#It’s like walking through an old house that’ll be the only home you ever know but which you’ll never step foot in outside this tour

[dariaslookalike]

Needing Miller pt 4.

Summary: It's a shit hole of a world that you're living in, and it gets even shittier when you're ambushed in your sleep. It's a slippery slope that leads you from being tucked cozily in your sleeping bag to joining the raiding group lead by the most infuriating (and intimidating) man you've ever met. You need to survive, above all else- either in this group (without smacking its leader over the head), or in the world alone after somehow escaping. Easier said than done, when your mind loses all sense of focus, tactics and skills the second that Joel Miller rolls up his sleeves and shows his godforsaken forearms.

Warnings: Violence, swearing, adult language, mature themes, eventual smut, female protagonist, no reference of y/n

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N:

Next Chapter: pt 5.

Masterlist

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Front sight. Barrel. Release. Back sight. Grip. Hammer. Slide stop. Magazine.

Joel loses any sense of teasing or testing as he walks you through the gun’s components- a 9mm pistol, semi-automatic. His tone is even, and his words are systematic and factual. There are no anecdotes or mnemonics or anything remotely unscientific, spare the occasional Never hold it like this if you don’t want to shoot your foot and your ears will ring like hell.

You try to keep your gaze focused on the gun, matching each name to each part, and then each explanation to each name. But, against your wishes, your body betrays you, and you risk glances at him. Only to see what he’s thinking you tell yourself. You briefly study the crease in his forehead, the steady focus of his eyes, his tanned skin, the hair that is starting to grow too long at his temples. Focused. Assured. 

“How do you know all this?” The question slips out quietly before you can even stop it.

For the first time, he looks up to you. 

He’s so close with the both of you hunched over the gun, and you can see the dark ring of his iris enclosing warm, earthy tones. 

Coffee, you think. Not the shit that FEDRA tried to ration, that was bitter and off-putting. But the warm, rich one that your mother used to drink in the mornings- intoxicating, and sweet and home. You wonder what he sees when he looks into your eyes.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk.” His voice is low, and rough, rising out of his chest.

 “Fine.” You scoff, shaking your head. You turn your attention back to the gun, watching his finger tap against the barrel.

Tap. 

“Texas.” 

Tap.

You keep your eyes trained downwards, afraid that if you look at him while he speaks, you’ll scare him away. 

“My father. He owned some property, needed security when I was growing up. Said it would be good f’me too. Make me a man.” He scoffs. “He was dead hours into the outbreak.”

The words sound bitter when he says it, and you tentatively raise your gaze. His jaw is set and his brow isn’t furrowed from concentration but old, worn anger. All that and for what? Is what you read in the curl of his lip and flare of his nose. All that apparent authoritarian and masculine parenting only for Joel to be the one standing here.

“My dad was a drunk.” You offer, carefully trying to extend words of understanding. I get it. Joel doesn’t jump at your words, but the tension in his face fades a little, and he looks into your eyes. You clear your throat and continue. 

 “He wasn’t that useful, though. Never taught us anything like this. I mean, I know how to patch up holes in the wall ‘cause of him. But nothing that would help out here.”

Joel’s lips raise slightly, even if you see a darkening in his gaze when you mention your dad’s wall-punching habits. “Yeah, well I’m sure that’ll be handy one day or ‘nother. I was a carpenter.”

“Oh. Cool.” You nod, trying to seem understanding.

He sees right through you and rolls his eyes. “You don’t know what that is, do you?”

“You worked with carpets?”

He laughs briefly and you want to hear it more, hear it when he’s not holding back. “Mm, with building houses.”

You huff out a snort. “So we both have the perfect skills for an apocalypse then.”

“You can fight dirty. Thank FEDRA for that at least.” He shrugs, the movement casual, but his tone holds back curiosity. 

You indulge him. It didn’t seem often that Joel Miller was one for conversation, and if he was up for it today and never again, you would curse yourself for telling him to piss off preemptively. 

“It wasn’t FEDRA. I mean they taught us the basics- how to spar, how to use someone’s stance to your advantage. But my knife was,” You hesitate, trying to find the right words. A dead man’s belongings? “A gift from my brother. He taught me how to fight, and not in a clean way.”

Joel huffs, and his hand flexes against the gun. There’s a scabbed wound on the back of his hand, still red and healing. You had almost forgotten you had tried to stab him.

 “That’s one way to put it.”

 “Look at you!” You glare at him, gesturing with your hands to him- his broad shoulders, his height, his fucking biceps. “You were a big man in front of me after someone had already attacked me. I wasn’t gonna wait ‘til the count of three and start boxing.”

His eyes find yours again, and there’s a heaviness to them, and his voice is quiet, hushed; surrounded by the grass, the soft breeze, and the blue sky seem to soften him. 

“I know. You did the right thing.”

You stare at him, trying to remind yourself to breathe, to not blush, to not think about how his thighs felt around you or his hands on yours. Think of anything else. Think of the scar on your cheek, the heat and pain that was still present around the stitches, and the uncomfortable sense of itching that had begun as it started to heal. Your eyes dip down to his neck. The scratches on his skin are still there, even if they’re less angry and jagged. You want to lick them. Mark up his neck again and kiss it better.

“You’re weak though. You should work out more.”

You clench your jaw, thoughts of him with any sense of longing being replaced by annoyance. “Right, because there’s so many gyms here. I’ll get on a treadmill next to a stalker.”

Joel’s lips stay in that infuriating, wolfish grin. “I train in the mornings. Don’t need equipment.”

Was that an…invitation? 

“Right. I’ll make sure to train at night then.”

He rolls his eyes and huffs out a breath, but his lips still tug up at your joke. You smile at him before you can stop yourself, pride welling in you that he might find you funny. You feel your cheek strain, but you ignore the pang of pain. His eyes crease and for a split second, it seems like he’s going to smile back at you.

He doesn’t. His lips fall, and the lines deepen on his face as his brow furrows. He tilts his gaze back down to the gun, and the conversation doesn’t simply die- it shrivels and burns into ashes. Back to business.

You feel your stomach drop slightly, and anything in it curdle in a soup of shame. What was all that? Was that a pleasant conversation with Joel Miller? What the fuck were you thinking? Distance, you hiss to yourself. Distance is what you need, not sharing stories about your parents or crappy jokes to try and make him laugh. 

‘M not gonna be your fucking friend.

That was what he said when you met him. That is what you wanted. You shouldn’t have been feeding into any possibility of something different. 

You don’t talk again after that. He shows you how to hold the pistol, and you nod along. He makes you practise tucking it into your jeans, into your pack, and taking it out, over and over, quicker and quicker, each time thumbing the safety on and off, on and off. You don’t offer any words or answers, and your lips stay in a closed line. You don’t do any real shooting. It’s a waste of ammo, and ten shots wouldn’t be enough practice for you to be perfect anyway. 

The sun is lowering by the time you finish. Not quite dark, but the grey dusk of late afternoon that is a harbinger of a storm. You shoulder your pack once more and set out, stepping away from the field.

Joel doesn’t walk ahead of you this time. He walks beside you, matching your pace. When you stubbornly slow down or quicken, he continues to mirror you in his long strides. He doesn’t talk to you though. He simply stays beside you, watching ahead. 

You ignore him. If he wanted silence, then he could have it. 

So what if you liked talking to him, so what if you liked that calm, quiet part of him more than the snapping, angry raider that everyone else knew, so what? You knew that nothing could come from this; knew that he was hotheaded and had to be partially insane to survive out here. You knew that being friends with Joel, or anything else for that matter, was not a possibility. Survival was all you had to be focused on. 

You are still adamantly ignoring him when he grabs your elbow. You turn to him, already scoffing and preparing to break your vow of silence to tell him to fuck off when he tugs you closer. In just a few rushed steps, you’re in an alleyway, with your back pushed harshly to the brick wall. You open your mouth, once more ready to use expletives to ask him if he wants his balls kicked again when he firmly grips your lower face.

Your cheeks are smushed beneath his hand and you hiss in pain, feeling your torn, stitched cheek throb and bleed beneath its bandage. When you bare your teeth to bite him, he grips you tighter. You had lapsed in your comfortability around him; forgotten the real strength that he had, where he could crush you before you could even resist.

Your hand reaches up to his, and you dig your nails into the scabbed wound on the back of his hand. You dig in deeper and feel the wet of blood greet you. He still doesn’t let go of you.

“Stop.” He hisses through his teeth, leaning in closer to you with wide eyes. He jerks his head to the side, back to the street you were walking on.

You’re trying to tell him to eat a dick with your eyes, but your gaze snags on what he gestures to. There. At the entrance of the alleyway. Just shambling into view, dragging its feet. The sound of popcorn popping at the back of its throat. 

Fuck.

You didn’t mean to inhale so sharply, but it turns its head so rapidly, looking straight at you. It has no face, no eyes, nothing to reconcile its lost humanity with. Fungi bloom from its skull, and its skin is torn, bloodied and thin. Clothes, or the worn remnants of them, hang off its body. It takes a step closer, letting out a shriek of a dying cat.

Run. RUN. RUN!

Joel presses himself to you, his pelvis against your lower stomach, and you realise you’re shaking. His body crushes into yours, and you feel yourself squished between him and the wall. He keeps you still and upright. His other hand pins at your waist, holding you steady to the wall. You let him support your weight, afraid that if you try to balance yourself you’ll accidentally scuff your shoes to the ground. You grip his bloodied hand tighter, squeezing onto it; not trying to make him let go of you anymore, but begging him not to.

You think of the gun, tucked into your waistband. Still with no magazine. Fuck. There was no way you had the skills nor expertise to quietly and efficiently lock it back in place. And Joel’s gun was tucked into the back waistband of his jeans, snug to his spine. 

The clicker steps closer, and it tilts its head, trying to pin the sound it had heard. It screeches again.

You think of your brother. Dragging you through the QZ's perimeter when flames had consumed buildings in the riot. Not letting you trip or stumble, but always keeping a firm grip on your arm and tugging you on. On towards the rest of the city, towards the train lines that would take you somewhere better, somewhere safer, somewhere where your mother wasn’t lying dead in her shit hole apartment and where your other siblings weren’t strung up by revolutionaries and where you still had a home to return to. Head East. Head East and start again and when everything was alright, when everything was normal, grieve and mourn and cry. But for now, just head East.

He didn’t make it to the train lines. 

Didn’t make it past the goddamn library you had stepped in, just to rest, just to let your feet stop for a second, just to sit down and eat something. That same crackling popping was what you heard before he was suddenly on his back, his chest being ripped into, his flesh being shredded, his neck being torn like pieces of mache. His knife is quickly thrown to you. His screams, his guttural voice yelling at you to Run. Run! RUN!

You’re going to die.

Your other hand slips down, to Joel’s lower back. If you can grab the gun, get it out from beneath his jacket and jeans without making a sound, maybe you stand a chance. Your fingers press against the gun beneath the layers of fabric, feeling it there.

Joel tenses, and turns to face you. He shakes his head softly, and his eyes have a clear message. No.

You shake your head with a minuscule amount of movement, still clutched tightly in his hand. You have to. At least try.

Your fingers begin to fumble at his back, searching silently for the edge of his jacket. They’re shaking. The fabric rustles slightly and you feel your blood run cold.

Fuck. You’re going to die, with two guns in arms reach. You’re going to die with your brother’s knife tucked into your pack. You’re going to die. Fuck.

A bird caws somewhere, and the clicker turns. You stare at it from the corner of your eye, and you can’t tell if you’re still breathing.

The sound of flapping wings and high-pitched hissing. A fight between crows. 

The clicker drags its feet, and screeches, loud and piercing; so loud you would think it’s right beside your ear, tunneling into your skull and engraving into your brain. You stop looking at it, shaking even more. You’re going to die. You’re going to die, staring at Joel. His eyes are trained on the clicker. That same furrow in his brow. You feel something bloom inside of you when he shifts his weight, and you’re suddenly hidden from view, tucked behind him and against the wall; protected.

The shuffle of dragging feet rips your gaze back to the side. You can barely make out anything over Joel’s shoulder and he shifts impossibly closer to you, exposing his back to the infected and tucking you into him. The jacket’s zipper digs into your skin through your clothes and you think if you could control the panicked tilt of your breath, you might be able to hear his heart beating in his chest.

The clicker moves, and if you could move, you would bury your face into Joel. Instead, you watch, a notch caught in your throat and tears stinging your eyes. It was going to turn and hear you breathing and it was going to shred you to pieces. Tear into your chest. Eat your heart. Your blood runs cold and fear pins you in place. You’re going to die.

But…it shambles back out of the alleyway. Into the street. The clicker continues before the brick wall obscures your sight and you no longer see it. 

You can’t believe it. You’re not sure if you should.

Joel drops his hand from your face, and your cheeks throb with the sudden loss of pressure. You feel blood dribble onto the gauze tapped to your face and begin dripping down to your chin. Your hand follows his, still gripping it. He’s still pressed against you.

He turns his gaze back to you, swallowing and chest moving heavily. 

“Fuck.” He whispers, and if anything he leans his head in closer to you. 

You don’t, can’t, form any words, instead letting out a wrecked, relieved sigh that bubbles out with a quiet laugh. 

He leans closer, and you look up at him, trying to hold back the tears welling in your eyes. His dark eyes bore into yours, his breath fans across your face. It fades- the fear, the alleyway, the clicker that is a block away already. It’s only his ragged breathing, the loud pulse of your blood in your ears, the feeling of his hips pressed so tightly against you, the bricks digging into your shoulders, his hand still at your waist gripping you like he doesn’t know how to let go. 

“Fuck.” He says again, this time barely audible. A ghost of a word.

His head dips closer, angling to the side and you don’t know what to do when his lips press against yours. You don’t know your name, don’t know your body, all you know is that his lips are warm his beard scratches against your chin and the hand at your waist squeezes even tighter.

Your hand at his back grips his jacket as if you need even more support to stay on your feet. His tongue swipes out, licking against your lower lip. The fear that was chilling you to your core is replaced by something fiery and hot that warms you instantly. Adrenaline courses through your bones and your mind feels fuzzy and warm, and there’s not one cohesive thought other than Oh my god he’s kissing me. After what feels like an eternity of stillness, your brain kicks into gear and you kiss him back, pushing yourself against him even more; feeling his broad chest against yours, his shoulders hunching over as he deepens the kiss, his leg stepping in between yours. His other hand reaches around you, tugging you closer to him and pressing firmly to you. It’s a tangle of heated breaths and a whiny sound from the back of your throat and a deep rumbling from him and all you can feel, all you can taste, all you can think is Joel, Joel, Joel.

He bites against your lip, drawing it between his teeth and everything feels natural; this was the same as anything else the two of you had done. He was pushing and teasing with each swipe of his tongue and movement of his lips, and you were biting back and giving him all you had. 

When you break apart, you’re not sure you know exactly what just happened. You knew about kisses, sure. Knew that two people were supposed to put their lips together and feel butterflies. Whatever this was, was not that. This was crushing exhausting and exhilarating. This was not a fairytale kiss from a prince but something that was raw celebrating and terrifying. 

Your eyes dip down to his lips, and you like the plump, blushed look they’ve gained. Your blood is smeared slightly across his cheek, through his bead; he doesn’t reach up to wipe it away. Your face is aflame and you look up at him. He’s looking down at you, breathing somehow more ragged than before, and his gaze is heavy, consuming and pinning you in place. Again, you wonder what he sees when he looks into your eyes. 

You see the shift even before he pulls back from you.

‘M not gonna be your fucking friend.

“Don’t.” You say, and you hate how pleading it sounds, how pathetic.

He swallows, and unwraps his hands from you, untangles himself from you and steps back. Your hands fall from him, hanging limply by your side.

You shake your head, and the tears are back once more, threatening to spill over. You don’t allow them to. You are not going to cry in front of Joel Miller. Not because of something as stupid, as immature as a kiss that he immediately regretted. You are not going to do that. You swallow past the notch in your throat, you replace the quiver of your lip with a straight line, and you tense your eyes into a hard glare.

He watches you, only a metre away but feeling a million miles from you. He bites his lip, and his face is hardened, and worn. 

“We-,” He clears his throat with a deep cough. “I shouldn’t have-”

You huff out a laugh. “Fuck off.”

His jaw ticks. “Watch it.”

“Fuck. Off.” You shake your head, pushing off from the brick wall, straightening yourself, trying to be every bit as big and intimidating as you can be. “You don’t get to play me like that, Joel.”

He opens his mouth to rebut, but you step closer, cutting him off. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to be a dick,” Another step closer, “An arsehole,” Another, “A fucking prick and then do that!”

You shove against his chest and he doesn’t step back; a reminder that he was stronger, that you were not, and that he was the one consistently who called the shots. The one who decided if you kept kissing, if you talked more, if you lived. He looks down at you with…sadness? Regret? It vanishes quickly, whatever it is, and is replaced with a hard, blank face.

You shove against him again, angry and with as much force as you can muster to bruise him, and this time his hands whip up, grabbing yours and pinning them to his chest. He leans closer, growling. 

“Stop.”

You glare up at him, seething, digging your fingernails into his chest. “I hate you.”

“No, ya don’t.” 

He smiles, but there is no kindness; all just self-assured cockiness. You gouge your fingers in, practically begging him for a reaction; a wince, a hiss, a cry, anything to show that you had any sort of effect on him. 

Your nostrils flare, and you spit. “You are the most temperamental and psychotic person I’ve met. One minute you’re threatening me and shooting people, and the next you’re,” You glare at him, throwing his own words in his face. “Trying to get in my pants.“

“You think you’re some peach?” He snarls, canines showing. “All you fucking do is run your mouth. Where’s that gonna getcha? Do you want me to hate you?”

You laugh, you laugh right in his fucking face. “You’re trying to say you don’t? Everything you do is about keeping people under your boot. Making sure I don’t fuck up. Making sure Tommy doesn’t run off because he hates your fucking-”

Suddenly you’re back against the wall, and it happens so fast you get whiplash. He leans closer, snarling. 

“Don’t fucking talk about Tommy.”

“You know. You know that he’s not happy here.”

Joel’s jaw ticks, locked heavily in place. He shakes his head, rearing in closer to you. “Newsflash- I don’t give a shit if he’s happy. If I’m keeping him alive, that’s all that matters. Stay out of it.”

“I hate you.” The words come out quieter than you thought but still laced with venom. 

“I’m not a big fucking fan of you either, Dollface.” He spits the name like it burns his tongue.

“Sure seemed like it a minute ago. Miller.” 

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He blinks, and his brow hunches, but he still doesn’t know what to say, seemingly lost for words. Everything that swarms between the two of you, your shared breaths, your heat, your anger and ire is tense and rigid. And then his gaze flicks down, to your snarling lips. And everything on his face melts for a second, and he’s leaning closer, and tilting his head to the side and then his mouth is on yours and his hatred is in every swipe of his tongue and his annoyance is in every bite to your lip and his ire is in every movement of his mouth and you can’t breathe and you’re kissing him back like it’s the last thing you’ll do and again it’s JoelJoelJoelJoel-

You pull your head back.

“Go fuck yourself.” Your voice sounds more wrecked than you let it be

You wrench your hands out from under his, hating how he was able to cover them completely, hating that he could have stopped you if he wanted to, hating that he didn’t. You shove him back and barge past him. You boil with anger and you think that right now if the clicker showed its face, you would be the one sinking your teeth into its skin and tearing its flesh apart.

You don’t bother looking back to see if he follows you. You just turn onto the street and walk back in the direction of the church.

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us fanfic #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic

[icarusthelunarguard]

This Week’s Horrible-Scopes

It’s time for this week’s Horrible-Scopes! So for those of you that know your Astrological Signs, cool! If not, just pick one, roll a D12, or just make it up as you go along. It really doesn’t matter.

Aries 

No matter what you think, we’re not here to judge you. Others might, but we won’t. To that end… You didn’t want to take down your… “Year-End Holiday Lights”, and that’s OK! But may we suggest you trade them out for those new-fangled color-programmable ones? Slave them to your Home Automation system and they’ll change with each new holiday’s theme with no direct input from you. Sadly we’ve already passed May 9th, which was Lost Sock Memorial Day. So add that to your holiday list for next year. 

Taurus 

Let’s face facts - you are never going to beat that Super Mario Brothers Arcade Game High Score anytime soon. Oh, you were good in your youth, and you could afford to buy an original 1983 coin-op cabinet to play on… but do you really think you can score over Five and-a-half Million Points to take the world record away? We don’t think so either. Save that $1,500 and take a vacation next month. 

Gemini  

Remember the cartoon series ReBoot? It was produced between 1994 and 2002. One of the opening lines was, “They say the User lives outside the Net and inputs games for pleasure.” Well guess what was released to the public in 2001 by Nintendo. That’s right… a Blue… Game… Cube! If Mainframe Entertainment had TradeMarked that term, they could’ve gotten some kind of marketing deal with Nintendo and had Money To Spare! (*Sigh*) This week, try to think way ahead.

Cancer Moon-Child 

There’s a specific set of dice that are used in table-top gaming: D4, D6, D8, D10, D12, and D20. They’re all some typical geometric shapes, but. There have been some weird ones that’ve come down the pike ever since. So yes, you can buy a D1, which is a form that ALWAYS lands on a specific side, and the D7 which is a Klingon Battleship. This week, remember that The Fourth will be with you, Always. 

Leo 

You remember hearing how “Stayin’ Alive” by the Bee Gees is one of the best songs to use to time your CPR Compressions? It’s not the only one. You could use ABBA’s “Dancing Queen”, “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor, “One Week” by the Barenaked Ladies, or, ironically enough, “Another One Bites the Dust” by Queen. But if you really want to screw with the person’s head as they come to, have everyone around you hum “The Imperial March” from Star Wars. That’ll scare them enough to wake them up without resorting to smelling salts. This week, listen to some old music again.

Virgo 

Speaking of Smelling Salts… Don’t use them! Sure, it’s kinda funny to use them as a prank to wake up your friends when they’ve fallen asleep first at a party, but don’t use them when playing sports. Yes, you can get a hit of oxygen into your blood due to more respiration, but you don’t need it. You’re an umpire… at a Pee-Wee T-Ball league. Just relax this week.

Libra 

It’s five o’clock somewhere, so you might as well have a drink!  Come to think of it, have a lot of drinks, but make it a challenge; Run something through your Soda Stream that isn’t supposed to be. Something alcoholic. Better yet, you’re smart and innovative. The patent for the original “SodaStream”.. OH, sorry… the “aerating liquid machine” expired a long time ago. Go ahead and redesign it to work with liquors and make a killing in the Novelty Bar Drink market!  

Scorpio 

Speaking of drinks, Scorpio; This week you’re going to visit an old house. Make sure you have an extra-bright flashlight with you because you’re going to find a bomb. Not a munition, but an old Hawaiian Punch tin can from the early 1980’s. It’ll look like a blue and red mis-shapen rugby ball. DO NOT TOUCH THIS UNHAPPY ABOMINATION! Just take a picture and walk away. Leave disarming that to the professionals.

Sagittarius 

You need to clean up your Whatnot Drawer in the kitchen, like it or not. First off, that bag of rubber bands? They’ve dried up and crumbled into chunks. The super glue hasn’t dried out yet, but it’s almost ready to spill all over the battery cases. And as for those, you have three locations where you’ve been storing batteries. Just condense it into one place. This week just… get your act together.

Capricorn 

Sexy asked for, sexy delivered. We’re challenging you to buy the thinnest, tightest bikini possible for the summer. And before you ask, no! You’re not going to buy it from Wicked Weasle, the Barely There Bikini Shop, or Bitsy’s Bikinis. Head out to your local hardware store and get yourself a gallon of Benjamin Moore Latex, a 3-Inch natural-hair brush, and an understanding get-away driver for the beach. Good luck!

Aquarius 

You get a sexy one too! You’ve been worried about your weight, and we’re going to tell you not to. A couple kilos isn’t gonna kill you, and it might even be fun. Some of your clothing’s gonna fit a little tighter, look a little smoother, and need you to reconsider sporting underwear to keep the lines unblemished. Now, remember, we said “a couple” kilos, meaning two; not three or four. You start making excuses and rationalizations and you might as well buy an emergency sewing repair kit. Actually, do that anyway.  

Pisces  

When everyone said, “May the Fourth be with you”, and you answered back, “- and also with you”... We get it. It’s OK. It’s like muscle memory now. You can stop being embarrassed about it now. Just take a breath and have a drink of wine to calm your nerves. But, you know… not that watered down stuff. Drink the GOOD stuff. Riunite… on ice. It’s So Nice! (Yes, it’s a hold over from last week’s commercial theme. It was tough coming up with one for you, alright?)

And THOSE are your Horrible-Scopes for this week! Remember if you liked what you got, we’re obviously not working hard enough at these. BUT! If you want a better or nastier one for your own sign or someone else’s, all you need to do to bribe me is just Let Me Know! These will be posted online at the end of each week via Tumblr, Twitter, Facebook and Discord.

#horoscope #horrorscope #parody #funny #are there any dice makers out there we could mention

[hours2hours]

THE HAWKINS PARADOX: CHAPTER FOUR

The sheet draping Toby’s corpse is the only barrier preventing a total meltdown in front of my friends. Ever since I first saw him in that cardboard box I haven’t had it in me to look at him, despite how much I’d give to see his face one last time.  

Playing on the floor when I was just eleven years old, running through the streets at night, play-fighting in the park, and the very first day we got him as just a puppy. Of all the half-forgotten memories from my youth, that one has always remained crystal clear. He was sitting in my lap sleeping on the drive home, and I thought that a more perfect creature couldn’t exist. He was so tiny but had all the fight in the world in him. He was my only friend and partner in crime for years, he brought me comfort every lonely day and night, and now he’s just a corpse in a hole. I placed him down gently after Annie was finished digging, and even now, putting the dirt on him doesn’t feel right. He’s gone, yet burying him feels like I’m hurting him, like he’s just going to wake up with a mouthful of earth and worms. 

I pat the earth on his final resting place and Ruby puts an arm on my shoulder. Though she was never as close to our dog as I was, I can still feel the sadness in her touch. When I look back to see the friends who showed in my time of need, I’m reminded of the real issues here. Miles was supposed to be here, right now he’s off alone and we’re all here worrying about a dog. The thought of forgetting Toby hurts so bad, but he’s gone, and Miles needs me. What’s dead is dead and should stay that way, even when it hurts like hell. 

I walk away from the grave and sit in the lawn chair next to my campfire.

“Are you positive a human did it? Animal attacks in this area have gone up significantly recently.” Otto calmly chimes in.

“Only if a coyote can wield a knife,” I respond. Ruby sits next to me as I poke the fire. Our yard is a wreck, littered with remnants of a forgotten past. The fire pit is a ring of rocks inside the sand pit Ruby and I played in as kids, while old toys lay wethered and grey by years of rain and snow.

“I still think you should call the police,” Ruby says.

Annie scoffs, “Yeah, like that’ll help.”

“I don’t need the police,” I reply. “I’m gonna take care of it.”

“But that’s so stupid,” Ruby responds.

“What good would they do me anyway? Smalltown cops aren’t goddamn detectives Rube. They’ve probably got their hands full shootin’ innocent people.”

Annie cackles and raises a beer.

Ruby continues, “I know you got a criminal record, but you still need help.”

“Aren’t you behind on a hundred commissions? Mind your business.”

Ruby stands, “You better not do anything stupid, I won’t be the only surviving twin.”

“You know me. Mentally sound decisions only.”

“Strict rules in the Hawkins household,” Annie adds. “See ya later Ruby! And don’t worry, I’ll babysit your brother.” Ruby stands to leave, while Annie waves goodbye until she’s out of sight. The door shuts, and Annie leans over in her lawn chair. “Okay, down to business. Did you come up with any other leads?”

“Only Wendy, she’s the one who’d want my head the most.”

Before Otto can question the topic at hand, Miles enters the yard with his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You weren’t interruptin’. Sit yourself down,” I reply.

“Sorry I’m late. Could barely convince Dad to let me leave.” Miles sits in the lawn chair next to my own. He moves close enough for our legs to touch slightly, sending a swarm of butterflies into my gut. “I thought he spent so long trying to get you out of the house,” I reply.

Annie lights a smoke and flicks one toward Miles. “You missed the depressing shit anyways.” Otto eyes the cigarette between Annie’s fingers, then Miles. “Are you doing okay?” Otto asks.

“Not really. I’d rather not talk about it, honestly. What were you saying about leads?”

“Right,” I eager to change the subject. “Wendy Anson. There’s a zealot or two in this town who’d wanna mess with me, but Wendy is the only one who’d go that far.

Miles shifts closer to me, and a smile tugs my lips. “You said you got her arrested, what happened?”

