#pad-foots 7 days of angst

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

TAKE CARE OF YOU [7]

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 2,800

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It’s why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn’t look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn’t be so hard. Would it?

[a/n: this one is on the shorter side, but I didn't want to leave y'all with nothing (ironically I wrote this while on a plane to my conference/vacation). The Las Vegas trip will all be one large chapter (someone asked if I was gonna split that into parts, but I won't). Part 8 will just be viva las vegas the entire time, baby.]

07: BEING VULNERABLE SUCKS ASS

"i don't have an explanation as to how you pull me in, you just do. you've always had a gravity that i've never been able to overcome." -JmStorm

The cost of a mani-pedi never seemed worth it to you in the past. You saved your money for other more necessary things like bills and groceries. Sitting in the padded chair with your feet resting in the heated water of the foot bath, you realized how much you had been missing out on. 

“I can’t believe that bitch showed up where you work.” Nima scoffed. She sat in the chair beside you with her feet in her own bath. You had used Joel’s money to pay for her to get a mani-pedi as well and that made you happier than the treatment itself. Over the years, Nima would pay for meals and drinks and times the two of you went out and she always did it nonchalantly and in a way that never felt like charity. It felt good to be able to buy her something for once. “How did she even find you?”

You shrugged, “No idea. Sugar baby grapevine?”

“Bitches do be talking.” Nima hummed. You chuckled and leaned back in your seat. This spa offered mimosas and you held your empty flute. Nima picked up her phone to shoot off a message before turning to look at you. “So? Viva las Vegas, baby. You excited?”

“Yeah,” You nodded once then tilted your head with a slight wince, “Well, I mean, I’m kind of nervous too. This is my first time going away with him. He’s stuck with me for a full 72 hours.” Once you started talking you found all your bottled worries spilling out. “What if he thinks I’m annoying and gets tired of me? I’m too scared to ask him if we’re staying in the same room or a different room because I don’t know what I want the answer to be. If he says no then I’ll be disappointed and worry that he is getting sick of me, but if he says yes then I’ll panic⏤ Is he not the man I thought he was and he’s expecting something from me? Or what if it is innocent and he got me a second bed, but then he hears me snore and thinks it’s gross?” You paused to catch your breath and realized Nima was just blankly staring at you with a raised eyebrow. “What?”

Nima shook her head. “Nothing.” She looked past you and raised a hand to catch the attention of an employee. “Hi! Yes, we need more alcohol please. As soon as possible.” You groaned and hung your head. Nima let out a low whistle. “Is that what your brain sounds like all the time? Jesus, babe.”

“I know I’m overthinking.” You admitted. A woman came by with a champagne bottle and you thanked her after she filled your glass⏤ turning down the juice she offered with it. You took a long sip. “I like him.” Nima’s eyes widened. “Yeah, yeah, you were right, okay? I… I like him. A lot.” A hand drifted up to hold the sunflower charm on your new necklace between your fingers. Tomorrow morning you’d be boarding a private jet with Joel and you’d be spending the weekend with a guy you were seriously crushing on. “I know it’s so stupid to start falling for a guy who is literally paying me to hang around him…”

Nima sighed, “Oh, babe.”

“This is the first time I’ve felt like this since… since Nathan.” You said. At the mention of you ex-boyfriend’s name, Nima’s eyebrows furrowed in pain. You didn’t often mention him, hardly said his name, and it was in part because just the thought of him hurt. Whether he meant to or not, Nathan made you feel like you had not been enough. Joel made you feel worthy. You hadn’t even realized that the hole Nathan left in your heart had been so deep until Joel began to fill it with care. “Maybe I shouldn’t go…”

Nima reached out and grasped your wrist. “No. You have to.”

“You told me liking him was a bad idea.”

“I know, but…” Nima shrugged. “You seem happier these days. Relaxed. I can’t tell you if this is going to end well or not, I have no idea, but… even if this is just some kind of emotional rebound, I think it’s good for you.” You gave her a small smile and Nima squeezed your wrist. “Nathan was a tool. You deserve to be happy. Even if happy comes in the form of a cowboy sugar daddy.”

You chuckled at her phrasing. Joel did make you happy. The negative, anxiety riddled part of your brain screamed that being a sugar baby was hardly the same thing as being loved. However, for the first time in your life you were choosing to ignore the logistics of the scenario and just focus on how you felt. 

“I keep telling myself to just be like you.” You admitted and Nima’s eyes widened. You chuckled and shrugged. “You’re never scared, Nima, and I feel… I feel like I’m always scared. You just explore love, guns a’blazing, and I wish⏤ I wish I could do that.”

Nima turned so fast in her seat that water sloshed out of the foot bath. She frowned, “Are you kidding me?? Of course, I’m scared! Loving someone, opening up yourself to be loved, is the scariest thing anyone could ever do.” Her lips pressed together and she reached out so both her hands held tight to yours. “So, don’t stress yourself out over it. How you feel is totally normal. Being vulnerable sucks ass.”

You shot her a firm smile as a few employees came over to discuss any specific nail styles you may want. Worrying about it too much would only ruin the trip. You had already come this far⏤ may as well keep jumping in head first.

It had been ages since you’ve flown, literal years, and never had it been in a private jet. Standing on the tarmac watching part of the flight crew roll your bags to be loaded, you just stared. Eventually, a large hand settled in the middle of your back. Joel saddled up beside you and he offered you a small smile.

“You gonna board or just stare at it all day, darlin?” He chuckled. He wore one of his suits, but he had already stripped of his coat. 

You nodded, “Yeah, sorry, I just can’t believe I’m about to board a private jet.” Without preamble or question, Joel’s hand slipped from your back to slide down your arm and tangle his fingers with yours. It was almost a habit now for Joel to take your hand. He led you toward the jet. “Do you always ride in style like this?”

“Not always.” Joel replied. “But I will say that ridin’ like this has spoiled me of public airlines.”

“No kidding.” You chuckled and Joel motioned for you to walk up the stairs to the jet’s door first. He followed only a step behind, hand not leaving yours. The inside of the jet was simple but luxurious. Couches rather than single seats and one side had a booth like table. “I can’t imagine going from this to Spirit airlines.”

Joel snorted behind you and stepped around you so he could lead you toward one of the couches. “If you think I’m ever gonna let you fly Spirit, sugar, you’re crazy.”

You sat down and your eyebrows lifted when Joel walked toward the back rather than sit beside you. He briefly disappeared from sight, it sounded like he was speaking to an attendant, and you took that time to gaze around the plush interior of the jet. This was your life for now. It felt like a dream.

Joel walked back and he had two champagne flutes. Your lips pulled up into a grin as he settled right beside you and offered you a flute. “For the pretty lady.”

“Why thank you.” You chuckled. The two of you lightly clinked your glasses together before sipping at it. Despite the jet having, ample space, Joel sat close enough to drape his arm over the back of the couch behind you. “How long is this flight?”

“A little over an hour or so.”

“Oh, that’s not bad.” You hummed. “Is anyone else flying with us?”

Joel shook his head. “Tess is gonna meet us there on day two, and Tommy never comes to the Vegas conference.”

“Why?” You asked then paused. “To both situations.”

Joel chuckled. “Day one is kind of pointless for us to be there. All the work and meetings my company is involved in starts day two.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Then how come we’re going for day one?”

Joel shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “I figured it’d be fun to sight see together? If you’re interested that is.” You always loved watching him grow slightly nervous when asking you something like that because the smile he shot you after you inevitably said yes was damn near radiant. You nodded in excitement and Joel’s eyes lit up in response. “Good, and as for Tommy,” Joel gave a little shrug, “He’s got a history of gettin' involved in shit he shouldn’t. He’s got his head straight on now, mostly, but it’s just safer if keeps away from the temptation altogether.”

The pilot poked his head in to let you both know he was ready and suggest you strap in. You glanced around to see if there was a place you could set your flute down but the closest table was on Joel’s side. He set his own flute down briefly and reached out. You thought he’d take the flute, but instead Joel reached down to click your seat belt around your waist. It was such a simple motion yet you felt a warmth fill your cheeks.

“Thanks.” You mumbled. The plane taxied out to the runway and you quietly sipped at your champagne. You felt a rumbling underfoot as the plane picked up speed and when it began to rise your stomach lurched. Startled, your hand shot out to steady yourself on the closest object which just so happened to be Joel’s thigh. 

Before you could even fully comprehend how awkward this could be, your hand squeezed as the plane continued to rise— your only focus on the sensation of taking off. As the plane leveled off, you were able to feel other aspects around you, such as how thick and firm Joel’s thigh felt under hand.

He cleared his throat and peeled your hand off his thigh. Embarrassment flooded your soul, but Joel kept your hand in his. He laced his fingers between yours, shifting closer so his thigh was pressed against yours, and lifted your hand to his lips to set a soft kiss at the back of your hand.

“Are you alright, sugar?” Joel asked with nothing but concern.

“Sorry.” You shook your head. “It’s been a while since…”

“Don’t apologize. I should’ve asked if you were a nervous flyer.”

