat knife and fidgeted with the blade, contemplating.

"You wanna know something, Soap?" Graves paced around the chair slowly, mapping out his next target, "I really respected you. It's a shame it had to go down like this."

Soap groaned in response, a wet, gurgling sound that fell flat in the empty room. Graves rolled his eyes and slid the knife under the shoulder straps of the Scot's tactical vest, slicing the fabric and letting the heavy kevlar fall away from his chest.

"Let's wake you up, shall we?" Graves laced his fingers in Soap's hair and yanked, hard, bringing his face upward. He gripped the blade tightly and brought it to the Scot's cheek, dragging it down the flesh and leaving an angry cut in its wake.

Soap gritted his teeth, choking back a cry of pain as blood flooded down his jaw and neck.

Graves tutted, unsatisfied, and instead brought the blade to Soap's stomach, "Guess we'll go big then."

The knife pierced through the Scot's skin just above his navel; blood gushed around the blade as Soap thrashed, a new, more urgent sound escaping his lips.

"That's more like it!" Graves grinned, delighted. He pulled the knife upward, shredding the flesh and muscle until he hit the resistance of bone in the ribcage.

"Simon!" Soap cried hoarsely, his mind struggling to comprehend the new pain, "Ghost, please- it hurts."

Graves watched as the blood flooded to the floor, enough to make Soap grow pale, his eyes going in and out of focus.

"Sorry, hoss," Graves cocked his head and took a step back to avoid his boots getting tinged with blood, "I know your ol' pal Ghost has got to be close to getting in. Couldn't have him interrupting."

Soap slumped forward, his form going limp; a few disjointed words still fell from his lips as he faded from consciousness, "Simon", "please" "Help me".

Graves grabbed Soap's dog tags, clutching them firmly in his fist before ripping them from the Scot's neck, "No hard feelings, Johnny boy." He watched, amused, as the Scot convulsed and then went limp.

From down the hall, Graves detected another heartbeat, racing, filled with rage.

Ghost.

--

Graves prowled along the rafters, watching Ghost move through the warehouse. It would be hard to break him- he'd read the files. The man had a psych profile a fucking mile long.

"Lookin' for your buddy?" Graves called down from the ceiling, watching as Ghost pointed his rifle skyward, eyes under his mask narrowed as he stared into the darkness, "Got some bad news about that."

Ghost swung his rifle wildly, aiming into the rafters; Graves could hear his heart hammering, a sweet melody of anticipation that made him grin in the darkness. He took one last look at the bloodied dog tags clutched in his fist before tossing them to the ground.

Ghost spun on his heel at the sound of metal connecting with concrete, eyes widening as they fell on Johnny's dog tags, dented and covered in blood.

"Y'know it's a damn shame, Ghost," Graves drawled from somewhere above him, "Soap died all alone, screamin' your name. Should'a heard him when I cut his gut open-" he paused to chuckle at the memory, "he was beggin' like a dog."

"Come down and fight me, Graves!" Ghost snarled, his rage fighting the overwhelming grief of losing Johnny.

"Careful what you wish for."

Before Ghost could turn to the source of the voice, pain erupted in his lower back. There was a momentary heat as he felt fingers push through the fabric of his gear, then into his flesh. He tried to pull away, but Graves had a hold of something inside him. Instead, he turned as well as he could, swinging the rifle to take aim at the other man's chest.

Graves grinned and clenched his fist until he felt a crunch. Hot, coppery blood ran down his arm and mixed with a viscous fluid that poured from Ghost's now shattered spine.

When he released his grip, the masked man crumpled to the floor, his legs now immobile beneath him. Graves took advantage of the momentary shock to grab the rifle from Ghost's hands and toss it across the room.

Ghost was panting under his mask, trying to process the lack of feeling in his legs.

"You know, I always wondered what you look like under this-" Graves took a fistful of the fabric just above the skull and pulled, prying the mask from Ghost's face and letting it fall carelessly to the floor.

"Now, I don't know what the hell Soap saw in you," Graves paced around the downed soldier, watching his eyes follow him; there was no fear there, just anticipation, "Gotta say, I respect the dedication to the badass bit you've got going here."

Ghost said nothing in return. He could feel the blood pooling beneath him, soaking through the hooded sweatshirt he wore under his flak jacket. He'd been through worse- Graves would have to do better than this.

"Johnny boy, though, he dropped the act pretty quick," Ghost's mouth twitched at those words, "Wish you could have heard the way he begged for you to help him right up until the end."

Graves retrieved his crowbar once more, and Ghost's eyes flicked to the dried blood caked on the hooked claw.

"Just know you won't be very far behind him," Graves lined up his crowbar and brought it down with the entirety of his strength, onto Ghost's right arm, just under the elbow. The bones gave way easily, shattering under the weight of the metal.

Ghost didn't make a sound, and his face barely changed; he merely stared up at Graves, his jaw set.

"Like I said, pretty impressive-" Graves tapped the blunt instrument against his palm. Ghost was lying flat on his back now, unable to support himself with his arms any longer, "Just wish I had a little more time."

Ghost's left arm was next. The crowbar came down, teeth first, the force of it cleaving straight through the flesh and bone and striking off the concrete beneath it.

This time, Ghost made a sound, a guttural groan from somewhere deep in his chest. He was growing more pale by the minute as blood began to spread in a halo around his form on the floor.

Graves was growing bored of the interaction.

"Don't worry, Ghost" Graves moved behind him, shoving him upright and bringing the crowbar to his neck, "Soap won't be alone for long."

The crowbar went tight against Ghost's throat, cutting off his air. He tried to move, tried to thrash away from the pressure, but Graves was stronger.

"Look at that! There is some life left in you," Graves sneered as he pulled the metal even tighter, eliciting a choked gasp from Ghost, whose head thrashed weakly, trying in vain to relieve the pressure.

Graves pulled with more force, grunting against the soldier's struggles, until he felt the man go grow weaker before becoming still entirely.

Graves rose to his feet and let Ghost fall to the floor in a heap, watching with amusement as the light went out in his eyes. He paused to dust himself off and replace his crowbar on the back of his vest before exiting the room and making his way toward you.

--

You strained your wrists against the bindings, struggling helplessly to free yourself in the pitch blackness. The power had gone out what seemed like hours ago, and Soap still hadn't returned.

Was this some new trick? A vain effort to make you talk by playing on fear?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the distinct sound of the door on the far side of the room opening- no light flooded in from outside, which meant the power outage stretched at least into the hallway.

"That you, Soap?" you tried to sound casual, but the darkness and your immobility were starting to wear on you, "Neat trick with the lights."

No response.

"Ever figure out what Gaz was so worked up about?"

You could feel someone getting closer to you- not hear, feel, like the air shifted around whoever it was. The hairs on the back of your neck were on end, your heart banging out a rhythm in against your rib cage.

"Hello?" Your voice sounded very small, dwarfed by whatever presence was hovering near you in the darkness.

"Hey baby," a distinctive southern drawl purred near your ear and you felt as if your heart was going to leap out of your throat. There was a coppery smell to his breath that you couldn't quite place.