“Funny story actually,” I laugh nervously, patting the back of my head. “She used to sell me drugs, but I found out she was lacing her product for new customers.”

“Lacing?”

“Ya know, crack or whatever. It ain’t uncommon for dealers to try and get kids hooked on more expensive shit. She got a couple ninth graders hooked, one kid ODed an’ wound up in the hospital.”

“I remember that, the school held an assembly regarding drug use the next day,” Otto adds. Sometimes I forget just how little he really knows about his only two friends.

Pulling on the collar of my shirt I finish, “...so Annie an’ I busted into her house, stole her good supply, then ratted her out to the cops.”

Annie can barely contain the bellowing laughter. “Bitch got what was coming to her.” She crumples a can and cracks open another.

“Yeah, well, she got out of juvie a few months ago. If she figured out I was the one who snitched, I can see why she’d wanna fuck shit up for me. That’s not even mentioning that Aaron’s pickup spot was right next to the diner she works at.”

“Tha’s the only thing though. It seems like a really stupid obvious spot,” Annie says.

“What if she’s baiting you?” Miles adds.

“She could be, but the footage is our only lead, we need to go for it ASAP. If there’s even a chance I can find Toby’s killer I’m goin’ for it.”

“Footage?” Otto suddenly asks. Annie shoots me a wide eyed, ‘get me out of this’ look. But there’s no way I can explain last night without mentioning we kidnapped and tortured his brother.

“So uh, did you start studying for our history exam?” She laughs, switching the subject smooth as broken glass. Otto raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. “We’ll go over the flipbook tonight.”

“That’s why you’re the best,” Annie nudges him in the shoulder.

Miles stares into his phone, face scrunched into a frown. From the way he constantly wraps strands of grass through his fingers, to the melodic tap of his foot, Miles’s stress is worse than I’ve seen. I wish there was something I could do to help him, but now I feel so useless. “Looks like I should be going,” he mumbles.

“Already?” Annie asks.

“Dad says the police came back, they want to ask me more questions.”

As if things had to get worse. “Here, I’ll walk you home,” I stand.

“Dad’s already here. Guess I’ll see you later.” Miles slowly walks to the front of the house, lingering at the gate.

“I hope Miles is okay,” Otto states. A car door opens, then closes, and he’s gone.

Annie cracks open another drink, “Well if I were him I’d be freaking the hell out. Did you guys hear all that crap around school today? People think he killed his own brother.”

“There isn’t enough evidence to be certain one way or another,” Otto adds.

“It’s horseshit,” I burst. “Mobbing idiots. Acting like they know everything about someone they've never met.” 

Annie and Otto look at me wide-eyed, Annie’s eyebrow more knowing than I like.

“Can I use your bathroom?” Otto asks suddenly.

“You’ve been coming here for two years now.”

Otto squeezes Annie’d hand before inside my house. I know my outbursts make him uncomfortable, but this time I don’t care. I can’t stand mob mentality, I can’t stand people hurting someone who’s world is crashing left and right as we speak. I’m loudly tapping my foot on the rocks while Annie lights another cigarette with a huge grin on her face.

“What?” I ask more defensively than I mean to.

“Nothing,” she smiles.

“I’m worried about Miles 'cause he’s my friend.”

“Right, and like a mentally sound person, you responded accordingly.”

“God, shut up. Stop assuming I want every guy I meet now.”

“I’m just saying. You’re pretty quick to jump to the defense of someone you’ve barely known a year. What if he did kill Mateo? What if Miles is torturing him in his basement as we speak?”

“Just stop, okay? He’s not even…” I stop myself, struggling to force the word out of my mouth.

“You can say the G word. I know a lot of people in this town will wanna crucify you for it but it’s just us.”

“I’m just worried.”

#writing #creative writing #novel #gay #lgbt #mystery #thriller #trans #writing inspiration #lgbtq

[inkykeiji]

i can take you there but baby you won’t make it back

character: dabi | todoroki touya

notes: stepcest (kind of—ur parents aren’t married yet) with dabi-as-touya x a very naïve and inexperienced reader, normal!AU (no quirks, dabi also has tattoos over his scarred + fully healed skin), university!reader, implied yakuza!dabi, excessive use of the words niichan and good, praise kink, fingering, face fucking, title credit = save that shit by lil peep lmao  uhhhh yeah i hc dabi as a very intelligent and perceptive individual soooo i feel like he’d be a master at reading a person & their emotions and then adapting his manipulation techniques

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), noncon/dubcon, slight somnophilia, emotional manipulation, toxic relationship, size difference, slight degradation, mentions of drug use

words: 7.1k

part 2.1 | part 2.2

synopsis:

“You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, when you lay awake in your bed, you’ll feel ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—

But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.

Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.

        ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          

Your dad’s been dating Rei for a while—nearly a year, now—when things begin to get serious, and he proposes to her.

She accepts, so it’s not exactly a surprise when she suggests you guys move in with her—she’s got more than enough space, she tells you, it’s just her and her son in that big old house—and your dad seems pretty thrilled about it. This was the next step before marriage, after all.

You like Rei well enough, she’s always been nothing but sweet to you, and anyway, your father’s relationship really isn’t any of your business or concern.

It isn’t that you don’t want to move in with her—her house is in a better part of the neighborhood, a standard detached upper-middle class home, and just a short walk from a bus stop that’ll take you directly to university, which you start in a week.

It’s just…You’re a little apprehensive.

You know she has kids. She mentions them in passing every once in a while, but you can’t for the life of you remember their names, or their ages, or how many of them there are. You know they don’t all live with her, that her relationship with her ex-husband is complicated and rocky at best.

But you’re still surprised to hear that only one of them, her eldest, lives with her. She tells you he’s five years older than you are, that he’s a clever, smart boy, going off on a tangent about how disappointed she is that he didn’t go to university, because ‘he would’ve done so well—he could’ve shone so brightly.’ Something about the way she says that, the way her voice sounds almost sad, makes anxiety turn to lead in your stomach. She talks about him as if he’s already a lost cause, but he’s only in his mid-twenties, isn’t he?

You understand the moment you see him. The man standing in front of you as you shift from foot to foot unsurely in the foyer of this unfamiliar house is about as far from what you anticipated as he could possibly be.

He’s tall, skin pale as moonlight, with jet black hair and the most stunning blue eyes you’ve ever seen. But that isn’t what captivates you. It isn’t the lip ring curled around his bottom lip snuggly, and it isn’t the tongue piercing you’re about to find out he’s hiding in his mouth, either.

Every inch of the exposed skin of his arms is covered in intricate, seamlessly flowing tattoos—or, for a moment, you thought it was tattoos, plural. Upon closer inspection, you realize that each arm is actually covered in one giant tattoo, giving a new definition to the term ‘sleeve’. It’s all black ink, not a splash of colour anywhere, depicting an extremely detailed and anatomically correct mechanical arm, complete with what would’ve been joints, ligaments and bones in the form of wires and steel.

The tattoos extend onto the tops of his hands, made to look as if surgical staples are peeling his skin back to reveal the robot beneath. This same tattoo continues up his neck, along his jaw and onto his cheeks, all the way to his bottom lip, spreading across his entire face and disappearing into his hairline and onto his ears. Finally, there’s a small portion of the tattoo underneath his eyes, the surgical staples lining the edges of the face tattoos, too.

It startles you—you’re not necessarily scared, you just…weren’t expecting that. But there’s no denying the rush of breath that involuntarily escapes your lips as your eyes search his face, raking over his body in a brazen way that should make you feel shameful, travelling back up to find him smirking smugly at you, raising an eyebrow as your eyes meet again.

The look in his eyes tells you he knows, knows what you’re thinking about, knows how undeniably attracted you are to him, and scalding heat floods your cheeks.

He chuckles a little, which does nothing but add insult to injury, and sharp anger slices through your chest at the way that you stomach absolutely drops at his gravelly voice. You can’t believe yourself, can’t believe your body is reacting and responding so readily to this man—this stranger.

He introduces himself as Touya, in that rough, deep voice that forces a jolt of electricity to run through your veins. You idly wonder what your name would sound like on his tongue, how it might sound if his voice dropped to a growl, find yourself stuck thinking about this for the rest of the night.

✰          ✰          ✰          

To your disappointment, and as much as you are unabashedly interested in him, you don’t interact much with Touya for your first few weeks in the house—in fact, you barely see him at all.

This only piques your curiosity about him more, finding that you’re unable to tear your eyes from him on the rare occasion that you are in a room together. He catches you staring every single time, and he has the audacity to chuckle to himself and shake his head when his gaze meets yours, your eyes quickly darting away and cheeks burning at his laugh.

You begin gathering little tidbits of information about him, purely sourced from interactions you witness in the house, desperately praying for something that’ll give you an opportunity to start a conversation with him.

Your efforts prove fruitless when, almost a month and a half since you moved in, you’ve still only spoken a handful of words to him. You do learn a bit about him through observing, though.

You discover that he’s a smoker, which really doesn’t come as a shock at all. Marlboro’s are his favourite, and he’s always got a pack in his back pocket or rolled up in the short sleeve of his t-shirt. He must have them imported—Marlboro’s are incredibly rare to find all the way in Japan.

Touya must have a lot of things imported.

You find out that every other Thursday, Touya discreetly stuffs an absurdly large wad of cash—all composed of ten-thousand-yen bills—into his mom’s hands, forcing her fingers to curl around it. She fights him on it, every time, but he’s firm and adamant that she take it. It always ends with Rei giving him a small, watery smile, Touya pressing a kiss against the side of her head and murmuring that he loves her.

After you witness this interaction for the first time, you begin to notice that, while the house looks relatively normal on the outside, it is stuffed full of luxury on the inside. Flat-screen TVs each complete with full entertainment systems, state of the art appliances that are somehow up to date with all of the latest trends (including a smart fridge—absolutely ridiculous), custom made furniture, ornate rugs, a housekeeper that drops by every Sunday…

You have no idea what he does for work, but you think you’ve got at least some sort of idea when you catch him one night, just past 2AM, exiting his room and using a thumb to brush excess white powder off his nose. His eyes catch yours, pupils blown and shining in the low light, and he smiles darkly at you, winking once as he walks away.

You don’t ask—no one ever does.

You don’t ask about the crimson splattered on the toe of his boot, or why he sometimes smells metallic, like copper, the strong scent wafting after him and invading the halls as he stalks leisurely toward the bathroom. You don’t ask why he leaves the house at odd hours in the night, and you definitely don’t ask about the soft clinking and clicking you hear through the thin walls every so often while he cleans his gun at 3AM.

You’re not sure if it’s really any of your business, anyway. So you stay quiet, and continue to wait.

The opportunity finally comes one Wednesday in October, two weeks before Halloween, when you’re in the kitchen after school busy fixing yourself an afternoon snack. Touya comes home uncharacteristically early—you rarely see him before 10PM, so his entrance scares you, and you jump a little.

“Sorry,” he murmurs as he passes by behind you, just an inch too close, just enough so you can feel his body heat radiating off of him.

“It’s fine,” you say quietly, shaking your head a little and trying in vain to stop your hands from trembling as you spread peanut butter across a piece of bread.

You can feel his eyes on you, and it makes you nervous, makes your skin crawl in a way you’ve never felt before. He laughs a little at your struggling, leaning against the counter next to you and crossing his arms over his chest.

“You don’t have to be so nervous around me, y’know,” he says with a smirk, eyes glittering at the way your lips part in surprise, your breath stuttering a little. “I’m your niichan after all, aren’t I?”

You hadn’t even considered using the honorific until he himself uses it.

Your hands freeze, hovering over your plate, and you look over at him slowly. “You…Want me to call you that?”

“You can, if you’d like,” he says smoothly, nonchalantly, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. It makes no difference to him, he tells you, but when he finally looks back at you, you think you can see it in his eyes—a sharp, small glimmer of…of something. Something that makes your stomach twist in a way you can’t decide if you like or not.

But this is it, you think, this is your opening to finally begin talking to him.

So you do. And the smirk he gives you the first time you address him by the honorific, voice quivering slightly as you ask him where Rei normally keeps the blender, is nothing short of predatory.

“It’s on the top shelf. It’s too high for you, though,” he says, voice so sickly sweet it almost sounds mocking. “Let niichan get it for you,”

It isn’t, but you let him get it for you anyway.

And he knows—knows he’s got you the moment you gasp at the honorific leaving his lips, trying to hide it behind your hand, nodding quickly and squeaking out a thank you.

It starts after that. He begins playing with you; a sick, perverse game of cat and mouse, hunter and hunted, and you play your part perfectly.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, if you said it didn’t send wicked sparks of excitement shooting up your spine and an intense fluttering in your stomach.

And it starts slow. It starts with gentle pet names—honey, sweetheart, princess—and fingertips trailing down your arm as he passes you. It starts with a large hand placed on the small of your back, guiding you—out of the house and into his car, out of the kitchen and into the living room, out of the hallway and into his bedroom—and with little pecks on your lips stolen when no one’s watching, quick kisses that leave you feeling exhilarated despite their chastity.

Suddenly, he’s home a hell of a lot more. He’s sitting too close to you on the couch while you curl up with a textbook, his thigh pressed against you and flesh burning hot through his black jeans. He’s joining the family dinner a few times a week, idly hooking and unhooking his ankle with yours beneath the table while smirking at you from across it.

Suddenly, he’s asking you if you need a ride to school, or if you need someone to pick you up. You don’t, you tell him, the bus is just fine, but he insists. It’s what niichans do, he says. He wants to take care of you, he says.

Who are you to deny him that, really?

✰          ✰          ✰          

The first time you experience Touya angry is about a month after the inciting incident, when he catches you walking home with a few of your university friends.

He had texted you earlier that day, telling you that he—very regretfully, he said—would be unable to pick you up from school this afternoon because ‘something had come up’.

You didn’t question what it was—you knew he’d lie even if you did. So you accepted it obediently, reassured him that it was fine, that you’d find another way home.

You’re pretty sure if you had told him that you didn’t have any extra change on you for the bus suddenly whatever important thing that had ‘come up’ which so desperately needed his attention wouldn’t be so urgent anymore. But you didn’t want to be a bother, or inconvenience him, so you say nothing.

Two friends decide they’ll accompany you on your walk home, so you aren’t lonely, they claim. Normally, the walk from campus to your house is about thirty minutes, but that day it takes you nearly an hour, wasting time goofing around and walking slowly as you talk idly.

Touya’s already pissed that it’s taken you so long to arrive home, that you’ve ignored all of his extremely considerate texts asking if you’re alright, but when he sees you squished between two boys, giggling as the three of you stumble up your driveway—he’s fucking fuming.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he asks, voice calm and monotonous, leaning casually against the doorframe.

Your head snaps up—you swear he wasn’t there just a second ago—blood running cold.

His stance is relaxed, arms crossed loosely over his chest, lazily raising an eyebrow as your wide eyes meet his. Technically, the only indication that he’s furious is the blazing blue fire in his eyes, but your friends can read the tension in the air surrounding him, shuffling a little closer to you. This minuscule action does not go unnoticed by Touya, sharp jaw clenching once.

“You had niichan worried,”

You’re frozen a few feet away from the porch, unable to find your voice, to move your legs, to breathe at all.

“I didn’t know you had an older brother,”

Your eyes do not leave Touya’s as you speak, the words hoarse. “Oh, we’re—”

“Yeah,” Touya bites, irritation finally bleeding into his voice. “She does,” his eyes float back to yours. “Come here, princess,”

Your body snaps into action, moving automatically before you can even comprehend it, allowing Touya to tuck you into his side the moment you reach him.

Your hands are shaking, but you have no control over them as your fingers curl in his white t-shirt, clinging to him. To your surprise, the arm around your shoulders hugs you closer in response, thumb caressing you.

“Thanks for making sure she got home safely,” he tosses over his shoulder, managing to make the simple sentence sound like an insult, tone bordering on patronizing, while he turns on his heel, marching you both inside.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you’re rushing to say the moment the front door shuts behind you two, Touya’s arm still wrapped firmly around you.

He looks down at you coldly. “Don’t you dare pull shit like that again,” he tells you, eerily calm voice forcing spikes of icy dread up your spine. He pauses for a moment, letting his words sink in as his eyes bore into yours. “You had me worried sick,” he breathes out then, squeezing you again. You’re surprised in the sudden change of tone, feeling your chest swell at the thought of him fretting over you, a small smile gracing your lips.

“I…I did?”

Touya’s eyebrows furrow, as if he’s offended at your questioning, mood morphing in the span of a second. “Of course you fucking did,” he spits like you’re stupid, arm dropping. “Do you ever check your phone?”

“Wh-What?”

Touya rolls his eyes. “Check your phone,” he calls out airily as he begins walking into the kitchen, shaking his head a little, disappointment rolling off him in waves.

Hastily fishing your phone out of your bag, you’re astonished to see eight texts from him and three missed calls. You scroll through the texts quickly, each one making you feel more nauseous than the next. ‘Is everything okay? You should’ve been home by now’; ‘Please answer me, princess, you’re making your niichan nervous’; ‘Where are you? Answer my fucking calls already’. Guilt turns sour in your mouth and you hurry after him.

“I-I really am s-so sorry,” you force the words out, unsure as to why there are suddenly tears stinging your eyes. He isn’t even doing anything—his back is facing you as he nonchalantly begins brewing a pot of coffee.

But the thought of him being upset with you, of losing his approval, sends a sharp pain searing through your chest.

“Are you?” he asks, and although his voice holds no malice in it, it causes your whole body to stutter with a harsh breath.

“Yes,” you whimper out, latching onto his arm and tugging in an attempt to draw his eyes to yours, to see how regretful you are, the remorse written across your face. “I should’ve…That was so careless and inconsiderate of me,”

“It was,” he agrees simply, voice still light, as if he’s discussing something as mundane as the weather. “But you’ll never do it again, right?”

“Right,” you agree readily, breathing out the word before you even realize what you’re agreeing to.

“Tell niichan you’ll never worry him like that again,” he finally looks over at you.

“I-I’ll never worry you like that again, niichan, I pr-promise,”

His eyes hold yours for what feels like eons, before he finally twists his arm out of your grasp, instead wrapping it around you and tugging you against his body. You stay staring up at him, eyes wide and obedient, breath bated as you wait for your next order, so pliant and ready to serve him.

“Good,” he whispers, eyes finally softening, and you feel like you can breathe properly again. His free hand cups your face, thumb running along your lips, then your chin, then your jaw. “You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, you’ll lay awake in your bed, feeling ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—

But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.

Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

He begins to trust you more. You meet his friends, each one terrifying in their own right. Jin is alright, although his brain is fried from drugs, and he talks to and contradicts himself a lot, earning the nickname Twice from Tomura.

Tomura horrifies you to your very core—a tall, lanky man with sunken red eyes and sickly pale skin who looks like he’s one bad day away from death—and Touya tells you very sternly to stay away from him.

A university student not unlike yourself, Keigo is your favourite. Keigo is the most normal, with his wild blonde hair and enticing gold eyes that always look like they’re playfully holding the secrets of the universe just out of your grasp.

Keigo’s brain is always going a hundred miles a minute, although you’d never guess it with his trademark lazy drawl, speaking as if he hasn’t got a care in the world. But he can always keep a conversation going, knows exactly what to say to avoid awkward silences or lulls in the discussion, and you appreciate that. You think he’s so cool—he has so much knowledge about the oddest things, everything and anything, ‘a walking encyclopedia’, Tomura calls it, and it fascinates you to no end.

It’s the speed, Touya tells you one night while you’re laying on the couch, your body on top of his, the pads of his fingers dragging down your back in rhythmic strokes. Speed is Keigo’s drug of choice, you find out. Speed is the reason why Keigo knows as much as he does.

“Sometimes he doesn’t sleep for days,” Touya says. “That’s how he has all the time to memorize everything he knows—though that big overactive brain of his plays a part in it, too,”

The thought inexplicably makes your heart sink in your chest, and you don’t say anything else. If Touya notices your shift in mood, he doesn’t mention it. You idly wonder what Touya’s drug of choice is, but you’re too scared of the answer to ask.

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

It’s only a few nights later when you wake with a violent jolt, breathing laboured as you absentmindedly press your palm to your chest, trying in vain to calm your racing heart.

A nightmare.

You sit in silence for a moment, listening to the sound of your own harsh breaths echoing off the walls and debating what to do next. A minute later, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, wincing when your bare feet touch the cold hardwood, and pad down the hallway.

You try to trick yourself into believing that you aren’t using this purely as an excuse to spend the night with him. It really was so scary, you reason with yourself, it really has made you all shaken up…

Who are you kidding? You didn’t even attempt to go back to sleep.

You’ve been in his room plenty of times now—sitting daintily on his bed as he introduces you to new music, new movies, new books. Stuff that reminds him of you, he says, stuff that he thought you might be interested in. You’re grateful for it; there are so many things you’ve learned in the short time you’ve known him.

That isn’t all, though. There’s no denying the warmth that spreads through your body, that tiny excited flutter in your chest, when he calls your name and interlaces your fingers, leading you toward his room and telling you he’s got something to show you.

Yes, you’ve been in his room plenty of times now. But this is the first time you spend the night in his bed.

He’s still up, soft golden light leaking from under his closed bedroom door. Your hand quivers a little as you lift it to rap your knuckles against the wood. He appears in the doorway a moment later, leaning against the frame in a black t-shirt that looks like it’s a size or two too small for him, riding up to reveal a teasing sliver of milky skin, tips of his hipbones jutting out from the waistband of his plaid pajama pants.

“Princess? What is it?”

You didn’t realize you were staring, and you jump a little at his gravelly voice.

“Oh. I, um—Well, I just…had a nightmare a-and I can’t sleep,”

You can barely look him in the eyes as you say it, your cheeks burning. You both know it’s a lie.

But he plays along.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, drawing you into his arms, into his room, into his bed.

“You’re trembling,” he murmurs as he turns on his side to face you, propping his head up with a hand. “Poor thing. Was it a bad one?”

Your mouth feels like its been stuffed with cotton, rendering you incapable of speech, tongue dry and sluggish. You nod in response, heat seeping into your cheeks again at just how loudly your heart is thumping while you roll onto your side. There’s only a few inches of space between your bodies now, his hot breath fanning across your face as he speaks again.

“Do you want niichan to help you forget about it?”

The question hangs heavy in the air, and you suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes searching his. Your thighs squeeze together at the way his voice has dropped an octave, low and husky, familiar heat pooling in the depths of your belly. He waits patiently, lifting a hand to caress your cheek, then runs his fingertips down your bare arm, goosebumps following.

Finally, you nod. You think you see the corners of his lips quirk up into the slightest hint of a smirk, but you blink, and it’s gone.

“Here,” he whispers, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. Hand cupping your jaw, he tilts your face up and slots his mouth against yours.

You’ve kissed before, of course—in his bed, in yours, on the living room couch, on the kitchen counter with his hips shoved between your thighs—but this…this feels different.

These are kisses with intent, with purpose, with a goal in mind. These are kisses that keep you distracted—slow, soft, messy with saliva—as his hand slips down your body and between your thighs.

Your gasp breaks the kiss, wide eyes blinking up at him then fluttering shut as he brushes a knuckle against your clit. He hushes you, nimble fingers spreading your folds before he drags them up your slit, huffing out a laugh at how wet you already are.

“Were you thinking about something naughty before?” he gasps mockingly, sliding the pads of his fingers back down as he speaks.

His hand withdraws from your shorts and he orders you to lift your hips, tugging the waistband down your thighs. You squirm a little, forcing them further down your legs until you free yourself of them completely, eyes gazing up at him again, awaiting your next command.

Legs part dutifully as his hand travels back down to the apex of your thighs, pushing a finger into your soaking pussy.

It’s slow at first, thrusting leisurely with his middle finger a few times and loosening you up a little before adding his ring finger. Sapphire eyes watch his motions, captivated by how your eager little cunt sucks his fingers in selfishly.

“Look at that, huh?” he breathes, looking down at you. “Such a pretty little pussy you’ve got,”

You open your bleary eyes to peer at yourself, mesmerized by the way his fingers are pumping in and out of you, glistening in the dim light of his bedroom. He curls his fingers and you inhale sharply, hips twitching toward his palm.

“Oh?” he chuckles darkly, knuckles nudging the spot again. “Did niichan find something, baby?”

You don’t know, you’re not sure, you try to tell him, but all you can seem to manage is pathetic little whines while you nod your head.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he’s asking as the pads of his fingers tap against that spot, your entire body jolting.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper out, a little breathlessly. “But it’s never felt like this,”

“Aw, baby,” he coos, and it’s so condescending. “Then you weren’t doing it right, sweetheart,”

He quickens his pace, chuckles at the way you try to desperately fuck yourself on his fingers at such an awkward angle.

“Poor little thing, can’t even get herself off properly,” he tsks. “You need your niichan to do it for you, don’t you?”

Soft whines spill from your throat as you nod eagerly, your stomach coiling tightly.

“One day,” he breathes, curling his fingers with a vengeance this time, your hips rolling up off the mattress. “When we have the time, I’ll teach you how to make yourself feel so good,”  

He’s talking too much. You want to tell him this, tell him to shut the hell up, but every time you try to speak he presses the heel of his palm to your clit and grinds against it, effectively scattering all of your thoughts, soft mewls of niichan the only sound escaping your lips.

Can’t deny his voice is fucking hot though, a form of foreplay all on its own.

And he knows this, can read you like a goddamn book, especially when he’s got his fingers two knuckles deep inside of you. He can feel it, he tells you. You don’t even need to speak; he can feel your thoughts when his voice drops an octave and your cute little hole flutters, when he chuckles and your pussy clenches around his fingers—a slut for his voice, aren’t you?

“Pretty baby, you can’t do anything but nod dumbly, can you? Been fucked stupid by my fingers alone, huh?”

Your head barely moves, lost all control of your body by this point, only able to whimper in response.

“Gonna come all over my fingers, pretty girl?” the knuckle of his thumb begins grazing your clit in quick strokes. “C’mon, make a mess for niichan,”

And it’s pathetic, how quickly your body obeys. Your pussy squeezes once, twice, three times and you’re gushing all over his fingers, juices collecting in his palm, running down his wrist. You’re embarrassed—you’ve never cum that much before, have you?

Breathing still ragged, you nuzzle into his sheets, partially hiding your face from him. Nothing could hide the involuntary grin that forms on your lips, though. Arms snake under your boneless body, tugging a bit.

“Oh no, baby, we aren’t done yet,” Touya’s saying while he hoists you up, letting you lean heavily against him.

Head tilting in confusion, your glazed eyes find his. “Wh-What?”

He looks down at his lap and your gaze follows, a tiny whimper slipping past your lips at the bulge straining against his pants. “Doesn’t niichan deserve a nice reward for helping you forget that scary dream?”

Eyes darting back to his, you nod slowly, whispering out, “Yes. But—But…” But you’re hesitant; you’ve never done anything like this before. Shaking hands reach for the waistband of his pants, beginning to pull them down but freezing when the head of his cock peeks out.

Touya sighs. “Come on, you wanna be a good girl for niichan, don’t you?”

Of course. Of courses you do.

Then he wants you to touch him, he says. He’ll help you; he promises.

“But you gotta get it wet first,”

You ask how, and he laughs at you. “With your tongue, stupid,” he tells you.

He instructs you to kneel on the floor and you comply immediately, trembling legs folding beneath your body as you situate yourself between his knees. He inches forward on the bed a little, shuffling himself to the edge and caging you between his thighs. Bringing his cock close to your mouth, he taps the head against your closed lips.

They part instantly, obediently, his eyes flashing with something sinister as you take the head into your mouth and suck hesitantly, big eyes staring up at him waiting for approval.

He curses, his hips twitching ever so slightly, skin stretched taut over bony knuckles as a hand forms a fist in the sheets. Starting with kitten licks at first, the tip of your tongue barely touches him, tracing veins, then begins to gain more confidence as he groans a little, telling you what to you, that you’re doing good, so good for him.

Watching him through thick lashes, you have the audacity to look bashful as your tongue laves around the shaft, drenching it in saliva. A hand tangles in your hair and yanks, pulling you off his cock when he decides it’s sufficiently wet enough. Long fingers encircle your wrist, bringing your hand to form a fist around him.

“Like this,” he says, jerking your hand up and down.

You’re terrible at it, movements awkward and uncoordinated, but in that moment he doesn’t really care. He’s irritated a little, wondering out loud how anyone can be bad at handjobs while a large hand wraps around yours and forces you to speed up. Bad? Your heart sinks at the small three letter word, a hard lump forming in your throat, looking as though you may start crying.

But he cums quickly after that, ropes of searing hot white painting your cheeks and face. You watch him the entire time, panting a little, lips parted slightly and your tongue darts out to lick them, tasting him.