“I didn’t think I was.” You chuckled and swallowed the lump in your throat as the plane hit a patch of turbulence and wavered. Joel continued to trace circles against the back of your hand with his thumb and you focused on that alone. Somehow, his presence alone was enough to soothe your frayed nerves. You leaned your head against his shoulder and Joel shifted so you’d be able to rest in a comfortable spot. You really did like this way too much. 

Joel hummed, “Lemme know if you feel sick. We got a first aid kit on here somewhere with some motion sickness patches, I think.”

“I’m okay.” You replied, loathing the idea of him getting up or anything right now, “Where are we staying in Vegas?”

“The Wynn.” 

“Is that where you usually stay?”

“No, actually.” Joel said. “I usually stay at Mandalay Bay, but I thought you’d like the Wynn better.”

You were glad you were resting your head on his shoulder so he couldn’t see the absolute stupid smile that crossed your features. He had changed his usual routine and picked a hotel that specifically made him think of you⏤ one he thought you’d enjoy best. Maybe the bar was just on the floor from your last boyfriend, but it was no wonder you were falling for Joel Miller when he did such sweet, considerate things. 

“Why?” You asked.

“It’s real pretty. You’ll see.”

The two of you continued to chat idly and you listened to Joel tell stories about past conferences and the things he was looking forward to and wasn’t. Your stomach had mostly settled now that the plane was smoothly soaring at its cruising altitude. So, you figured now was as good a time as any to use the restroom. You excused yourself and cautiously walked to the lavatory. As you finished up and washed your hands, your eyes glanced up in the mirror at yourself. You may as well have been glowing. For the millionth time, you thanked your lucky stars that Joel had somehow found you.

At the thought, you paused. This entire time you wondered how Rosalind randomly found you at work, but what were the chances that Joel Miller would randomly walk into a failing bakery and see you behind the counter? You shut off the water, dried your hands, and walked back out. Joel was using the plane phone when he spotted you.

“Yeah, we’ll see you when you get here.” Joel stared at you as he spoke, his gaze soft. “Just call me if you need anythin’. Mhmm. Right. Bye, Tess.” He hung up and set the phone aside. “All good, sugar?”

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Course.” Joel nodded and you settled back in your seat beside him. 

You didn’t lay your head on his shoulder and turned just enough so you could face him while the two of you spoke, “How did you find me?” Joel raised an eyebrow in confusion. “At the bakery. Were you just passing by and saw me through the window? Or were you coming in for baked goods randomly?”

Joel suddenly looked sheepish. He cleared his throat, “It’s… Alright, this might not sound too good or flatterin’ toward myself.” You furrowed your own brows in confusion this time. “That week I was at a work site a few blocks down from the bakery. I had stepped off site to take a call and… and I saw you.” Joel rubbed the back of his neck, but he didn’t break his gaze. “I recognized you from the coffee shop, figured you were going to work, and I… I followed you.” Joel closed his eyes and shook his head at the admission. “Jesus Christ, you must think I’m the biggest creep. I swear I didn’t mean to. It was like… I was movin’ before I even knew it. I nearly followed you right into the bakery, but I stopped and came to my senses.” He reopened his eyes and there was regret and shame in his brown eyes⏤ two emotions you didn’t like seeing there. “I’m so sorry, darlin’. I know it was stupid and I tried to stay away, but I… I couldn’t get you out of my head. I broke down a few days later and came in. Told myself I was just gonna pay you back for the coffee and be done with it, but once I got to talkin’ to you…”

“It’s okay, Joel.” You said softly.

“No, it really isn’t.” He shook his head. There was a firmness in his words that echoed the shame he felt. “I should’ve told you much sooner than this and definitely not on a plane 40,000 feet in the air where you can’t even run from me.”

“I’m not gonna run.” You chuckled. Maybe you should be more concerned than you were, but Joel had been nothing but respectful the entire time you had known him. Besides, the only thing you could grasp from his words was the fact that it seemed Joel felt drawn to you the same way you felt toward him. It could just be naive optimism or a delusion, but you began to wonder if it were possible that Joel liked you as much as you liked him⏤ as more than just the sugar daddy and sugar baby ties between the two of you.

You turned in your seat to lay on his shoulder once more. Joel seemed mildly startled by the motion, but he was quick to wrap his arm around your shoulders to hold you in place. You reached up to play with his hand. “Thank you for telling me the truth.”

Joel chuckled, “I’m never gonna lie to you, sugar.”

The pilot came over the intercom to announce he’d be starting the landing process soon and you wondered if Vegas was going to be the start of a new chapter of your relationship with Joel.

taglist (closed):

@weddingfairy @bfences @fairntonorth @jasminedragon @biwitchy @huffle-punk @shelbyteller @anoverwhelmingdin @aheadfullofsteverogers @stagerightlauren @basicoccult @rinnfey @boofy1998 @farintonorth @thepascalofus @amatis-gray @casa-boiardi @northernbluess @jettia @sapphicsoie @spidey-3 @camiali25 @hrtsforpascal @gingersince97 @sentients17 @bigboiseason123 @lunxramour @ktheunready @heyheyheygaypay @keepingupwiththeskywalkers @adoringanakin @come-hell-or-eldren-fire @cherriebat @whitewolfstar01 @alyssa121611 @asreadbyaj @painfullyandprettypoetic @cantobightcafe @hellooseulgi @str84pedro

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✨J.M. Masterlist✨

#the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #sugar daddy!joel miller #female reader #reader insert

[grace-writes-shit]

Perfect For Me (Steven Grant x Reader)

Words: 2.2K

Warnings/Themes: Angst,Self-hatred, body insecurity, hurt/comfort, fluff, light nudity (non-sexual)

Characters/Pairings: Steven Grant x reader, Marc Spector

liavaleska asked:

Hellooo! How are you? I hope you are doing great. Can I request something where reader comforts Steven Grant when he is feeling insecure about his body? Ty❤️

A/N: Sorry it took me a while to get this up! But here it is and I hope you enjoy it. It came out a tab bit angstier than I intially wanted but I'm quite proud of this one! Let me know what you think :)

Tired eyes mindlessly watched the little goldfish bob around its tank. The only sound filling the apartment was that of the tank’s filter. Rain pattered against the windows. Each door that opened or closed in the building had her peeking at the door through the tank. It was a quiet evening. As it had been for the past few days, nearing two weeks.

Nearly two weeks of silence. All because the other occupant of the apartment was hardly around anymore. Something was up with one of the boys. She had hoped one of them would have confided in her. But they are alters of Marc Spector. Mr. Secret.

The notion of her husband keeping secrets saddened her. It wasn’t hard to suspect that something was wrong. Steven would be up before her and leaving for work earlier than usual. Before he would wrap himself tighter around her when her alarm would go off, begging her to stay in bed for a few more minutes.

He had also picked up the habit of jogging. At first, she had been happy for him; happy he had found a healthy hobby. But now she’s questioning how healthy it really is. The bags under his eyes darkened with the passing of each day. Getting up early, going on jogs, and working as Khonshu’s personal plaything, had to be tiring. Not to mention she didn’t really see him enough to confirm that he had eaten that day.

“At least you’re around, huh, Gus?” She murmured, chin resting on her palm. The fish swam into his pyramid. A groan left her as she hung her head. Great. Even the fish didn’t want to spend time with her. Pushing out of her seat, she decided it was time for bed. The clock on the wall read 1am.

A quick glance at her phone showed that her messages had been read. But there had been no response.

‘Hey, love. Just wondering when you’ll be home. Any ideas for dinner?’

Read at 7:30pm.

‘Hey, again, you’re probably busy so I wrapped up dinner for you. Chinese takeout, your favorite! Love you <3’

Read at 10:46pm

With a heavy heart, she typed out one last text.

‘Going to bed now. Love you, darling’

She didn’t wait for a reply and stuck her phone on the charger. Tears pricked at her eyes as she stared at the empty bed. This would be the sixth night in a row that she would be going to bed by herself. The cold, white duvet laughed up at her. Sniffling, she padded over to the closet and pulled out one of Steven’s hoodies, and tugged it on. His scent filled her nose but didn’t bring the comfort she craved. Rather, it broke the dam holding back her tears.

She wished she could help him. Wished he let her help him. Wanted him to know that he wasn’t alone in whatever he was going through. If only he would just let her in. Her teeth bit into the soft flesh of her lip as she tried to stifle the sobs. Curled up on the bed, she hugged Steven’s pillow to her chest.

Keys knocking against the door had her freezing. The door slowly creaked open and heavy, tired footsteps entered the apartment. The sound of a duffle hitting the floor broke her out of her trance and had her shooting up.

“Steven?” The figure outlined by the light of the fish tank shuffled over to the bed, standing at the foot.

“No, sorry…” Marc said, voice low and, dare she say, sad. She quickly flicked on the lamp on her nightstand, beckoning him towards her.

“What’s wrong, Marc? Are- are you guys okay?”

Marc was silent for a few heartbeats, his silence giving her time to think of every possible thing that could be wrong. Steven doesn’t love her anymore, Khonshu’s asking too much, they have some terminal disease… Her lip wobbled more with each new possibility.