"Phillip?" You choked back a sob as he cut the bindings on your wrists and ankles.

"It's me," you felt his hand cup your chin and his forehead touched to yours.

"How-" your voice cracked and you felt tears spill down your cheeks as you struggled to find the words.

"Shhh, it's alright. I'm here," Graves pulled you in close and you buried your face in the crook of his neck. His shirt felt wet, and the metallic scent persisted on him, almost overwhelming, "I'm gonna walk you outta here, okay? But you gotta promise me something-"

"What?"

"Keep your eyes closed."

[hiss-kitten]

Things the Obey Me! characters would say/do to comfort you

I need this again just so I could get rid of these su1cid@l thoughts. I'm sorry. This is for you too if you ever need it.

: The things they'll say/do to comfort you crying because of failure.

Genre: Fluff, comfort

Warnings: Su1cid@l thoughts

(Let me know if I missed something/Added something incorrect.)

— · LUCIFER :

"If you are ready to talk about it, please speak with me."

*Would probably not act like the Avatar of Pride he is and hug you*

"I will not let you go. You will stay in my room tonight." ('cause he might lose you.)

— · MAMMON :

"Hey, human! Listen up, your stupid scores ain't gonna change who you are! You're more than it!"

Will let you cry on his shoulder while he comforting you.

"You done...? Ya know, it'll be nice if ya stay here with me for a little more while..." And then "HUH!? I-I-I-I DIDN'T SAY ANYTH-TH-THING!" But he won't let you go at all.

— · LEVIATHAN :

If you want, you could play games with him or read manga or even watch anime. Whatever you want to do. He'll wait until you're ready to talk about it.

Okay, it's not time to be nervous! Mc needs me! He says in his mind and then hug you.

"Are you ready to talk about it?" He asks after you stopped crying.

— · SATAN :

Will read you a book and let you cry on him. He's willing to listen and help you on what's making you struggle and feel stressed. He's not doing it out of sympathy. He's doing it for you. To help you.

"Would you like to talk about it now?"

Will massage your head to help you calm down. If you don't like it, you can tell him.

— · ASMODEUS :

"It's okay to cry, Hun! Better than carrying that heavy feeling all day!"

Would ask you to take a nice, relaxing bath with him. He says it calms him down, and it might help you as well. But you could always say no if you're uncomfortable with the idea.

Will let you cry, will listen, will comfort, will make you happy.

— · BEELZEBUB :

"Do you want to eat with me and talk about it?"

He'll let you cry on his chest or anywhere you want. He will listen to your problems and would do his best to cheer you up.

He doesn't like seeing you sad, so he'll try princess-carrying you and rock you gently like your a baby. Hoping it'll calm you down. If you don't like it, again, you could say so.

— · BELPHEGOR :

Will drag you to bed, cuddle with you, and let you cry. He'll listen. He will.

He doesn't really know humans that much, but he's trying to calm down his beloved.

He will say "If you had asked me to assist you, I would have helped. But there's always next time, so do not worry..." In a gentle voice.

— · DIAVOLO :

"Please have a rest. You did well. I'm proud of you."

"Thank you for trying your best, it is all that matters to me."

Will shower you with praises while you cry in his arms. Will tell you how much he loves you no matter what. Will tell you that your grades/scores does not define you. He believes you did amazing, and he's proud of you for trying to do more than that.

— · BARBATOS :

"Please take some time to rest. I say you did amazing. We are proud of you, Mc."

What he says are quite similar to what Diavolo did. But, he meant what he said and it came from his heart.

Will make you tea, and cook your favourite food. Tell him what to do, your wish is his command. He isn't the type to want rewards, but talking with him about it will be the bestest reward he's ever received. He loves it when you trust him enough to tell him how and what you feel.

— · SOLOMON :

He will hug you, and kiss your forehead. Telling you that you tried your very best and he's so proud.

"Would you like to talk about it with me? I would love to help you."

He loves you so much, that he'll do his very best to see you smile and be happy. "Fears are what you must avoid. I'm here for you, Mc." He says.

— · SIMEON :

"God says that failure is okay. It is not a sin. We're all proud of you."

He'll hug you. He will let you cry just so you could lift that heavy feeling off your chest.

Will wait until you're ready to talk about it. He loves you. He'll do anything to see you smile and happy.

[crimsonredfeathers]

Leaving

~*~ Chapter 9 ~*~

Hawks x slightly older!fem!Reader

Warnings: more fluff

Word count: 1.2k

Notes: I'm ashamed of myself that it took me literal months to get back to this story 🙈 So, if there's no update even for a long period of time, I haven't abandoned this story at all, I really just didn't find the time to continue. Thank you for being patient with me, everyone ❤️

Prologue * Chapter 1 * Chapter 2 * Chapter 3 * Chapter 4 * Chapter 5 * Chapter 6 * Chapter 7 * Chapter 8 * Chapter 9 * Chapter 10

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As subtly as you could, you took in your surroundings while following Hawks to his sofa after you had taken off your coat and shoes. His home was spacious with a modern interior. A small kitchen was installed right next to the living area, the furniture looked like they were on the higher end of the price range, and quite frankly, the whole place was basically spotless. How he managed to keep everything in order with a job like that was beyond you. But what surprised you the most was the lack of personal items like pictures or other decorations, or even something that was related to a hobby he might have. "Are ya done checking out my apartment?" Hawks chuckled as he motioned for you to take a seat.

"I'm gonna grab something to drink. Are you okay with some green tea?" You nodded and sat down on the sofa, watching him pouring two glasses of tea in the little kitchen area. "Hawks, can I ask you something?" He looked over his shoulder, a little surprised. "Sure, go ahead," he replied, a smile on his lips, before he turned back to the glasses, ready to carry them over. You pondered for a second on how to phrase the question and if this really was the time to ask but ultimately decided to go ahead without beating around the bush. "Is there anyone present in your life?" His movements came to a hold for a second except for a barely visible twitch of his wings, like he was contemplating on how to answer. Finally grabbing the two glasses, he turned around. "I don't have a girlfriend if this is what you wanna know," he said as if you weren't aware of that fact anyway, wiggling his eyebrows playfully at you while he walked over to set the glasses down on the small table in front of you. Hawks had clearly decided to avoid your question for now. "You know exactly that this is not -" The ringing of the doorbell interrupted you mid-sentence, and Hawks hurried over to the intercom next to the front door. A minute later, he received the delivery and, judging by the way the delivery guy and your boss exchanged pleasantries, they seemed to have occasionally met before, at least.

Hawks closed the door of his apartment and carried over the box of pizza. Opening it, he held it out for you to take a slice before setting it down on the table. He took a seat next to you, barely leaving any space in between, and grabbed a slice of pizza as well. "Look, y/n," the young hero said, voice uncharacteristically emotionless, "my parents aren't in the picture anymore, haven't been for years. I got trained by the HPSC, which means I was surrounded by all those people much older than me without any spare time to go out and make friends." He stared at the baked dough covered in toppings and cheese in his hand. "Until you joined the agency, the closest thing to friends I had were my sidekicks, and I only met them a few weeks prior to meeting you when the agency was opened for business." You nodded, feeling a little uncomfortable with the answer. It reminded you of your own situation and made you sad, honestly. You yourself didn't have any family left. "Sorry, Hawks, I just should have let it go," you said quietly, avoiding to look at him out of guilt for ruining the mood with a question like that. "No, songbird, it's alright."