He laughs at your bitter reaction, and it’s such a patronizing sound.

“Don’t worry,” he says, collecting the cum off your face and forcing his fingers into your mouth. “Someday I’ll stuff your throat full of it.”

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

You can no longer mention needing—no, wanting—anything around him anymore, because within the next few days it’s sitting pretty and perfect on your bed, propped up against your lace trimmed pillows.

He’s so good to you; you should be grateful you have such a generous niichan, one who eats you out and spoils you with gifts. You’re so spoiled.

And he tells you this, in the dead of night when you wake to find him shoving his cock into you, snarling a little at your soft whines of protest.

“Don’t be a brat,” he warns. Just be a good girl and take his cock. He does so much for you, can’t you be good for him?

Yes, yes, you want to be good for him, you want to be the best for him.

By this point you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve woken up in the middle of the night with his head between your thighs, prepping you to take him.

“Stay sleeping, baby,” he’ll tell you, words whispered into your hair as his cockhead nudges against your hole.

As if you could ever stay sleeping when only a few minutes later he’s pounding you into oblivion, large hand clasped over your mouth so tightly his blunt nails are digging into your cheek, so hard that it’s yanking your head back, neck beginning to ache.

He tells you to be quiet, “You don’t want anyone to hear, do you? Then we’d have to stop, and you don’t want that, right, sweetheart?”

You don’t, you whimper. Of course you don’t—you want whatever he wants, you want to be his perfect little baby, you want to be told how good you take his cock, the praise mumbled against your skin in a low, strained voice right before he fills you with cum.

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

He disappears for a few days near the end of December. You have no idea where, Touya answering your curious texts with playful quips at first before he grows tired of it and tells you to stop fucking asking.

But eventually, he returns.

The front door slams shut and your body flinches with a jolt of excitement. Adrenaline spikes your blood when you hear his heavy boots colliding with the hardwood, getting louder, louder, louder…

He passes right by you, not glancing at you at all. Moments later, the sound of water hitting the tiled shower wall echoes down the hallway.

And you wait. Patiently, you wait, like the good little girl you are, not daring to move a muscle. Eventually he re-emerges, hair still damp, a few strands sticking to his neck.

With a groan, he collapses on the couch next to you, flopping his head into your lap and gazing up at you with glazed, blown sapphire eyes.

“You’re high,” you say softly, not accusatory, just an observation. He giggles a little.

“So what if I am?”

“What did you take?”

“Oh,” he gasps mockingly. “Oh no, baby, I can’t tell you that,”

Why? The question is burning on the tip of your tongue, and you can tell that he’s anticipating that to be your next response, but you bite down on your bottom lip, holding it in. You know his answer already, can practically hear his patronizing voice—Because good baby sisters aren’t supposed to know about stuff like this.

“Can I try some?” you ask instead.

All of the mirth fades from his eyes in an instant, and he moves in a flash despite his inebriated state, so quick you can barely tell what’s happening. His large hand wraps around your bicep in a bruising grasp, pulling you towards him as he sits up, his face an inch away from yours.

“Absolutely fucking not,” he spits, cobalt eyes blazing and voice rumbling against your chest. “And if I so much as catch wind that you’re using, have a mere feeling that you’ve tried it—even just once—I’ll slaughter you and the fucker you got it from. Do you understand me?”

Surprised tears spring into your eyes and you nod jerkily, body beginning to tremble as your breath gets caught in your throat. You want to tell him that you didn’t mean it, honest, you promise!; that you were just kidding around, you swear!, but you can’t, voice mangling itself with the hitched little breaths on the back of your tongue.

He growls at your silence, his grip around your arm tightening and you cry out, terrified that he might actually crush the bone with his bare hand.

“Say, yes Touya, I understand,”

“Y-Yes Touya, I understand,” you manage to stutter out, voice returning only at the command of a direct order, tears spilling over and rolling down your cheeks in pairs. His eyes search your face for a moment, his features contorted in fury, before he sneers at you, squeezing your arm once then roughly letting go, shoving you away from him.

You fall backward against the arm of the couch, heart thumping so vigorously you’re sure he can hear it. He groans, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, exasperated.

“Fuck,” he sighs, eyes opening to glare at the ceiling. “You’ve ruined my high,”

You stare at him, breath coming out in uneven huffs, clinging to the couch.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, terrified to move lest you upset him more.

He’s silent for a moment, still staring up, until he lolls his head to the side, glancing at you through the corner of his eye. A small smirk spreads across his face.

“C’mere,” he says, nodding his head a little in indication.

“Wh-What?”

“C’mere,” he repeats. “Come make it up to me,”

Your body’s moving before you’ve given it permission to, crawling into his lap obediently, thighs on either side of his hips. His smirk widens, and you love it—you love how much control he has over you without even trying, you love the way a quiet whimper slips through your lips as his large hands begin kneading your flesh, running up your legs and grabbing your ass.

Lips trail up the column of your neck, and you tilt your head back, a silent plea for more. You can feel the way his lips curl into a grin against your skin, nipping at it a second later.

“So, how you gonna make it up to me? Huh?” he shifts his hips under you, pressing his hard cock into your clothed core. You whine a little, grinding against him.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” you breathe out while sharp teeth mar your collarbone.

“The hell you waiting for? Show me,”

You begin sliding down his body and he pushes on your shoulders, forcing you to your knees between his spread thighs. He watches you through half-lidded eyes, gaping pupils outlined by a thin ring of blue.

Holding his gaze, you lean forward with your pretty little tongue hanging out and begin licking along the straining bulge, tracing it slowly, the denim rough against your sensitive muscle. You relent though, lapping at his clothed cock in slow, long strokes, and his jeans are just thin enough for you to feel him pulse in response.

A giggle bubbles up past your lips, muffled by the denim, already beginning to feel heady as you pull simple reactions from him. Your mouth forms a cute little ‘o’ and you suck on him the best you can through his jeans, drooling all over his lap and soaking through the material.

The hand in your hair tightens into a fist, yanking hard and pulling your mouth away. “Stop fucking teasing,” he warns, a hint of something ominous in his voice.

You obey, because you always obey, tiny fingers working to quickly unbuckle his belt, pop the button, yank down the zipper. He aids you, lifting his hips and allowing you to tug his jeans down his thighs enough for his cock to spring out.

His own hand wraps around the shaft, you pausing mid-action as you reach for it.

“Open,” he demands, your dutiful lips parting immediately, letting him push his cock into the warm, wet cavern.

He sets a brutal, punishing pace from the start, refusing to give you a single moment to adjust. His other hand fists in your hair, forcing you to stay still as he rams his cock down your throat.

Reflexive tears burn your eyes, blurring your vision. You blink quickly to clear them, desperate to watch him, to catalogue all of his micro-expressions and the sound of his voice as he grunts out your name, to burn it into your mind, etch it into your very soul.

Touya’s head falls back against the couch, Adams apple bobbling with his rough whimpers, long neck and sharp collarbone on full display. If your mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, you’d love to lick up his smooth skin, to trace the dips of his collarbone with your tongue and sign your name in brilliant splotches of blue and purple.

You’re gagging around his cock now, starting to feel lightheaded and struggling to inhale enough oxygen. The ache in your jaw is beginning to spread, but you ignore it, stretching your mouth open wider, to take more, to be good for him, to make him proud. It’s worth it for the hoarse, throaty moans you’re pulling from him, to hear your name shuddered out, followed by a breathy, “Fuck,”

He forces hot cum down your throat a moment later, and you choke on it, sputtering around his cock, throat spasming as it tries to force the foreign object out. He won’t let it, though. He holds your head in place, nose pressed against his pubic bone, and you can do nothing but take it, like a good little girl, like he tells you to.

But it’s all worth it. It’s all worth it, to hear his broken whines like that, to have him look down at you and pull your hair and tell you you’re good, so good for him.

And you’re sobbing by the end of it, gasping for air the moment he lets go of you, wheezing violently as your head collapses against his thigh.

“Did I—” you cough, voice raspy from having your throat fucked raw, “—Did I make it up to you, niichan?” you gaze up at him, eyelashes spiky with residual water. You’re the perfect picture of obedience, strands of hair stuck to your face where your salty tears have dried and swollen lips gleaming with saliva as you watch him with glittering eyes, waiting desperately for his praise.

He looks down at you, eyes devious and diabolical, chest heaving a little. “Of course you did,” he tells you, corners of his lips tugging up into a sharp smirk as you melt into him. “You always do, don’t you?”

#todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya #dabi x reader #dabi smut #touya x reader #dabi may be a scumbag but he loves his momma #tomura baby i’m so sorry #promise u don’t horrify me at all oof #pls come horrify me more #christ if dabi isn’t touya we’re all gonna look like goddamn fools #a buncha clowns #anyway this is my first time posting something like this #n i haven’t written smut in an extremely long time #so pls be nice #actually u should always be nice #so pls be extra nice #no one beta’d this so there’s a good chance i’ll come back to it n revise it or whatever idk i’m just sick of looking at it rn #the ‘he talks too much’ is inspired by ch 271 w hawks where he’s all ‘he’ll keep talking’ #dabi shut the fuck up challenge #prone to monologuing this boy is #also sorry abt the crazy sentences with a thousand commas #apparently now i’m oscar wilde w these run on sentences #idk i still kinda like em tho #i like oscar #tw pseudo-incest #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw emotional manipulation #tw somnophilia #tw drugs

[i-need-entertainment]

Haikyuu!! Boys getting accidentally hit ‘where it hurts’ by their kids

Characters: Akaashi, Washio, Konoha, Kita, Suna, Ushijima, Yahaba, Iwaizumi, Futakuchi, Daishou, Numai and Iizuna

Happy Easter if you celebrate it!! I thought a fluffy little hc’s of the Haikyuu!! Boys with their babies would be cute for today so here we are~

Warnings: Uh- just our favorite boys getting hit in the balls, I’m seeking more therapy I laughed way too hard while writing this uHm, mentions of grabbing the crotch cause what else you gonna do??, I do reference the Bad-dad moments and being flashed posts. 

**POST TIMESKIP CAUSE CHILDREN!! YOU AND THE HAIKYUU!! BOYS ARE MARRIED~ ALSO THE NUMBER OF KIDS THEY HAVE CAME FROM THE BAD-DAD MOMENTS!!**

@foodacoochie I thought you might want to see this~

Akaashi Keiji: 

Today was Akaashi’s day off, so naturally he wanted to spend it with his family!

You were all situated in the living room, your youngest who was a little over 1 sitting on your lap, and your oldest, who was about 3 was sitting across from Akaashi.

Akaashi was on his knees, throwing a tennis ball like thing back and forth with your 3 year old son, who was standing.

Everything was going great, just some wholesome family fun.

Until Akaashi said ‘give it all you got!’ his child smiled, wound up, and-

‘OOF-’ you watched as your husband immediately hunched over, falling to his side as his hands flew to his crotch.

Your eyes widened as you tried not to laugh, your son however started giggling when his father groaned, your baby following suit.

“K-keiji? *snicker* are- *ahem* are you okay?” You barely got through the sentence before you started laughing, Akaashi just slowly nodded, eventually returning to his knees.

He was much, much more conscious of his lower region from that point on.

Washio Tatsuki: 

It was Halloween time, and you and Washio had taken your 3 kids to a pumpkin patch!

You guys have 3 kids, the oldest two are 5 (fraternal twins, 1 boy 1 girl), and the youngest is 2.

The farm had made several ‘haunted houses’, one for little kids and one for teens+

Your twins had decided they wanted to go in the haunted house!

Well, your son did. Your daughter was not thrilled.

But! When her daddy offered to hold her hand the whole time, she decided she could brave it out, after all it is Washio we’re talking about.

You stayed by the entrance with your 2 year old, while Washio took the twins inside.

Everything was fine for awhile, your son was very excited, giggling at the jump scares and all in all having a good old time.

Your daughter...not so much. Poor thing was just about shaking, but she wanted to do this!!

They were about 2 scares away from the exit when someone dressed as a werewolf came from no where, your daughter screaming and turning into her father, her elbow at the perfect height to connect with his groin.

Sucking in a quick breath he ever so slightly tightened his hold on his children's hands, walking them through the last few jump scares and out to you.

You immediately grew concerned as the first thing your husband did was take a knee when he got outside, hands coming to grip at his face as he just slowly let out a breath, nodding when you asked if he was okay.

But even after getting elbowed in the balls, he never let go of his daughters hand😤

Konoha Akinori: 

You had just finished drying your son off from his bath when you heard giggling coming from the living room.

You sighed as you saw your husband, relentlessly tickling his oldest daughter, right after you had gotten her all settled down for bed.

Despite the irritation you felt knowing it would take at least 2 more stories for her to be sleepy again, you couldn’t help but smile knowing how much he loved being a dad.

“D-daddy *giggle* st-stop it!! It-it tickles!!!” Your husband smiled, continuing to gently tickle your daughter as she continued to laugh.

“No-can-do missy! Your laugh is just too cute!” 

Your daughter, despite her laughing, started to squirm, small arms pressing down on her fathers forearms, and little legs and feet pressing on his shins and thighs.

Until one particularly ticklish brush of his fingers caused her foot to slip, ending with her heel hitting him right in his crotch.

He shrieked as he let go of his daughter, hands flying down to his groin as he fell on his side, all the while his little girl laughed as she crawled up towards you, who was hunched over ugly laughing/crying as your husband continued to whine.

Kita Shinsuke: 

Today was the first day of your spring cleaning, and your 4 year old daughter insisted on being a big help!

You were working in the living room while Kita and your daughter worked in the kitchen.

Kita was teaching his daughter how to use everything, and helping her when she needed it, she was of course a wonderful listener and was having the time of her life.

They had just finished dusting, and now it was time to do the floors.

You guys had linoleum in the kitchen, so all they had to do was sweep and mop.

Kita got the broom from the storage closet and came back to the kitchen.

He sighed when he realized he had forgotten the mop, setting the broom up against the kitchen counter and telling your daughter he’d be right back.

Now, she may more responsible than most kids her age, but she was still 4. And very curious.

Picking up the broom, she started to play with it, completely oblivious to her father rounding the corner.

Before he could so much as blink his daughter turned, the top of the broom catching him right in the balls as he very narrowly avoided cussing, choosing to grip the counter instead.

Gasping your little girl ran to you, on the verge of tears as she grabbed your hand and started pulling you towards the kitchen.

“Mommy help! I think I killed daddy!”

When you got to the kitchen, you saw Kita, head down on the counter as his hands wrapped around his head, small groans coming from him.

He made sure to be out of his daughter reach when teaching her to sweep.

Suna Rintaro: 

Suna was in the living room, your 2 oldest in there with him as he was ‘rough housing’ and doing stuff dads do with their kids.

You were in the youngest 2′s room, putting them down for a nap.

Suna gently held his daughters legs as she planted her palms on the floor, him lifting her up when she was ready.

That’s right, Suna was teaching them to do handstands.

Giving her a high five he turned to his son, telling him what he needed to do, completely oblivious to his daughters concentrated look.

Keep in mind, Suna was standing, with his knees slightly bent and his hands on his knees.

Your daughter gave herself a firm nod, putting her hands above her head as she dipped down.

You had just finished putting the littlest ones down for their nap when you walked into the living room, watching almost in slow motion as your daughter leaned her upper half down, and watching her her leg came flying straight up.

Straight up in between her father’s legs.

You watched as his eyes widened, the air being knocked right out of him as he practically folded in half, forehead resting on the carpet as your son just looked at him and your daughters hands came up to her mouth.

You were of course dying in the doorway, him shooting you a glare as you gave your poor daughter a hug, her giving her daddy one as soon as he unfurled from the fetal position.

Ushijima Wakatoshi: 

Ushijima had taken his 3 oldest sons to the Schweiden gym.

He was putting in a little extra practice time, but wasn’t going to give up time with his children!

So, he figured it would be good to take them with him, they always loved going with him anyhow.

Right now, he was with your oldest son, Ren.

Your second born was whisked away by Romero and his son to play, and your youngest was whisked away by Hoshiumi and Sokolov.

Ushijima had been teaching his son to spike.

Nothing crazy, the kid is only 5, so they were spiking from the ground.

But there’s still a lot of power that goes into those spikes!!

Ushijima had taken his eyes off of his son for not even a minute, distracted by the giggles he heard from his youngest as he sat on Hoshiumi’s shoulders.

He really should have been paying attention, because right in front of him his son was winding up for a spike.

He didn’t notice until the *SMACK* on the gym floor echoed, the volleyball being shot right into his groin.

He cursed under his breath as he dropped to his knees, hands holding his crotch as Sokolov and Romero cringed, Hoshiumi and Ren laughing at his misfortune.

Yahaba Shigeru: 

Yahaba had taken his 2 sons outside to play with a model airplane they had just finished putting together!

It was one of those thick-foam nice ones, so it was going to fly nicely.

He stood a good 15 feet away from his oldest, his youngest about 15 feet away from him so they formed a triangle, You watching with your phone ready for memories!!

Your oldest, Hayato, waited for the wind to come before thrusting the plane up and into the air, it glided for a good few seconds before doing a loop and coming back to the ground at a sharp angle.

For a foam plane, it moved quite efficiently, and at this speed it was moving quite quickly.

Before anyone could react, the plane had nose dived right into your husband, his face blanching as his hands shot downwards.

You laughed, your sons cringed, and Yahaba just about cried.

“At least the plane’s okay! It would have actually been bad if it broke” Your youngest walked away after picking up the plane, Yahaba looking at him in disbelief. 

“Yeah, well don’t go asking me and your mom for anymore siblings, *cringe* I don’t think that’ll be happening.”

He cringed even more when you revealed you had gotten everything on video~

Iwaizumi Hajime: 

With it being the off-season for volleyball, Iwaizumi was spending more time at home with his family!

But, keeping in good shape was also important, so one of the things he would do is while he worked out in the home gym, your 3 sons would be in there with him.

You guys had a pretty good set up, one of the newer additions being a punching bag and gloves. (any other boxers out there?)

Iwaizumi was working with weights, currently doing bicep curls while his sons wreaked, albeit controlled, havoc.

His oldest had found the gloves, slipping on on his hand as the middlest took the other, the youngest slipping on a mit instead.

Poor man was so focused in his workout, he didn’t even notice his middlest son come waking towards him.

When he did notice, he was too late, his son had already wound up and launched his gloved hand into Iwaizumi’s crotch.

Iwaizumi grunted as he just about dropped the weights, falling onto his hands and knees as he tried to steady his breathing.

All 3 of your children bolted out of the room, the little brats laughing before they ran into you.

You walked in to see Iwaizumi, who was now on one knee, eyes still closed as he seemed to be meditating.

For those who are wondering, “padded boxing gloves” do  n o t h i n g  to subside the pain of being punched😢

Futakuchi Kenji: 

Futakuchi’s parents had been over for dinner one night, his younger sister and her fiancé were there too!

You guys had just had a nice dinner and were now sitting in the living room, bringing up old memories and laughing about things that have happened.

Your oh so loving husband had decided to bring up how you had “flashed” him in high school, you rolling your eyes as you hit his arm with a pillow you threw, him being on the couch and you cuddling with your youngest on the floor.

Now, you guys have 3 little girls. 

Your oldest is 6, middlest 4 and your youngest is about 3.

Your youngest was very much a mommy’s girl, and would actually glare at Futakuchi for no given reason, then turn around and giggle and smile at you. (lol my little sister went through a phase like this when she was, like, 2)

She had been sitting on your lap, so when she saw you ‘in danger’ and it was from ‘the enemy’ aka dad, she stood, chubby little cheeks forming a pout as she marched towards her dad.

With the whole family watching, she pulled her fist back and swung, catching him right in his balls as she scurried off and back into your arms, you not knowing how to respond to the situation and your husband doubled over in pain.

Daishou Suguru: 

You and Daishou had 2 kids, 1 girl (oldest) and 1 boy.

Daishou was a good dad!

He cared for his children, gave them endless amounts of love and affection, and was never late to any event big or small.

But he was still a dad, and dads all have those things that they do.

For him, it was popping out of random places and (lightly) scaring his daughter.

Currently, he was hiding behind the wall right at the top of the stairs, smirking as he knew his daughter was on her way up them.

He got his hands ready, feet in a good position to jump out as he watched her little shadow grow closer and closer to the top.

As soon as she hit the floor of the 2nd level he jumped out.

“BOO!” Screaming she kicked, landing a strong kick right in between Daishou’s legs, causing him to yelp as his hands gripped his crotch, sinking to his knees as his daughter gasped.

She felt bad for a whole of (2) seconds before sighing, hands coming up on her hips as she pouted, “Daddy, that’s what you get for scaring me!!”

Numai Kazuma: 

You guys had 3 sons and 1 girl, your baby girl being the youngest of the 4.

Right now, you guys were in your backyard, having an outdoor day and playing a variety of sports and games.

The game they were currently playing was baseball.

You sat in the shade with your youngest son and baby girl as they played in the sandbox, your oldest two with their dad as he set up the little stand and put the ball on it.

He had put on the catcher’s mit and stood a good 10 feet away from the batting station, his oldest son ready to hit, and his youngest son a safe distance away.

“Alright, come on buddy, you got this!”

Steadying his stance, your son swung with all of his might, the ball going fast and low to the ground, and right towards Numai-

“uGh-” Your hand came up to your mouth when your husband dropped to his knee, hand coming up to wave off his son, forcing out an “I’m okAy-” as he struggled to regain his composure.

For the remainder of the time they played baseball, he kept the mit a little lower than he originally planned.

Iizuna Tsukasa: 

Iizuna had been away for a game for the past 2 weeks, and your 3 year old daughter was very excited to see him again.

His arrival time was in the afternoon, so you were able to bring your daughter with you! Which Iizuna was thrilled about.

Your little girl was practically bouncing with excitement, little pigtails jumping as she looked up to you with a toothy grin.

You gently ran your fingers through her hair, as she clutched onto your leg, both of your eyes searching the gate for your husband.

As soon as you saw him, you crouched down to her ear, “There he is! There’s daddy!” Squealing she ran, and I mean she ran full force towards her father.

Iizuna, seeing his incoming 3 year old barreling towards him, dropping his bag, kneeling down so he could catch her.

Which he did, but he didn’t account for just how much force she had carried, so he didn’t expect the little foot that kicked him right where it hurts.

Careful not to impulsively squeeze the life out of his toddler, he shakily sighed as he gave her a kiss to her head, her nuzzling into his arms.

He may have been in an extreme amount of pain, but nothing was going to stop him from hugging his little girl.

#akaashi x reader #washio x reader #konoha x reader #kita x reader #suna x reader #ushijima x reader #yahaba x reader #iwaizumi x reader #futakuchi x reader #daishou x reader #numai x reader #iizuna x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq headcanons #haikyu x reader #haikyuufanfiction #Haikyuu!! #haikyuu headcanons #fukurodani #inarizaki #shiratorizawa #aoba johsai #seijoh #nohebi #itatchiyama

[diosmio76]

What I Deserve (2) | soft Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Bucky couldn’t believe his luck when he found you. So innocent, so alone, and so naive. He had been following you throughout the week, hell- he wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore and you never noticed him once.

Pairing: Dark!Bucky x Reader

WARNINGS: +18, dub-con, needle use, stalking, fingering, kidnapping, kind of non-con (more dub-con but just incase)

Word Count: 3,076

A/N: my timeline on which version of Barnes is fucked up and a mix of everything honestly // my first ever time writing smut, and honestly I'm open to constructive criticism b/c I have no experience in this area LOLZ

You squeezed your eyes as you stretched your body. Feeling your comforter rise and fall against your skin from your movements. You hung your feet off your bed and stretched them before standing up. You did your usual set of morning stretches, were they done correctly? Probably not, but it was the thought that counts and the only form of self-care you gave yourself. You let out a sigh as you got ready for another day similar to all the rest. You don’t even remember what it felt like to be excited about waking up, but who were you to complain. You used the toilet as you went back and forth in your mind about nothing in particular, your eyes staring at your bed that was quickly losing the warmth it collected from your body. Once done in the bathroom you dragged yourself to your vanity, hearing the faint noise of cars on the street, you began getting ready for work. After changing and grabbing your tattered work bag, you began your journey with all the other commuters.

The day dragged on like any other, talking to coworkers only when they needed something from you. Hearing the usual remarks of “Oh, I didn’t notice you” or “I didn’t even see you there”, you got used to it but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t bother you. Before you had time to dwell on it, it was time to go home. You packed your bag then began your walk home, following the same route you always take during the week. Taking a little solstice in the fact that you were just another face in the crowd, that fact made you feel as if everyone else was alone too. Once home you locked the door and dropped your bag, heading to the bedroom you changed into an oversized shirt and put on your slippers before heading towards the living room. You turned on the tv and lowered the volume for some background noise, making the short trip towards the kitchen to make dinner. You rarely got messages on your phone unless it was from your mom or your phone provider wanting you to update your old phone, so you scrolled mindlessly through various social media newsfeeds. You munched on a vegetable as you waited for your pan to heat up. You tried to not feel bad for yourself, you were the one to blame for the lack of social life but you were in too deep. Too set in your ways. You stared at the steaming pan as you imagined moving across the country.

“Yeah right” you said aloud to yourself as you finished cooking your dinner, eating the food but not really tasting it.

~~~

You repeated the same routine the next day, unbeknownst to you today was the day that Bucky decided you were ready. It didn’t take him long to find a house isolated by miles of forest. Despite its unassuming traditional exterior, the inside was modern as he enjoyed the impersonal nature that the style provided. He spent the majority of his time there making sure the house was locked and secure in case you tried anything. The thought made him laugh a little, knowing you didn’t have it in you but he didn’t want to take any chances. Things had been going his way lately, and finding you was like the universe was rewarding him even more. At first, he considered getting to know you, and doing the whole flowers and dates thing but decided he didn’t have the patience for all that waiting, he’s been waiting long enough and he deserved something good. He settled on a much easier method. Breaking in was easy, old apartments like this barely gave him any trouble. He even had someone hold the building door open for him, just his luck.

The lock felt weird when you opened your door but you didn’t think anything of it, dismissing it as another sign of the building’s old age. He watched from afar as you went about your usual routine. He was beginning to become skeptical at how oblivious you were. He was practically behind you and you hadn’t even looked over your shoulder once. He even made some accidental noises by stepping on squeaky floorboards and didn’t get a reaction from you, he took this as another lucky break. You were tired today and fell asleep relatively easily, considering how long it typically took you to fall asleep. Bucky walked around your apartment as he waited for you to enter a deeper sleep, familiar with everything since he had been in here a few times since first spotting you all those weeks ago. He looked at your book collection, a mix of genres, and looked closer at the few photos you had on display. A majority of the old photos seemed to be of your family from decades ago. He picked up one that seemed more recent, the only one you had up that included you. He recognized the other two people in it, your mom and sister, both busy with their own lives. He already sized up your family and it would be easy to handle them if he needed to.

He walked into your bathroom and went through your medicine cabinet, finding nothing out of the ordinary besides a few nail polish bottles and various allergy medicines. Finally, he noticed the soft snores coming out of your room. He shut the cabinet, staring at his reflection for a second. He knew this was the right thing to do and had no bad intention. He softly grunted at his pathetic moment of self-reflection and took out a needle filled with a small dose of anesthesia. He observed you for a moment as you slept, mouth slightly agape and eyebrows relaxed, he considered for a moment how easy it would be to take you, but reminded himself of the bigger picture. He easily found a vein and waited a few minutes before taking you to your new home.

~~~

You squeezed your eyes shut and smiled to yourself as you thought about how well you slept last night. You hummed as you kept your eyes closed briefly noticing the absence of warmth that the morning sun provided you in the mornings. You thought nothing of it, too distracted by the fact that this was probably the best night’s sleep you’d gotten in months. Despite that you still felt a little groggy, you began to move but quickly felt something rough holding you down. Your eyes shot open as your breathing began to quicken. You became conscious of the rough restraints around your arms and legs. You awkwardly lifted your head up as you tried to look around, it looked like a basement based on the unfinished walls surrounding you, a single lightbulb hanging above you on the unfinished ceiling. You attempted to calm yourself down by deeply inhaling but knew it was a lost cause once you heard the shaky exhale leave your mouth. You knew you couldn’t break free from the knotted rope holding you down. You had weak arms and tried to use your leg strength in an attempt to kick yourself free but felt it begin to sting as it irritated your ankles from the pressure. You sat in a deafening silence and felt completely petrified.