“No… No, we’re not okay.” Marc whispered, “Steven doesn’t want me to tell you… but I don’t think he’s okay.”

He sounded so tired, and his eyes didn’t even come up to meet hers as he spoke. Whatever was wrong, it had been going on for a while and it’s become too much for Marc to handle. With a frown, she grabbed his hand to tug him onto the bed.

While she wasn’t in a romantic relationship with him, Marc was still important to her. He was like a brother to her. Without him, she wouldn’t even have Steven.

“Tell me, Marc… Tell me what’s wrong,” she begged softly. If he closed the door now after letting her get a toe in, she might completely break down. He sagged forward with his elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

“I just wish I could have protected him better… All of this is my fault. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I know this has been hurting you too, but I don’t know how to help him. He won’t eat; he runs until we have blisters… Hell, he’s been fronting during almost every fight and I can’t make him give me the body…”

It was as if once the words started pouring out of his mouth, they wouldn’t stop.

“The only reason I’m fronting now is that I think he was just too exhausted to…” The sigh that left him was far beyond his age. It was the sigh of someone too tired to continue. “You gotta help us, Y/N… You gotta help Steven.”

With a tear-streaked face, she nodded.

<><> 

Marc had showered and changed into Steven’s favorite pajamas before climbing into bed. Y/N lay on her side of the bed, wishing that it was her husband she was falling asleep next to. She wanted to hold him close, to protect him from the dangers of his own mind. She could only hope that when she woke up, it would be Steven kissing her awake as he used to.

Her sleep was a light and fitful one. An odd form of sleep paralysis. She could hear the sounds of their apartment, and Marc’s heavy snores next to her. But she couldn’t move. Worry and fear gripped her body like a vice.

Time seemed to still be flowing as one moment she was hearing Marc’s snores, then the next Steven’s much softer breaths. Unconsciously, her hand drifted toward her husband. Her love. Her partner who needed her help.

She couldn’t be sure if her hand ever touched him. Because it was his strained whispers that had her fully conscious. The lamp in the living area was lit and he stood in front of a full-length mirror.

“You overstepped, mate. I told you not to tell her.”

She blinked heavily, unsure if this was a dream or not. A quick hand over his side of the bed told her that it was not and that he hadn’t been gone for long.

“I don’t care! If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t be here with a big bloody scar on our chest from that fight! Or the other dozen scars everywhere else!” His voice started to rise.

She couldn’t help but stare at his back as he whispered furiously into the mirror on the other side of the apartment.

“She’s not gonna… she wouldn’t want a human scratching post. Y/N deserves more than… this. I mean, look at us…” He inhaled a shuttering breath. His strong hands gripped the edge of the standup mirror. “A million scars, rubbish bags under our eyes… gross stretch marks, unflattering dad bod.”

His final whispered confession had her finally jumping out of bed.

“I just wish I could be the man she deserves.”

She gave him no time to react before she slammed into his back, wrapping her arms around his middle and bunching the fabric of his shirt in her hands.

His breath caught in his throat, shame filling him. He could feel her sobs more than hear them. Gods, he made her upset. That had been the last thing he wanted to do, but Marc’s words from earlier rang through his head.

“You’re hurting her. Leaving early, coming home late, not making love with her, and keeping the lights off when you do. It’s hurting her. She told me so.”

A sob forced its way from his throat, and hot tears fell down his cheeks. His teeth bit harshly into his lip as he bowed his head, unwilling to look at the reflection of Marc’s pitying look.

“I’m so sorry…So, so sorry.” His hands grasped hers over his chest, right over the scar that had started this whole thing. She shook her head, whimpering into his shirt.

“No, please, Steven.” She took a shuddering breath, “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m not mad; or upset with you… I’m upset for you.”

His eyes screwed closed, his lips pressed into a line to suppress his cries.

“I wish I could take this pain away from you. I wish I could love these thoughts out of your mind. You do such an amazing job of protecting me; I wish I did a better job at protecting you.” She pulled her hands from his to drift to his sides and gently turned him to face her.

He kept his head bowed. The shame, the self-hatred, the ugly expression on his face, it wasn’t something she needed to see. The flinch he gave when her gentle hand cupped his cheek was uncontrollable. Her hand dropped back down to her side.

“Steven, let me help you. Whatever you’re trying to keep from me, whatever it is you are trying to hide, I will still love you. Nothing will ever make me not love you; nothing will ever make me think you are undeserving. You are the only man in this entire universe that I will ever love.”

He didn’t flinch when her hand touched him this time. Instead, he pressed his tear-stained cheek into her palm. They both let out heavy breaths. A hand littered with scars he hated so much, gripped her waist. The other, just as scarred as the right, cupped the back of her neck and he brought their foreheads together.

“I’m sorry that I’ve upset you, love. I just... I don’t know how to… how to let someone help. But I know I need it.” Steven swallowed the lump still stuck in his throat. “I am truly fortunate to have you be the one to help me, though.”

“I’m even luckier to have you,” She whispered before leaning forward to press her lips to his. His grip tightened and he pulled her flush to his chest. Flames followed in the wake of her fingers tracing up his stomach to rest on his chest, lovingly stroking the raised skin of the scar. His heart was thundering and he was sure she could feel it under her fingertips.

Salty tears blended on their skin, hiccupping sobs breaking from his sweet lips. As if touching glass, she wiped his tears away, cooing and shushing him. Chocolate eyes locked with hers. Walking backward and not breaking eye contact, she tugged him by the hand towards the bed. Steven followed obediently while wiping his tears with his sleeve.

The bed was cool against her skin as she leaned against the pillows, opening her arms for him. The air was thick with tension as he stood still, watching her. The stifling air was broken when he pulled his shirt over his head with shaking hands. His body is on full display in the dim lighting. While the suit heals wounds, it doesn’t erase scars.

It didn’t seem possible, the amount of love and acceptance in her gaze. It made his breath catch in his throat and warm goosebumps break out over his skin. Wishing for him to be in her arms, she made grabby hands for him. The action made his lips quirk up.

Slowly, he crawled in between her legs and she sat up to wrap her arms around his middle. Soft lips ghosted over the scar as her hands smoothed over his sides. His head was nuzzled into her hair and his arms wrapped around her back.

After breathing each other in, she leaned back and guided him to rest his head on her chest. His strong arms constricted around her middle. Her socked foot caressed his calf while her lips kissed the top of his head.

“If I get too heavy, I can move.” He couldn’t help but mumble. Gentle fingers carded through his hair and trailed down his back. Painted nails lightly scraped over his skin, leaving a trail of more goosebumps.

“If you dare move, I’m going to handcuff you to myself and swallow the key,” she threatened.

Steven let out a breathy chuckle and relaxed more into her. The patterns she was tracing into his skin were hypnotic and slowly, his eyes began to drift closed. A low sweet hum filled his ears.

As he focused on her fingers, he realized she wasn’t just doodling random patterns. It was letters. Words.

‘I love you’

‘Perfect’

‘Strong’

Tears pricked his eyes once more. He tilted his head to press a lingering kiss to her collarbone.

“I’ve got you, Steven. I’m not going anywhere. Not when I’ve got the perfect man for me in my arms.”

#my writing #grace writes shit #fluff #reader insert #request #steven grant #steven grant x reader #angst #tw: body insecurity #tw: mental health #tw: self loathing #moon knight x reader #moon knight #marc spector

[homiesondaweb]

I WROTE SOME HOBIE BACKSTORY FLUFF

Been writing too much angst lately🥲

anyway this is based of my previous head cannon on Hobie's siblings. Quick recap (might make a OC post about em) Hudson and Hendricks(yea name change) are the eldest twins about 12 years older than Hobie and are 21. Henry is in the middle he is 9 years older than Hobie, he is 18. Harley is only 5 years older and she is 14 going on 15 (she helps run the community garden). Hobie is 9!

I am Black but also an American from the midwest. So if I fuck up some of the UK vernacular or whatnot y'all can correct me in the replies or reblogs. If you see this fic floating on AO3 that is also me!

______________________

1966 Chevy C10 aka the ugliest truck known to fucking man aka Harley bedroom away from home. Given to her by her old dirt and hay supplier before he moved to Wales, the dark green vehicle that lives parked in their ground floor garage was her escape from a house full of her lanky and, damn-right charlie brothers. She has the bed of the truck softened with a scrap fabric mattress and tens of thrifted comforters and pillows. Her portable record player crones with a Betty Davis record riding the groove with a whining guitar. Harley uses a chunk of mirror propped against her stage trunk to watch herself as she sections her hair into lazy cornrows for the night.

The sky slowly crumbles into a sunset, unfurling into a cool moon, shifting the world to a soft grayscale and sepia. Streetlights outside the garage flicker on and the human officers switch their patrol lights to a slow strobing blue and yellow. Harley gives a big yawn that pops her jaw and hums along to the guitar's riffs. The sound rests really low in her throat, it nearly drowns out the sound of steel door creaking and small steps that padding in. The 14 year old pauses her humming and stretches over to see the interruption of her night routine.

It's shaped lika palm tree, outlined in muted pink with their bare feet slapping around on the cement. Sleepy gray eyes met hers before they lighten to hazel for a moment, then back to sleep gray.