You were surprised to feel something soft brush against your back and shoulder out of nowhere. Glancing to your side, you quickly realized that his feathers were the culprits. Hawks had carefully laid one of his wings around you in a protective manner, and the warmth radiating from it made you feel at ease. "You see, I'm not a very interesting person. I don't even have any real hobbies to impress you with because I have barely any spare time. But," he smiled, his wing hugging you just a little tighter, "you'll have to tell me more about you for sure. So, how was your trip? I want to know everything. " And with that, he took the first bite out of his slice of pizza, leaving you quite a bit puzzled.

While the both of you sat there, munching away on your take-out, you told him about your trip to your hometown. "My former boss wanted me to say hi to you. He, his wife, and the others thought that it was a real pity that you couldn't make it. The little daughter of my ex-colleague seems to be a huge fan of yours, by the way." Hawks laughed. "But you're still my biggest fan, right?" You nudged his side with your elbow, only causing him to laugh even harder.

~*~

It was getting late at this point, and both of you had to be back at work tomorrow. Sure enough, Hawks had offered to bring you home, but you didn't feel comfortable causing him any more inconveniences on his birthday and decided to go and flag down a taxi. You had already put on your coat and reached the door of his apartment when you turned to smile at Hawks who had followed behind you. "I had a lot of fun spending your birthday with you. Also, the pizza was really good. Thank you for treating me." A soft smile adorned Hawks' features. "Thank you for stopping by, y/n. It meant a lot to me." You slipped into your shoes, gave the hero a hug, and walked a few steps down the hall until you reached the elevator, pulling your small suitcase along with you. Once inside, you bowed slightly before waving goodbye. "Oh, and, just in case you wondered," he winked at you, "I did hear and feel that." A confused look graced your features when he slightly puffed out his feathers, plucking one of them and holding it up as a hint right before the doors of the elevator closed. It took you a moment to catch up on what he was talking about, but soon enough, realization hit you. He had been talking about yesterday when you had let your finger slide over his feather while wishing him a good night's rest from afar. Of course he did. You should have expected as much.

~*~

Soon, you were fast asleep. The exhaustion of traveling had easily taken over your body once you had laid down and snuggled into the comfort of your bed. Unbeknownst to you, Hawks struggled to get to sleep over at his own apartment, tossing and turning for at least another hour, while way too many thoughts crossed his mind, every single one revolving around you.

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Taglist: @claralouvette @chrisrue15

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A huge thanks to everyone who's reading and supporting this story! See you next chapter ❤️👋

[princesspastel8]

Chapter 35

Trigger warning: R/SA

Third POV

Eboni admits that Alex's home is pretty huge. Almost mansion like. She questions how Taylor even knows him so well. After parting ways with Luna and Iris, Taylor drags Eboni to the male's house - the walk there long but entertaining. Taylor's company can get a bit exhausting since all she seems to talk about is herself, but Eboni can overlook that. She doesn't mind - to some extent.

However, when coming closer to the house, Eboni begins to feel extremely anxious. She's a home body, only going out shopping - mostly in the early morning hours to avoid crowds. Eboni is curious to see what the hype is about when it comes to parties, but once inside, she quickly regrets coming. The smell of sweaty bodies, the air reeking of vap pins & alcohol, the sight of people making out in the corners and couches, bodies grinding against the other in a form of a dance, and the loud almost ear bleeding music playing - needless to say Eboni wholeheartedly wants to be at home right now, with Jeff.

"Hey! Aren't you the girl from that video?!" One guy shouts as he approaches her.

"Holy shit man she is! Damn, she's hotter up close." The other shouts, breath laced with liquor.

Taylor grins, but Eboni isn't up for this. She knows nobody here but Taylor and Alex. She didn't ask to become suddenly popular over a stupid fighting video. This type of attention isn't what she craved before. Sure, maybe it would've been nice before Jeff stepped into the picture - but now she's annoyed by it.

With that in mind, Eboni taps the bottom of the boy's cup upward - liquor splashing out of the cup and onto his shirt & face. The other guy laughs while Taylor drags Eboni away with a frown on her face.

"C'mon gurl! Lighten the fuck up!" Taylor exclaims.

Eboni rolls her eyes. "I don't appreciate drunk losers making a pass at me."

"He was kinda cute - stop bein' so uptight!"

Eboni scoffs, rolling her eyes. No one measures up to Jeff in her eyes. "No one can compare to Jeff."

Taylor throws her head back dramatically, letting out a loud sigh of annoyance. "Can we fa' get 'bout that smilin' freak for one night!? Why stay tie down to one fucker? Mengle a bit."

Eboni hates the idea, so she says, "Only if you promise not to leave my side while we're here. This is my first party, and honestly, Taylor, I'm feeling really uncomfortable."

Taylor rolls her eyes but smiles, flicking her forehead. "Sure, gurl. I get it - just follow meh 'round, and ya be fine. Promise."

Eboni smiles in thanks, allowing Taylor to lock their arms together. The blonde drags her friend around the crowd, meeting and greeting a lot of people - some greet back while others to drunk to speak.

"Eboni! Taylor!"

The two turn around, Taylor smiling brightly and drags Eboni into the kitchen to meet Alex. "Hey!"

"Glad to see you two made it." He smiles, eyes mostly on Eboni. "You two look great."

"Well, duh! 'Course I do."

Eboni rolls her eyes, "Thanks, Alex."

"Yo Taylor! You gotta check this shit out!!" A random guy shouts from within the crowd, sparking the blondes interest.

"Wha' happenin'!?"

"Street dance battle!" He grins.

"Oh hell yeah!" She cheers, quickly following the boy into the crowd.

Eboni's eye twitches in anger. Her friend promised not to leave her side yet ditches her at the mention of a stupid street dance off? The teen clenches her first, watching Taylor skip away. There's no way Eboni would be able to find her in such a crowded house.

Alex watches Eboni, his eyes scanning up and down her body. He notices the obvious hickeys on her neck and frowns. The blonde male shakes his head, smiling, then laughs a bit.

Eboni looks at him, eyes displaying how pissed she is. "What the fuck is so funny?"

Alex shakes his head, leaning forward on the kitchen counter. "Nothing really, that's just what Taylor does." He shrugs.

"She does this shit often? I've never been to a damn party before. Ugh! She promised not to leave my side!"

Alex laughs again. "Yeah. Taylor isn't the most trusting when it comes to parties. I'm surprised she isn't drunk yet."

Eboni raises a brow, "how do you know her so well?"

"Ah, well, we slept together a few times. Sucked my dick in the boy's bathroom from time to time. Then again, I think she did that to everyone on the football team." He said nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.

Eboni's mouth drops open in shock. "...what?"