You let out a whimper as you heard footsteps approaching the door. The door opened as you saw a tall, broad man approach you. You were too scared to notice anything about him and began to feel yourself shake, causing you to miss the way he hungrily reacted to your frightened state. A shadow was cast on you as he stood over the bed. From the corner of your eye, you watched as his right hand lowered the comforter to your torso and expose your shirt as you twitched at the action. He smirked in response, your eyes following his hand as it hovered over the comforter as though he was going to do something. It exited your line of sight but your eyes were fixed in place. You heard movement as he straightened himself before speaking to you for the first time.

“Did you sleep well? You’ve been out for most of the day” His deep voice filled the room as you kept shaking, too scared to answer. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears and wondered if he could too, but he was too busy trailing his eyes over your torso. He noticed the way your nipples created peaks on your oversized shirt. He licked his lips before he moved his hand up to grab your chin, forcing you to look up at him. You did your best at avoiding his gaze keeping your gaze low, you swallowed the lump in your throat and tried to control your shaking but felt it intensify instead.

Still gripping your chin, a little tighter than necessary, and trying to control your shaking body got him hard. You looked so weak like this, it made him excited, a wicked smile painted his face as he looked down at your wide eyes and lips clamped together in terror.

“Look at me when I talk to you, doll”

You had a difficult time looking people in the eyes in general, so you lifted your eyes and stopped at his chin. You didn’t dare go any higher. He squeezed on your chin and heard him let out an amused chuckle. If you weren’t so terrified you would have noticed how out of place it sounded given the situation.

“That’ll have to do, for now, I can tell you’re terrified but you really have no reason to be. I only want to do what’s best for you- for us, I’m only doing what needs to be done.” He didn’t expect a response and stared at you as he let you sit with his words.

He took a moment and let his hand trail down from your chin. He felt the nervous swallow as his pointer finger trailed lower and lower. His finger deviated from its straight path as he placed his palm against your chest, pausing to feel your heartbeat racing. He almost felt sorry as he felt its frantic rhythm. He couldn’t help himself as he cupped your left breast. His thumb gently circling around the hard bud. You scrunched your eyebrows and scolded yourself for getting pleasure from his action. His gentle touch was a strong contrast to the situation he had put you in.

His finger continued its journey down and stopped just above your mound. You swallowed as you felt his eyes staring at you intently, not daring to see if you were right. He lifted his hand momentarily as he moves to sit next to you, hearing the springs groan under him, pushing the comforter towards the bottom of the bed. You get chills as warmth escapes, feeling the crisp air conditioning surround your body instead. Jerking at his touch, he returns his right hand to your body just below your navel this time. His fingers trace down until it feathered above your mound. You held your breath as if any noise from you would assure that he would continue his actions as if he would forget you were there. You felt his pause when his fingers hit the material of your cotton underwear. He slowly traces a short line along your clit, you ball your hands into fists wanting to make him stop. Why was your body enjoying this?

You hold your breath as he gently pulls them down till they were at your knees and returns his hand to its previous place. The empty room is quiet, amplifying the sound of both of your breaths. You feel his middle and ring finger move lower gently stroking your folds. You hear him let out a surprised huff as he continued stroking.

“I was gonna bring lube, but it looks like we won’t be needing it, huh sweetheart?”

You felt your cheeks heat up, he was right. You felt heat building ever since he grabbed your chin, but he didn’t need to know that. All you wanted to do was at the very least was cover your face, but felt the irritation of the rope on your wrists instead. He began back and forth on your heat for a few moments. The room now having the added noise of his fingers slowly speeding up as he stroked you. You shut your eyes as he circled around your entrance, you could already tell his fingers would be significantly bigger than yours. He slowly inserted a finger as you sucked in a quick breath. You could hear him let out a quiet groan as he watched his finger disappear into your hole.

After finding a rhythm he added another finger. You let out a whimper at the fullness of both of his thick fingers filling your hole. It stung at first, hurting slightly you wanted to try and stop his intrusion. Besides your finger, you had never had anything else inside of you. You felt slightly embarrassed by this when you were younger but as you got older you accepted the fact that your lack of social life was a major reason as to why you never had anything close to a romantic partner. Never being social enough to meet someone that you would want to be friends with, let alone sleep with. You felt as though you should tell this man, did you even know his name, that this was the farthest you’ve ever gone with anyone before. Before you think any more about it you open your mouth, nothing coming out at first but it was enough for his eyes to go to your face. He slowed down his pace and had his eyes trained on your face waiting for you to speak as if his fingers weren’t leisurely stroking your soft walls in the meantime.

“I- I think I need to tell you something” The words left you slowly and your voice was shakey as you tried to speak and ignore your oncoming orgasm at his rough fingers stroking you gently. Why did you feel like you owed him this? You briefly thought to yourself. But it was too late to stop now.

He smirked at you as he waited for you to continue on. So far, you’ve shown him nothing but submissiveness. Cementing the fact that he made the right choice when he chose you. He didn’t plan on being this gentle with you originally but he couldn’t help it, feeling as though any other treatment would scare you away. His fingers never stopping their gentle strokes, he watched your lips as your quiet voice trembled on.

“I’ve never really, I haven’t done any of this before. I’m a virgin” the words leave you slowly, you gulp and still refuse to meet his gaze, scared for a moment that you would lose the gentleness he has given you thus far. You knew that wouldn’t stop him, but a small part of you hoped it would be enough for him to stop just for now. For the first time you decided to look at his face, still too scared to meet his eyes you opted to watch his mouth as you waited for a response.

To say he was ecstatic was an understatement. You had chosen to tell him this on your own, he didn’t even get a chance to ask you. He didn’t want to assume but based on his observations of you he had an inkling that this was the case. He felt proud of you, his perfect girl. He smiled gently at you in response. You shivered as his fingers paused their gentle strokes in you as he moved to kiss the top of your head.

“Thank you for telling me, my good girl” it sounded patronizing but your body thought otherwise. Feeling heat shoot straight to your core at his response. He felt you squeeze around his fingers at his response.

Once he felt that you adjusted to his fingers he began to alternate inserting them. Thrusting one and then the other inside of you. Your eyes squeezed shut, you never felt this close to cumming so quickly. Your eyes swelled with tears as you quietly sobbed, reaching your climax. Both of you watched as he pulled his fingers out of your sensitive heat. Covered in slick from your climax. You watched as he moved his fingers close to his face, smirking at you.

“Just a little taste for now,” he said he brought his fingers to his mouth to suck on his two fingers that were just inside you seconds ago. The empty room amplified the sound, your face felt hot as you watched the lewd act feeling your core still throbbing.

He reveled in your obvious embarrassment, humming at your reaction. He wiped his damp fingers on his pants as he got up. You blinked slowly, taking in what had just happened. You had enjoyed what had just happened but felt angry at yourself for that. He shouldn’t have done that, and you had let yourself succumb to his fingers so easily. He watched you, deep in thought with your eyes spaced out. His cock throbbed as if reminding him he needed a release too but he didn’t want to scare you. He had a plan, but you had just showed him that he didn’t have to be as rough as he initially thought with you. And he wouldn’t ever admit it but he couldn’t have even if he wanted to, as soon as he interacted with you it was almost as if he needed to handle you with care. Something that he thought wasn’t in his nature, but for you, maybe he’d try.

He felt his confident demeanor waver for a second, an odd feeling. He needed to get away from her and have a moment alone, so with a quick glance, he turned towards the door and practically ran out of the room without speaking to her.

Too busy thinking, you didn’t notice the foreign feelings your captor had just experienced. Only noticing this broad figure leaving the room as if he was late for something. If you weren’t so busy scolding yourself you would have wondered if you had done something wrong to elicit that action from him.

#bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #winter solider x reader #stalker!bucky #stalker!bucky x reader #winter soldier x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes #soft!bucky #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky imagines #marvel imagines #soft dark!bucky #bean writes

[soleilsuhh]

wayv : what they would be like as boyfriends !

[✿] — KUN is rather old fashioned in love; he’s the type of boyfriend that will hold doors open for you and bring you your favorite flowers before you go on dates. the type of boyfriend that won’t just drive you home but also walk you to your door. high-key husband material. the type of boyfriend that helps you get your life together. the type of boyfriend that still says his ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ no matter how long you’ve been together. the type of person that takes his time to truly fall in love with someone and commit but once he does, there is little to no chance of falling out of love. the type of boyfriend that would often cook for you, write you songs for your anniversary, and take you on romantic weekend get-aways when you’re stressed. the type of boyfriend that likes to include you in his future plans, and casually lets you know that in conversations; “maybe we can get a house with a big garden in the future since you like gardening.” the type of boyfriend that would suddenly attack you with tickles while cuddling and then gets tired and falls asleep on you during cuddle-talks.

[✿] — TEN is the kind of boyfriend that doesn’t want to overcomplicate love; he keeps it simple, fun, and exciting; the type of boyfriend that makes you feel alive as well as at home because he shows you that the whole world can be your playground. he won’t just be your lover, but he’ll also be your best-friend. the type of boyfriend that doesn’t just help you get out of your comfort zone but makes you want to; he wants nothing more than for you to become the best version of yourself and to grow together in the relationship. the type of boyfriend that starts light-hearted arguments and debates with you and actually smirks in satisfaction and pride when you beat him because he finds it hot when you can shut him up. the type of boyfriend that’ll whisper soft ‘i love you’s and give you a kiss on the forehead while you’re sleeping. the type of boyfriend that’ll take you to art museums so that you can re-enact the paintings there; some are silly, some are romantic, and some are just plain dramatic, but it’s a guranteed good time.

[✿] — WINWIN is the type of boyfriend that isn’t very vocal about his love for you, but in many ways, he doesn’t really need to be; you (and everyone else) know how special you are to him because he just treats you so differently from other people; from something as little as the way he looks at you to his fierce protectiveness of you, it is very obvious. even in a room full of people, his eyes search for only you. the type of boyfriend that accepts you wholeheartedly, including your flaws. the type of boyfriend that falls a little deeper in love with you each time you express your thoughts and ideas. the type of boyfriend that compiles playlists for you because he thinks songs convey how he feels better than his words ever could. you become his go-to person for nearly everything because there is no one else he would rather make memories with — you become his ‘buddy-everything’: drinking buddy, travel buddy, lunch buddy, underwear-shopping buddy, crying-at-2AM-on-the-rooftop buddy.

[✿] — LUCAS is a lovebug through and through; the type of boyfriend that is majorly affectionate, engulfing you with warm hugs, plastering your face with a thousand kisses, and always instinctively have his hands or arms around you when you’re together. however, he’s only physically clingy; he values a sense of freedom in the relationship; the last thing he would want is to make you feel caged or suffocated; he wants you to have fun with friends and other loved ones; the “have fun, be safe” kind of boyfriend. the type of boyfriend that will show you that a midnight trip to the mcdonalds in your sweatpants is the ultimate romantic date. the type of boyfriend that gives cheeky replies like ‘i know. i love me too’ when you tell him you love him but then later makes it up to you by listing all the reasons why he’s in love with you while holding you in a playful chokehold.

[✿] — XIAOJUN is such a warm, nurturing, and soft boyfriend; one of those lovers that even if the relationship ends, you will be grateful for them your entire life. the kind of boyfriend that answers your call at three in the morning and is ready to dash out the door to come to you if you ever need him. the type of boyfriend that buys you a gift that you mentioned offhandedly months ago. the kind of boyfriend that is so observant and questions you things that most people would not even notice, which makes it very hard to lie to him or hide things from him. the kind of boyfriend that just understands what you’re feeling without you having to verbalize it. the type of boyfriend that keeps a picture of you and him in his wallet. the kind of boyfriend that plans really amazing dates that are adjusted according to your preferences, but acts and makes it seem like he didn’t do much. the type of boyfriend that routinely sends you ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’ texts because he wants you to know you’re the first and last thing on his mind.

[✿] — despite the overall carefree and playful sense in the relationship, HENDERY is loyal to the core; the ‘you and me against the world’ type of boyfriend. the type of boyfriend that considers the relationship to be a teamwork; wants both of you to wear the pants in the relationship; he doesn’t care much for the power dynamics. the goofy and silly type of boyfriend that texts you things like ‘will you be my girlfriend/boyfriend?’ when he’s drunk even though you’ve been together for years. the type of boyfriend that will show you off and talk about you like you hung up the stars in the sky or something. the kind of boyfriend that saves all your pictures in a separate folder named ‘loml <3’ in his phone. hendery being your boyfriend entails elevated self-esteem and confidence because he showers you with genuine compliments everyday. amazing support system — even if he doesn’t understand, he is willing to sit down and listen without judgement. ‘you’ll always have a friend in me’ type of boyfriend.

[✿] — YANGYANG is either the ‘i’m baby’ or ‘y/n is my baby, don’t mess with them’ type of boyfriend; no in-between. if you were in a romance novel, he’s the protective type of boyfriend that when he sees you in a fight, he pulls you away to try to mediate the situation but as soon as he sees even a scratch on you, he loses it himself and ends up punching or intimidating the hell outta the person(s) responsible. the type of boyfriend that grabs your hand when you’re passing through a dense crowd and ‘forgets’ to let go afterwards. the type of boyfriend that sends you cute texts even though you’re across the room, just because he loves seeing the smiley reaction on your face. the type of boyfriend that just loves seeing you enjoy yourself, like you’d be dancing your heart away at a party and he’s just standing there, watching you with a proud grin and be like “that’s my dumbass right there.” to him, your happiness is his happiness.

#nct #nct headcanons #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct blurbs #nct scenarios #boyfriend!nct #nct as boyfriends #wayv #wayv headcanons #wayv imagines #wayv drabbles #wayv blurbs #qian kun #wayv ten #winwin #dong sicheng #wong lucas #xiaojun #hendery #liu yangyang #wayv yangyang

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Hayloft p.4

Pairing: Arvin Russell x F!Reader

Summary: Your dad brings home his new coworker, Arvin Russell, telling you that he’ll be living with the two of you for a while. While attempting to keep Arvin from seeing the disfunction of your relationship with your father, the two of you grow closer than you thought. (Inspired by “Hayloft” by Mother Mother, though that’ll really only be one chapter later on so I don’t know if it really counts…)

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, death, abuse, and sexual assault (depictions of none, though), alcoholism/ drunkenness, mentions of teen pregnancy, mentions of infidelity, murder

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: Pretty lightly edited, just a warning

Read the Previous Chapters!

Part 1  Part 2 Part 3

“Hey, hun, what can I getcha?” You leaned into your popped hip, pen and notepad in hand.

A man you hadn’t met before, clearly someone just passing through town, was sitting across the diner bar in a light blue button-up and suspenders. He was fairly clean cut save for the day-old scruff across his face. He studied the menu intensely before setting it down and looking up at you with a sweet-as-pie smile. “Can I please have coffee with some cream and the grits?” He asked with a southern drawl.

You scribbled down his order on the notepad, “That all?”

“Mhm, I think so. Thanks doll.” He slid the menu towards you before reaching for a newspaper that had been left on the counter beside him by the last patron. You turned around to pin the man’s order on the little turnstile for the chef when the little bell on the door rang.

Tucking your notepad back into the apron tied around your waist, you grabbed the pot of coffee from the counter and poured the man a cup of the rich black liquid. Next, you prepared a little ceramic cup of cream and walked back to set them on the counter in front of him. His polite thanks were only the background when you saw Arvin walk behind the man and shoot you a smile before settling down in a seat at the bar only a few seats away.

You walked over to him and leaned on the counter with a smile, “Well, hey there stranger. You on lunch already?”

Arvin nodded, looking to you hopefully, “Yeah ‘n I was hopin’ you might be too so I could grab a bite to eat with my favorite girl.”

“Shh!” You hushed him with exasperated wide eyes, like it should have been obvious that he needed to keep his voice down, because in your mind it was. You nodded your head to the other patrons in the diner. “Y’know word travels fast in little towns like this ‘n I don’t need my daddy findin’ out ‘bout us,” you whispered to Arvin who sighed in annoyed understanding. You knew he wasn’t annoyed at you but the situation was less than ideal.

He tapped his fingers on the counter and his knees bounced under the bar, “So is that a no for lunch?”

You glanced over your shoulder to look at the clock that hung on the wall. It was only eleven in the morning but maybe you could ask Charlene if she could cover so you could take an early lunch. “Let me double check real quick.” You held up a finger to excuse yourself into the back to find your coworker.

No more than ten minutes later, you and Arvin walked out to his car with two take-out boxes of burgers you had managed to swipe from the kitchen in hand. He slid into the driver’s seat while you planted yourself beside him in the passenger’s. You handed him one of the boxes of food before opening your own and

digging into the small handful of fries. “So how is your day going so far?”

Arvin took a large bite of his burger, covering his mouth with his hand has he tried to speak and chew at the same time, “Ain’t too bad. I got an engine to rebuild for an old Ford when I get back but nothin’ too terrible. How ‘bout you?”

“Ready to go home already,” you chuckled, popping a fry in your mouth, “But it ain’t too bad here either. Just would like to not be here.”

Arvin laughed a little beside you, “I know how that feels. Thanks for the burgers by the way. I appreciate it. I don’t want you gettin’ in no trouble for stealin’ food.”

You shrugged off his concern, “Don’t worry ‘bout it. If people don’t eat it, it just goes in the trash anyways. I ain’t gonna get in any trouble.”

He let out a heavy breath, resigning to your insistence, which he really just found an adorable confident stubbornness. A comfortable silence fell over the unmoving car as the two of you ate your lunches in the parking lot. When you finished chewing your bite, you looked over at Arvin, “How long you been livin’ with us?”

Arvin looked up at the brick wall straight ahead in thought, “Maybe five months now. Longer than I meant to-"

"I didn't mean it like that! I was just wonderin'...." you got awkwardly quiet for a moment, "Havin' you 'round has been the best five months in a really really long time."

"For me too. When I came into town, I thought I'd be livin' in my car. Didn't know how lucky I'd be gettin' to live with the most beautiful girl in the world." His hand reached over to your thigh, squeezing lightly.

Even after all of his sweet affections and compliments, they never failed to make your cheeks ache from trying not to blush and smile like a schoolgirl. “You really think flattery will get you somewhere?” you giggled teasingly, turning towards him and nudging his leg with your hand.

“Well it got me in your house so…” He teased back, something that he had been doing more often in the last few weeks. Arvin had never been the most humorous of people, aside from the occasional chuckle or hidden smile. That had been changing since the two of you had gotten closer though.

“Uh, no! It might get you kicked outta my house though if my daddy ever finds out.” It started as chuckle but the words faded into concerned worry as you realized how true they could really be.

Arvin sensed the shift, “You really think your daddy would kick me out if he found out ‘bout us?”

You nodded, “Without a doubt. Would probably throw me out too.” You shifted so you were sitting on your bent leg, suddenly uncomfortable.

He began cautiously, “I mean… would that really be such a bad thing?”

You whipped your head to look at him, “I ain’t got nowhere else to live right now. I been savin’ up for a year to move out but it ain’t enough to buy a place of my own yet.”

“How much you got?”

That number was in your head immediately, one that you kept a running total of with every paycheck. “$4,317.” It wasn’t enough, though, and you knew it. Even the old run down houses around town cost $12,000, which meant you weren’t even halfway to the fixer-uppers, not that you minded buying a fixer upper. “I don’t need a mansion or nothin’ but it ain’t nearly enough for even something small.”

Arvin chewed his lip, thinking about the box of cash he’d been stashing away with each of his paychecks as well. He knew exactly what it was like in your position, struggling to save up the money to get on your own feet. He hated relying on others and, even though he really liked you, he hated depending on your and your father for shelter. “You ain’t gonna be stuck in this ol’ town forever,” he promised you and it came out just like that. A promise. “You’re too good for this place.”

Another smile forced its way onto your face at his words of hope, “I’ll get outta here eventually…”

Suddenly, a familiar male voice yelled your name and you flinched. You turned towards the voice to see your boss, Harold, standing at the backdoor of the diner with his hands on his hips. He gave you a stern look and tapped the watch on his wrist before pointing at you then jabbing his thumb over his shoulder towards the door.

“Shit! I totally lost track of time!” You scrambled to gather up the trash from lunch and stuffed it into the paper bag you’d brought it out in. “I’m sorry, I have to run!”

Arvin had nearly jumped out of his skin when your name had been yelled, the only person he’d ever heard calling you that way being your father. He crumbled up the paper wrapper for his burger and stuffed it in the paper bag for you. “‘M sorry. Didn’t mean to get you in trouble with your boss.”

“Nah, he’s fine,” you waved off the worry dismissively, “He acts all tough but he ain’t nothin’ but a softy.” You opened up the door and began to slide out when you stopped and took a quick glance around. Nobody was in the parking lot, or really anywhere in sight for that matter. In an impulsive swift action, you grabbed Arvin by the collar of his greasy shirt and pulled his lips to yours quickly before pushing him before anyone could see.

He looked stunned, big brown eyes wide and shocked by your courageous kiss. Your heart raced and your cheeks flushed with the exhilaration of actually sneaking a kiss to Arvin in public. It was a dangerous move but your dad was at work and there was nobody else around to see. You tried to hide your excited smile by chewing your bottom lip but it didn’t work. “Thanks for lunch, Arv.”

“Uh - y-yeah. Thank you for the burger.” Arvin stumbled over his words while you slid out of the car and closed the door behind you, leaving the poor boy struggling to make his brain catch up to reality.

“See you at home!” You waved one last time before turning. Arvin watched as you jogged back to the entrance of the diner, your little dress bouncing with every movement. You turned to give him one last glance before you disappeared behind the door.

Work had passed rather uneventfully for you. You put in the last few hours of your shift, went to the grocery store, and then headed home to start on dinner.

Arvin, on the other hand, the rest of his day at work had shaken the good feeling he’d had since his lunch break with you. He had found himself with a wrench in hand, trying to bolt back in the engine he’d been rebuilding for the last few hours. Grease smeared across his shirt, pants, and face despite how hard he tried to keep his dirty hands from ruining his clothes. Even if they were work clothes, he didn’t have that many sets of outfits nor the money to go out and buy more.

“My cousin lives o’er there with his wife. Said the sheriff up and disappeared for a while but they found him dead in the woods.”

Arvin’s head nearly hit the hood of the car that was propped up when he heard those words. He looked over his shoulder to see Davis and Fred, two of the other guys that worked at the mechanics shop, talking over two cans of beer.

“You hear anythin’ ‘bout that, Arvin?” Davis asked, sipping his can.

Arvin’s heart twisted in panic but he shook his head like hadn’t heard what they were talking about, “Hear ‘bout what?”

“Few months back, the sheriff in my cousin’s hometown turned up dead. Someone shot ‘im in the woods outside o’ some small town nearby. His name was like Lodeck or Bodecker or somethin’ like that.” Davis explained the story to both of the guys.

“Eh, pro’lly had it comin’,” Your dad came entered from the storage room with a handful of bolts, “I know I’ve met some sheriffs that deserved a bullet between the eyes.”

Fred rolled his eyes, “Yeah well you’re an angry drunk so I’m sure you’d say that ‘bout anyone who took a drink from you. I’m sure this guy wasn’t that bad. What kinda sick fuck you gotta be to shoot a sheriff? This ain’t no wild west movie where you go gunnin’ down the law.”

“Nah, I heard he was a no good son o’ a bitch. Guess his sister and her husband got murdered the day before. Found tons of pictures o’ them kissin’ on some dead guys. Some real sick shit, Fred. Sheriff might have been in on it too. Regardless, my cousin said he ran into ‘im one time with his wife and the sheriff really was a bastard,'' Davis shrugged off Fred’s comment, refuting the tragedy Fred was trying to make Bodecker’s death by tarnishing his name.

Arvin’s heart was racing and he began to feel dizzy. The images of those few days had haunted him since they had happened but he had found himself thinking about it less and less as the days passed.

“Arvin?”

Arvin shook his head out of the clouds and snapped back into reality, “What?”

“You came into town ‘round the same time all this happened. Did you hear anythin’ about it?” Fred questioned, wiping his greasy hands on his jeans.

The young man just shook his head, “Nah, I ain’t heard nothin’ ‘bout it till now. I heard ‘bout the sister though. Sounds like she and her boyfriend were no good.”

“You know what I think?” Your dad began, picking up a wrench and pointing it in Arvin’s direction, “I think our man Arvin here did the sheriff in!”

Arvin stiffened up, “What? Why would you think that?”

“You come strollin’ along through town with nothin’ but a backpack and no backstory ‘bout the same time four people turn up murdered. Mighty suspicious.” Arvin tried his hardest to stand tall and not allow his fear to show but the tension in his jaw was bordering of painful now.

Davis swatted at your dad, “C’mon, leave the boy alone. There’s gotta be thousands of people in that area that coulda murdered them. Can’t imagine Arvin doin’ such a thing.”

Arvin was grateful for Davis’s trust. If only he deserved it.

“I’m only jokin’! Y’all a bunch of whiny little girls, can’t take a fuckin’ joke.” Your dad grumbled to himself, swatting his hand towards his coworkers.

“Ah, shut up.” Fred stood up from the table he’d been sitting at and laid back down on the dolley before sliding under the jacked up Chevy he had been tasked with. “Ain’t nobody ‘round here takes you seriously.”

Arvin watched as your dad walked past Fred, kicking him in the leg and earning a loud exclamation of annoyance, but it was as if he were disconnected from the whole scene. He had tried so hard to forget what had happened back in Knockemstiff and Coal Creek, though it seemed damn near impossible considering it had uprooted his entire life. This tiny town a few hours away was his safe haven, his new beginning. He never would have imagined that anyone this far away would have heard about the murders.

Hearing Davis and Fred bring up Bodecker’s name made Arvin’s blood turn to ice in his veins. What kinda sick fuck you gotta be to shoot a sheriff? Fred’s words played over and over in Arvin’s head. This was just what he was worried about. This was why he ran. Nobody would believe Bodecker was trying to kill him first. Self defense didn’t mean shit when it was against the law. The same with Reverend Teagarden. A man of the word? Arvin didn’t stand a chance if anyone found out what he’d done.

“Hey son,” Davis’s soft voice made Arvin nearly jump out of his skin, “Don’t take nothin’ that ol’ man says to heart. I’m sure you know since you been livin’ with him that he’s just a cranky ol’ drunk who don’t know when to shut up. You’re a good kid, Arvin. Ain’t none of us actually think you did it.”

Arvin looked down at where Davis’s hand rested on his shoulder, the same way his dad used to touch his shoulder when he was reassuring him. He forced a small appreciative nod and a strained appearance of being unbothered, “It’s alright, Davis. I know he’s just kiddin’ ‘round. I ‘ppreciate it though.”

_

Your father arrived at home before Arvin, much to your dismay. Elvis Presley’s Blue Hawaii album was spinning on the record player when he came into the kitchen, kicking his boots off by the door.

“Hey, daddy! How was work?” You asked, mashing a bowl of potatoes for dinner.

He made a line directly to the fridge, grabbing a beer and popping the tab off with no effort, “It was alright. Damn Gilligan blew out the transmission on his truck so I been stuck fixin’ that up all day. Lookin’ forward to this right here.” Your father lifted up the beer bottle and sipped it with satisfaction. Yeah, I’m sure you were, you thought, rolling your eyes with your back turned to your dad.

“Well, if you wanna get cleaned up, dinner should be ready in about twenty minutes. More than enough time for a shower,” you offered with a cheerful voice. Lunch with Arvin today had made your day good in a way that was hard to ruin.

“Yeah, I might go do that. What’s for dinner?” Your father walked over and peeked over your shoulder to see what you had cooking on the stove.

“Mashed potatoes, green beans, and chicken.” You cut in a few slices of butter and added them to the bowl of mashed potatoes, sprinkling some salt, pepper, and garlic powder to taste.

Expecting some words of discouragement like you usually earned from your father, he just nodded contently and disappeared out of the kitchen towards the bathroom. You turned to watch him walk away, your mouth fallen open in pleased surprise at the fact that you just had a semi-pleasant interaction with your father for the first time in several weeks. You turned back to mixing in the now melted butter into the mashed potatoes when the front door opened yet again.

You looked back to see Arvin walking in through the living room, “Hey, Arv!”

His hands were shoved deep in his pockets and judging by the way his eyes shot up to you, as if he hadn’t expected your greeting, he had been staring at the ground when he walked in. “Hi,” he answered low and short with no emotion one way or the other.

Your brows furrowed, “Everythin’ alright?” Leaving the food on the counter and wiping your hands on your apron, you walked out into the living room towards him.

Arvin visibly took a step back and his eyes widened a little, his shoulders squaring up, “Yeah, ‘m good. Just wanna take a shower.”

Before you could get the words out, he had already begun walking away. “My dad’s already in the bathroom,” you called out after him, finally getting him to stop.

Arvin didn’t turn back to you though, only half glanced over his shoulder, “Oh, alright.” He turned back to continue his walk back to his room.