"Comin' ta bed?" Hobie whispers, voice all low and raspy. Harley helps the wire of a little boy clamor over the raised gate, he settles his head on her shoulder after. She chuckles and smears some leftover mango butter on his nose before her hands are back in her head.

"Inna bit. Thought I might sleep down 'ere though. Let my Baney Bart lil brother have the whole bed. You've got ta start wearin' yer socks to bed, ice foot." Harley teases and Hobie whines, then snuggles against her side. 

Harley thought that now with Henry moving in with Rembrandt to the Canal flats would have given her the incentive to claim his room for her own and finally stop sharing both room and mattress with her baby brother. It wasn't easy though, ever since she came on the scene when the twins 7 and Henry was 5 the Brown siblings instinctively cuddled. Like cubs or kittens of some kind. 

Hudson and Hendricks would sleep on their stomach, shoulders piled on top of each other or an arm around the other's back. Henry uses somebody's calf as a pillow and his foot always ends up in Hudson's face. Harley found her spot cuddled over Henry's stomach and when baby Hobie joined the mix she always woke to her shoulder being smothered in his drool and soft snores. They were like cats in that way, if one sibling saw the other napping, they were gonna share that sleep.

It has peter off some, Henry started sleeping over in the art alley with his mandem. Hendricks working overnight security with Pa. Hudson staying with Imani more days out the week(they all wait for the couple to announce the true reason why she was getting rounder). Harley sleeps in the truck when her band mates  sneaks over after the city curfew because their fam is off it or someone is sick with radio or the flu.

But even with growing apart. A cuddle wassa cuddle and baby Hobie was gonna get his full of them. Of course Harley was still gonna share a bed with her little Barty when requested. Hobie starts to fade down to their true colors as sleep wraps him up, 

"Oi! No sleep yet lil boy. Gotta put the 'fro up." She whispers tugging at the puff on the top of his head. Hobie grumbles, going cut yellow with crankiness. Harley counters it with a pink kiss to the top of his head and lets the stocking-band out that release his coils. Hobie blinks blearly in his slumped sit as Harley sloppily parts then flat twists them down into four rows. He gives a little sigh at the cool feeling of mango butter to his scalp but grumbles when she ties a scarf over them. Harley chuckles as she releases his ears from under it and scoots the front back. 

They both know that damn scarf will be half way across the room and on the floor with her bonnet by morning. He cuddles into the front of her, stuck lika kola instead of a boy, smushing his face to her shoulder. Harley rubs his back and hums out the Buddy Miles intro that is stuck in her head as she feels around for her phone. Hobie blinks again as he watches her raise the antenna on top of it then pop in the code for someone. It rings loudly and they both wince before she lowers the volume and tilts the antenna to the right. 

"Headin' ova?" She asks and a voice hums a soft no. Hobie sighs, that was Donovan.

"Dottie and Kirt's gots lead or radio. Feelin' weak me-self, keepa eye on ya water, yeah? Think OsCo is doin' flushes again." He warns softly.

Harley tenses at that. She sits back some and uses her free hand to inspect Hobie's face. She blinks hard and they both revert to true colors. All warm brown skin, black hair and steely eyes. She gives a sigh of relief at seeing that the whites of his eyes as fine, not any spots of yellow. No dryness to his pallor, just sleepy.

"Where you in the fountains today?" She asks and Hobie shakes his head.

"Wit Pa tuday." He mumbles to her, she lets him relax back and resumes petting his back.

"Thanks for the heads up Vonnie. I'll come by wit some bone soup and a filter from Hud in the mornin'. 

"You're a dove Harles. Oíche mhaith a chroí." 

Hobie gives a fakes gag as Harley blares pink then clovers sketches, Gaelic love poems and the expert of Romeo and Juliet having it off etch over her skin in cursive for a moment before she simmers back to sepia.

"Bon lannwit, Mon kè." She says back and hangs up. Harley stashes her phone back under the mattress before turning off her record player. With a practiced ease she carefully slides Betty Davis back into the paper sleeve, then lays the mirror chunk down on a quilt.

"Ann kouche, pinèz." Harley yawns and clamors out the truck bed with Hobie still clinging to her. They make their way up to the flat and to their room. Hobie is nothing but soft breath so it startles Harley when he speaks.

"You gonna live wit Donovan one day? Like Henry and Huddie?" Hobie asks. Harley kisses his cheek and lays them down in bed. She lights a lavender incense cone, then pops it in the holder.

"Maybe one day."

"Gonna marry 'em?"

"Can't get married. He's too Irish. Laws will bang us."

"You don't care." Hobie giggles and Harley smiles real big at that.

"Who said me and Van ain't gonna bang the laws back bruv? Don't worry bout it Barty Bug." She tells him when she lays down fully and loops an arm around his shoulders, Hobie puts his head over her heart.

"You gonna runaway? You two go off?"

Harley hums.

"Where imma go, bug?" 

"... Cuba or Panama, like uncle."

"Too much sun for Donovan. He'd cook."

"Uhm… Canada. Like Erika's family?"

"Too cold. I'd freeze to death."

Hobie pouts at this point, turning into her elbow so he doesn't have to see the sleeply mirth in his older sister's eyes. Her black nails gently grasps his jaw and turns his face back to her. The both flare into blue and black ink and mapwork.

"What's with the questions. You think imma leave, love?"

Hobie nods in embarrassment but softens as Harley kisses his forehead.

"Not without you buggy. Same things goes for Hudson, Hendricks, and Henry. Same thing for Ma and Pa. No way I'm leavin' you even if the Queen, her corgis and the PM demanded it. Even if Von proposed right here. Which is stupid I'm 14, he's 15 and we've had lead poisoning on and off since we was little. So don't worry about Cuba or Canada, hell even Wales. I'm your big sister, we are Browns and some right punks. Labels are nothing but when you put in the care and obligations that comes with the title. Well, you're pretty fulfilled by em. And that means we stick together always. And care for each other always. So don't you worry your head about my crush. Don't worry about seeing my back out the door." 

Hobie just snuggles her closer at that. Harley chuckles and cuddles back. 

If there's one thing Hobie believes in, without a question,  it is his sister.

-----

Oíche mhaith a chroí = Irish Gaelic - Goodnight, my dear

Bon lannwit, Mon kè = Haitian Creole - Goodnight, my heart

Ann kouche, pinèz = Haitian Creole - Let's go lie down, Bug.

#Hobie Brown #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown fanfiction #black oc #spider punk #spiderman across the verse #spiderman astv #astv hobie #black reader #getting ready for bed trope

[hotpinkboots]

Pardon me I had to take a moment for my gay ass to recover from the pet names as well as to double check with your rules list, this ask is gonna look long but it’s only because I like to make it look more organized and explains when I can, it looked like a lot but of course it’s all headcanons and will be as long as you please (And of course if you wanna do one for another go ahead)

1. CB x s/o who gets spooked WAY to easy for a night guard

2. CB x s/o who absolutely refuses to shock the animatronics

3. The living embodiment of a golden retriever

4.CB finds out s/o has accidentally befriended every rat and mouse in the pizzeria (and absolutely does not want to get rid of them)

Angst/ s/o died and is a robot now, below

5. CB x s/o that got axed, a crate gets delivered to the pizzeria, open it up, guess who walked out with all memories intact ( s/o has a dad that also makes androids, not related to afton in the slightest, in grief of his child getting yeeted he makes a new line of security animatronics one of which to house the soul of his kid, there generally average hight like 5 foot ____, with bullet resistant plating, flame retardant elastic “skin”, able to dispense multiple first aid equipment, able to glow in the dark, the works

6. SB x same s/o but instead of being revived to protect they got revived and ran the new pizzeria, similar situations but baby is in the room where the salvage thing takes place and guess who walks through the door

7. SB x s/o who fixed her and the other animatronics up so they can preform again ( if they want to, it’s all optional and afton is in the time out box)

8(last one I promise) CB x same robot s/o who forgot to charge( they got something like those pads you lay something on and it charges but it’s like a bed) so one day they come in all sluggish and ALMOST made it , but then shuts down right befor getting there.

So sorry for the ramble but if I can think of one idea I can think of 2 more etc , thank you for your ever so wonderful and valuable time : )

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~𝓒𝓲𝓻𝓬𝓾𝓼 𝓑𝓪𝓫𝔂 w/a Darling Who Refuses To Shock Animatronics~

I CHOSE THE SECOND ONE BECAUSE I THOUGHT IT WAS CUTE, GORGEOUS 😍 I might do the first one at some point because that one is FUUUUN :D

Like with the C-3p0 request, there are a ton of requests in my inbox that I was unable to see because Tumblr glitched and I couldn't scroll down in my inbox, no matter how many times I tried to get it to work :( SO This was going to be done literally like forever ago, but I couldn't SO HERE IT IS NOW DARLING

THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING WITH MY BABY GWORL I LOVE HER 😭

~Enjoy~

★★★★

𝓒��𝓻𝓬𝓾𝓼 𝓑𝓪𝓫𝔂

★★★★

~She is beyond appreciative.