Alex side eyes her, chuckling. "Oh, you didn't know? Taylor is the school's whore. Every highschool has one. She seems to enjoy the title, though - being proud of stealing girl's boyfriends and such, only to break their hearts in the end. Guys only come to her for a good time, just how she prefers it. She's the dominator in the bedroom, needless to say." The blonde answers, honestly.

Eboni is speechless. The teen isn't judging Taylor - not at all. In honesty, Eboni doesn't care. That's how Taylor wants to live her life, then so be it. What she's angry about is how judgemental Taylor is regarding her relationship with Jeff. Taylor, out of everyone in her life, is the one who should be the least judgemental person when it comes to choices in who she opens her legs to.

"Want a drink to cool off?" Alex offers, noticing Eboni's building rage. He's seen it before and knows how dangerous the girl can get when angry.

"I don't drink...so a soda would be fine."

"Strawberry?" He questions with a knowing smile.

"You know it." She hums, staring off into the crowd of bodies cheering at whatever is taking place in the middle of it all.

Alex nods, reaching into the cooler to grab a bottle of strawberry soda and some rum - unbeknownst to Eboni. He pours the rum into their cups first, mixing most of the strawberry drink with the alcohol. He tilts his head to glance at Eboni while reaching into his pocket for something. He grins sneakily, dumping the odd substance into her drink. Once done, he walks back to her, passing the teen her drink and keeping his own in his hand.

"You know....I always had this huge crush on you." Alex admits, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

Eboni chuckles, shaking her head. "That's an odd way to start a new conversation."

"But it's truth, though! You were my protector in that god forsaken house." He says genuinely.

"Well...I couldn't keep watching that bitch do those....things to you anymore." Eboni said honestly, a sickening look on her face as she stares down into her drink - old and traumatizing memories resurfacing.

The two are only a year apart. Eboni moved into Alex's foster home when she was eleven, soon after the incident that created her scarred face. Eboni didn't like Alex too much in the beginning. He cried way too often, and it annoyed her. That was until she witnessed for herself why he'd cry those tears of pain, trauma - tears begging for help.

Their foster mother would force Eboni to watch her molested Alex, wanting to teach the young girl how to please a man - but in Eboni's eyes, Alex wasn't getting pleased. He was getting tortured. Alex soon would open up on how his parents died when he was only two years old. His parents had no other family, so he was forced into the system, facing hardship after hardship.

From that day onward, seeing his crying face would remind her of her own. The same tears he would shed brought back memories of the days she'd scream out for her parents to come back. To take her away from the hell they put her in. Once she realized they weren't coming back, she vowed to fight her way through the system - no matter the beatings or the ill treatment, Eboni would always hold this resentment towards her parents for leaving her - and towards herself for living.

Eboni soon would protect Alex to the best of her ability. Fighting the woman and shielding Alex from whatever torment that woman would try to inflict onto the young boy. Eboni could take it. She was used to the beatings. She'd do almost anything to prevent seeing Alex's crying face. Eboni would go as far as to share her bed with the boy, holding him in her arms so the woman wouldn't try to take him without waking Eboni.

After so many calls to the police of the disturbing screams from the neighbors, the social workers were informed, and both Alex and Eboni went their separate ways, and that woman was placed into a jail cell. Fortunately for Alex, he was placed into a good home thanks to the publicity his case gained. Eboni, however, was left in the shadows, forced to endure more hardships. She never held a grudge against Alex. One of them made it out. That's all that mattered to her.

"I'm grateful for you, you know? I still blame myself for the shit she put you through. I just....wish I was stronger back then."

Eboni smiles, placing a hand on his shoulder for comfort. "Stop that already. Guilt will get you nowhere. Look at you now - I'm sure no one dares test you, huh?"

Alex laughs, nodding his head. "Yeah. I always get what I want so -" he shrugs, but his tone seems to sinister - Eboni ignores it, though. The two talk a bit more, mostly about random things and sometimes making fun of people they see in the crowd. Eboni is enjoying Alex's company. However, she knows Jeff wouldn't like this at all. She can't allow herself to get close to any guy. He would be livid, and the teen doesn't want to face that - though it might promise some great jealousy sex.

Eboni shakes the thoughts away, taking a sip of her drink. Her eyes widen a bit at the taste. She eyes Alex, who's wearing a playing grin. "Spill."

Alex raises his hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, you got me. I mixed just a bit of rum. It's sweet and doesn't taste like other alcohols. What do you think?"

Eboni frowns but takes another sip, her tense shoulders relaxing. "I'll admit, it's oddly sweet."

He smirks, bumping his shoulder against hers. "I know you better than anyone, Ebs. You hate sour and hot foods. Plus, there's more soda than rum, so you won't feel that burn alcohol brings. Just want you to loosen up a bit."

"Yeah, yeah. And Ebs? Taylor calls me that. She must've heard it from you."

He sighs, "Yeah. I told her how I ran into you at my job. She said I looked like a love sick puppy." He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

Eboni smiles softly, finishing the rest of her drink. "I think it's best that you abandon those feelings, Alex."

"Huh? Wh- I mean, what makes you think I still have feelings for you? I'm pretty sure I said I 'used' to." He defends.

The teen laughs, "This whole time, while talking to me, you have this sparkle in your eyes. Taylor was right about you looking like a love sick puppy."

Alex sighs, lowering his head. "You always could see right through me.....you must be seeing someone else."

Eboni doesn't know how to respond. She wants to tell the truth, but knowing Alex, he'll ask way too many questions, and Eboni finds it hard to lie in front of Alex - for some reason. "Uh no.. no, not really."

"Then what's up with the hickeys on your neck? I'm not that dumb Ebs. It's an eyesore."

"Eyesore? Really? I think they're art!" She scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Art, huh? You must really be into this guy..." he grumbles, his tone shifting to that sinister one again.

"And so what if I am? Look, I'm sorry, Alex, but I can't return your feelings, so can we just....j-just dr...drop....the h-hell?"

Dizzy. She suddenly feels so dizzy. Her vision is blurring just a bit but also losing her footing. Eboni moves to grip the counter, one hand on her cheek as she tries to blink away her blurry vision - to no avail. The teen feels an arm wrap around her waist, her body being pulled against a strong chest.

"That's too bad Ebs...because I really really want you." He whispers into her ear, carefully walking the girl through the crowd and towards the stairs.

"Yo, Ebs where ya -" Taylor calls out from the crowd but notices Eboni leaning into Alex while he raises his hand into a 'thumbs up'

Taylor smiles brightly, holding a thumbs up right back. She walks over to them, patting Eboni's shoulder. "See? Nothin' wrong with testin' the waters. Maybe after this ya' might forget 'bout that smilin' fucker!" She cheers.

Eboni sluggishly looks up, struggling to do so since her head feels so heavy. The two share a look, Eboni's eyes pleading for Taylor to save her. Unfortunately, Taylor doesn't get the hint, either that or the girl refuse to notice. Eboni's pleading eyes are only met with a blinding smile from Taylor.

"Taylor, come on! It's your turn!" A guy from the crowd calls out.