“Dinner will be ready soon!” You attempted to add, only earning a small thanks in response and the sound of Arvin’s door closing. “O-oh… okay.” You stood alone in the living room, the sound of running water coming from the bathroom and Elvis Presley’s voice filling the room but not loud enough to drown out your concern.

Dinner went by just as uncomfortably. You poked at your mashed potatoes, keeping your gaze stuck down at the food on your plate except for when you glanced over at Arvin who seemed to be actively looking anywhere except for you. This only made you roll your eyes out of frustration and stare back down at your food.

Your dad talked about his day, mostly grumbled complaints, “I don’t get nearly ‘nough respect ‘round here. Damn Fred and Davis callin’ me a drunk. What? A man can’t enjoy a damn beer without being called a drunk! Damn prudes.” When you didn’t respond, he reached over and tapped your arm, “Hey? You even listenin’?”

“Hm?” You tried to make yourself focus on what he was saying this time, “Sorry, long day. What happened?”

“See? I ain’t get no respect at work and I can’t even get no respect at my own damn house from my own damn daughter!” He grumbled, the feet of the wooden chair scraping against the ground as he stood up forcefully, swaying a little side to side but bracing himself on the wall to walk out of the room.

You didn’t even possess the mental capacity to care about his little tantrum. Your mind was swimming with confusion and, honestly, anger, at Arvin’s little unexplained silent treatment. “Okay, what’s wrong?” You asked, leaning towards Arvin.

“Nothin’.” He answered simply, taking a sip of his water. His voice was low and he still refused to make eye contact, despite nothin’ being wrong.

“That’s a lie. Everythin’ was fine this mornin’ and now you’re suddenly not talkin’ to me. Won’t even look at me! What the hell, Arvin? Did I say somethin’ wrong?” Thinking back, there wasn’t anything you had said earlier that you could imagine warranting such a negative response from Arvin so your confusion and concern had quickly turned to frustration.

Arvin shook his head, “No, no, you ain’t did nothin’ wrong.”

“Then what is it?” You practically begged him to tell you. You hated being upset at him when clearly something was bothering him but this felt like he was just playing some broody guessing game with you, something you got enough of from your dad.

Stress shone through Arvin’s eyes and he met your gaze finally, if only for a second, before looking away again. You could see there was a flicker of something you hadn’t seen in him before but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Whatever it was, it was really bothering him and you felt guilty for being upset. You just couldn’t understand why you suddenly were being ignored for something that apparently had nothing to do with you.

“I can’t tell you.”

Arvin’s admittal just made you more upset. “So you’re not mad at me but you’re ignoring me and can’t tell me why?”

Arvin hadn’t seen you look at him this way. At your father, yes, but he was unaccustomed to that raised eyebrow and frustratedly desperate crack in your voice being directed towards him. He hated it. He hated knowing that he was causing you to feel upset and helpless when he was supposed to be your escape from those exact feelings.

But he couldn’t bring himself to tell you the truth. You’d think he was a monster. You’d hate him. He’d lose the one good thing he had in his life because-

Arvin shook his head, “‘M sorry.” He looked anywhere but at you because he couldn’t stand to see the way your face fell, though he could practically feel your heart fall from across the table. He didn’t need to see it. He knew.

“Fine.” You stood up and grabbed your plate, scraping the rest in the garbage and setting the plate in the sink. Your appetite was gone and your patience had snapped, not that you had been the most patient thus far anyways.

Arvin watched as you stormed out of the kitchen, grabbed your coat off the coat rack by the front door, and walked out of the house. His head hit his hands. No matter how hard he tried to protect those he cared about, he only seemed to hurt them more.

-

You hadn’t expected Arvin to find you here so when the door opened to the old barn, you turned around in surprise. You were curled up in your coat, sitting on an old wooden crate that had been untouched in this unused barn for God knows how long. A large window looked out over the large field that had once been the family farm but was now practically a glorified dirt lot. Your coat was wrapped tightly around your body, held in place with one hand while you held a lit cigarette with the other.

“Didn’t know you smoked,” Arvin took a few steps in, his hands shoved guiltily in the pocket of his denim jacket.

You blew out a large plume of smoke that you had been holding in and looked away, “I don’t too often.”

Arvin closed the barn door behind him as he approached you and you had to fight the urge to get up and leave but you knew that made you no less immature than the way you felt he was acting.

“‘M sorry. I really am.”

You took another drag and turned to him, the moonlight illuminating his features - somehow so boy-like but so rugged - and it was hard to stay mad at him. “I am too. I don’t mean to be dramatic but I just… I don’t understand, Arv. If somethin’s wrong, you can tell me. This whole silent treatment BS with zero explanation doesn’t cut it.”

Arvin let out a heavy breath. While doing the dishes from dinner for you after you stormed off, he had had time to contemplate what to do. And he had decided. “If I tell you, it’s gonna change how you look at me.”

Your head tilted up at his cryptic opener but you said nothing, only urged him to continue with your eyes.

With a deep shaky inhale, he started his story, “I ain’t a bad man but I’ve done some bad things. Things that I thought I could run away from. I been livin’ a lie for a long time, actin’ like I ain’t hurt nobody, but it ain’t true.” Arvin paused for a moment to gauge your reaction and all he saw was fear in your eyes, just as he had feared.

A million thoughts of terrible things people were capable of ran through your head as you tried to figure out which one Arvin could possibly be guilty of, though they all felt so out of character for him. Was it murder? Assault? Rape? Thievery? The man you had come to care for so deeply now swam in a murky pool of doubt and distrust. Arvin saw all this and more in your deep, worried eyes.

“What did you do?” Your voice was weaker than you wanted it to be, cracking with fear. Until today, you hadn’t imagined Arvin capable of doing anything that could real harm to anyone, maybe aside from a stupid fight in high school or something along those lines, but you could see it in his eyes that whatever it was he was trying to confess to really was that bad.

Arvin lost his ability to speak for a moment. He had resolved to tell you everything before even coming out here to talk to you but the fear shining in your eyes already had his heart breaking. It was as if every new line of moonlight reflecting off the growing whites of your eyes was a new stain that he managed to tarnish your view of him with. Arvin had to look away because he couldn’t bear to look at you when he finally admitted his crimes, couldn’t stand to watch your face contort in fear when you realized what a monster he was.

“Y-you remember that preacher I told you ‘bout? The one that hurt my sister?”

You nodded, “Y-yeah…”

Arvin swallowed hard and he gripped his thigh tight enough to turn his knuckles white. “Well few weeks after we buried Lenora, a police officer came up ‘n told me the coroner had found out she was havin’ a baby. None of us knew before. I don’t know how but I just knew it was that no good preacher. I didn’t have any proof though so I started followin’ ‘im ‘n found out he was worse than I thought. He was no good to his wife ‘n I saw him out takin' advantage of another girl in town who was even younger than my Lenora was. He was doin’ nothin’ but hurtin’ people ‘n I… I killed im.”

Your mouth fell open, “You- You killed him?”

Arvin looked down at his feet, “I shot him.”

It was silent as you processed the information. This preacher sounded like a terrible man, abusing young girls and leading one to commit suicide. The infidelity to his wife was a moot point against his other indiscretions and even that was unacceptable. It honestly sounded like Arvin had done a service to the world, taking this monster out of it, but it was still difficult to look at him the same after knowing that he had actually shot someone.

When you didn’t respond, Arvin had decided to continue, not thinking he could cause much more damage, “I ran. Left a note for my grandma and uncle and disappeared. I tried hitchhiking my way out of town when I got picked by this couple. They seemed nice ‘nough at first but the husband, he started actin’ real weird. They pulled us way off the road. Said he wanted to take some pictures but then I saw him pull out a gun and then he tried pullin’ me outta the car. I-I panicked and I kicked the door into him ‘n I shot ‘im before he could get me.”

Arvin’s voice was cracking as tears began to fall down his face. It was one thing to replay the memories in his own head but it was another thing entirely to actually confess his sins to someone he cared so deeply about, knowing the truth would most likely hurt you. “The wife, she pulled out a gun and pointed it at me ‘n I pointed mine at her. I begged her to put the gun down. I-I didn’t wanna shoot her. I really didn’t. I was so tired of killin’ but then she apologized ‘n I knew she was gonna pull the trigger. We both shot at the same time. I got no clue how she didn’t shoot me. I fell out the car without a scratch but I when I got up, I realized I got her through the neck 'n she was gone. I panicked ‘n searched the car. Found all these pictures of her all naked and huggin’ up on some naked dead guy ‘n I knew… I knew I was gonna be next.”

Your brain sprinted a mile a minute to try and keep up with the trauma Arvin was confessing and you didn’t know whether to hug him and let him cry on you or run as far away as possible.

“Then-”

“There’s more?” You wanted to beg him to stop talking, to stop telling you about the blood on his hands, to stop telling you about all the suffering he had been through. You sounded shocked and heartbroken and yet none of these tragedies were yours.

Arvin hiccuped and sniffled in a failed attempt to hide a sob. Red had taken over his features, both physically and metaphorically. Obviously distraught by his past and now your reaction, he felt like he was beginning to spiral down that hole of darkness that he had tried so hard to claw his way out of. There were nothing but snakes down there, ready to bite him and poison his mind with the words he had fought so desperately to keep out. Murderer. Stalker. Liar. Sinner. All of these and so many more.

Yet, he nodded, feeling as if he’d still be lying if he didn’t finish telling you everything. When he nodded, you made a small squeak of disbelief.

“I-I ran,” He sniffled out, “I hitchhiked my way back to my old hometown. I didn’t know why at first but I just needed to go home. Felt like maybe I could fix what had been broken there. Went there to find it all burnt down but then this sheriff came lookin’ after me. Turns out he was that lady’s brother - the one who shot at me and had the pictures of the cut up dead guys. He was all angry and wanted to kill me for shootin’ his sister. I tried… I tried to tell ‘im that she was no good and that she was gonna kill me but he didn’t wanna listen. He was shootin’ at me and… and… I ain’t had no choice.”

It was silent, aside from the ambient bugs chirping outside. You had tried so hard to focus on Arvin’s face but you had long since zoned out visually, only able to focus on the words he was saying. How could he have gone through all of this? How could your wonderful, amazing, beautiful Arvin Russell have survived so much suffering and been forced to murder people? Murder.

“Please say somethin’.”

Your lips quivered as your vision came back into view and all you saw was a tearful, fearful, remorseful boy before you on the brink of falling apart. Arvin’s hair was messy from having run his hands through it, his eyes were red and puffy from the tears, his breathing was shaky from remembering. There were no words.

You threw your arms around his neck and held him tightly to you. You didn’t know what else to do. How does someone respond to information like this? There was so much trust that Arvin needed to put in you to tell you - you couldn’t freak out.

“You don’t hate me?” His hands flew to your arms, prying them off his neck so he could see your face.

Your head shook, “How could I hate you for what you did?”

“I murdered four people.”

“You took out a disgusting predator who practically killed your sister and was harming who knows how many other girls. Then you killed a couple of murderers who pulled guns on you first in self defense. And then, yet again, you were put in a life or death situation with a sheriff who was shootin’ at you for killin’ his murderin’ sister. Three of those were self defense and I’d dare say that first one was a public service. You have nothin’ to be sorry for. You have nothin’ to regret. You did what you had to do to survive.” You squeezed Arvin’s hands tightly, running your soft thumbs over the lightly calloused skin of his knuckles.

Arvin looked down at your hands on his, hands that were so much smaller than his own but right now felt so encompassing and comforting, as if they wrapped his own in a blanket of protection. He couldn’t believe you were okay with this. He was barely okay with it. “I don’t regret it but I didn’t wanna have to do it. If I coulda let that lady go, if she only woulda listened to me ‘n put the gun down I wouldn’t o’ had to pull the trigger. I coulda let the cops deal with it. Same with the sheriff. If only he woulda listened… I only wanted to shoot the preacher. I was okay with havin’ that on my conscience. But I had no idea how outta control that day was gonna get. All those cold dead eyes starin’ up at you, watchin’ the life drain from someone’s face ‘n knowin’ you’re the one who caused that... Even if they were real fucked up people, it ain’t a sight that’s easy to see.”

“I can’t even imagine what it must’ve been like, Arvin.” Your hand slid up his arm to rest on his bicep and you leaned your forehead onto his shoulder. His arm snaked around your body and held you close but cautious, like he was scared if he held you too tightly that you’d be scared he’d hurt you too. Of course, you weren’t. The thought did cross your mind that perhaps it was unwise to trust a man who just admitted to killing four people but that wasn’t Arvin and you knew it. “You may have killed people but that does not make you a killer. You’re just someone who was put in some really hard situations and had to make some tough choices.”

You pulled back and put your hand on his cheek, slightly scratchy from not shaving that day, and you spoke gently, “You are wonderful, Arvin. You are caring and hard working and loyal and willing to stand up for what is right. You are everything good in this world-”

“I hurt people-”

“You protect people,” you corrected, “‘N if some bad people had to get hurt to keep the good ones safe, well maybe they shouldn’t have been such bad people.”

Arvin could have melted into a puddle at your feet, and likely would have if you hadn’t been holding him. Never had he expected to tell anyone his terrible deeds and in every imagined scenario in which he did, it had never ended well. He had imagined you running for the hills, screaming at him to get out, maybe even threatening him physically out of fear that he’d hurt you now (which he’d never dream of doing).

But you didn’t do any of that. Gentleness and understanding were far from the reaction he’d expected or even felt like he deserved but nevertheless here you were holding him and reassuring him that he wasn’t the monster he’d called himself for so many months.

“I love you.”

His admission surprised you but Arvin felt fully confident in his words. He had never known what love felt like - romantic love at least - but this was damn near the closest thing he could imagine to it. You occupied his thoughts every waking moment, your face and your voice swimming around his imagination in a beautiful ocean of warmth and kindness and goodness that he would gladly drown in. You were strong and responsible and understanding and oh so beautiful. Much like him, you’d been handed a shit hand by life and struggled each day to make the best of it. Arvin cared about you so much it scared him because he had not felt this compulsion towards anyone since Lenora had passed. After losing everything he’d ever loved, he was scared that if he admitted that he loved you, life would take you away from him as well. If there was one thing that you did, though, it was take away Arvin’s fear.

“I love you too, Arvin.” He pulled your body flush against his when you responded, a heavy sigh of relief leaving his chest. Much like Arvin, you hadn’t known what real love felt like. You’d even started believing that maybe you weren’t meant for such a luxury.

Now you and Arvin felt like the richest people in the world, despite having almost nothing to your names. As long as you were in each others’ arms, you had everything. You were each others’ trust, honesty, comfort, compassion, and protection.

_______

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[spaceskam]

welcome to another "I wrote this at work ignore the typos" situation featuring content in the little teaser for s3

ao3

"Michael Guerin with a cup of tea. Interesting."

"Bettering myself with soothing beverages," Michael said, leaning back in his chair as he looked up at Alex. He still felt a little off kilter, but he had no intention of guilt tripping Alex. It was a work in progress. He was a work in progress.

"Is that a quote from self proclaimed life coach Isobel Evans?" Alex asked, cocking his head to the side and smiling. Michael felt dizzy with it. It'd been so long without that fucking smile.

"How'd you know?" Michael asked, trying to keep the conversation light and not let it drift to an antagonistic place. He was good at that. Unfortunately, he was less good at keeping that at bay. "Where's the boyfriend?" Work in progress.

"He couldn't stick around, had to get to a meeting. He just met me at the bus stop," Alex said. Michael nodded and only then let his eyes drift away from his face, giving him a quick once over and tried not to be greedy with it. He still had his bags. "Is this seat taken?"

"Yeah," Michael said, casual as possible because Alex deserved that, "Saving it for this guy I met a few years back. You might know him. Around my height, dark hair, nice biceps, used to be in the army, killer thighs–literally, I almost suffocated me once."

"Shut up," Alex laughed, sitting across from him, "And I wasn't in the army."

"Same evil."

"Fair enough," Alex said, clasping his hands together and leaning forward, "Man, what's a guy gotta do around here to get a drink?"

Michael absolutely did not get his hopes up about this.

"Just sit there and look pretty," Michael said, pushing himself to his feet.

He'd been working a little harder and getting Sanders to make the place look a bit nicer in the front so new comers would show up, both resulting in everyone making more money. It was the most money Michael had ever had saved up before and he barely knew what to even do with it. He'd never wanted it before, never wanted to act like he was here to stay, but now it was there and now he could pay for Alex's drink.

He allowed himself to feel a little good about himself for that.

He order a medium vanilla latte, extra vanilla and an extra shot of expresso like he'd seen Alex order when they were a younger. Before he was a complete fuck up. Before when ordering anything but black coffee felt rebellious. And he paid for him for the first time. And he absolutely wasn't prideful bringing it back.

The look on Alex's face said he was also aware that this was the first time he could afford to buy him something so trivial, but he wasn't going to say anything because he was Alex. He took a sip as Michael sat across from him again and he smiled with a tiny bit of foam gracing his top lip. Michael felt his chest constricting with some twisted sort of pride and he refused to let himself be embarrassed by it.

"Thank you," Alex said.

"No problem."

Then they lapsed into silence, drinking their respective drinks and staring. Alex never turned his head away like he usually did; Michael never broke the silence like he usually did. None of it was awkward or uncomfortable or tense. It was just... having non-alcoholic drinks with someone he loved in whatever sense of the word he could.

It was nice. It was easy. It was something so completely different than Michael knew what to do with.

He craved more.

"So, do you need a ride to your house so you don't have to walk with all that?" Michael asked, definitely not mentioning that Forrest at the very least could've taken it. Granted, there's a chance he offered and Alex declined, which would be very much like Alex, but still. If he can kiss him, he can help with his bags.

"Depends. Are you willing to drive out to the middle of nowhere?"

"So that was a sold sign," Michael said. Alex took a deep breath and nodded.

"Yeah. It was a nice house, but it didn't really feel like home, you know? And after everything..."

"No, I get it," Michael said, nodding, "So where are you staying now?"

"Old Valenti hunting cabin. My cut of the inheritance and what I'm getting for selling my house is gonna be used on making it decent," Alex said.

"And amping up the security system," Michael added. Alex grinned and nodded.

"And amping up the security system."

"Well, it's my day off, so I can definitely take you," Michael said, not saying he took the day off specifically to meet Alex. That wasn't necessary information.

"You don't have to."

"What if I want to?" Michael asked. Alex looked at him, still smiling but he was clearly a little wary. "Just let me help out. I'm even going to try to not make you feel bad about the boyfriend."

"Oh, well, thank you so much for your efforts," Alex said sarcastically, but his tone was light and his smile was even more so, "But you really don't mind?"

"Alex, it's the least I can do," Michael said. It sounded weird in his voice, but it felt right. Alex seemed to agree if the look on his face said anything. Michael was more than a little proud of himself for not second guessing himself or assuming the worst.

Maybe he actually did do some growing.

"Okay then. Let's go."

Having Alex in his truck again didn't feel real. He was giddy in a way he hadn't felt in awhile and the fact that his bags were on the floor and not between them made that feeling skyrocket. Alex was comfortable with him. Or, at least, he seemed to be.

"Did you have fun?" Michael asked. Alex huffed a laugh.

"Well, I mean, I was doing dirty work, so not really. Forrest met me a couple times but I never wanted him to stay too long, was way too dangerous," Alex said, turning in his seat to face him.

"When I came out there with Kyle, you let me stay awhile," Michael said. He wasn't bragging. Absolutely not. He was simply useful for the task at hand and Kyle had to get back to work. Them eating take out on a hotel room floor and staying up too late was just convenient, a secret little addition to the trip.

"Yeah, but I trust you not to get killed by accident," Alex said, "Forrest had a good childhood. He's not at all aware of his surroundings like you are."

"Good for him," Michael said, readjusting his grip on the steering wheel. Alex may or may not have noticed.

"Also," he said slowly, "I'm kinda getting spoiled with the telekinesis thing, I'm not gonna lie."

Michael bit the inside of his cheek and tried not to be unnecessarily happy with that.

"Well if you ever need to make use of it, I'm your man," Michael said. Alex hummed in response–Michael couldn't tell if it was an acknowledgment or agreement.

It was around a 45 minute drive to the Valenti hunting cabin and the trip there was a bunch of small, winding, hand-made paths. You couldn't find it if you didn't know it was there. It was perfect for Alex.

Michael helped him get his bags inside and took in the fact that most of the stuff that had been in his house wasn't present. The furniture was broken in and there were a few boxes around, but not enough to hold everything from his house.

"I need a change," Alex said, going to the breaker box to turn the electricity on, "I thought that when I came back the first time that would be my big change, but I just did more of the same shit. So this is a real change."

"Sounds like it'd be good for you," Michael agreed.

"Yeah," Alex sighed, looking around. His eyes eventually landed on Michael again. "Do you have to go?"

"No, not unless you want me to," Michael said. Alex nodded.

"Move some boxes for me, telekinesis boy?" he asked. Michael grinned.

"Sure."

The spent what felt like two hours rearranging and unpacking and cleaning, Alex encouraging him to show off in a way that felt so ridiculously good. Everything about this was good. Spending time with him without expectation and tension and time limits.

He loved him more than his body had space for.

"Michael!" Alex said, immediately followed by a laugh, "You're going to break something!"

"I won't, have faith," Michael said, pulsing with the attention, "And if I do, I'll fix it."

He twisted his wrist, manuvering the fully put together bed frame through the door with his mind. It bumped into the door frame once or twice, but Alex just laughed and lightly scolded him.

Later, once they did what they could and got settled, Michael found himself on Alex's back porch with cans of coke in hand instead of beer.

"I love the view," Michael said.

"There's deer that'll get close if you're quiet," Alex said, "You'll have to sit with me to see them sometime."

"Yeah, whenever you'll have me," Michael said.

"Whenever you want," Alex responded. He sounded like he meant it.

Him meaning it didn't stop his phone from lighting up, didn't stop the way Alex's face closed off, didn't stop the way he sighed and locked it back. He took a long sip of his drink before he spoke.

"Forrest is on his way," Alex said. Michael shifted in his seat and nodded.

"So I should go."

"Do you have work tomorrow?" Alex asked instead of saying leave, instead of saying stay.

"Yep, bright and early."

"Okay," Alex said, "If I bring my truck up there in the morning, do I get privileges where I can sit with you in the back while you look over it and tell me what I need to fix after it sitting in my yard for nine months?"

Michael swallowed the lump that rose in his throat. He was leaving, he had to go because it wasn't his place to stay right now. But there was a promise of tomorrow. Of spending more time together just because.

The privilege of it, Alex said.

"Absolutely," Michael said, standing up, "I'll squeeze you in."

"Cool. I appreciate it," Alex said, looking up at him with a smile, "And I appreciate you helping me out today. Made all of that a lot easier."

"Not a problem," he said, "So I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Wait," Alex said quickly, getting himself to his feet and coming closer. Without much of a warning about what exactly was coming, Alex wrapped his arms around his neck. Michael hugged him back easily.

Alex squeezed him; Michael squeezed back.

"I'm so glad you're back," Michael whispered against him.

"I've gotta come home at some point, right?" Alex whispered back. Michael nodded.

They held on for longer than they should.

"Alright," Alex said after awhile, letting go with a reluctance Michael wasn't so unfamiliar with it ached, "I'll see you in the morning. I'll bring food."

Michael didn't like to get his hopes up.

He decided not to be scared this time.

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic

[messers-moony]

Babysitting | F.H

Paring: Five Hargreeves X Fem!Reader

Summary: After a gone wrong mission Five(19) babysits his five year old niece, Claire.

To say Five was having a tough week would be putting it lightly. The male hadn’t felt so much pain and sorrow in his entire life. The apocalypse was awful. He couldn’t deny that but this– was ten times worse.

Five never expected for something to go so damn wrong. He never expected to have to go through this pain in his life, but here he is, lying in bed, not being able to sleep.

He hadn’t really slept since the incident. A couple of naps here and there but never a full night's rest. His mind was torturing him. All he heard were screams of agony and cries.

The apartment they shared went from such a warm atmosphere to shivering cold within just a day of change. Five hated it. He wanted to scream, to cry, to yell, to be angry, but he couldn’t– not anymore at least.

Five was lying in their shared bed when a doorbell rang. He sighed and shuffled out of bed. The male's appearance showed absolutely no care. Hair was skewed, eyes were red along with his cheeks, transparent trails of tears on his cheeks, and his under eyes dark.

Lazily the male opened the door to be met with his sister and his niece, “ Hey Five, I- I know this week has been challenging. “ Allison nervously began looking at her heartbroken nineteen-year-old brother.

“ But I’m going out with a guy, and Claire refused to go with anyone else. She wouldn’t let anyone babysit her except Uncle Fivey. “ Allison spoke, giving a soft smile, “ If you aren’t up to it, I’ll bring her to Klaus, but I figured why not give it a shot? “

Five looked down at his five-year-old niece, “ I’ll take care of her. You go. “ Five murmured, “ Are you sure? “ Allison whispered as Claire ran into the apartment sitting on the couch.

“ Mhm. “ Five hummed, and Allison embraced him, “ It's going to be okay. “ Allison spoke as she pulled away.

Five tried his best to smile, “ I know. Now you go have fun. I’ll take care of Claire. “

“ Thank you! “ Allison exclaimed as she walked away, and Five shut the door.

The brunette turned to look at the young girl on his couch and gave a subtle smile. Five shuffled towards the couch and took a seat beside her. Claire moved to sit in his lap.

“ Thank you, Uncle Five. “ Claire spoke as she hugged him, “ You’re welcome, princess. “ Five responded as tears flooded his eyes.

Five’s sniffles are what made Claire pull away and look at him, “ Why are you crying? “

“ It’s just been a tough week. But I’m glad I get to spend some time with you, princess. “ Five admitted as he wiped his tears, “ D- Did Auntie Y/n have something to do with it? “ Claire hesitantly asked, and Five nodded.

“ A- Auntie Y/n will never be back, princess. “ Five softly spoke as his eyes flooded with tears, “ W- What do you mean? “ The young girl asked as her eyes began to do the same.

Five sniffled again, “ S- She’s gone and never coming back. “ The male responded as he wiped a tear coming from Claire’s eye.

Claire bursted into tears, hugging Five as tight as she could. Her hands balled up the material of the hoodie he was wearing in the back. The hoodie was Y/n’s, her favorite hoodie, and she wore it everywhere.

Both relatives cried in each other’s arms, grieving for their lost someone. Claire was devastated, and Five felt so at fault for her death. Y/n was a ball of light, and she was the only one to keep Five sane through everything.

The apocalypse, the commission, saving the world, everything. She was there to keep his sanity. Y/n was there to hold him on the bad days, keep him smiling on the good days, and calm him on days where his temper couldn’t be controlled.

Now she was gone, and it was devastating for the whole family. Diego and Five, we’re definitely hit the most along with Claire now. Claire sniffled and pulled away from her Uncle, looking him in the eyes.

“ You’re the best Uncle ever. “ Claire mumbled, and Five smiled softly, “ Thank you. You’re the best niece ever. “ Five replied, holding her close to his chest.

Claire looked up at her crumbling uncle, “ Auntie Y/n would be proud of you. “ Claire began, and Fives eyes were still flooding, “ She knows you’re strong, and I’m sure she’s here with you. Uncle Klaus talks all the time about Uncle Ben being with him. Maybe Auntie Y/n is with you like Uncle Ben is with Uncle Klaus. “ Claire inferred.

“ I’m sure she is. “ Five whimpered, “ W- What happened? “ Claire questioned.

Five pulled Claire up from his lap and sat her directly on his lap, making her face him, “ Auntie Y/n and I had a mission to do. “ Five began, “ Like killing bad guys? “ Claire asked with a side smile.

Five chuckled, “ Yeah, killing bad guys. The mission went really well at first, we stuck to our plan, and everything was working out. “ The brunette male began as the tears came back, “ We thought we finished everyone off until when we started exiting the building, a shot went off. “

“ Th- The shot hit Y/n right in the chest, and I couldn’t get her to the academy in time because of how drained I was from the mission. “ Five cried, “ I- I’m so sorry, princess. “

Claire hugged her, crying Uncle tight, “ It’s not your fault. “ Claire comforted, “ That’s exactly what Auntie told me before she passed. “ Five muttered.

Claire sat there with her favorite Uncle as he cried his eyes out. Claire cried too, into his hoodie as they both held onto her. Five sniffled and lifted her off his lap.

“ Uncle Fivey, where are you going? “ Claire’s concerned voice asked, “ I’ll be right back, princess. “ Five responded as he walked into their shared bedroom.

Five walked into the bedroom and near her vanity, which held all her jewelry. There laid a necklace with her name on it, one she wore all the time. In fact, she never took it off. Carefully he took the gold necklace in his hands and walked out of the bedroom.