~Shocking an animatronics's entire body kind and system, to her, is abuse, even if it isn't that painful due to being something that cannot feel pain.

~Because they can still feel emotional pain.

~It also makes them bug out often.

~Your refusal to give a "controlled shock" seems to automatically make her take a liking towards you.

~She'll bring it up, too, and tell you that your empathy and justice are so admirable.

~The other animatronics (especially Ballora) are very happy about you not wishing to electrocute them like all the other cruel people do.

~Baby is very concerned at the fact you won't, though. She's happy you don't. She's happy you genuinely care for the well being of the animatronics, but,

~It is required that you shock them when they do not behave.

~What if you get...fired?

~She wouldn't ever see you again.

~"Perhaps...enduring the pain...will be alright in the end. If I can continue to see you, my dear friend...If you are terminated from the Pizzeria, I will never see you again. So maybe...maybe the pain will be worth it..."

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WE LOVE A LIL' TEENY BIT O' YANDERE BABY >:))) Like mentioned before, I might do some of the other prompt thingies, because I'm eyeing a few of them :>

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⭐REBLOGS⭐>💀LIKES💀

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Rules/Masterlist (Scroll Down For The Masterlist)!

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Join my chat/roleplay server! Here, you'll be able to roleplay, make new friends, and get updates on my fanfiction and upcoming videogames!:

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~Love, PinkBoots

#circus baby x reader #circus baby #baby x reader #sister location #fnaf #five nights at freddys #fnaf sl #fnaf sister location #sister location x reader #fnaf x reader

[fredshufflepuff]

— anon’s request: ok so since i too am a whore for angst. how about the reader and rafe having a summer thing as a kook (maybe she goes to the pogue school but is a kook) and once she goes back to school, they drift apart and rafe gets jealous of her spending her time with the pogues. then maybe he sees her again at mid summers all dressed up and remembers he still loves her. please break my heart with this, im in need of a cry and then maybe put it back together with some fluff at the end? please

— warnings: fem!reader, brief smut (skip if uncomfortable), asshole!rafe for a good chunk of the imagine, language, angst, fluff.

— word count: 2,166

IT all started when you bumped into rafe at the country club on figure eights.

you didn’t normally hang around that area, but you were hanging out with sarah that day—which meant eventually running into her brother.

she tried to keep you away from him, just because he had no filter and didn’t think twice before voicing his opinion, but sooner or later your interaction with the boy would happen.

“oh god” sarah mumbled causing you to raise your brows, a confused frown on your face as she signaled to look behind you.

you turned around not so subtle to see rafe cameron making his way down the grassy hill, a golf club in one hand and a can of beer in the other.

“hey little sis, when were you going to introduce me to your friend here?” the boy spoke, a small grin on his face at seeing her roll her eyes.

“i wasn’t planning on it, you know—considering how you’re an ass.”

a small giggle fell from your lips as rafe turned his attention back to you, the sides of his mouth curling slightly at your reaction.

“well since she won’t introduce me, i will” he said, his figure leaning over yours which was sat on the grass.

he tossed his most likely expressive golf club to the ground to extend his hand out to you, which you hesitated to take before slowly reaching for it.

“i’m rafe cameron.”

of course you knew who he was, everyone did.

“y/n y/l/n.”

YOU thought the interaction with sarah’s older brother was in the past, not having to see him again since you weren’t planning on going back to figure eight or the club any time soon.

but when you found yourself in his bed getting the absolute daylights fucked out of you, you knew right then and there that this wasn’t a one time thing.

“fuck rafe,” you moaned loudly, your head thrown back against the pillow as your eyes fell shut from the feeling.

he slide his cock in and out of your needy hole as you whimpered from under him, his toned body pressed against yours as you jolted from each thrust.

“m’gonna cum, flood this needy little fuck hole” he spat, his hand coming down to grab your face and force you to open your eyes.

“please, rafe. please fill me up” you begged, your little moans and pleads sending the boy over the edge.

as soon as he gave you permission to cum you didn’t hold back. it felt like your entire body had shut down as your head fell to the side.

rafe sent a rough thrust into your quivering body before emptying himself inside, making sure to keep himself as close as possible in order to not let any leak out.

“fuck,” he groaned in your ear, his body pressed against your small one as your hands came up to rest in his hair, pulling on it gently as his cum filled you up.

later that night you didn’t bother sneaking back out to your place, instead rafe suggested you actually stay—running you a hot bath before ordering take out.

it surprised you really, considering how you didn’t know what you guys were.

you both agreed to only be friends with benefits when this all started, but now you didn’t know if you wanted that or not.

you wanted something more with the blue eyed boy.

“what are we?” you asked while laying in his arms, the feeling of his breath trailing down your neck giving you comfort.

“friends with benefits.”

no hesitation was found in his voice. it was quick and sudden, just like your heart breaking.

“oh.”

you didn’t talk much with rafe after that night—leaving early in the morning to avoid further interaction.

rafe didn’t suspect anything though, knowing how busy you usually get with school and home life, but after that single day turned into almost a week, he knew something wasn’t right.

usually you’d be around the house or at the country club, but it felt like you were almost avoiding him.

when school started up that’s when things really started to hit for rafe. you were not only distancing yourself from him, but now you were hanging out with the pogues.

to him you had wiggled yourself into john b’s friend group, getting closer with everyone but mostly jj, the one pogue he despised more than the others.

it was the night of midsommars and you were preparing yourself to see rafe, your nerves seeming to skyrocket every time his name was mentioned.

“ARE you feeling okay, y/n/n? you’re all jittery” kie pointed out, her eyes locking with yours through the vanity mirror as you slowly brushed through your hair.

“i’m okay, kie— really. just nervous for tonight i guess” you shrugged, your response seeming convincing enough as she nodded.

“hey slow pokes! hurry up or we’re going to be late” jj called, pounding on the door making you and kie jump.

“fucking assholes” you mumbled.

MIDSOMMARS was something you always looked forward to.

the lights, the food, the beautiful dresses and people you got to meet—which was rare considering how almost everyone there were stuck up kooks who’s only personality trait was having money.

all except rafe.

he was different towards you, a lot different it was scary.

“jj, don’t get into any more fights, k?” kie sighed, licking the pad of her thumb before dragging it across his face—getting rid of the dirt that had formed there.

he didn’t say who specifically it was with—the fight—just claiming it was with some stupid kooks who didn’t know when to stop talking.

“yeah yeah” he mumbled, running his fingers through his hair before sending you both a small smile.

he picked up his tray and spun it on his finger before sending her a wink, a blush coming to kie’s face as she quickly looked away.

“soooo, you and jj....” you said, the girl’s eyes rolling as she playfully pushed you away.

“enough about me, what about you?”

“me?” you raised an eyebrow, “what about me?”

“don’t play dumb, y/n/n. i’ve seen you come back late with hickeys.”

you grabbed a glass of champagne from one of the waiters walking by and took a long sip from it, your eyebrows twisting together— “this is good, you should try it.”

kie was about to protest until the music started to kick up again, your favorite song playing making you gasp.

you quickly placed the glass on an empty table before taking her hands and pulling her towards the dance floor.

“let’s dance!”

unknown to you—rafe had been watching you ever since you stepped foot into the venue.

IT was almost one in the morning when everyone had left, you and kie sitting at one of the empty tables while you waited for jj to finish up.

you hadn’t had that much to drink, but you could say you were a little tipsy.

“ready to go?” jj asked while throwing his arms around you both, a sarcastic grunt dropping from your lips at the sudden weight.

“we were about to leave yo-”

“well, well, well...if it isn’t the golden trio” a familiar voice spat, your head snapping to the side as your eyes fell on the devil himself.

rafe cameron and his little minions.

“if it isn’t daddy’s money, dumb, and dumber” kie snapped back—referring to topper and kelce who were standing on either side of him.

“put your dog on a leash maybank before we do it ourselves” rafe threatened, only causing jj to break from your side and lunge at the boy.

“jj, stop” you said, grabbing his arm as kie yanked him back, “he wants a reaction.”

“i didn’t see you there, y/n. so quiet and small, hard to notice you.”

which was obviously a lie. rafe noticed you the second he walked into the stupid party.

“what do you want, rafe? getting bored at the country club?” you asked, your lips dropping into a fake pout.

“actually the country club is entertaining, unlike some needy bitches who can’t satisfy my needs.”

your face dropped as kie gasped beside you—jj completely unaware of what was going on but still pissed at the way rafe was speaking to you.

rafe’s face dropped slightly at the realization of what he just said, nothing but lies falling from his mouth as his eyes filled with guilt.

“fuck you.”