Taylor looks back and nods, giving Eboni one last smile before rushing back to join the dance off that seems to be dying down. Alex grins only grows as he gently helps Eboni up the stairs and into his room. He lays the girl onto his bed, moving to lock his door.

"Smiling fucker huh?" Alex questions out loud, moving around his room to grab a something from his closet.

He walks back over to his bed, handcuffing the girl to his headboard. He sits on the edge of the bed, stroking Eboni's cheek. "The only person I can think about when hearing 'smiling fucker' is Jeff the killer. Oh Ebs...did he put these filthy hickeys on your neck? Was he also the one who left that hand printed bruise on your throat? Yes, I saw it Ebs, how could I not?"

Panic.

The only thing Eboni can do in this situation is panic. Taylor has left her in the hands of someone who wasn't who he seemed to be. Eboni didn't watch him make her drink. She didn't think she had to. She thought she could trust him. Now here she is, chained to his bed, drugged.

Her body feels so weak, yet Eboni can still feel everything. Her vision has cleared up only slightly, but it is good enough to see Alex. The male begins to slowly move his hand from her cheek to her neck, rubbing each hickey - face scrunching up in disgust.

"You let a serial killer bed you? How shameful. Is he big? Does he please you? How many positions did he put you in? How many times does he make you cu -"

Eboni had enough of the endless questioning. She lifts her head up just a bit to spit in his face, mustering as much strength as she can to speak. "D...Did? N....no....he's...f-fucked m...me so m..man..many times..."

Alex freezes for a minute or two, registering what Eboni just did. He snaps his head towards her, raising his hand and punches her in her eye. He laughs, wiping the spit off his cheek with his thumb and licking it off in front of her.

"Ah... I get it. You like it rough, right? So rough that it feels like you're dying any second- right? I can do better. I know I can fuck you better."

Eboni sees stars from Alex's punch. Not realizing that the male is now on top of her. He raises her dress, ripping her fishnets off and slips her thong to the side. He raises a brow, noticing some wetness leak out of her - only a bit.

"Hold on..." he whispers, shoving two fingers into her cunt. "....did he fuck you before coming here? Aww! Was the poor joker wanna be killer scared of losing his toy to another man? That's to bad, because he certainly is!"

Eboni stares at the male in terror, his forbidding eyes chilling her to the bone. His menacing smile brings tears to her eyes as she weakly tries to yank against the cuffs. He laughs, quickly removing his pants and boxers. He lowers himself down, beginning to grind against the girl's slit.

"I'm not one for sharing, but I don't mind taking a man's sloppy seconds. I did fuck Taylor after all." Alex brags, a smug look taking over his features. "Wait...you like it rough. Yeah..I remember those magazines you always managed to hide from that woman. I remember watching you undress, tempted to touch yourself, but you never did. You felt disgusted having such freakish desires after everything that woman made you watch - but it's ok, Ebs! I never blamed you - I still can't blame you. I always... always pictured that you were her, trying to find some enjoyment in that torture. But now look at us! Finally....FINALLY becoming one!"

At that vile declaration, he forces his length inside her - the girl gasping as heavy tears flow down her face. Alex groans loudly - his grin stretching wildly. He moves to place his hand around her throat, squeezing tightly - nearly choking her.

Eboni gasp, trying to bring air into her lungs. When he loosens his grip, she begins coughing and hacking - her lungs burning. Alex giggles at the sight, slowly moving his hips back and forth - relishing in the feeling of Eboni's warmth.

"I...oh fuuuuck you feel so good Ebs, even better than I imagined! I've been dreaming of this for years! I tried to find you, but the system made it impossible! But when I saw you.....at school..holy shit~ you looked so beautiful, you always look beautiful! E-Everything you do is so awesome!"

Alex tightens his grip on her throat again, the teen beginning to lose air. Eboni's tears never stop, choking on her heavy sobs that never seen to leave past her lips. She tries to force her mind to dift away. She wants to force herself to believe that all of this is a bad dream - that the one thing she's tried to prevent her entire life is ....is not happening right here right now.

Dissociate...please- PLEASE DISSOCIATE!

Nothing. Eboni can't disappear. She can't hide into the deepest corners of her mind. Her body isn't let her. Her body is enjoying this - her body is betraying her. This isn't right. This isn't supposed to feel good. It seems like her body, mind, heart, and soul are all at war with each other - none of them on one accord.

"Breath play. It's something I'm sure he's never done with you, right? Th-This can be our own thing! Oh, Ebs!~ I feel so close already! Ready to become one? I am! Oohhhh god, I've waited so long for this!" He moans out loudly, picking up his pace.

Eboni clenches her fist, her nails digging into her palms. She can feel her own body building for its climax. Eboni still tries to fight these feelings her body is forcing her to endure. She never once thought that her own body would fight against her.

"Oh fuck oh fuck Oh fuuuuck! Gooood! Ebs I'm cumming! Holy shit I'm cumming!~" Alex moans out loudly, emptying his heavy load into her.

At the feeling of his seed inside her, her body finally releases itself - her mind slipping, shifting into a state it's never been in before. She can feel herself falling into an abyss full of darkness, sickness, and hatred. Alex isn't done with her, no - he wants more. So he keeps going, forcing Eboni to endure countless rounds - her body twisted and toyed with in many positions, and Eboni didn't know were possible. The more he came inside, the more the light within her eyes fades - her fighting spirit fading, her strong will disappearing. Alex doesn't fail to miss any inch of her body. He touched, fondled, kissed, and licked every inch of her - from her the top of her head to the sole of her feet.

Gone. A piece of Eboni is now gone, forever taken by the male above her. Alex pants heavily, sweat dripping from his forehead and onto her face. He pulls out, placing his clothes back on. Alex smiles, fixing Eboni's thong and pulling down her dress.

"That was so much fun wasn't? Your pussy really sucked me dry. Oh oh! What if you have a kid? Aahh-! Our baby would look so beautiful! They'll be so pretty and strong and so awesome!" He cheers, putting his shirt back on.

The blonde reaches over to take the cuffs off, watching Eboni slump against the bed out of breath. "I'll go get us some water then clean you up, ok? I love you...so much, Ebs." He whispers before kissing the girl and leaving his room.

Eboni uses all the strength she has left to push herself off of his bed. She whimpers, pain shooting up from her core. Slowly, she walks towards the door, pushing it open. The drugs are still in her system, but they've faded good enough for her to move.

Step after step, the teen forces her way down and through the crowd - trying to remember her way to the front door. She doesn't bother to find Taylor. Why should she? The blonde will be just fine, unlike her. Thankfully, she spots the front door and pushes it open. Eboni loses her footing and falls down onto the concrete, scraping up her knees.

"Oh my goodness! Are you alright!?" This brunette exclaims, rushing to Eboni's side.

Eboni raises her head, tears spilling from her eyes. "H-Home...t-take me h-home.. please.." she begs desperately.

"Oh, sure, sure! Just give me your address, and I'll get you an Uber." The brunette nods.

Eboni slurrs out her address, and the girl somehow understands. The Uber arrives in less than five minutes. The burnette helps Eboni into the car, trying not to question why her legs wouldn't stop shaking. She buckles her in, wishing Eboni the best, and closes the car door.