The door shut with a click, and Five plopped back down on the couch beside his tear stained niece, “ Come here. “ Five softly spoke as he patted his lap.

Claire crawled onto his lap again, “ This is a necklace that Auntie Y/n wore all the time. “ Five began as he showed her the chain, “ I think she would want you to have it. “ Five said as he put the necklace on his niece.

The young girl's hands immediately went to the nameplate necklace around her neck, looking at the gold cursive with her Aunties name on it.

“ Do you like it? “ Five asked nervously, and Claire embraced him tightly, “ I love it. Thank you, Uncle Fivey. “ Claire smiled brightly.

For the first time in a week, Five smiled genuinely, “ I’m glad. “

Claire snuggled upon him while Five played one of her favorite movies on the tv screen. Eventually, they both fell asleep, and when Allison didn’t get a response from knocking on the door, she opened it with her key.

The only light in the room was from the tv still playing, and Allison saw the two sleeping together. Her brother was finally getting sleep. Gently she picked up a blanket and covered both of them.

Allison wrote a note on the counter that she’d pick up Claire in the morning and then left the apartment. Five woke up the next morning with Claire on his chest. The male smiled and kissed her forehead before moving out from under her.

Quietly the Hargreeves boy began making breakfast, and once Five was almost done, Claire had woke up.

“ Uncle Fivey? “ Claire groggily called out from the couch, “ I’m here, princess. “ Five replied.

Claire got up from the couch and sat at one of the barstools around the island. Five placed her breakfast on a plate for the young girl. Claire began eating along with her uncle.

“ After we eat breakfast, I’m going to bring you back home, okay? “ Five said as he swallowed his food, “ Okay. “ Claire responded as she chewed.

Eventually, both of them finished eating, and they walked out to the car. Five drove to Allison’s house, which wasn’t far from their apartment but still far enough to drive. He walked his niece to the door.

Before he could knock, Claire spoke, “ Will you be okay? “

“ Of course I will, princess. “ Five responded, kissing her cheek.

Five knocked on the door, and Allison appeared, “ Hey Claire. How was Uncle Fivey’s house? “ Allison questioned as she picked up her daughter, “ It was good. He gave me this necklace. “ Claire replied as she showed Allison Y/n’s necklace.

Five stood sheepishly at the door, “ Did he now? “ Allison teased, “ Yeah! “ Claire verified.

Allison put her daughter down and let Claire run off into the house. Expectantly Allison stared at her brother while he stood at her door.

“ I never thought you’d give that away. We both know that was something Y/n treasured. “ Allison began baffled, “ I- I thought Claire could use it more than I would. I mean, I have tons of Y/n’s belongings. Claire doesn’t. I thought the necklace would be perfect. “ Five nervously stuttered.

Allison sighed and brought Five in for a hug, “ I’ll make sure she takes care of it. “ Allison muttered, “ Good. “ Five responded.

“ I’m gonna go home and maybe look through some of her stuff. Perhaps that’ll make me feel better. “ Five-spoke as he pulled away from the hug, “ Okay. If you need anyone don’t hesitate to call. “ Allison reminded.

“ I won’t. “ Five said, giving a reassuring smile.

Five drove back to the cold apartment and sighed. He kicked off his shoes and threw his keys on the counter. Five sat on the couch where he sat with Claire the previous day and just stared into nothingness.

“ Fuck. “

Tags: @cc13723things

#five x you #five x reader #five x y/n #five hargreeves x you #five hargreeves x y/n #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves fluff #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves #number five x you #number five x y/n #number five x reader #number five #tua netflix #tua memes #tua five #tua fanfic #tua au #tua x reader #tua #the umbrella academy #the sparrow academy

[zealoushound]

Where I Belong

Summary: Your and Mike's son has a bad dream. He wants his father to comfort him. While comforting his little boy he reflects back on his past.

Pairing: Mike/Reader, Mike with his son

Word Count: 1,275

Warnings: none. All fluff. Sweetheart Mikey being a sweetheart dad.

A/N: I really wanted to see Mikey as a father, then suddenly inspiration struck. Mike deserved better so we’re out here giving it to him!

Disclaimer: I do not own Mike, Hellrasier, or Henry Cavill, much to my dismay. Only the kids and the wife are my original creation.

Do not copy any part of my material to use as your own. Do not repost my work, or any portions of my work on any site and claim it as your own. Like all my other fics, this was written on my phone and not beta’d.

***

This work of art right here came from the lovely @luna-aestas Thank you so much for such a beautiful piece!

***

It was 2:13 am according to the alarm clock on your bedside table. Your home was peacefully quiet. Then from the darkness of your bedroom came a small voice. “Daddy?” The voice was very soft, very timid. “Daddy?” The little voice was scared.

You were sleeping peacefully, unaware of the meek little voice calling out for his father. A shaky little hand reached out for his fathers shoulder. Giving him a light shake, he spoke a bit louder this time, with fresh tears falling from his eyes, “Daddy?”

Mike woke from a dream of his own. His reality went from losing his swimming trunks at the water park he used to frequent in his childhood, to the familiar darkness of his current bedroom that he shared with his wife of five years. There was a dim nightlight by the door, and one in the hallway for your son to be able to see his way around if needed, but otherwise nothing except the orange glow of the street light down below between the slits in the blinds of your window by the bathroom.

“Daddy?” Mike took in a sharp inhale of breath through his nose, letting his eyes adjust.

“Adam? What’s the matter buddy?” Mike sat up somewhat confused, putting his legs over the edge of the bed, and picked up his son. Holding him close as he started to cry harder. “Come on buddy, let’s go to your room so we don’t wake mama.” You were seven months pregnant, and he knew just how precious sleep was to you right now.

Standing up, holding Adam, he threw one arm back to stretch then walked the nervous toddler back to his bedroom. Adam clutching his fathers bare shoulder the entire way. “Tell me what’s wrong buddy.” Mike said, going into Adam's room.

“I have bad dream.” Mike's face fell a bit. He sat Adam down on the bed. Sitting down beside him he watched as the four year old wiped his face with the sleeve of his pajamas.

“I’m sorry kiddo. Wanna tell me what it was about?” Mike brushed his son's unruly curls out of his face.

Adam sniffled. Begrudgingly he began telling his father his nightmare. “There was a bear in my room. Him was a bad bear, daddy.” He looked around like he was looking for the beastly bear to come back. “Him bit me! And him was gonna eat me!”

Mike’s eyes widened in pretend shock, he gasped, “No way! Quick! Let me look at you!” Mike rolled up his son's sleeves, lifted his shirt over his head, tilting him back and forth, inspecting his stomach and back. He rolled up the legs of Adam’s pajamas. Adam was giggling at his fathers reaction. “Phew, no bear bites! Looks like that bear let you go! Musta been scared off cause of these stinky feet!” He crossed his eyes, sticking out his tongue and played dead, flopping back onto the mattress.

“Daddy!” Adam’s laughter filled the room. He laid down with his dad. Mike shifted into a more comfortable position knowing he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. “Tell me a story daddy.”

Mike recanted the age-old story that his grandmother used to tell him about the three bears, but gave it a more happy ending, and made Goldielocks a little boy named Sam. Telling him in the end that the bears all befriended the little boy. He was even invited inside to eat dinner after having help fix the things that he had broken.

“Daddy?” Mike could tell Adam was getting sleepy again.

“Yeah, kiddo?” He was softly running his fingers through his son's hair.

“Do you ever have bad dreams?” Such an innocent question. One that could bring back such dark memories if he were to allow it. Not tonight.

Mike inhaled sharply, remembering the sounds of the shovels digging into the earth to free him; the scraping of metal against wood. “Yeah buddy, sometimes.” Adam looked up into his eyes as he continued. “Your mom saved me from those dreams though. She made them stop. But when I do have them I just wake her, and she holds me until the monsters go away.” Mike smiled fondly talking about his wife. The mother of the children he never imagined he’d have.

Adam yawned, and smiled. “Close your eyes little guy. That bear ain’t coming back. If he does just feed him some porridge. That’ll make him happy.” Adam closed his eyes and was asleep in minutes.

Mike stayed awake a little bit longer thinking about his family. Thinking what would have happened had that officer not realized what was going on at that house that night. He had never thought he’d be so grateful to see the inside of an ambulance. That was the night he met you.

You weren’t even supposed to be working that evening. You had pulled a double because someone was sick. You were the second person he saw that night. When they opened the casket an officer called for help. “We got a live one! Need some help over here!” You were the one to answer that call. You helped pull him from the earth.

Mike fell asleep thinking about seeing your beautiful face for the first time that night. Thinking about the way you gently shushed him, putting the oxygen mask over his mouth and held him to you in the back of that ambulance because he refused to lie down, terrified that if he did he’d end up back in that box. The way your fingers brushed his curls back away from his face.

You woke up that morning around 7:30 reaching for your husband but found only his pillow. You got up slowly, wanting to take care of nature’s business then go looking for him. After washing your hands you walked down the hall to check on your son. The sight that greeted you made you smile wide.

There was no denying Adam was Mikey’s son. They were both on their backs, their right arms were both up and over their heads, the left draped over their stomachs. They were both snoring, both mouths wide open. There were curls everywhere! You went, and grabbed your phone to snap a picture.

“I love you my boys.” You quietly say rubbing your bump. “Little girl these boys are going to be wrapped around your finger I just know it.” You went downstairs to cook breakfast.

Mike joined you in the kitchen not long afterward. Kissing the back of your neck he mumbled a good morning. “Say, do you remember what the first thing I ever said to you was?”

You laughed, “How could I forget?!” You turned away from what you were doing to look at him. “‘Hey sweet cheeks, you always look this good saving lives?’” Mike laughed at you when you tilted your head like he did when he flirted. “To which I responded, ‘normally no, but you making me roll around in all this dirt gave me a more natural look.’”

You touched his face as his hands caressed your full abdomen. His little girl. “I’m so glad I worked that double. I was so pissed I had to take that shift. Who knew three hours later I’d meet my soulmate.”

Mike hummed, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, closing his eyes in bliss. Some would say it was divine intervention, some would say fate, or it just wasn’t his time, but if anyone asked Mike, he would tell them he didn’t know, and didn’t care all he knew was that he was exactly where he was meant to be.

***

Tag list: (As always if you want on or off please let me know!)

@foodieforthoughts @wendimydarling @hope-to-hell @littlefreya @nuggsmum @killjoy-assbutt-1112 @summersong69 @oddduckthatgirl @christhickevans @winter2112rose @ladycavillry @mary-ann84 @twhstuckylover @cavills-little-princess @luclittlepond

#zealoushound writes #where i belong #mikey hellraiser #mike x reader #mike fan fiction #henry cavill fanfic #soft mikey #comfort fic #dad mike

[blu-joons]

Age Is Just A Number ~ Min Yoongi

As soon as you managed to get back into Yoongi’s apartment, you let go of a huge sigh of relief, overwhelmed, you sunk to your knees as soon as you heard the door close, brushing your hands through your hair as tears quickly threatened to spill.

“Y/N,” Yoongi whispered straight away, kneeling by your side with his hand resting against the small of your back. “Come on, let’s get you sat down,” he suggested, carefully helping you through the house and into the living room, making sure you were comfortable sat down on the sofa.

He walked over straight away once you were seated to draw the curtains as he continued to spot the flashes of cameras outside of his house. He was used to it by now, but it was far from anything that you’d experienced before, especially since you made the move to Seoul.

“It’s alright,” he comforted, taking a seat beside you once the outside world was shut out, using the sleeves of his jumper to wipe away your tears, prying your hands away from your face.

“I’m not used to all of that Yoongi, what have I done to suddenly attract so much attention?”

As much as he didn’t want to hurt you, Yoongi knew exactly what the reasons were that had attracted the media’s attention to you. It was something he’d spent so long reassuring you about before the two of you became public, but even he didn’t expect this.

He sat and waited for your eyes to look across at him, snuffling back the remaining tears that fell as you slowly began to settle once again back in the comfort of his home.

“I’m the problem, aren’t I?” You questioned him, “I’m not what people want you to date, so they’re making sure that their opinions are know.”

“But you’re what I want to date, even if others think I shouldn’t.”

You were used to listening to Yoongi reassure you, but now you had the opinions of others striking you like bullets, it was difficult to find comfort in his words.

“Sometimes I think I should just catch the first flight home and save you from all of this, it’s not what you need,” you huffed, feeling his hands grip much tighter against you.

“And let them win? I won’t allow you to do that Y/N.”

Your shoulders shrugged as you finally began to hear it quieten outside. You didn’t have the thick skin that Yoongi did, but that never meant that he deserved what was coming to him.

You glanced across at the hold he had on your wrists, “if it’s not about where I come from then, it’s my age. If you don’t want me to fly home, should I just hurry up and graduate?”

“It’s not about that for me,” he whispered, offering you a soft smile. “They’re doing this because all of this is new and feeding them headlines. In a couple of weeks, the novelty will wear off and all of this will blow over for us and sunny skies will be above us again instead.”

It was easy for Yoongi to make all of this sound like sunshine and rainbows, he was used to the attention, whilst you were the complete opposite.

There was always a chance of people disapproving of your relationship, which Yoongi was well aware of. For him to date someone who didn’t come from Korea would be enough to catch the media’s attention, but with the slight age difference between you both too, the media truly felt as if they’d won the lottery outing you both.

“I don’t want to let this break us, but I can see how badly you’re hurting right now. Just please, stay by my side and trust me when I tell you that things are going to get better.”

“Why are you even still here Yoongi?” You outrightly asked him, “why are you here when you can see what a negative impact this is currently having on your career?”

His head shook, “that’s a simple question, because I know that I deserve to be happy, and it’s being with you that makes me happy, regardless of what anyone else has to say about it.”

You knew just how tight the media’s grip had been on his career over the years, and finally he wanted to take the step and cut those ties. “I’m glad that I could be the one to make you happy at least.”

For so long, Yoongi had worried about what others might say and think, but when it came to his heart, the only thing he was ever going to do was follow it. When his heart told him there was something special with you, nothing else mattered apart from making himself yours.

“I appreciate more than anything how hard this is for you, and I would be doubtful in your position too, but I won’t ever let you get on a plane and leave me right now, you’re staying here.”

“I want to be here, with you.”

“And I want you here with me to prove to everyone else that we’re a team. It doesn’t matter where in the world we both come from, and it doesn’t matter how old either of us are. Age is a number, and nationality is a location, but as long as our hearts are happy, what more matters?”

You snuffled once again lightly, wiping underneath your eyes. “That’s a pretty nice way of looking at it, it’s almost like you write songs for a living,” you giggled.

“See, that’s more like it. There’s that smile I love,” he cheered.

Your head shook as his hands moved to rest against your hips, pulling you down with him so that the two of you were able to stretch out across the sofa. His grip on you was one of desperation, determined not to let you go.

You could feel his lips trailing gently against your cheek, “if it makes you feel better, I love that your foreign. It means I get a lot of holidays out of it.”

“How is that the only bonus you see out of this?” You cried out, poking against his chest. “We’ve barely even had the chance to head home, you’ve only met my family twice.”

“I reckon that we should change that, I’d love to head over more often.”

A trip home was always something that you were open to. In fact, your move to Seoul was never supposed to be one that was permanent. But after meeting Yoongi, and quickly falling for him, you knew that you had to follow your heart.

“I think it’s pretty cool that I’ll be able to brag about dating a graduate soon too,” he continued to tease, “will you get to throw your cap up like they do in the movies?”

“It’s not quite as cliché as you think,” you groaned, noticing the wide smile on his face. “But if it will make you feel better, I’ll throw my cap into the air.”

“Well, you know I’ll be there in the front row cheering you on when you do,” he whispered into your ear, “that’ll give the media something to photograph, showing off how smart you are.”

“If you do that, you’ll end up getting kicked out, and that will give the media something even more valuable to photograph,” you laughed, “maybe it’s best if you just take a step back and keep yourself to yourself.”

His head shook back at you, he’d never been one to stand back in your relationship, and he wasn’t going to know. It didn’t matter how big or small the incident was, he was proud to be yours, regardless of what everyone else has to say.

“I’ll be your biggest fan,” he chimed, “always.”

---

Masterlist

#bts #bts imagine #yoongi #yoongi imagine #suga #suga imagine #bts scenario #bts reaction #bts yoongi #bts suga #bts drabble #bts one shot #bts fluff #min suga #min yoongi #min yoongi imagine #yoongi scenario #yoongi reaction #yoongi drabble #yoongi one shot #yoongi fluff #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #kpop #kpop imagine

[untaemedqueen]

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 14.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage, Love

Warnings For This Chapter: Heart Tugging Yoongi, Crying, Emotional

A/N: This chapter is early because I’ll forget to post at 5 like an idiot :) shoutout to the squad @xjoonchildx, @ladyartemesia, @ppersonna this chapter is goooood!

You have ascertained at this point that although Yoongi is incredibly fit -- he's never done heavy lifting in his life.

You watch him continuously mumbling to himself while carrying things over to the wooden porch, stopping himself whenever your father passes with something in his arms to show a tired smile.

It's kind of hilarious.

"Well! That's it!" you dad says, clapping his hands together happily. He stands on the porch, a smile etching onto his features as he looks at you.

Yoongi sighs happily beside Minho, feeling proud of himself that he's actually done something on his own for once.

"Will that be all, Sir?" Minho asks, his voice filled with amusement.

The CEO grimaces at him. "That'll be all. Be back here in two days with a new set of shoes for me and an Irish coffee."

Minho nods bowing to the both of you before climbing back into the car.

"Your mother is making bean paste in the back," your dad notifies you as he kicks off his sneakers.

You hum sweetly, walking up the steps to take off your own shoes.

Yoongi puts his hands on his hips, looking at the hanok with curious eyes.

"Here goes nothing," he mumbles, following after you.

"You didn't have to get us anything, you know," your father tells him. Helping him push all of the gifts into the house.

"It's my pleasure," Yoongi breathes out.

Your father turns to your boyfriend, holding up the Japanese whisky and winking at him. "It's a nice gesture though. I'll drink this well… by the end of the night." he whispers conspiratorially to him.

Yoongi finds himself smiling, chuckling to himself.

You're a lot like your father it seems. He likes that.

Stepping into the hanok, Yoongi feels like he's in a museum. Which, he can't help but kind of love. Everything seems so olden but perfectly taken care of.

"We do have a bathroom and beds, luckily for you." your dad jeers.

When you step inside, you feel so at home. Nothing has changed at all and it's so perfect.

"Wait for it," your dad tells your boyfriend, putting the gift baskets on the wooden table.

"MY GAESU!" you scream happily.

Yoongi jumps at your loud voice, eyes widening. He's never heard you screech so loudly.

A small corgi runs out to greet you, tongue sticking out with excited heavy breathing.

He watches you bend down, pulling the dog into your arms.

"Be careful," he admonishes you sweetly, watching you rock the dog in your arms.

Your father watches how concerned Yoongi is for you, how he presses his hand to the small of your back for support and he smirks at the sight.

"Whisky, Yoongi?"

"That'd be great, thank you Sir." he replies kindly, unbuttoning his suit jacket.

"Call me Dad," your father says with a wink.

The sentence sends Yoongi frozen. He's never heard such a gentle tone from a father figure before. He's only ever been used to tones of disappointment or anger.

"Alright," he whispers, grabbing the glass with a tentative hand.

You smile at the sight before you, Gaesu constantly licking your cheek to show how much he's missed you.

You know that Yoongi is going to love your parents, it'll just take a while to settle in.

"I heard the infamous scream," you hear from the back door.

Your heart warms at the sight of your mother.

"Mom," you whisper, taking in how happy she looks.

For the first time in a long time, she looks healthy.

"I missed you!" your mother whines, opening her arms to hug you.

"I missed you too!" you reply, hooking your chin over her shoulder.

The CEO can see how fond you are of your family. He hopes it'll be the same for this small family you're making of your own now.

"This is Min Yoongi, my boyfriend," you say, pulling away and nodding to the handsome man.

Your mother's smile seems to widen at the sight of him. "Oh, wow. You're so much more handsome in real life than on my t.v., as if that's possible." she breathes out, her cheeks starting to blush.

"It's nice to meet you," he laughs, bowing to her.

She bows back before sighing. "I'm a hugger!"

He hugs her awkwardly as she pats his back. You giggle at the warm sight before you, you know this must be so strange to him.

"You are the culprit that got my daughter pregnant?" your mother teases, sending him flinching.

He chuckles awkwardly, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. "Guilty." he whispers.

"Well thank God, I thought I'd never have a grandchild," she says, slapping his shoulder.

"Okay, mom." you mumble, rolling your eyes at her dramatics.

"This baby is going to be cuter than a button!" she promises, pointing between the both of you.

Yoongi finds himself filling up with warmth, chuckling as your father rolls his eyes to him.

"Why don't you both get unpacked? And then we can start to make dinner," your mother suggests.

"Yoongi's never cooked before," you tell her, going to pick up your luggage.

The CEO groans gently as you all giggle. This is what family must be like. Joking and loving towards one another. He finds it akin to how him and Maya act sometimes.

"Don't even think about it," he tells you, watching you grip the handle.

"I can pick something up," you whisper as he narrows his eyes.

"So can I. Show me where the room is, little dove." he instructs, grabbing the luggage.

Rolling your eyes, you shrug to your parents as they give affectionate smiles.

"My room and the guest room?" you ask your mother, watching her hug your fathers side.

"Just your room. You're already pregnant, what else could happen?" she replies.

Yoongi's cheeks burn with embarrassment as he picks up your luggage. But, he's content with knowing that he can sleep with you for the next two nights.

He finds himself already fond of this wooden and paper house. And maybe even warming up to the people in it.

"Just through here," you tell the CEO, picking up Gaesu.

"I didn't know you have a dog," Yoongi says, stepping into your old bedroom.

"Leena's allergic so I left Gaesu home," you reply.

He hums understanding before yelping out as he looks around your room.

"What?!" you whine, putting your hand over your heart.

"THERE'S A CHICKEN ON THE BED!" he yells, dropping the luggage to the floor.

You can hear your dad laugh loudly from the kitchen and you snort loudly, stepping into the room and sliding the door shut.

The chicken takes one look at Gaesu before jumping off the bed and scurrying around the room.

Yoongi gasps loudly, jumping onto the bed with fright written all over his face.

"Catch it!" he cries out, shoving his hands in his hair.

"Relax, it's just Miguk." you say with a laugh.

"Why is there a fucking chicken in your bedroom?!" your boyfriend whines.

"Because we keep chickens for eggs? And Miguk probably wanted to be some place warm?" you ask confused, setting down your dog and opening up the bedroom door for Gaesu to chase Miguk out.

"So you don't have a heat lamp or some… warm place for a chicken to stay? Do I have to buy one for you?!" he asks, smacking the bed to get rid of a few feathers.

"It's just a chicken, you'll be eating one in like two hours," you say laughing loudly as the animals finally leave your room.

"It's disgusting. I need to change the sheets," he whispers, clearly grossed out.

"You know the walls are paper and wood?" you mouth to him, shutting the door.

"I shouldn't have to scream about a fucking chicken laying in the bed I'm sleeping in tonight," he mouths back, flailing his arms.

"Everything okay?" your mother sings from the kitchen.

"Yes!" you both reply at the same time.

The CEO finds it hard to not stare at where the chicken was standing just seconds ago.

"Come on, Yoongi. It's okay," you say, sitting down on the end of the bed.

"I don't think you understand that I'm fucking traumatized," he whispers fiercely, watching as a shadow of a chicken walks by the paper door.

"Do you need me to hold you?" you ask, sounding as if you're speaking to a small child.

He grimaces at you, folding his arms.

"No! I just don't understand how this is normal behavior," he retorts softly.

"Welcome to my home," you whisper, booping him on the nose.

He swats at your hand childishly, eyebrows furrowing deeply.

"I like your parents," he mumbles softly as you place both of the luggages on the bed.

"See, I told you. They're nice," you reply happily.

"You need to promise me that I won't wake up in the middle of the night to a chicken trying to poke my eye out with their beak. Do your parents feed them properly? Are they on a mission to assault guests?" he whispers fiercely, grabbing your hands.

"You're an insane person. You're actually fucking crazy," you whisper back, kissing the top of his head.

"What's crazy is that there was a fucking chicken in your childhood bed," he says appalled, appreciating the warmth of your lips on his skin.

"If I'm not worried about it, you shouldn't be worried about it," you say with a smile, grabbing your change of sweatpants.

"That's what they said about Pompeii and a fucking volcano erupted!" he barks out in a fierce whisper.

You find yourself giggling, combing your fingers through his hair. Almost immediately he feels himself relaxing.

After washing up and putting on comfortable clothes as well as insisting to your boyfriend a multitude of times that no farm animals would kill him in his sleep, you were ready for dinner.

Or, ready to make dinner anyway.

When Yoongi was younger, he used to watch Maya cook for him. His parents were never really home, it was just him, Maya and her daughter Myeyoung.

He has no real skills besides making money and playing poker.

Stepping back out into the hallway, he's surprised to witness such paternal affection.

Even from the short distance he can see how much love your father has for your mother as he cuts up an apple for her.

Would he ever get this? Would you be like this to him?

"My Gaesu-ah!" you call sweetly, slamming the paper door shut.

Yoongi takes this in also, how affectionate you are to an animal.

His father had hunting dogs that slept in cages outside of their home in hopes that they would feel less attached to humans.

There was once a time where his father bought him an expensive bird for hunting. He ordered Yoongi to train it. Being only six years old and without love, the CEO named the bird and praised it whenever it did well with orders.

He remembers showing his father, so excited that the bird did his bidding. But, Min Sangcheol was angry when he saw the bird catering to Yoongi's every whim.

"You made this bird adore you, that's why it does what you ask of it, you've ruined the fucking animal."

And his father broke both of the bird's legs.

"Yoongi?" you whisper softly, watching how entranced he is with your dog.

Looking up quickly, he gives you a sad smile and your heart tugs with uncertainty.

"Are you okay?" you ask, earning a gentle squeeze on your side from him.

"Come on," he whispers, pushing some hair back behind your ear.

Hearing your footsteps, your parents smile at the both of you.

"Yoongi, you didn't have to buy us such things!" your mother chides him, gently smacking his arm as she holds her new Chanel purse to her chest.

"I wanted too, it looks made just for you," he compliments, rubbing his hands together awkwardly.

In all actuality, it looks just perfect for her. With a gentle giggle, you can tell how absolutely smitten your mother is with him already.

"The tie you got me is perfect, I'll just have nowhere to wear it," your dad jeers to the CEO.

Yoongi chuckles, picking up his forgotten whisky glass and taking a sip out of eyesight from your parents.

"Very good manners," your mother whispers to you.

Humming, you can only agree. "He took etiquette classes when he was younger." you inform them.

"You should show Y/N's father a thing or two about etiquette."

Your father rolls his eyes, grabbing a wicker basket from near the sink.

"To the chickens, my love," you dad says, shooing you out the back of the house.

"Do you like dak galbi?" your mother asks, putting the gift baskets in the living room.

Yoongi watches you leave, his blanket of comfort gone from his sight. His left hand wraps around his right arm, feeling his usual comfort drift away. "Yes, Ma'am."

He feels awkward. He looks awkward as he stands beside the kitchen counter, watching as your mother begins to prepare ingredients.

The older woman can see how forlorn he looks, how completely out of his element he is and she can understand why you care for him like you do. He's broken.

"Come," she says, pointing to the seat across the counter.

He gives her a nervous smirk, sitting down in the seat she was just in.

"Have you ever peeled a potato?" she inquires softly.

With a small smile, he shakes his head. Black pieces of hair fall into his eyes and he goes frozen as your mother pushes them back just like you do.

"Well you're going to peel potatoes today," she tells him with a smile.

When she smiles, her face contorts quite like yours. And, suddenly he feels okay even for a little while.

Setting a bowl full of potatoes down in front of him, she hands him a peeler.

"We'll make you a chef yet, Min Yoongi," she winks.

Chuckling at her words, he begins to peel. It's clumsy and he loses the potato a few times from how wet it is, but he gets the hang of it after a few minutes.

"One time, when Y/N was younger she went on a potato ban. No french fries, no potato pancakes, no potato chips," your mother laughs at the memory, earning soft eyes from your boyfriend, "she was so adamant that she hated them for a good week or two. Then one night, I woke up in the middle of the night to crying. I went to check on her and she woke up telling me that she missed potatoes so much that it gave her nightmares."

Yoongi laughs along with your mother, shaking his head.

"I hope our baby comes out like her," he whispers hopefully.

In that moment, he realized just how comfortable he had gotten so quickly. It's easy to open up when you're welcomed. His instant reaction is to close himself off again but your mother catches it before he does. Not even giving him a chance to close himself off.