YOU didn’t remember much after that. just the events taking place of jj trying to throw another punch at the boys before getting dragged away by kie.

the poor girl was trying to control her hot headed friend while the other was on the verge of tears.

but you refused to cry.

in front of rafe or not, you would not let yourself cry over him.

all you remember is crashing at john b’s house and waking up with a massive headache.

your legs were draped over kie’s as the two of you slept on john b’s bed, the boys taking the couch in the living room.

light from the outside peeked through the curtains as your eyes slowly adjusted to the brightness.

your phone laid next to you on the comforter as your hands dragged it closer.

what you weren’t expecting was a shitload of texts from rafe.

rafe cameron: i’m really sorry

[sent 1:34am]

rafe cameron: y/n

[sent 1:34am]

rafe cameron: i didn’t mean anything i said

[sent 1:36am]

rafe cameron: i was drunk and wasn’t thinking

[sent 1:40am]

rafe cameron: please hear me out

[sent 1:41am]

rafe cameron: meet me at our place

[sent 1:49am]

rafe cameron: 7:30am

[sent 1:51am]

you groaned loudly while reading his texts, the need to throwup swirling in your stomach as you tossed your phone to the side.

you ran your hands over your face as you thought on what to do, biting your bottom lip in the process as you stared at the wall in front of you.

after what felt like an hour of pondering, you let yourself slip off the bed and grab your hoodie that was thrown on the floor.

you were going to see him.

‘WHAT if she doesn’t show’ rafe thought to himself as he sat in the sand, his eyes locked on the waves crashing in front of him.

he was stupid last night.

the boy made a stupid mistake that he regretted deeply.

he just needs to show you how sorry he is.

“rafe.”

his head snapped in the direction of your voice, your figure standing a few feet from his as he then quickly stood up.

he dusted off his pants before nervously making eye contact, his throat suddenly drying up as he attempted to swallow what felt like a rock.

“y/n, i’m s-so so sorry for what i said yesterday. i-i didn’t mean any of it-”

“so what? i’m supposed to forgive you?” you cut off, raising an eyebrow as his mouth fell slightly, “what if it happens again?”

“i-it won’t! i swear it won’t. i was just drunk and jealous and really fucking stupid” he blabbered on, his hands shaking as he tried to defend himself.

“jealous?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowing together as he nodded his head shamefully.

“of you and that stupid pogue.”

“jj?!”

he seemed to visibly retract from your words, his eyes narrowing as he bit the inside of his cheek.

“yeah, him.”

“so you acted the way you did...because of jj?” you slowly asked, his eyebrows knitting together as he stared at you.

“i didn’t mean it, y/n...” he frowned, his face dropping slightly as you waited for him to continue, “please give me another chance, i’ll show you how sorry i am—how much you mean to me.”

it was quiet for a good minute as your thoughts swarmed your mind for a response.

“rafe...”

“y/n, please.”

another minute went by, the only sound coming from the waves crashing along the shore.

“fine.”

IT had been five months since you forgave rafe, and things were honestly going better than you had expected.

after that morning on the beach he took you out on a proper date—ending in him walking you back to your house and even stealing a kiss.

he even stopped starting fights with jj and the other pogues, wanting you to know that he was better than that.

“WHAT do you want to watch?” rafe asked while flipping through channels, one hand holding the remote while the other rested on the small of your back.

“m’not sure, you can pick.”

he hummed in response before clicking on some random channel, not really planning on watching it anyway.

he tossed the remote to the side before looking down at you, admiring your relaxed state with your arms wrapped tightly around his torso.

“you know i love you right?” he suddenly asked, his voice low and soft as he stared at you from above.

“why so gushy, rafe?” you teased, your own head angling up to see him better.

he was so beautiful.

“i’m not gushy,” he rolled his eyes, “i just wanted to remind you.”

you blushed at his words before nuzzling back into the crook of his neck, your lips kissing the delicate skin making him smile.

“i love you too, rafe.”

🏷rafe cameron taglist : @jordynsharum

a/n: could you tell i didn’t know how to end it

#rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #obx rafe #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron angst #rafe angst #rafe cameron

[milkiane]

home

pairings: rafe cameron x reader, platonic!pogues x reader

warnings: mentions of drugs, mentions of bruises and blood, profanities, angst

word count: 1181

prompt: ‘then something broke in me and i wanted to go home’ [wish that you were here, florence + the machine] for @pad-foots' 7 days of angst challenge.

note: you guys should really follow @s1ater <3

home is where the heart is, they said.

it could be a place, somewhere you’ve found solace in. the place you’d go back to and get thumped by a sense of nostalgia and sentimentality, yearning for the days where it was all so simple.

but truthfully, home is a person. home is a feeling. as you grow older, you’ll start to realize that the concept of home doesn’t have anything to do with stacked bricks and cement, but it’s more of the people you share it with, the people you’ve grown to love.

you haven’t felt at home in weeks.

maybe it was rafe’s lack of affection and care, or maybe it’s because he was high off his ass all the time, or maybe because he wasn’t the same boy you loved.

it was a tiring routine, really. he’ll text you to come over, you’ll get a smidge of hope that he’ll finally come around and apologize for being a dickhead, only to find out that you’re there to watch him snort some coke, take care of him as he comes off his high, and go home with a heavy heart.

you didn’t know what happened, the both of you were okay. you were two teenagers in love, not letting the rivalry between the pogues and kooks get in the way of your blooming romance. everything was doing great until he found the same love and happiness in the drugs he once had with you.

you were so sick and tired of it. you still loved rafe, but you don’t know how much more you could handle until you break.

the jingling of the doorknob interrupted your bustling thoughts, you’ve been waiting for rafe in his room. you sighed as you turned off the tv, completely missing half of the movie.

rafe stumbled across the dark room, fumbling with the light switch as he groaned.

as soon as he flickered it on, your gasp caught his attention, “oh, good, you’re here,”

“rafe, what the fuck?” you immediately ran over to him, supporting his figure over to the bed. his face was bruised and he had a bloody nose.

you went straight to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit under the sink’s cupboard. when you stood back up, your reflection caught your attention. you don’t even look like yourself anymore, features of exhaustion shrouding your face.

you sighed, shutting your eyes shut as you tried to keep your tears in bay. it was as if worrying for rafe 24/7 has sucked the life and ambition from you. your eyes looked dead and dark, full of hurt as you thought of rafe and the mess you’d have to deal with once again.

“y/n?” rafe called out, sitting up against the headboard. wincing as he felt the pain of the bruises.

you took one more deep breath before making your way towards him.

“y/n,” he mumbled softly, grimacing as you dabbed the alcohol-soaked cotton on his grazed temple.

you hummed, avoiding eye contact as you continued patching him up.

“i’m sorry, baby. i knew i said i’d stop getting into fights but-“

you let out a shaky breath, leaning your head on his chest. slowly, sobs racked your body as you clenched the bedsheets in your hands, “i’m so tired, rafe, so tired.”

“me, too,” he cooed, rubbing your back soothingly. you looked up at him to see his eyes red and droopy. he was coming off from another high.

you swallowed, applying more antiseptics on his wounds. as you cleaned up the kit, he grabbed your arm and brought you into his embrace. in his drowsy state, he got to slur out a soft, “i love you, y/n,”

ridiculously enough, tears blurred your vision once more. you let them fall as you whimpered against his arms.

“what’s wrong, baby?”

“everything, rafe. i’m so fucking tired of looking after you, you aren’t the same rafe cameron who i fell in love with,” you sniffed, “god forbid i sound pathetic but i don’t want this vile, cruel, and druggy version of you with a tough guy act. i want the rafe who used to cancel golfing out with friends to spend the day watching disney movies with me, the rafe who cooks breakfast in bed, the rafe who loves me and acts as if i was his world.”

you whimpered, ”i- i just want to go home,”

“what do you mean? you are home,” he sat up, trying to blink away the haziness of his eyes.

“no, i’m not, and i haven’t been in weeks!” you cried, removing yourself from his hold.

“y/n, come on. we could fix this, i promise i’ll get better,” he pleaded, his own eyes getting watery.

“i want to go home, rafe, let me go,” you sniffed, “let me go…” you whispered.

slowly, he approached you and pulled you into a hug, letting you cry against his chest.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” he repeated over and over again. his own heart breaking with every noise of pain you made.

with one last kiss on your temple, he separated your bodies, “i’m sorry, i love you.”

you let the tears fall freely, squeezing his hand before letting go, leaving him alone in his room.

you drove away from tannyhill, sniffling as you turned on the radio to block out all intrusive thoughts.

putting your car in park, you didn’t realize that you drove yourself to the chateau until you took in the sight of the small cabin and fairy lights hung around from tree to tree.

you inhaled deeply, rubbing your eyes to wipe away all the tears. you didn’t know if they’ll still welcome you in, but all you could do was hope.

the sound of a car engine made all of the pogues pause their bonfire conversation, they didn’t know what to expect when they jogged towards the porch, but it definitely wasn’t a teary y/n.

“y/n?” kiara’s voice called out, her eyebrows were furrowed just like the rest of them.

your head snapped towards their direction, the sight of the group made your heart clench, you started fumbling with your words, “hey guys, i’m sorry. i don’t know what i’m doing here, i’ll just go, i’m sorry.”