The Uber drops Eboni off, not bothering to help the teen to the door, but Eboni manages. She forces the door open with the spare key under the door mat. She doesn't bother to lock it behind herself and struggle up the stairs, clawing on all floors. Once in her room, she lays in the middle of the floor, waiting patiently for the drugs to finally wear off. It takes an hour for that to happen.

Eboni stands, her legs still shaking and her core still pleading in pain. She slowly walks to the mirror, staring at herself and her body. Her dress is wrinkled with stains of her cum and his littering all over. Some of his release had leaked down her leg and dried up. Her fishnets are completely destroyed and her hair in an absolute mess. But her face...looks horrific. Her right eye has blackened, and her makeup has run down her cheeks due to her heavy tears. The more she stared, the angrier she became. The more her rage begins to build.

Punch!

Glass shatters all over the floor, her knuckles bleeding as well as the stitching on her left hand. She allows the rage to take over, screaming curses to the top of her lungs as she begins destroying everything insight. Her PC destroyed, her canopy mirror and full body mirror broken - glass shattering all over the floor.

When the rage calms, the tears come. How could this have happened? Why her? Why must she be dealt with this cruel hand? Why did her friend abandon her? Why did her former foster sibling rape her? And why... did her body betray her?

Why? Why? Why? Why? WHY!?

Another hour passes, maybe two or three? Who knows. The teen isn't keeping track of time. After her episode, she moves into the farthest corner of her room in a fetal position, rocking back and forth - mumbling incoherent words.

Eboni has no recollection that the smiling killer now stands in the middle of her room, completely dumbfounded. What on earth happened to his girl?

[timmymyluv]

safe space

caregiver! timothée chalamet x little!reader

warning: mentions of trauma, completely sfw, communication of boundaries clearly/consultation with medical professionals/licensed therapists

word count: 666 words (i laughed when i found out dw)

notes: this series will mostly be sfw but there will be a few chapters that will be communicated about thoroughly beforehand about boundaries & checking in with professionals before any sexual role-playing between reader as a little and timothee as the caregiver/daddy (warnings for those chapters will be given beforehand I promise)

each chapter can be read alone and the sexual ddlg special chapters can be avoided in the series if it weirds you out/not your thing.

basically reader has a lot of trauma and shares with timothee how she's been sharing this with a therapist and uses age regression to heal their inner child. this is a prologue and introduction before the actual episodes of agere. ❤️

again, even if you’re on my tag list or fan of my previous works but don’t feel like reading this/uncomfortable, you don’t have to read through it, please and thanks. only read what ya want, love ya. 

prologue.

“What’s this?”

You froze, felt like all the blood in your body left you cold, and wished the shame that came over you to wash you out completely then.

“What are you talking about-oh.” “Oh that’s right. As if the gods couldn’t curse you more today, Timothee had accidentally discovered your previously hidden stash of bibs, plushies, pacifiers, and colourful baby doll themed clothes that looked like complete outsiders to your daily wardrobe.

“Is this the part where you tell me you had a secret kid you haven’t told me about?” He asks, holding up the lacey material of the frilly pink dress, confusion etched on his pretty features.

“I-ah- I age regress.” You stammer, watching him nervously, cowering in case he decided to  walk out that very second but genuine concern and curiosity is all you get from him.

“Oh- what’s that?” He tilts his head, eyes shining under your bedroom light and you regret doubting his reaction there and then.

“I haven’t talked much about this yet, but earlier in my life, way before I met you- I went through a lot of trauma and pain, and as a healthy way to cope and heal from that, I basically transform into a young kid again to self-soothe and coddle my inner child. I didn’t want to spring this on you as you’d think I’m childish or ridiculous, but I healthily set boundaries and discuss this with my licensed therapist so I’m not doing this all by myself-”

He cuts you off with a firm, yet protective hug, his scent pleasant to your senses as he engulfs you with his warmth, feeling your skin against his as he massages you with comforting circles on your lower back and peppers dainty pecks with his plush lips.  

“I’m sorry you had to go through all of that, my angel. I know you’ve told me your childhood wasn’t the easiest or the best, but it makes me so proud to see you making the efforts to recover from them. You’re so strong, mon amour.” His soothing cooing voice with a tinge of pity turns your teary eyes into a waterfall as you bawl into his chest, like a string pulled from underneath you and he panics seeing you so deflated, yet simultaneously relieved.

“I-I hope I didn’t say anything to hurt you? I do not know much about how I can support you on this, but I’ll do my research whenever you have these episodes okay? And I’ll talk to your therapist, would you like that?” You nod as he raises your chin with his fingers, looking you straight into your eyes you wonder if he can pierce through your soul while he’s at it.  

“No, no you didn’t - I’m just so fucking relieved, I was afraid I would be a burden to you.”

“You would never. You’re by my side through thick and thin when I have a hard time right. You wouldn’t let me suffer on my own?”

“I would never!” You fumed in anger just at the prospect of him hurting all alone and not being by his side when he needed it most.

“So I would easily do the same for you. No question. So let me know when you feel like one of your episodes is starting, ok?”

“Hmm. To be clear, I don’t always do this and I don’t expect you to do everything for me around the house and use it as an excuse. When I do, I’m in a certain space and set clear boundaries of what I need that time, a caregiver to help feed me sometimes, colour with me, play with toys and just basic human kid things. Is that okay?”

“That’s totally okay with me, darling. I’ll be your caretaker and giver, alright?”

You cuddled for the rest of the night, watching your favourite movies growing up as a child, in your unicorn, bright pastel and neon fluffy blanket and dug into your stash of candy cravings.

taglist:

@blackqueenstarseed1 @softhecreator @ohmysw33 @imnotoverlyobsessive @mondieumat @chanotel @starberry-cake @timotheel0ver @chalametsimp @hellomadamebutterfly @themonsterheloved @chal-latte @s-we-e-t-t-ea @zelleriz @strawberriescherrieskiwi @fangirl125reader @xoxoloverb @us3rd1stort1on @thebetawolfgirl @chelseamendes99 @yomidebby @esmaada @princessandtheflea @thestarsaregivenonceonly @meetmyothersouls​ @katsukis1wife​

[antisociallilbrat]

We Need To Talk About It

Buckle up boys, this isn't one of my fun fandom discussion posts but I want to talk about it.

Before we proceed, Tw: for mentioned racism and csa

So I came across this tiktoker who read It by Stephen King and said verbatim "You should not read it" and then proceed to list reasons why. He has since corrected this but his point of 'it's not crazy to question why this was written' still stood. I want to talk about how this harmful to writers and just the future of fiction in general. Also I'm not giving out the name of this tiktoker because I don't want any hate being sent his way.

Two of his driving points for 'why you shouldn't read It' was the racism throughout the book and the infamous sewer scene concerning the kids. While I have not read all of the book, I am aware and have read parts of what he's talking about. And if you have read all of It and want to contribute to this post, please do, even if you don't agree with me and want to put your own input.