"You have a lot of good traits, Yoongi," your mother praises, beginning to cut peppers.

He hums unsurely, focusing on the task at hand.

"She's going to be a great parent, I'm not sure if I will be," he replies softly, he's so quiet if your mother wasn't paying attention she wouldn't have heard him.

"Why do you think that?" your mother asks and his eyes shoot straight up to hers.

In her eyes is softness and kindness that he sees in you on the daily.

In his eyes is worry and unsureness and your mother croons softly, petting his head maternally to give him some comfort.

He freezes at her gentleness but it reminds him so much of Maya that he feels his heart warm.

"Well my parents weren't very warm with me so I'm very cold with everything I do. Y/N isn't like that. She's understanding and always kind. She has patience and I lack that in spades." he whispers, washing some dirt off a potato.

Your mother hums. "Were your parents mean to you?"

He clears his throat, grabbing the whisky glass and turning away from her as he takes a huge gulp. "Yes Ma'am," he replies through gritted teeth, the alcohol warming his pallet.

"Well, let me tell you something about parents," she whispers across the counter, situating herself on her elbows, "some people aren't meant to be parents. They didn't have that affection when they were young and they don't know how to offer any to children as they get older and need to be cared for. My parents really shouldn't have had me, my father was cruel and my mother was obsessed with soju. I was a very mean, bitter child but as I grew up -- I came to realize that cycles must be broken in order for people to grow. Sure, I could have stayed mean and angry but that just leaves your heart black and broken. It's up to whomever feels this way to try and strive for a new path."

Yoongi takes in all her words, staring at her as she stares back.

Such wisdom. It's heartwarming and jarring.

"I see," he murmurs.

"Now, you're going to be a father. You should break that cycle, hmm?" she asks, picking her knife back up.

He nods thoughtfully. Just the way your mother speaks, it seems like she's lived a thousand lives. It feels as if she knows a part of his soul he couldn't begin to understand.

"You don't know how to be a father. Y/N doesn't know how to be a mother but you'll make that work. Because in actuality, you both care. You both want what's best for your child and you, sooner or later, will understand that they're the most important thing in your life. Not bitterness or hatred. Some people don't see that, but you will Yoongi." she says, throwing the peppers into a bowl.

"H-How do you know?" he stutters, gripping the potato in hand tighter.

"Because I see how you look at Y/N when she isn't looking at you. Like she makes the sun rise in the morning because she's willed it to be so." she says offhandedly, grabbing some green onions.

He whistles long and low at her wiseness, letting the potato fall from his hand to grab his whisky glass.

"I'm very grateful for how you raised her, she's wonderful. So thoughtful and caring… So completely different than anyone I've ever known before. She…" he finds himself saying, just letting his emotions fly out.

"She's bringing you inner peace and happiness." your mother says, looking up from the cutting board.

"Yes." he breathes out.

"And that's scary." she comments, wiping her hands on her apron.

Swallowing thickly, Yoongi turns to the open back door. Watching you gather eggs with your father. He can see your smile from so far away and his throat tightens at the sight.

"Y-Yes," he mutters.

"Y'know. The best thing about being frightened is knowing how at ease your heart will be when that's over." he turns back to your mother as she rounds the counter.

When she goes to hug him, he doesn't flinch this time.

"Your parents may have been mean to you, Min Yoongi. But, that doesn't define you. It shouldn't define you. If you need maternal affection, you can turn to me. I'm plenty of a mother for you and Y/N," she puts her hand over her heart, smiling down at him. He can feel his eyes beginning to burn and he apologizes as he bows his head.

"You don't need to be alone Yoongi, we're a family here and you're very welcome in ours," your mom whispers, cupping his face to raise it.

"Oh fuck," he cries gently, putting a shaky hand to his eyes.

He's never heard such earnest words like this from a parent and it brings him such relief that it makes his body wrack with sobs.

"All you've ever wanted was to be loved and be happy, I'm sure. We can do that for you, if you want that," she whispers, hugging him tightly.

His mouth opens, a small strangled groan leaving his lips as he cries louder.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

Clicking her teeth, your mother rubs his back. "You never have to apologize for being emotional."

"Everyone can pretend to be strong, Yoongi. It takes a real person to admit how emotional and hurt they are."

Biting his bottom lip to quiet his sobs, he buries his face into your mother's arm as she holds him tightly.

He's never been held like this. Maya never held him like this because she worked for him. She's never spoken so straight with him before. She's loved him and he knows that, that's why he loves her too.

But she's never seen into his soul like this. She's never sat him down and spoke the words he needed to hear, even if it made him break down. But, your mother has.

Your mother has given him something that he's never had. And, he wants it more as he holds her.

He wants that maternal affection.

He wants to be a part of your family.

He wants to be loved.

He wants to be cared for.

And it hits him like a truck when he thinks of you.

You can give him all of these things. You can make him into the one person he never thought would see the light of day. He never thought he could even be that type of person.

But from a distance, he can hear you laughing with your father and he cries harder.

He wants it with you.

He wants you to care for him.

He wants you to love him.

He wants you to be his family.

"Oh my God," he whispers, pulling away from your mother and wiping his face on his t-shirt.

"You will call me Mom from now on," she says, booping his nose.

With a small smile, he nods. He turns to the open paper door once more, watching as you smile and laugh with your father.

He wants this family with you.

"So," your father says, slinging his arm over your shoulders.

"So!" you reply with a laugh, hugging him tightly.

Nearing the chicken coop, you can hear clucks of excitement as the chickens wait for their food.

Stepping out of the way, you let your father feed the chickens seeing as how you haven't done it in so long. It's for expediency.

"I like him," your father approves.

You smile gently, gathering egg after egg and placing them in the basket.

"He's a little rough around the edges but he's a good man." you insist.

Your father wipes his hands on his pants, getting rid of the small flecks of feed that linger on his palms. "You know, he looks at you like you're the most important thing in his life."

Snorting gently, you lean against the chicken coop. Your gaze fixes on the sky watching as pastel shades bleed into one another. But, you focus on the orange that mixes with a hazy salmon.

"His problem is -- he doesn't know what's most important in his life. He doesn't know how to live normally. He doesn't know regular emotions and that scares him," you announce, tracing a cloud absentmindedly.

Your father leans against the chicken coop with you, tracing your gaze to the sky.

"I see. He's never had a family, has he?" your father prods.

You shake your head, looking down at the basket in hand. "No. He's only ever had himself and heartache." you affirm.

The older man hums, looking at the dirt beneath his feet. "We should give him a family then," he surmises.

With a gentle scoff, you feel your eyes beginning to burn with raw emotion. "He deserves it. He doesn't even know what he deserves."

"Well, you do, kiddo. You know." your father insists, nudging you with his elbow.

Humming, your arms fold like a comfort blanket around yourself.

You want Yoongi to be so at peace. To love and know his surroundings. To at least understand what he feels day to day.

"Come on, your mother must be putting him through hell," your dad jeers, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

You laugh, wiping at a stray tear that's had the chance to fall.

You want him to be your family.

Stepping back inside, you can see his gummy smile while he talks with your mother and your heart soars at the sight.

"Here, Mom." he whispers, handing her the bowl of potatoes.

The word he utters, sends you spiralling.

"If she's Mom, then I want to be Dad. You promised!" your father quips, setting the baskets of eggs by the stove.

Yoongi turns to you both in the doorway, black pieces of hair in his eyes as he chuckles.

"Yes, Dad."

Your father hums happily, the smile lines by his eyes wrinkling.

You watch the sight before you, your throat constricting and your nasal passages burning.

Yoongi is happy.

"Excuse me," you gasp, taking off to your childhood bedroom.

"Y-Y/N?" Yoongi calls you, watching you rush off down the hall.

He stands up, bowing to your parents. "Pardon me."

He rushes off to find you, wiping his wet hands on his sweatpants.

"Little dove?" he calls gently, opening the paper door.

Sitting cross legged on your bed, you hold a tissue to your face.

"What did I do wrong?" he asks quickly, shutting the door for privacy.

He's done nothing wrong. It's a shame he always thinks it as such. You were just so astounded, so fucking happy that he could speak so warmly and freely. It took over your whole body.

"Are you upset with me?" he inquires, sitting down at the edge of the bed.

You shake your head violently, sobbing into the tissue.

"Then what is it?" his voice is soft and unsure.

Pulling the tissue away from your face, you take in the worry lines that are etched onto his forehead.

With a whine, you wrap your arms around his neck tugging him into a hug.

Yoongi croons softly, rubbing at your back with comforting swipes.

"Is it the baby? Are you in pain?" he whispers into your ear, hooking his chin over your shoulder.

"No," you breathe out, hugging him tightly.

"Alright." he whispers perplexed.

"I'm happy," you insist, burying your face into his neck.

He feels his heart slow down from the racing pace it was just at. His eyes flutter shut as he pulls you into his lap.

"Me too," he replies truthfully.

Holding each other so closely, your heart beats seem to meld as one. You sit in comfortable silence, your sobs stifling and quieting down to nothing.

"You just looked so h-happy that I…" you croak, balling his shirt in your fists.

The corners of his lips flick upward, his eyes opening to look down at your body in his lap. With soft eyes, he presses his lips to your temple.

"Min Yoongi, I'm going to cut this chicken without you!" your mother calls out.

You feel his body shake with a laugh. "One minute, Mom!"

Your lips press into a straight line, tears threatening to fall again.

"You're happy that your family is welcoming me?" he asks, pulling you away to cup your face with both hands.

You whine gently, nodding while his thumbs stroke at your cheeks.

"I'm happy they're welcoming me too. It feels warm." he whispers, shushing you as you let out a small sob.

"You'll let your family be my family, right?" he asks hopefully.

"Always," you whimper.

He smiles softly, his eyes taking in every curve and inch on your face.

"You'll be my family?" he inquires nervously.

"Yeah, I'll be your family." you cry happily.

He looks up at the ceiling, trying to ebb away tears that threaten to come.

"Good. I'd really like that," he replies gratefully.

Pulling your face closer to his, he kisses you softly, both of your eyes fluttering shut.

When you pull apart, his forehead presses to yours.

"I have to go cut a chicken," your boyfriend mumbles, earning a gentle laugh from you.

"Go cut a chicken," you whisper, sliding off his lap.

"I'm really happy with you," he says earnestly, pushing some hair behind your ear.

"Me too." you reply, watching how he smiles so brightly.

Holding his hand out, he dries your face with the hem of his shirt. "Come on, let's make dinner."

To watch Yoongi laugh and talk to your parents as if he's always known them makes you feel fuller than any of the food on your plate could provide.

"Y/N saved me in History class one time," Yoongi announces to your parents, picking up his glass of whisky.

They hum inquisitively and you lean back against the wall as he chuckles.

"I did really terribly on a quiz that I didn't study for. And, the teacher was embarrassing me. But Y/N told me when the Mongols invaded Goryeo."

"1216." you state, earning a smile from your boyfriend.

He holds up his fingers and you stare at them.

You do remember it.

You remember how embarrassed he looked as a child. You felt the overwhelming urge to help him.

"I remember," you whisper.

He chuckles gently with a hum. "Anyway, she saved my bacon."

Your mother watches you both as you continue to stare at each other over the table. This is good. This is healthy.

"Yoongi, do you play any card games?" your dad asks, setting his chopsticks down on his empty plate.

The smirk that graces his features is devious and you giggle.

"I play poker," he quips, watching as you set down your chopsticks.

"Every Thursday," you add.

Clicking his teeth, he puts a piece of chicken over your unfinished rice. "Eat more for the baby," he insists.

He sounds so sincere you find yourself picking up your spoon.

"Would you like to play poker, later?" your dad inquires.

Yoongi nods, his hand under his chin as he watches you eat. "That'd be great, Dad."

"So how far along is my grandchild now then?" your mother asks, cleaning up the empty plates.

Your boyfriend immediately begins to help her, something he's never done in his life. "Sesame is almost ten weeks old now." he replies and you sit back on your hands to watch him help her.

"Sesame is a cute fetus name, I like that very much."

You can feel the sheer adoration beginning to drip from your mother for your boyfriend. When you first entered his mansion, you had absolutely no idea that it would lead you here. You couldn't have even guessed that he would be becoming a part of your family.

"I have some pictures if you want to see them, I can get a few more copies made to send to you the next time we go to the doctors." he suggests to her as they enter the kitchen.

"I'd love that," she cheers happily.

"I really like this guy," your father whispers conspiratorially to you, picking up your plate and bowl.

You find your nose wrinkling in delight.

"Me too," you mumble, watching your boyfriend's black hair fall into his eyes as he chuckles.

"I really like him too," you mutter to yourself, resting your head against the wall.

"Something tells me that this is your first relationship," your father says, shuffling the deck of cards.

Yoongi looks up from his whisky glass, a small smirk gracing his features. "That obvious, huh?"

The older man laughs, setting the cards down in between both of their bodies. "Just a little bit," he quips.

The CEO chuckles to himself, looking around the barren land of your backyard.

It isn't quite a farm and it isn't quite a relaxing place either. But, he finds it quaint. It's the company that's more so relaxing.

"Everything with Y/N is a first for me," your boyfriend admits, dealing the cards.

"Oh?" your father pushes, picking up his glass of whisky.

Yoongi hums softly, almost unsurely. "Emotions. Caring. Being concerned. Happiness. Actually wanting to be happy. It's all new." he breathes out, looking up at the star flecked sky. 

Your father smirks over the lip of his glass, his smile lines appearing.

"It's hard to break out of a shell, isn't it?" the older man asks.

Answering the question, Yoongi nods.

"It'll be worth it though, won't it?"

"Oh yes, it will be. That's the thing about finding someone you want to care for. You find that everything you're feeling, whether it's new or not, is very worth it." your father replies, throwing a few peanuts into the bowl, in the place of poker chips.

Yoongi does the same, his cheeks puffing out as he thinks.

"Y/N's worth it," he surmises, picking up his whisky glass.

The older man smiles, raising his glass to the CEO. "I'm glad you think so too."

Their warm talk is cut off by the sound of a chainsaw a far bit of distance away. Your father huffs out, gritting his teeth in annoyance.

"Old man Im is at it again. Y'know, I can't stand that old prick," he gripes, laying his cards down on the small garden table.

"Old man Im?" Yoongi inquires, squinting at the house lights in the far off distance.

"I've been offering to buy that man's land for years now, it's lush and my wife would be able to plant flowers in it but he always asks for such a high price that it's nearly impossible! He wants to sell the land! He just won't give it to me because Y/N threw a rock through his window when she was a little girl," he proclaims, grabbing the peanuts and munching on them.

Yoongi watches how irritated his new family member is and he's immediately annoyed as well.

"How much is he asking for?" The CEO inquires, folding his arms.

"Five million," your father mumbles, grabbing the stack of cards to shuffle them again.

That's pocket change.

"Old man Im, huh?" Yoongi mumbles, watching the house lights shut off.

Yoongi knows you've been in bed for some time when he enters the shared room. The sheets are ruffled due to your constant turning and your hair is splayed all over your pillow.

He finds himself smirking at the sight, stripping off his shirt to climb into bed with you.

Sliding beneath the sheets, he shivers at how cold his side of the bed is. But he's immediately warm as you throw your body over his.

"Did you have fun?" you mumble somnolently, putting your head on his bare chest.

He snorts gently, smiling up at the ceiling. His eyes flutter shut at the comfort of your body on his. Stroking your head gently, he breathes deeply letting the pleasantness of today wash over him.

"I had more fun today than I probably have ever had in my life," he answers you truthfully.

Your fingers drift over his abs and it's instinctual that he flinches. "Sorry, still working on it."

He still finds it surprising how easy it is to apologize to you when he has never said he's sorry to anyone in his life.

You shake your head, kissing over his skin softly. The shock drifts away, leaving Yoongi to only be comforted by your lips.

"Why do you have so many small tattoos?" you inquire, dragging your fingers over the colorful ink.

Looking down, his tongue runs over his lips feeling as if they're drying out. "Each one is a memory I don't want to forget."

"A memory?" you repeat, picking up your head to look him in the eyes.

"A memory of every cigarette burn that wasn't my fault," he croaks, clearing his throat as he caresses the apple of your cheek.

Your blood runs cold at his strangled voice.

"Like this one, the one of the hummingbird. I put up a bird feeder on my balcony in the winter so they wouldn't starve. And, my father told me that I have no brain. 'Why would you invite those rats with wings into the sanctuary near your bedroom? Are you Mother Theresa, huh? You're making them weak for not finding their own food.' I remember it all the time." your boyfriend says, staring at the paper door as he recites the old memory.

Your teeth grit, eyes narrowing as you cover the tattoo with your hand.

"I hate him," you whisper fiercely, putting your head back on his chest.

"Get in line, little dove." Yoongi murmurs, closing his eyes with a smirk.

There are so many small tattoos that litter his chest, and your throat constricts just looking at them in the moonlit room.

Yoongi looks down at your hand that covers a selection of scars. "Interested in any others?"

He doesn't mind sharing his past with you. In fact, no one knows about these stories he would so quickly give up to you. Not Maya or Namjoon. No one.

"It'll just make me angry," you mumble, turning your head to look up at him.

He chuckles, running his hand over your arm to your stomach. "Well, we don't want that. Anger is poison for Sesame. I should know, I've been poisoned twenty eight years of my life." he sighs.

You scoff gently, moving to lay fully over his body.

"Watch the baby," he grumbles, running his hands over your back as he looks back up at the ceiling.

There's silence for a bit. You just stare at him. Staring at the handsome broken man that's never known happiness.

"I can feel your eyes burning holes into my face," he jeers, squeezing your side gently.

"I really like you," you tell him, sitting up.

He peeks one eye open, the corners of his mouth flickering up with a snort.

"I like you too, baby. That's why I want you to be my family." he replies softly, stroking your thighs with his large hands.

You hum assertively, putting your hands on your hips. "You are my family."

He chuckles, kissing his fingers then mushing them into your lips. "My family member without my blood, housing my family with my blood. My goodness. How much luckier can I get?"

With a smile, you tilt your head as he clears his throat. "Thank you for bringing me here, little dove." he thanks you, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it softly.

"What'd you talk about with my dad?" you inquire, laying down beside him.

Turning his body to yours, he pulls your back against his chest, situating his hand on your stomach.

"Just this and that. I'm probably going to buy a farm tomorrow," he murmurs sleepily.

"A farm? What for?" you ask, running your fingers over his arm.

"I hear that a farm around here has great land for planting. And, I want my family to be able to plant." he whispers, burying his face in your hair.

You go to lift your head in confusion but he shushes you softly.

"Sleep now, little dove. Sesame is tired, just like their father."

The words warm your heart and you smile to yourself, tracing random shapes over his skin.

It's easy for you to wake up in your old bed to the sound of roosters crowing good morning. It's not so easy for the father of your child.

Folding the pillow over his ears, he kicks his legs childishly.

"I hate chickens!" he whines loudly, stamping his feet on the bed.

"That's a rooster," you correct him, stretching as you stand up.

"Smart ass!" he barks out, flipping his body over.

Smothering his face in the pillow, he groans loudly.

"Guess he's not a morning person," your mother calls from the kitchen and the CEO's head immediately pops up.

"Yes, I am!" he retorts softly, his eyebrows furring.

"Mhm," you droll, combing your fingers through your hair.

Sitting up in bed, his joints pop and crack loudly to which he groans.

"The air here is so fresh," you exclaim, opening up the bathroom window.

"Why are you so chipper? We went to bed late," Yoongi inquired with a grumble, standing up out of the bed to crack his knees.

"Because I'm with my family," you reply, turning on the sink.

The CEO turns to the mirror, tilting his head as his hair falls into his eyes.

You're with your family. And that includes him.

He finds himself smiling to himself, grabbing a t-shirt from his luggage.

"Family," he whispers, running his fingers through his hair.

The simple word has so much more meaning than two days ago.

"Did you bring another set of comfortable clothes?" you ask him, peeking out of the bathroom.

"Why?" he inquires, showing you a pair of expensive sweatpants.

"Because it's six o'clock in the morning and we don't get up that early to just stare at each other," you quip with a laugh.

His hand falls, clutching the sweatpants with a frown. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Have you ever done manual labor?" your father inquires to the CEO, watching him sip his coffee.

Yoongi looks up from his Irish coffee, internally groaning at the question.

"No. I'm a CEO," he retorts, setting down the cup.

Your hand slides over your mouth as you begin to smirk.

"Well, my knees aren't what they used to be. You'll help me gather some apples from the trees out back, won't you?" your dad asks, a kind smile gracing his face.

Pressing his lips into a straight line, your boyfriend sighs. "Of course, Dad."

"Good boy," your mother praises, petting his head sweetly.

He smirks at how affectionate she is.

"And what're you going to do while I'm hard at work?" Yoongi inquires of you, watching you kiss the top of Gaesu's head.

"Probably help my mom cook lunch," you reply.

Yoongi immediately begins to smile, "I love when you cook."

With a giggle, you wrinkle your nose at his cuteness. "I know you do."

"Alright Mr. Never-Did-Manual-Labor. Let's go pick some apples!" your dad cheers, patting your boyfriend on the back.

Yoongi is grateful that you insisted on comfortable clothes. He would have never pictured himself climbing a ladder a day in his life, but here he is. Climbing towards the heavens to just reach for a few apples to fill up a basket.

"I was thinking about something last night," your father states, holding the ladder still as the CEO continues his journey upward.

"Oh?" your boyfriend replies, sitting down at the top of the ladder.

"Why'd you get married to that woman, if you don't like her?" your father prods.

Yoongi's eyes widen, staring at the canopy of leaves not so high above him. Oh, if the ground would only open up and swallow both him and the ladder whole.

His hand shakes as he reaches for a ripe apple, his Adam's apple bobbing uncomfortably.

To be truthful, even though he's only been here a day, he'd forgotten that he's married. He's forgotten that he lives with a despicable woman who ruined him.

"Because my parents made me," he announces, almost falling off the ladder due to nerves.

Your father holds the ladder tighter, watching how nervous the younger man's back is. He can see it tensing and shaking like he's frightened.

"They can just make you get married?" your father asks, clearly appalled.

Yoongi turns to him, dropping an apple to him with a smirk. "Rich parents can make you do anything in the world."

Your father hums softly, his eyebrows furring while he catches the apple.

"Is she mean to my daughter? Should I be worried?"

Yoongi finds his teeth gritting. The simple idea of your father being so worried about you in a house with that leech makes him wrought with anger.

Folding his body over the top of the ladder, he narrows his eyes at your father. "Dad, nothing will ever happen to Y/N and our baby. I would die before that bitch has a chance to hurt them or be mean to them. There is nothing for you to worry about, because I would never let that happen."

Your father's eyes widen at how angry your boyfriend has gotten at the drop of a hat. But, he knows just how serious he is. And he finds his body filling with warmth at how protective the father of your child is towards you.

He hums gently, nodding to Yoongi letting him know he understands. "Why don't you just divorce her?"

The CEO's arm stops as he reaches for another apple.

Why doesn't he just fucking divorce her? Who is she to him? No one.

And then he remembers. And he sees red once more.

"My head maid Maya. She had a daughter named Myeyoung. Sera made her move out when we got married because she was beautiful. I never thought so, she always felt like a sister to me. She was always around so she was just a comfortable person to me. When she moved out, I helped her get a job where she could make enough money and live a good life. She opened up her own art gallery. But I learned what a snake that woman is, that damned woman who loves in my house. If I ever divorced her -- Sera swore she would ruin her life and make Myeyoung suffer if I ever took her money away from her." Yoongi fumes, running his fingers through his hair.

Your father shivers at his words, completely appalled with how bitter and evil this woman sounds.

"I see," he whispers softly.

Yoongi can feel anger coursing through every part of his body as he hangs onto the top of the ladder.

He hadn't thought about it in so long, he hasn't wanted to think about how absolutely vile Sera is. But, she's always brought up and always around to make him miserable.

He takes a deep calming breath.

"Maya has always been like my mother when I didn't really have one. I couldn't just let Myeyoung get fed to the wolves. She's too sweet for that." he announces, grabbing an apple and ripping it from its stem.

"You're a good man, son." your father praises, catching the apple as it falls.

Yoongi chuckles darkly, his tongue licking at his lips. "I'll be a better man when the leech is out of my life."

"Where are we going?" you whine, following your boyfriend as he tugs on your hand.

"I'm going to buy a farm." he replies happily, wading through thickets of bushes.

"This is Old Man Im's farm! He hates me!" you insist, feeling old emotions of terror from when you were a child.

Yoongi stops in his tracks, turning to you.

The sun is setting now, the pretty colors of the sky highlighting your features.

How he adores you.

Lifting his hand, he cups your cheek.

"You know, I'm feeling an emotion that I've never experienced before." he states, stepping closer to you.

With both of your bodies shrouded in the large thicket, it's only you and him.

"What are you feeling?" you ask, concerned and wanting to help.

He hums unsurely, wrapping his free arm around you. Pulling you up against his body, he pushes some stray hairs behind your ear.

"Whenever I look at you, little dove, my heart races like a horse on Sunday. I feel weak and needy when I'm with you. I just want to hold you without the need for food or water. I just want to stare at you every minute of every day.  I just want to… keep you. Forever." he admits.

Your cheeks puff out, heart warmed by his kind words.

"Maybe what you're feeling is infatuation? Or maybe you're feeling comfort?" you ask, adoring how his arms wrap around you, tugging you to his body.

"No I'm not infatuated with you, I'm infatuated with art. My heart -- it bleeds for you." he says, putting his hand on the back of your head to bury your face into his chest.

"Well, we'll figure it out together then," you reply.

"I'd like that." he whispers.

He knows what emotion this is, even if he's never experienced.

He's falling in love with you.

Next Chapter ------->

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#third wheeling #btscreatorscorner #thebtswritersclub #btswritingcafe #ficswithluv #ceo!yoongi #ceo!bts #yoongi fluff #yoongi series

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Run to You Part Three

Derek Morgan x Reader

Words: 1758

Part 3 of 3

Part One; Part Two

Summary: Having been dating for a while, you finally feel comfortable enough to introduce your boyfriend to your daughter, Angelica. Derek takes on the role better than you could have imagined and you start to feel like a family. Then one day, Angelica disappears from a friend’s house and your ex husband starts making demands. 

Notes: Is this procedurally correct? Probably not. But here it is! The last part to my Derek Morgan imagine! I hope you guys enjoy this and never forget that replies mean the world! This one kinda feels jumbled, but I hope you still like it. (I’m sorry it took forever! I got caught up with other projects, which I hope to be sharing soon!)

More Criminal Minds: HERE

-

The swarms of cops were overwhelming. You watched teams and teams of people surrounded the block Dr. Reid was the one that figured out that Lance had brought Angelica to the church that you got married, especially upon the discovery that it was going to be torn down in a few weeks. The idea of losing the one connection to you he had left was likely a trigger. 

No one was allowed to get too close. They worried that cornering Lance would make him panic and kill Angelica, so you were forced to stand back and watch. They made sure you weren’t alone, of course, though you weren’t sure if it was to comfort you or to make sure you didn’t try and run in alone. With all of the standing around you were doing, you felt ready to break down the front door. 

“Alright, so we’re sending a team around to the back to get in as quickly and quietly as possible. That’ll be me, Prentiss and a couple of the local P.D.” Derek explained, keeping his eyes locked on yours to make sure you understood that he wasn’t going to let anything happen to your baby. 

“He wants me, Derek. What if he knows you’re in there and he panics and he-”

“Hey, listen to me,” He put a hand on your cheek. “I’m not gonna let that happen.” Despite the eyes of his coworkers, he pulled you in for a gentle, reassuring kiss. It did little to calm you down, but just having him there made the situation that much easier. That moment, however, was cut short by the ringing of your phone. 

“God, not again.” You cried, pulling the device from your pocket. This time, Derek held out his hand. You gave him a confused look, but handed it to him. 

“Mr. Booker.” 

“You must be Agent Morgan.” Lance spat. “I know that you and your gang of federal pigs are coming after me. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because Y/N will see she’s wrong. I’ll show her she’s wrong.”

“Mr. Booker, we just want Angelica to be safely returned to her mother.” 

“What about her father, Agent Morgan? What about me!” 

“I want to make this as easy on you as possible, Mr. Booker, but you’ve got to help me out here.”

“Just bring my wife to me and nobody will get hurt.” 

“I can’t do that, Lance. You know I can’t do that.” Derek could tell that you were starting to panic from the way your eyes kept darting to the church and you slowly crept closer. He took your hand to keep you from bolting in there. 

“If I don’t see her in the next half hour... I’m taking my baby girl with me.” The call ended, but Morgan was already prepping his team to go in. 