“what’s wrong?” pope asked, watching as kiara walked towards you, opening her arms for a hug.

when she wrapped your arms around you, something about her warmth and their concern about you made you break. you clutched onto her tightly as you let your emotions flood, “i’m sorry,”

she shushed you, rubbing her hand up and down your back as you continued to cry.

their hearts broke as you continued to cry, john b walked past the two boys and brought you into a tight hug, followed by pope and jj.

they slowly lowered into the ground as they enveloped you in a group hug.

home isn’t a place. home is where the other half of your soul is, and home is with the pogues.

you finally feel at home.

add yourself to my taglist!

general taglist: @tatesimper @bluvclouds @i-love-scott-mccall

obx taglist: @maybanksslut @spideyspixies @oldschoolkiddo @iwritesiriusly @iamninaannaisreading @nyxie75 @stylesyourmine @gabiatthedisco

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron oneshot #obx #outer banks #obx fanfiction #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #tuserliane

[howisavedtheworld]

enough | hanamaki takahiro

genre: heavy angst to fluff, a *lil* bittersweet lmao, timeskip!hanamaki takahiro x fem!reader/gn!reader, established relationship

warnings pls pls read: money problems, cursing littered in a lot of places, mentions of feelings like depression, exhaustion, loneliness, crying, etc., blood mentioned *once* (it’s from a callus, it is nothing extreme but i want to state it explicitly anyways) if there’s anything else brought to my attention ill fix accordingly

a/n: hi!!!! it’s been like two weeks since i’ve posted, i’ve been in a slump, but i’m going to genuinely try to be more consistent and kind to myself abt wat i create! also every thing i’ve ever written on here is ib my personal experiences

heads up tho, i havent read the manga and this is just my dramatized take on his life post-time skip and certain things may be inaccurate 

enjoy!

also proofread at 4 am lol

wc: 1385

PLS GIVE THIS FIC A CHANCE ITS NOT ALL SAD I PROMISE

                                               -

if hanamaki takahiro were to say he’s “tired,” one would deem it a grave understatement.

he’s not just tired.

he’s drained.

for starters, he’s worked three back to back shifts and it was barely reaching wednesday. monday at the deli was tough, considering he spent twelve straight hours packaging and stocking prosciutto and mozzarella sandwiches and arranging bags of kettle-cooked chips by flavor across the aisles of the store.

tuesday was even harder, the double shift at the restaurant hitting his already fatigued body like a brick. it was tiring enough to run around speedily clearing dishes and wiping down tables for six hours but it was absolute overkill to then spend the entire night cleaning the restaurant and prepping it for the morning crew.

6:39 am.

that was when takahiro finally left the restaurant, forcing his sluggish sore limbs to make the trek to the train station for the long ride back home.

in truth, the word “tired” barely even scratched the surface.

but he needed the money.

he needed it badly.

bills were always lingering on the brim of takahiro’s mind: the rent, the light bill, the water, the electricity. it left with him the constant urge to move, to work, to always be on the lookout for his next paycheck.

and of course, this wasn’t the best arrangement nor was it the life he’d hoped for.

of course, regret encompassed him, bound itself to his very being.

he wished he went pro after his glory days at aoba johsai, that he’d tried a little harder to be something. maybe then he’d have the opportunity to play in argentina, to travel the world, or to get signed by a sports brand just for the sake of it.

of course, he always felt a pang of jealousy for the ones that made it big.

even the ones who didn’t.

the ones with stable incomes, who could sustain themselves with only one job, who owned compact sized cars, who could actually save a single dime with hopes of eventually going on vacation.

deep down, he was jealous of them, too.

and he wondered, as he finally stepped foot on the train heading north, feeling the ache in his heels settle, if this would ever feel like enough.

if working two jobs back to back would ever amount to any feeling of satisfaction, if it was okay that he would only ever be remembered as the guy who didn’t go pro, who never got his degree, who was barely getting by.

he really didn’t think so.

because how could it be enough?

how could he have nothing to show for the life he lived?

sometimes, takahiro felt almost as if he was cursed. that life had dealt him the worst of cards just to see him crack underneath the pressure.

a lot of times, he did.

he had his fair share of low moments: the time he found himself shedding tears in the back of the deli, hiding behind loaves of rye bread and cold cuts hoping nobody would catch him.

or the time he bandaged his own bleeding foot by himself at the restaurant because his calluses broke open and everyone else was simply too busy to help.

in these moments, hanamaki felt so alone.

as if the world had forgotten him, had continued to spin on its axis, leaving him alone to figure out its rotation.

in these moments, he really just wanted to run away from it all.

to quit his jobs and just disappear for some time.

but he couldn’t.

because hanamaki takahiro had also learned that in every shitty day or moment, there was a flip side.

there had to be a sliver of hope in the midst of darkness.

7:32 am. 

that was when hanamaki got home.

he stood for a moment, fumbling with various receipts and trinkets in his pocket before he finding his keys and opening the door.

it was quiet. 

he could only hear the whirr of the shaky air conditioner and the hum of morning birds outside the bay windows of the living room. he took one step inside, wincing at the ache in his legs and sharp jab of pain up his spine.

locking the door behind him, he slipped off his shoes before the silence was broken.

“baby?” your soft sleepy voice rang through the apartment, making his body jump.

he was sure you’d be sleeping by now.

“hey, babe.” he let out a exhale of relief that you were the source of noise. “sorry if i woke you.” 

you sat up from your position laying on the couch, shaking your head incessantly while wiping the grog from your eyes.

“no,” you quickly spoke. “i was waiting for you.”

his heart skipped a beat looking at you, your eyes half-lidded from exhaustion with dark circles underneath them, your hair completely disheveled from your awkward sleeping position on the couch, and you wore his old seijoh jersey that was too large and slipped down your shoulders, the hem falling just above your knees.

you looked at him, offering a soft smile before beckoning him over to you. “work must’ve fucking sucked, c’mere.”

and you were so right.

it was awful.

he took lengthy strides over to you before dropping onto the couch, his head finding its way to your lap.

your fingers instinctively reached to stroke his soft locks and he sighed, leaning into your touch.

“are you hungry?” you murmured. “i made udon earlier. it’s cold now so you’ll have to warm it up.”

he was hungry, desperately so after not having a moment to get even a small snack in at work, but he wanted to stay here for just a little longer, pressed into you, feeling the pads of your fingers against his scalp, smelling your conditioner and listening to the softness of your voice.

he shook his head, and you laughed, knowingly nodding. “okay, you can eat it later.”

“how was work for you?” he questioned, eyes fluttering closed at serenity of the moment.

you hummed, fingers still locked into his hair. “shitty. you know, usual bullshit with customers. but i think with my next paycheck, we’ll make the rent.”

his eyes snapped open to look up at you, and you were staring down at him, an excited smile on your face when you locked eyes.

and takahiro knew you had hopes and dreams, that you wanted to go back to school and get your degree and have a normal job, and eventually buy a house and car, and maybe have kids, but you always said that part wearily, claiming you both should start off the family off with a pet first.

he knew you wanted something different. you’d told him.

but even now, in this moment as he stared up at you, saddened by the fact that the future you hoped for was nowhere in sight, there was no inkling of disappointment in your eyes, no what-if, no questioning of if it was enough.

you looked at him like the life you had was all you’d ever asked for.

as if of course it was enough.

before he knew it, a single tear rolled down his cheek.

your eyes widened and you moved a hand to his cheek, wiping the tear away.

“i love you.” he stated, a few more lone tears sliding down his face.

your face softened before you squeezed his cheek with your hand.

“hey.” you beckoned him to sit up.

he followed, sitting up to face your frame on the couch. “don’t cry ‘cus we made the rent. there’s always other bills you can pay. if that’s what you’re worried about.”

and he laughed, nodding while tears spilled over his irises and he watched you through bleary eyes, wipe each one away and pull him into an embrace.

“i love you. you know that, right? i’ll always love you.”

hanamaki takahiro realized that in this lifetime, he doesn’t need a sports deal, or a compact car, or trips to argentina. even if life were to always be this hard, if he was always teetering on the in-between, if this was all the universe had to offer him, that was okay.

because it had granted him you.

and you, alone, were more than enough.

#hanamaki takahiro x reader #hanamaki takahiro fluff #hanamaki takahiro angst #haikyuu! x reader #hanamaki fluff #hanamaki angst #no bc its almost 5 am and im working tmrw

[wolveria]

Inside Your Wires - Ch 7

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: You try to smooth relations between you and Detective Anderson, made difficult when the human wants nothing to do with you.

AO3

Story banner by @uh-kitty-got-wet​

You allowed the glass door to swing quietly shut behind you, smoothing your tie as you followed at a polite distance on the detective’s heels. The hunch of his shoulders was interpreted by your social module as a sign of discomfort and tension.

You were given several options on how to approach the human, even one suggesting taking several minutes before engaging him in conversation, but your mission prompt wouldn’t allow you to have that flexibility.

[EARN DET. ANDERSON’S TRUST]

Standing directly next to his desk, you appraised the human’s belongings, noting all of the items you had scanned upon your arrival. The human had an assortment of items, including an ancient mp3 player [Zune, manufactured 2008], a work cell phone, a bonsai tree [Japanese maple, dying], and several personal photos printed out and taped to his display board.