Let's tackle the racism in the book. Mike Hanlon was a black boy (one of the only poc in Derry if I remember correctly) growing up in a small town in the 1950's. This tiktoker's issues stems from him feeling like King 'overused' the n-word. For me personally, writing slurs that are not mine to reclaim, such as the n-word, I usually try to avoid writing in fiction but when an author does it write it in fiction (keyword there) it's much like an actor playing a racist character, at least imo. The actor themselves are not racist but the character they are playing are, just like when writers write fictional racist characters. That is what was happening in the book It. Also it's worth a note that It is intended to be horrifying and King is known for not just using 'monsters' to unsettle the reader but also real everyday horrible things. Hate crimes, violence on minorities, racism, ect, he writes these things to make the reader uncomfortable on purpose. It's a horror novel, that's the point. Other genres this could be called into question when the point of the book isn't to, ya know...scare you.

Now on to the sewer scene. This was probably the biggest point for this tiktoker on not reading It, and I just felt like they kinda just missed the point of this scene. The entire point of that scene was to signify the loss of innocence of the Loser's Club after their first battle with It. It was not written in a 'sexy' manner and it was written again, to make you uncomfortable. This tiktoker's statement that really bothered me was "we should question why this was written" and...you really don't have to. It's a horror novel, you being uncomfortable by that scene was the goal plus the deeper meaning behind it. And the implication of 'questioning why fictional writers write certain things' is so harmful because if this was to be the majority mindset, it wouldn't just stop with scenes like this. There's also the fact it almost sounds prosecutory and literature and books as a whole in the U.S. are already under attack and mindsets like this just fuel that fire.

Moving on, let's talk about Bev real quick. Look I don't like how King writes women for the most part but he's always kinda...written them as 'women written by men' and I just chop that up to bad writing. That's very prevalent with how Bev is written in It- but bad writing is just that, bad writing.

A side note, things like manifestos or harmful agendas should 100% be questioned, I'm only talking fictional works here.

So here's the thing at the end of the day, authors don't owe you trigger warnings (or so they say but that's a deeper topic I don't want to talk about rn) but if you are aware of your triggers there are tools to help you avoid them. Read reviews, ask a friend who's read the book, or google it. Goodreads has helped me avoid a couple of my triggers in books I was interested in. If you don't like or can be triggered by disturbing things King probably isn't the author for you.

This idea of 'questioning writers' or 'holding them accountable' needs to stop in its tracks. I fear the day if this ever becomes the majority mindset. Odds are this would lead to the questioning of 'why do people enjoy reading this, should we judge them?' and the answer is no. Some people enjoy feeling disturbed or scared by a book just like some people enjoy laughing or crying because of the book they're reading. It's honestly not that deep.

Also tiktoker idk if you're active in the It fandom on tumblr (im going to guess not) but again, this is no hate to you, I just deeply disagree with you.

Last statement: King was high off cocaine when he wrote It.

[paperhalfshell]

season of the soul

Pairing: Rise!Raphael x Reader

Word Count: 1,473 words

Warnings: None

You are surrounded by red.

An apple-crisp breeze flutters through the branches, plucking loose leaves from their homes and carrying them away. One catches on the thick stitches of your scarf. You tug the leaf off and hold it up to your face.

It’s soft to the touch and a bit ragged looking, big and beautiful. Red. You quickly let go of it.

Red, red, red. You wish you were sick of the color by now.

In the distance, you hear crunching underfoot. And then, a voice.

“[Y/n]? Hello?”

Your heart plummets into your stomach.

“It’s me. Raph. I just – I just wanna talk to ya. Are you out here somewhere?” His words drift over to you on the wind, and you curl up even more. “It’s … it’s just me. Out here … alone … if you’re not here …”

His anxiety is palpable. Guilt wracks your body, but fear keeps you locked in place.

The sound of crunching leaves grows louder. You hold your breath, bottom lip caught between your teeth, tucking your legs up as far as possible and pressing close to the tree trunk.

Raph stops right underneath your branch. The bright red of his bandana almost melts into the sea of maple leaves, but to you, it sticks out as much as he does in a crowd.

“Get it together, Raph,” you hear him mutter. “Maybe you should try calling again. Yeah, that’s a good idea. At least you’ll get the cute voicemail if there’s no answer …”

(Oh, geez. He’s so nice you want to cry.)

Hardly daring to swallow, you watch as he digs his phone out of his pocket.

Wait. If he’s calling you, that means your phone –

Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.

If Raph didn’t hear your phone vibrating, the panicked squeak that launches itself out of your mouth gives you away, anyway.

His head whips this way and that before dropping back to look upwards. Large, worried eyes meet your own, and a broad smile graces his face.

“[Y/n]! There you are!” he shouts, relieved.

You force a smile that probably looks more like a grimace. “There I am,” you echo, defeated.

“Can you …” His brow furrows as you stay where you are. “Can you come down? I’d join ya up there, but, uh, I’d probably break the whole tree.”

He doesn’t sound frustrated or annoyed, or even particularly embarrassed. But then again, Raph has the habit of trying to spare people’s feelings, and the thought of being gently rejected makes you feel nauseous.

“I …” don’t feel like it, you want to say, but you can’t, so the singular ‘I’ that makes it out simply trails off and dies in the cold.

Raph’s gaze softens.

“I got apple cider,” he says. Unzipping his coat halfway, he fishes out a small thermos from one of the inner pockets. “Mikey made it special for ya. To apologize.” He scratches the back of his head, looking at his feet. “They’re all real sorry for makin’ you so uncomfortable.”

You stare down at him, arms wrapped around the tree. It’s chilly up here, and the thought of Mikey’s signature hot apple cider sinks down into your very bones. “It’s okay,” you reply, even though it isn’t. “I was just being sensitive.”

“And that’s fine! Ain’t nothing wrong with bein’ sensitive,” Raph insists, coming closer to the tree. “I shouldn’t have let them go so far with the teasing. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to say sorry.”

“I feel like I should, though.”

Despite everything, you huff out a laugh. “You’re such a softie.”

Raphael grins, goofy and blushing and him. The weight in your chest feels a little lighter because of it. “That’s Raph. A big ol’ softie. Will you come get your apple cider now?”

“Okay.”

Gripping the rough bark, you start to descend.

“Careful,” Raph warns.

“Mhmm.”

You think that you know which branches to step on and which to avoid; this is your tree, after all, and you know it like the back of your hand. Mindlessly, you rest your weight on a branch about as thick as your arm.

Crack.

Your breath catches in your throat.

You swipe at a nearby branch. Miss. Plummet down towards the hard and unforgiving ground at a speed that is much, much faster than you had thought.

A name leaves your mouth in a scream.

“Raph!”

He shouts something – your name, maybe, you don’t know. There’s a jolt. And just like that, you’re safe and cradled in his arms.

“I told you to be careful!” he cries, loud and booming. He doesn’t mean anything cruel by the volume, you know this, but you find yourself bursting into tears anyway. “Oh – no, don’t cry, I didn’t mean to yell at you. Or did I hurt you? I hurt ya, didn’t I –”

You press your face against the front of his sweater. “I’m fine,” you babble. “’M just … just crying, I dunno. I’m sorry. Thank you for c-catching me.”