“Derek, what did he say?” You kept your grip on his hand, following him to join Prentiss. 

“Nothing that he hasn’t already said.” He gave you the most reassuring look he could, but he knew that they had to act fast. 

“I’m going with you.”

“No. No, baby, you can’t.” He took your face in his hands. “Y/N, I need you to stay here. I need you to be safe. I can’t go get your little girl if I’m worried about you too, okay?” You shut your eyes, feeling more frightened tears slip down your cheeks. 

“What if he… what if you don’t get her in time? I need to see her, I-I need-”

“Don’t even think like that, baby.” He looked over your shoulder and motioned to the younger agent to stand beside you. “Now Reid is going to stay here with you, okay?” Reid gave him a small nod and put a comforting hand on your shoulder. Derek kissed your forehead. “I’ll be right back and I’m bringing Angel with me.” 

As he walked away, you could feel your body start to shake. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. You shut your eyes tight, the foolish part of you hoping that when you opened them, Derek and Angie would be smiling in front of you. But when you finally opened your eyes, all you saw was him walking away.

-

Morgan moved silently, followed closely by his team. Prentiss was right behind him and the other officers were ready to go. From what they could tell, Lance was in the chapel, keeping Angelica towards the back. The church had multiple entrances with one leading to the basement. This was determined to be the best point of entry since Lance was least likely to hear the team coming. 

While you couldn’t see him anymore, your heart beat more with every second. Dr. Reid stood by your side, his presence serving as a small comfort as he listened to the situation through his earpiece. He shifted suddenly and gave you a small, if not nervous, smile. 

“They’re in.” 

Derek directed the officers to one staircase while he and Prentiss crept up the other. The old floors creaked as they walked, making him wince. He could only hope that Lance couldn’t hear them. They moved fast and efficiently like they would any other raid, but his body was buzzing more than usual. He focused on the image of Angelica and kept going. 

“Morgan,” Prentiss stopped suddenly, looking around the corner. 

Angelica was seated on top of the old alter, swinging her small legs back and forth while she colored in a tattered psalm book. Booker was nowhere to be found. Morgan and Prentiss approached her slowly, double checking to make sure Lance wasn’t waiting for them. As soon as they were sure, Morgan ran to the little girl. 

“Derek!” She cried, throwing her arms around his neck. 

“It’s alright, Angel. I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay.” He cradled the back of her head, holding her closed to his chest. 

“Sweetheart, I need you to tell us where your dad went.” Prentiss said gently. Angelica just gave her a tearful look and pointed up. The two agents exchanged a look, reaching the same conclusion. Derek motioned to one of the officers and reluctantly handed her a crying Angelica. 

“I wanna stay w-with D-Derek!” 

“I know, sweetie, but this nice woman is going to take you out to your mama, okay? I have to go find your dad with Emily. I’ll be out before you know it, but I need you to be brave. Can you do that?” 

She nodded, but held onto his hand until he had to pull away. Prentiss put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Morgan if you need to-”

“No, I want to finish this. I’m not letting that son of a bitch take the easy way out.” 

As they made their way to the roof, you were desperately watching the door of the church, gripping Dr. Reid’s hand a little too tightly. Time was ticking and your heart beat faster every second. 

Suddenly, a group of officers exited the church. You didn’t see Derek, but at the back of the group, a female officer held Angelica. Immediately dropping Reid’s hand, you sprinted towards her, taking her from the officer’s arms and holding her closer than you ever had. You cried as her hands clung to your shirt, promising yourself to never let her out of your sight again. 

On the roof, Derek stared down Lance as he prepared to jump. 

“Don’t do it, Mr. Booker.” Prentiss said, carefully taking a step towards him. 

“There isn’t a point anymore.” The man swayed back and forth, almost losing his balance. “I just wanted us to be a family again.”

“Killing yourself won’t fix what you did all those years ago, Lance.” 

“I loved Y/N. I swear I did. But I kept hurting her. I kept hurting her and now my daughter doesn’t even know who I am.” 

“Is this how you want Angelica to remember you? The man who hurt her mom and took her away?” Derek inched closer, careful not to provoke him into jumping. “If you die now, that’s all she’ll know.” 

“Don’t come any closer!”  Lance screamed, but he had stopped swaying. 

“Lance, you can spend the rest of your life giving her something good to remember. You owe her that much.” A darker part of Derek wanted Lance to know the pain that he inflicted upon you and your family, but the words he said now were true. The best thing Lance could do was try to redeem himself after everything he had done. 

“I...I… okay.” Lance seemed in a daze as he stepped off of the ledge. Prentiss cuffed him and the two led him back downstairs. 

Lance left the church first, making your heart sink. You almost didn’t recognize him. He was just a shell, nothing like the man you knew all those years ago. Maybe, one day, you would learn to feel sorry for him, but for now, as you watched him be loaded into the patrol car, you only felt relief. 

“Derek!” Angelica squealed, reaching out her arms. You whirled around and felt another sob escape your throat. 

The team watched Derek run to you, taking both you and Angelica in his arms. Prentiss finished getting Booker into the car and joined Hotchner, Reid, and Rossi. 

“That’s not something I thought I’d see.” She whispered with a smile. 

“Did you not think we’d get to the little girl on time?” Reid asked. 

“No,” She motioned to the trio in front of them. A family. “Derek falling in love.” The rest of the team smiled and separated into their designated vehicles. 

-

The crowd shouted and cheered as Angelica sprinted towards home plate. Visitors 3, Home team 6. You cheered louder than anyone. Well, maybe not anyone.

“That’s right! You can’t touch her!” Penelope screamed at the other team’s players. Everyone from the BAU had shown up. Over the past few months, you’d gotten to know all of them pretty well, even earning Penelope’s approval.  

“She’s good.” Emily smiled at you. You nodded. 

“She has a good coach.” You looked down at the dugout where Derek was waiting to give Angel a high-five. You must have caught his eye because he beamed up at you with that knockout smile. You grinned back. 

“You guys seem really happy.” J.J. mused, giving you a supportive smile. You nodded, keeping your eyes on Derek. 

“Yeah.” You waved down at him and your daughter as she came in for her victory. “We are.”

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

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#derek morgan x reader #criminal minds imagine #derek morgan #Shemar Moore #dr. spencer reid #emily prentiss #criminal minds #Penelope Garcia #a little messy #but thats okay

[beigehearts]

The adult trio getting embarrassed- drabbles I was wondering what would make them embarrassed and I was gonna make hcs but I thought that it would be more immersive and make more sense if it was a story . Also I feel like only verbal affection and emotional affection could affect illumi and hisoka so they have fluff stories but since Chrollo is somewhat more stable- verbal and emotional affirmation doesn't get him embarrassed so his is a bit nsfw fem!reader

Illumi (fluff)

He's been gone for weeks, leaving his girlfriend behind at their quiet and lonely apartment. Illumi doesn't live with you- he lives in an absolute mansion so why would he? But he spends a lot of time with you, in your apartment. Some nights after a long day at work, you'll come home and he will be sleeping in your bed or staring out the window, waiting for you.

Though you haven't had those fun surprises lately, he's taken on a big mission and you've learned you'd rather not know what it is he doing so you don't ask. It's getting quite lonely and your job as a secretary hasn't been letting up. Your boss just got a big contract so work has been hectic.

You push the door closed behind you with your foot, dropping your bag at the door and groaning. What a day, your fingers hurt after typing non stop today. There's no time to make dinner, there's no time to get dressed in pajamas, there's no time when you have the dire need to sleep. As you walk towards the bedroom, you kick off your shoes, shed your shirt and skirt. Once you reach the bedroom you see the line of clothes leading to you, but you don't really care at the moment. You throw the pins from your hair into the darkness of the room.

That beautiful bed is only steps away, the oasis from the desert you've been navigating all day. You crawl into the bed, eyes closing before you even get under the covers, but once you are you wonder if heaven is real and if it's your bed. Your eyes shut with a mind of their own, and only seconds later you're dragged into the dark depths of your mind.

It must have been hours, it's still dark out so not too long though. You force your eyes open as if there are weights holding them down. You immediately recognize the unusual warmth around you and a smile pulls at your lips.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming home today?" You ask sleepily.

He kisses your forehead, "I didn't think about it."

You nuzzle your face into his chest, and he holds you closer. "You know, I missed you. A lot." You try to dig further into his chest but you're as close as you can be to him. "I was worried, you didn't message me the whole time you were gone. Do you know how lonely I was?"

His brows furrow though you can't see it. "You were lonely?"

You nod, "It felt like part of me was missing. I was worried I would be left empty forever. You said it would be a week and it's been eight." A sigh escapes you, "It's hard to not be around the person you love most Illumi."

It goes silent, and you look up at his face to see if he has anything to say. His face is flushed, you can even see it in the dark. It's such a contrast to his pale skin. He always acts weird when you say you love him or imply it.

Your small smile grows into a large grin, "I'll wait for you to say you love me back."

Hisoka (fluff, slightly sexual)

Classes have been difficult, you failed your big test and you practically got on your knees and begged your professor to let you retake it. You already know you're in for a long night of studying. Which means you're also in a night for a moody boyfriend. You will have to make it up to him later though, this test is too important for you to be worried about anything else.

On the way home your friend asks you to come over to help her with some problem with her laptop. You went and helped even though you really already should've been home. Your old beat up car scrapes through the coffee shop drive through at 5 pm, and you grab yourself a super caffeinated coffee to help you through the night.

The house is quiet when you get home, which is perfect, that way you'd have a little while to study without a whiny boyfriend. An hour or so later, you're sitting cross legged on your chair, leaning forward and highlighting things in your book. One leg bounces with the energy of caffeine, though half of you is ready to pass out.

The front door creaks open but you pay it no mind. You're beginning to connect ideas to one another and you can't let anything stop you. The clicking steps towards your chair are nothing but background noise at the moment. Long, muscular arms wrap around you from behind. "Pet, I had a long day, come lay with me." He whines in your ear.

You don't say anything, the squeaking of your highlighter against the paper says enough.

"I can give you a massage, I'm sure you need it." His hands roam your form but you continue doing what you need to.

While still highlighting and writing things down on a piece of a paper, you say, "Tomorrow night, I'm really busy Hisoka. I need to pass this retake tomorrow. It's important."

Obviously that isn't a good enough answer when he grabs you by your hair and pulls your head back. You know he isn't being mean, he knows you like your hair pulled and hopes it gets your attention. Obviously it does but you don't show it.

"Oh come on baby, just lay down with me for a little bit."

You pull your head forward even though he still has a tight grip on your hair. His lips wander your neck, sucking at random spots on your skin, leaving blossoming red marks.

You stand up abruptly and drag Hisoka to the couch. You push him on it and straddle him. You sigh and lean towards his face, "Hisoka Morrow- I am trying to do work."

He grins and his hands travel down your back until they end up holding your ass, and bringing you closer to him. He begins grinding up into you, and he holds down your hips. You try your best not to react and you end up groaning and grabbing his face in both hands. He pauses when you bring his face close to yours, sharing the same breath.

"Hisoka Morrow." You say in a commanding voice. "Do you know how much you mean to me? I think of you every moment and it's hard to think about anything else. The restraint it takes to not hold on to you every time I see you is immense. Can't you understand that you're controlling my every single waking moment? I will love you forever and forever is a long time so give me one night of our forever for me to study."

His eyes widen, and his lips are parted slightly in awe. And for the first time ever, you've seen him look vulnerable, a blush of his you've never seen before. Sex was one thing but all of this emotion and promise at once is so overwhelming. Butterflies flutter in your stomach and he speaks up.

"I suppose once night is okay if it's part of our forever."

Chrollo (sexual, nudity) 

It’s been a lonely few days, and Chrollo’s birthday is coming up. He has been really busy with what he calls work, and you’ve been sitting at home, working remotely since you wanted to watch over the house. You never know when you’re dating the leader of the phantom troupe, someone might try to rob you or worse.

For your lover’s birthday you want to do something special, something that’ll make him really happy. It’s hard with Chrollo because he can have anything he wants in the world, so what do you get him? He’s always appreciative of anything you give him and is very sentimental- but you always feel inadequate. What’ll make him happy that he can’t just go steal?

Two hours until he gets home. You have the cake on the table that you decorated to the best of your abilities. (He always says he prefers home cooked/baked goods to bought ones.) The entire house is lit up with nothing but candles. Each of the candles being his favorite scent, Beachwood. He always talks about how you guys need to go on a trip to the beach, and is a sucker for anything ‘beach’ scented. Chrollo is such a romantic as if it weren’t obvious so you laid out rose petals on the dining room table and around it. 

It’s already dark and kind of hard to see, but you settle yourself down on the table, sitting next to the cake. You try to find different poses you think you would look good in until you hear the jiggle of door knob. A dose of panic shoots through you. Is this too much? Is he even going to like it? What if he’s grossed out? 

The door opens and a tired Chrollo enters, closing his eyes and sighing, “What a long day.” He sniffs the air, “It smells good in here y/-” He’s cut off at the sight of you.

A beautiful figure resting on the dining room table, covered by nothing but red lingerie panties and stockings, your bare breasts exposed. His mouth is agape just from looking at you, he shuts the door behind him with his foot. He kicks his shoes off and shrugs off his jacket, leaving it on the floor as he stumbles towards you. 

He places himself between your legs and pulls you closer to him on the table. “What’s the occasion?” He asks oblivously.

You chuckle and run a hand through his slicked hair, “It’s your birthday darling.” You can barely make it out but his pale cheeks become slightly rosy in the dim light. “So are you going to stand there or what?” You ask sarcastically.

He wraps your legs around his waist and picks you up, not missing his chance to hold your ass as he carries you. Your lips meet his feverishly, and desperately, you part only to ask, “Do you like your present?”

He lays you gently on the bed with a flushed face and devious smile, “It’s perfect darling.” 

#chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer #illumi #illumi zoldyck #illumi x reader #hisoka #hisoka morrow #hisoka x reader #phantom troupe #hxh #hunterxhunter

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Hayloft (p.1)

Pairing: Arvin Russell x F!Reader

Summary: Your dad brings home his new coworker, Arvin Russell, telling you that he’ll be living with the two of you for a while. While attempting to keep Arvin from seeing the disfunction of your relationship with your father, the two of you grow closer than you thought. (Inspired by “Hayloft” by Mother Mother, though that’ll really only be one chapter later on so I don’t know if it really counts...) 

Warnings: Abuse, mentions of drinking, misogyny, reader’s mother is dead

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: My first slow(er) burn fic! Let me know what you think!

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When your car finally pulled up the old dirt driveway to your family's farm house, the sun was already setting, casting an orange hue over the acres of land that your father had inherited from his father. It was beautiful, really. The sun was behind your old two story home made of wood planks that were covered in chipping white paint. The door’s paint was also chipping, only this time it was old navy blue paint - at least that’s the color it was supposed to be when it was painted who knows how many decades ago - that peeled back to reveal the wood beneath. 

Your father’s truck wasn’t in the driveway yet when you pulled up and you sighed in relief because it gave you the opportunity to get dinner started before he got home. You headed straight for the kitchen. The only moment taken for yourself was the moment of silence when you leaned against the counter top and stretched out your back from the long day's work at the diner. The refrigerator was mostly empty and you made a mental note to run to the store after work tomorrow before your father could notice the lack of food. Thankfully, there was still enough scraps to piece something together for tonight between the fridge and the cupboards. 

The house was swimming with the delicious scent of herbs, onions, potatoes, and stock as you boiled a stew on the stove when you heard the front door open. “Hi, Daddy! How was work?” You asked over your shoulder before you even heard his steps enter the kitchen, not actually caring but knowing he’d be upset if you didn’t ask. 

He came around the corner but you could hear from the moment the door opened that there were the footsteps of more than one person entering your home. With a frown, you turned from the stove and took a few steps so you could see around the wall that blocked your view of the front door but your father and new mystery person stepped around that corner and into the kitchen before you could get that far. You stopped in your tracks, startled by their sudden appearance, and your hand flew to your chest as your eyes widened in surprise. “Sorry!” You chuckled awkwardly, apologizing for your jumpiness, “Didn’t think you’d be comin’ in here.” 

It was a man about your age that stood just behind your father, a navy baseball cap twisted in his hands and his footsteps light so as to not knock dirt off onto the floor from his work boots, both welcomed displays of manners that you appreciated, unlike your father who left a trail of chunks of dried mud and grease everywhere he walked. This new boy, though, he was cute. Short curly hair that was messy, either from work or wearing the hat, big expressive brown eyes that reminded you of a puppy in the best possible way, a tight lipped expression that showed he was a little nervous and uncomfortable to be here, they were all a welcome, albeit unexpected, surprise. 

"Work was good. This here is Arvin Russel. He'll be staying with us, at least for the night." Your eyes flicked back to the boy you now knew as Arvin when your dad introduced him and your heart skipped a beat at the eye contact. 

  He nodded his head slightly, a small cordial smile flashing on his face for just a moment, "Pleasure to meet you,..." 

"Y/N. It's nice to meet you as well. If you're staying the night, let me add some water to the soup and then I'll go make up the spare bed." You pointed your thumb over your shoulder towards the pot of stew that was nearly done. 

"That's very kind of you. Thank you." 

Before you could notice him moving, your dad was already beside the fridge and you reached out to try to stop him before he could open it. "Let me get you something! What about you, Arvin? You want a beer or some water?" You scurried to try and beat your dad to the fridge that you knew would earn you a reprimanding that you didn’t deserve. 

You were too late though and your dad already swung the door open wide. You stepped back nervously, rubbing the sharp edge of your nails against your thumb. "It's damn near empty." He noted, voice stiff and dissatisfied. He stood, managing to produce the last two beers from the refrigerator before slamming it shut. 

You flinched at the loud sound, hearing the few glass jars of preserves and jams clanging against each other inside from the force. Your eyes rolled beneath closed lids at his overdramatic reaction, even though it was one you expected. "I'm gonna hit the market after work tomorrow but I checked that we have enough for dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow." Your voice was sweet and placating, careful to respond in a way that would keep his temper in check. 

  "It's that damn job of yours. I told you women shouldn't be working. They belong in the house where you should be. Now look. You went and let the kitchen run out." He passed Arvin a beer, which he reluctantly accepted, watching the way your father pointed his finger at you accusingly. “Ain’t no man gonna want a wife who can’t even keep the kitchen stocked up.” 

Your tongue was raw inside from biting down on it so hard in order to keep yourself in line, as he called it. You didn't need a blow out tonight, not with Arvin here. "I manage to work and keep up with the house just fine, Daddy. We just got a little low on groceries but I'll be heading to the market tomorrow to fix it. Don’t you worry." Even you were surprised with how even and sweet your voice came out, that ever present fire of anger towards your father having been fanned into a decent blaze.  

He popped the tab on his beer and sighed, dropping the topic for the time being, "Fine. But make sure to pick up some fixin's for that chicken roast you make. Patty is lookin' nice and fat in the coop so why don't you cook her up tomorrow." 

You grimaced at the thought. Patty was one of the chickens in your coop out back that had been pretty slow when it came to laying eggs but you’d grown attached to her nonetheless. Ever since you were a young girl, your daddy warned you not to become attached to the animals out back but you never listened. Back then, you’d had your mother to step in and convince him not to kill the animals for whatever reason she could come with and opt for buying meat from the market instead. You hadn’t been able to convince him like that since she’d passed. Everything had been different since she passed. 

“I don’t know, Daddy. Patty’s been layin’ a lot of eggs lately and we’ve been gettin’ extra money from sellin’ all those eggs. Why don’t I just pick up a chicken in town tomorrow at the store.” You insisted, walking back over to the stove to stir the stew. 

“Don’t go wastin’ money on things we already got! We got some chickens out back. Just cook one of ‘em up tomorrow!” Your father’s voice was hard and stern now, enough to fill the air with tension in Arvin’s presence. You turned slowly, making eye contact with Arvin briefly before quickly avoiding it. You didn’t like the way he stood awkwardly, silently watching the interaction he clearly didn’t think highly of. Your father was already getting worked up and it would only get worse the longer the night went on. 

Biting your cheek, you nodded, “Yes, sir. Now why don’t you boys go get cleaned up. Dinner will be ready in just a minute.” 

**

Dinner went relatively well, despite your father’s occasional grumblings about there not being any beer. Once you finished, you stood up and picked up yours and your father’s bowls before noticing Arvin’s was empty as well. “Did you want some more? There’s just enough for one more if you’d like it.” You offered Arvin that last bit of stew but he just shook his head and stood up. 

“Oh, no thank you miss. Dinner was delicious though. Let me help with that.” He grabbed his own bowl before your hand could reach it and then took the bowls from your hands as well before setting them down at the sink. 

You chased after him, “Thank you but you don’t have to do that! Please, sit. I’ll make your bed up when I’m finished cleaning up dinner.” 

“She’s right, son. Kitchen ain’t no place for a man. Why don’t you come with me and I’ll show you the room you’ll be stayin’ in.” You father’s chair screeched against the beat up wooden floor as he stood, beckoning Arvin to him. 

Arvin was standing right beside you, his arm only a few inches from yours as he lowered the stack of bowls into the sink. He looked over at you with deep soulful eyes that seemed to look right through your calm facade in a way that made you feel seen like never before. It was highly uncomfortable, almost violating after all these years of hiding away what you felt for the sake of keeping the peace, and you forced a smile, “Please, you’re our guest. It wouldn’t be right to make you do the dishes. You go with him.” 

He gave you a drawn out hesitant look but turned away nonetheless and walked towards your dad. “Thank you again for letting me stay here till I get things figured out. It’s mighty kind of you.” Arvin thanked you and your father for your hospitality, shooting you one last glance over his shoulder before following your father down up the stairs towards the spare room. 

You made quick work of the dishes, having cleaned most of them as you were cooking earlier anyways and scurried to the closet that held your extra sheets. As you passed the bathroom, you heard the shower running and knew it was your father bathing after his long day of work, like he always did right after dinner. The man was a creature of habit. 

With your arms full of neatly folded faded steel blue linens and the thicker burnt sienna colored wool blanket, you made your way towards the guest room Arvin was staying in to find the door wide open and the man looking through his bag that was set on the bed. “Knock knock,” you announced your presence, waiting at the entryway for Arvin to notice you before entering. 

He spun around, dropping something that you didn’t see quickly into his bag and pressing it down while flashing you a small polite smile, “Hello, ma’am.” 

You walked into the room, raising the linens in your hands, “I brought some sheets so I could make up your bed.” You walked over to the wooden chair and set the top sheet down before making your way back over to the bed, unfolding the bottom sheet as you did, waving it up and down in the air to straighten it out before laying it flat on the bed. 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, miss,” He moved his bag to the ground and jumped to lift the corner of the mattress and tuck the sheet beneath it. 

You blushed at his kindness, not used to such help from your father, but shook your head, tucking the sheet beneath the mattress on the opposite side of the bed “If my daddy came in and saw you fixin’ the bed yourself, he’d kill me,” you chuckled to make it sound like a joke but you knew better than that. He wouldn’t actually kill you but you would certainly get some less than kind words thrown your way, maybe even a few beer cans thrown your way depending on how drunk he was. 

Arvin shook his head, his hands falling on his hips, “Looks like you do most the housework ‘round here.” What he was insinuating was clear even though his tone didn’t change but you didn’t want to acknowledge it. He didn’t need to concern himself with the difficulties between you and your father. 

“So how’d you and my dad meet?” You changed the topic, going to grab the top sheet and unfolding it. You laid it over the bed and tucked your side in, Arvin reaching down to tuck his side in as well in a silent act of defiance against your insistence that he didn’t need to help. It occurred to you suddenly after the question left your lips that you didn’t actually know anything about this boy but, for some reason, you still didn’t feel uneasy around him.  

Arvin pulled the top corner of the sheet up to the head of the bed as he answered, “I just started workin’ at the garage with ‘im.” 

“You like cars?” You questioned, spreading out the final layer on the bed, the wool blanket. 

Arvin shrugged, “Never been really into ‘em but I can fix ‘em alright enough. Just needed the work and happened to see the wanted sign when I was passin’ through town.” 

Your brow raised in curiosity, “You were just passin’ through and stopped in this old town cause of a help wanted sign?” The little town you lived in wasn’t terrible but it was far from a destination that people really moved to for work unless you a doctor desperate for a place to practice or something like that. “You must really be desperate,” you joked but immediately felt a slight pang of regret when a shred of truth could be seen in his eyes. 

“Just tryna figure out where I’m goin’ ‘n what I wanna do. Figure I’ll find somewhere I like eventually.” Arvin picked up his bag and set it off to the side where it was a little more out of the way. 

You stared at the man standing before you, taking every bit of him from the grease stains on his white t-shirt to his scuffed up brown work boots to his messy hair, dirty from dried sweat. It wasn’t until you locked eyes with him that you realized that you’d been staring in a settled yet weirdly comfortable silence. You stood up straight and smiled to diffuse the awkwardness you’d unintentionally fostered, “You’re more than welcome to take a shower. My daddy should be finished any second. I’ll set some extra towels in there for you.” 

“That’s very kind of you. Thank you.” He nodded in appreciation but offered no further conversation. You could tell from the moment of silence that it was time for you to make your exit. 

“Well, uh, I better head to bed. You need anything before I go?” You asked, backing towards the door and swinging slightly with it once your hand hit the old bronze knob. 

Arvin shook his head, “No, thank you. ‘M all set.” 

“Alrighty, then. You have a good night.” You chewed your lip as you opened the door to make your exit. 

“G’night, miss Y/N.” 

Butterflies flew wildly in your belly as you walked to your bedroom. It had been a long while since you’d seen somebody worth looking twice at in this old town but now a mysterious handsome man rolls into town and stays with you. In your house. It probably wasn’t the safest of situations but Arvin genuinely looked like a nice man. From your very brief interactions with him, you couldn’t really imagine him trying to hurt you or your father for no reason. Even if he did, you knew where your daddy kept his shotgun and you had no problem defending yourself. But like I said, you had an unearned sense of peace with Arvin that you hoped wasn’t a misjudgement. 

“What’re you smilin’ ‘bout?” Your father’s gruff but thankfully not entirely drunk voice made you stop in your tracks and turn towards his room with a suppressed groan. He stood in the doorway of his bedroom in nothing but an undershirt and long johns with his suspenders hanging loosely at his sides.

You shook the smile off your face. “Just thought of somethin’ funny that happened at work,'' you lied. “You need somethin’?” 

“I watched you come out o’ that boy’s room with a big ol’ grin on your face. Better not let me catch you ‘n him. Ain’t no daughter o’ mine gonna be whorin’ around with some boy blowin’ through town, y’hear?” He threatened, his hands reaching down to pull up his worn out long johns. 

Your blood boiled at the accusation and despite your best efforts to keep peace while Arvin was here, you spat words with venom, “I wasn’t doin’ nothin’ with Arvin. God forbid I have a damn smile on my face.” Your voice was low enough so that you hoped your guest hadn’t heard your outburst but when your father’s face darkened and he began taking slow, heavy steps towards you, you weren’t sure if your charade of normalcy would last much longer. 

Your father hovered over you, exaggerating the size difference between the two of you, “I put a roof over your head. I put food on the table. You play make believe with that little diner job but I'm the head of this house. I'm your father. You watch that fuckin’ tone with me girl."

Your jaw was clenched tightly, matching your fists, as you glared up at him with indignantly furious eyes. Father your ass. He once had been your father, an imperfect but loving man who used to try. Now he was merely a selfish broken sperm donor. He inherited this house from his father, didn’t pay a darn cent, and you couldn't remember the last time he pitched in a dime for anything but alcohol and the occasional dinner he made when he was in a good mood. He did do that- have these strange out of character nights where he pretended to be kind and loving. They were far and few between though and, while you enjoyed the change of pace, it felt like walking on eggshells in some fantasy world. 

A heavy silence settled between the two of you that crackled with a tension that could snap at any moment and turn into a full blown fight. Your eyes were narrowed on his as you refused to let him think he intimidated you anymore. Nevertheless, you turned on your heel, nails digging into your palm, and walked down the hall towards your room, leaving him alone. 

“He wouldn’t want you anyways, fuckin’ attitude like that.” Your father grumbled to your back, hoping for one last reaction out of you that you refused to give. 

It took all the control in the world to not slam the door in his face but you knew there was no way it would escape Arvin’s attention. You’d have to resort to the therapy of muffling your furious tear-soaked screams into your pillow until you finally fell asleep, like you did many nights. 

#arvin russel imagine #arvin russell x reader #Arvin Russell #arvin x reader #arvin russell x you #arvin russel x you #arvin russel x reader #tom holland #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #The Devil All The Time #tdatt #tdatt imagine #tdatt fics