“I wouldn’t not catch you,” he exclaims, as if offended that you would even think of the possibility.

A gross sniffle. “I know.”

Raphael shifts on his feet. You’re equal parts overjoyed and mortified by your position, cheeks wet with tears, eyes screwed shut and surrounded by him on all sides.

“Look,” he eventually speaks again, his hands firm underneath your knees and upper back, “about what they said …”

Your grip on his coat tightens. “We don’t have to keep talking about it.”

“’Course not. I was just gonna say that I talked to them, and they won’t tease you about that kind of stuff anymore.” A pause. His voice quiets. “Since you don’t actually see me that way, and all.”

Your crying comes to a halt out of sheer confusion.

“Huh?”

“Well – well.” He clears his throat. “I mean, you got real upset when Leo said you had a crush on me the size of the Chrysler building, so, y’know …” His hold on you seems to soften as he shrugs. “A-And I get it! Everyone’s got the wrong idea and you’re tired of it, right?”

There is no way. No way that he hasn’t realized.

Everyone knows about your crush on Raph. Even Donnie caught wind of it a month ago. You’re famously horrible at hiding your feelings, so surely Raph … why else would he be so awkward when they tease you, laugh so nervously and avoid your eyes at the mere suggestion that the two of you should go out?

“But I do,” you hear yourself say meekly, so soft that you almost think he doesn’t hear it.

It’s just your luck, though, that he does.

“Wait, what?”

You sniff. No point in hiding it now. “I do,” you repeat, more loudly, “have a crush on you the size of the Chrysler building.”

“Really?” Raph sounds incredulous. You can hear the gears in his head creaking and turning. “Like … a crush-crush?”

This is becoming more painful by the minute. “Yeah. A crush-crush,” you mumble.

Raphael absorbs your confession as you wallow in the misery of your own making.

“… I didn’t know.” His voice is strained.

“I’m sorry.”

“No!” You wince, and he quickly adds, “No sorries. It’s – it’s okay.”

“It is?”

“It is.”

You frown, pulling away to gauge his expression. “Why?”

Raph sighs heavily, the hint of a crooked little grin on his face. He puts you down gently and squeezes your hands.

“’Cause … ’cause I like you too,” he says.

You stare.

Heat floods your cheeks.

“You … like me?” The question is but a croak.

“Yep.”

“How long?”

“The … the past year.” Raph chuckles wryly, hanging his head before sneaking a glance at you. “Guess I shoulda said something sooner, huh?”

You laugh. It’s hoarse, but relieved, and you lean forward to bump your head against his plastron. One of his large hands comes up to cup the back of your neck, stroking it idly.

“Do your brothers and April know?”

“Leo figured it out after New Year’s, and I was pretty much done for.” He groans. “It was a nightmare. I thought all the teasing was mostly to make me suffer.”

“Leo and April found me out on Valentine’s Day,” you say.

The two of you stand there in the cold for a little longer, considering.

“I can’t believe it. They played us like a fiddle.”

“They’re all horrible.”

“I’m cold,” you mutter.

Raph chuckles. “Same. Let’s head back. Here’s your cider.”

He presses the thermos into your hands. Wraps his arm around your shoulders after you assure him that you’d like that. You lean against his side as the two of you trek back to the lair together, lifting the apple cider to your lips and taking a sip.

And it tastes red.

[loveofbots]

hii this is my first time asking so im a bit nervous hehe

i'd like to request swerve x autistic GN human reader bc we don't get enough swerve or autistic readers...

specifically how he would comfort reader during/after a sensory overload? had one recently and just need some comfort hehe

(fyi sensory overload is like the name suggests, too much sensory input at once which can lead to anxiety, irritability, discomfort, all that not so fun stuff)

please ignore if you don't write for this sorta stuff tho, i understand :)

thanks! <3

- Raft

Dawg you like me fr, gender neutral, autistic, swerve simp /lh

Thank you so much Raft for blessing me with being able to write for my husband swerve

Warnings: mentions of sensory overload, hurt/comfort

Swerve had invited you to the opening of his bar. You were excited to go and support your partner Swerve, although deep down something was uneasy.

Like a pit weighing your heart down the feeling of dread continued to creep up on you as the hours ticked by. As much as you tried to push it aside, it stayed and festered in you. Trying to focus on positives you remembered that it would be all of your cybertronian friends there. They were all very conscious of your personal space (minus whirl) so you would be ok.

But the noise… the lights… it was getting too much. Sitting at the bar you started to drift out of the conversation again. The clinking of glass making you flinch and laughter making your muscles tense to a painful degree.

You wanted it to stop so bad, but you were frozen in place by social obligation. Walking out wasn’t necessarily an option either. You were a long way from the ground and with your jaw glued shut by anxiety, you couldn’t ask anyone for help.

Skids noticed you first, seeing your knuckles white as you gripped the glass you were holding for some sort of grounding. The blue mech quickly informed Swerve, who’s attention landed straight on you. He blamed himself for this situation you were in. Damnit! He knew he should’ve brought some noise cancelling headphones!

“Y/N.” Your eyes flicked up to meet his optics. “Are you okay?” Of course not. You kept stimming uncomfortably and we’re getting a headache.

Shaking your head in reply, unsure whether or not you were coming off as annoyed at the moment. It didn’t matter, Swerve had concocted a plan with Rung just for this sort of thing. He left Skids in charge of the bar, not even saying a word to any of the other patrons in the bar.

Instead your lover gently scooped you up, being careful to avoid jostling you to much. The sturdiness of his frame was a welcome one, and the change of position gave you enough motivation to at least become comfortable in his grasp. The minibot toted you out of the bar and the noise of the crowd faded away.

You still didn’t speak, but Swerve’s kind words were beginning to ground you back to reality.

“There ya go. Deep breaths hun, it’s okay now. I’ve got ya. The party will be fine- I was showing Skids how to mix drinks all fancy earlier. You know the flips with the shakers that you like so much? He knows how to do that too! So he will entertain everyone until you’re rested up. No hurry babe.” Most would think that his constant rambling would upset you further, how wrong they were. You lover’s speech was like a sweet little lullaby.

Reaching the habsuite he set you on the shared berth, not bothering with the lights except for one lamp in the far corner of the room. He set you upon your throne of soft blankets, pillows, and favourite toys. Swerve was quick to pick up anything you could stim with on shore leave, so you were stacked with everything you needed. The short mech only disappeared for a moment to return with some water and your favourite comfort food. He set them beside you to, not pressuring them on you.

“Come here sweetspark.” Swerve shuffled over onto the birth and let you climb onto his chassis. “Take as long as you need.” He was such a sweetheart, so kind. How did you score such a heartthrob?

Unsure at first, his digits brushed your cheek. When you didn’t pull away his derma quirked up into a smile. “There’s my wonderful softy. Feeling better already? Wanna cuddle?”

After nodding another quick yes, Swerve got the two of you comfortable for recharge, or to just simply watch you do something calming. You had Swerve, and he had you. And that was the most wonderful thing he could ask for.