They were of different places and at different times, going by the various types of clothing, but they consisted of mostly the same subjects. Three men wearing nearly identical faces that only android software could differentiate between, and an older man catalogued as Captain Hank Anderson. He was marked as the adoptive father of the triplets.

Even though you had done it several times before, you scanned the detective’s features. His identifying information displayed on your HUD, further settling in your memory banks each time you did it.

DET. ANDERSON, CONNOR

Born: 08/15/2008 // Police Detective

Criminal record: [Sealed Juvenile Records]

You blinked and the identifying information disappeared, leaving you to fully observe the detective where he sat, hunched over his terminal with a scowl on his face.

“I know the situation is not ideal,” you began in your most diplomatic tone, “but I look forward to working with a law enforcement officer of your caliber."

The human gave no indication he heard you, but his heart rate increased by a small percentage, and his fingers pressed down on his flat keyboard in a way that was counteractive to typing.

You were prompted with more dialogue options, and once again went with the friendliest approach.

“It seems we will be working together for some time, so perhaps it would be beneficial to get to know one another.”

The human remained reticent, glaring at the terminal screen as if it were angering him personally. The detective also narrowed his eyes, indicating an intense dislike, but remained silent on the state of his emotions.

Your gaze drifted down to the empty mug of coffee next to the withering bonsai tree.

[ESTABLISH RAPPORT WITH DET. ANDERSON]

“What are you doing?”

You tilted your head, freezing your motor functions when the question was asked, putting you in the position of half-bending over the detective’s desk. You had blocked his terminal with your body as you attempted to reach his coffee cup, and he now stared at you from inches away with a wide, startled expression.

“Sorry, Detective. I thought you might like a refill.”

You had received a helpful notification that caffeine withdrawal can result in headache and irritation, both of which you had identified in the detective’s tense expression.

“Okay, fine, could you just—“ He released a puff of air, fluttering the loose lock of hair that strategically fell to the side of your face. “—hurry up so you’re not in my goddamn lap?”

You weren’t in his lap, or even in the relative vicinity of his groin. It would have been more accurate to say you were closest to his face and hands, the latter of which had been rapidly retracted when the front of your chassis had brushed against them.

You also noted the rise in temperature of his skin, the pink hue across his cheeks, and the dilation of his pupils—all indications of arousal and attraction. These were common occurrences with your model design, and you dismissed the pop-up that asked if you wished to run the sexual subroutine. Such programs were low priority and only used as a last result if the detective were uncooperative with the investigation.

“Sorry, Detective,” you repeated, forming your lips into the approximation of a warm smile. “I’ll return shortly.”

You carefully picked up the mug and moved into a standing position, and the detective released a long exhale, avoiding meeting your eye as he turned back to his terminal.

Satisfied in your endeavor, you crossed the short distance to the station breakroom.

Two humans resided inside, leaning against an elevated circular table as they spoke. Both turned their heads to stare, and you took the opportunity to scan them.

CPL. LEE, HELEN

Born: 05/19/2005 // Police Corporal

Criminal record: None

 LT. ANDERSON, COLIN

Born: 08/15/2008 // Police Lieutenant

Criminal record: [Expunged Juvenile Records]

You blinked away the notifications and gave them a non-threatening smile before turning to the coffee machine. It was a large unit, meant for offices with frequent foot traffic, and a brief scan indicated it was overdue for a cleaning.

You weighed the negatives against the benefits of obtaining a beverage from this machine, and determined it was worth the possible contamination risk.

Placing the mug underneath the drip dispenser, you pushed the appropriate buttons after determining the detective’s preferred blend with a quick swipe of your fingers to the interior of the cup and placing them on your tongue.

There was a noise from behind, a slight huff of air and the soft pad of rubber soles against linoleum. One pair vacated the breakroom, and the other approached and stopped at your back.

“Connor done having his temper tantrum yet?”

You turned to face the lieutenant, examining his features and finding open curiosity. He stayed a polite distance away, unlike earlier, when he had stood so close that you had been forced to take a seat at the detective’s desk.

You wondered now if you should have tolerated the lieutenant’s close proximity, since occupying the detective’s chair had seemed to upset him.

“Must be bad if he’s already sent you to fetch his coffee,” he added with a nod to the mug sitting on the drainage tray. “Usually, he waits a day or two before terrorizing the rookies.”

“I volunteered,” you hurried to say, not wanting a ranking officer to get the wrong idea about the detective. “I believe it will be an appropriate icebreaker for our new partnership.”

“That so? Pretty sophisticated for an android, and terribly hopeful.” He canted his head to the side. “You got some kind of human instruction manual inside that processor of yours?”

The lieutenant dropped his gaze down your body, lingering in a way it had done many times before. The evidence of his attraction was even more obvious than the detective’s, but your sexual subroutines had never been activated by his interest before. You were assigned to Det. Anderson’s charge, and therefore, it would serve no purpose to offer your additional features to the lieutenant.

“In essence,” you answered, passive but friendly enough not to antagonize. “My human relations program assists in easing the interaction between CyberLife androids and humans.”

“I see.”

He moved closer, face neutral but his eyes highly observant. He reached out and took your tie, tugging it upwards. The tie clip stopped him from lifting it far, but the lieutenant seemed satisfied with letting the fabric run through his fingers.

“What else can your human relations program do?”

The tone of his question was easy enough to decipher, your program indicating the query was of a sexual nature.

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that, Lieutenant,” you said. “Only Detective Anderson has access to my specialized subroutines.”

The fingers threading your tie went still. The open curiosity vanished from the lieutenant’s face, replaced by a calculating appraisal.

“Well, then. My brother’s a lucky guy.”

His lips pulled into a languid smile that didn’t match the tightness around his eyes.

You carefully pulled your tie from his lax fingers, once again giving him a non-threatening expression.

“The coffee’s done brewing. I must get back to the detective now.”

Turning back to the coffee machine, you kept a significant number of your processors focused on the sound of Lt. Anderson’s heartbeat and breathing, even sampling the micro sensors on your skin.

He remained at a close distance, though by the time you turned around with mug in hand, all you could see of him was his retreating back as he went around the corner down the hallway. From your downloaded schematics of the building, you knew the most likely route he was taking was either to the unisex bathrooms or the station gym.

Your statistical readouts stated the chance the lieutenant would try to engage in sexual activity with you at some point was at approximately 35.2%, and you tasked your processors with running the probability in the background. It was important that erratic human behavior didn’t interfere with your investigation.

“Have a nice chat with my brother?” the detective asked, tone flat as he stared at his monitor.

You filed away possible tension between the two siblings to observe further. You placed the mug next to his keyboard, this time on the side nearest you so you would not lean over and agitate the human again.

“It was informative,” you simply said, straightening into a standing position once more.

The detective gave a huff through his nose and muttered, “I’ll bet.” His eyes narrowed, and after seven seconds of glaring at his terminal, he locked on your face in irritation.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes,” you said, letting a friendly smile appear. “I would like to know where I can access the DPD’s database. I wish to review the case files.”

The skin around the human’s nose crinkled. He seemed to hold some kind of internal conflict before he sighed and indicated the desk connected with his own.

“Belonged to my last partner. You can use it. For now.” He emphasized the words, as if you had possibly forgotten the temporary nature of your partnership.

“Thank you,” you said with a small nod. The detective rolled his eyes and turned back to his terminal, seemingly already having forgotten you.

You knew he hadn’t. Every observant sensor of your body informed you of his continued wariness, even while his eyes were mostly focused on the glass screen in front of him, he was constantly tuned to your presence.

By the time you had sat down in the chair of the empty desk, you had already pulled up in the DPD database to discover what had become of the detective’s last partner.

Sheila Pernell, also a detective, had transferred to another precinct months earlier, citing the difficult nature of working with Anderson and his unpleasant personality. The language she had used had been colorful and extremely unprofessional.

You made another note in your background processes: Detective Connor Anderson displays hostility toward work partners and colleagues. Difficult to connect with others on an interpersonal level. Approach and adapt to antisocial tendencies as needed.

You turned toward the terminal and placed the fingers of your right hand on the keyboard, allowing your synthetic skin to pull make to interface with the device. Connecting to the network and pulling up the cases assigned to Det. Anderson, you downloaded all 243 into your memory bank.

Hoping to prompt a conversation with the detective, you turned toward him from your chair, slightly tilting your head as you analyzed his tense posture. It hadn’t relaxed at all within the past two minutes since your last interaction.

“There are two hundred and forty-three cases dating back to February of this year, many of them originating in Detroit. An AX400 abducted a young girl from her home last night. I thought that might be a good place to start. It’s flagged as the most urgent case due to it being a crime against a minor.”

Your social module had indicated bringing up the danger to a child would have prompted some kind of response, but the detective remained fixedly silent, leaning the side of his jaw against his propped knuckles.

A more drastic approach was needed. You stood, walked around the joined desk, and approached the detective as he made a noise and turned away.

Coming to a stop directly next to his chair, you adopted the understanding demeanor, hoping to placate the detective’s agitation.

“I understand this isn’t an ideal situation, Detective, but perhaps it would be best to set aside your personal issues, and—“

“Excuse me?” the detective snapped, glaring at you out of the side of his eye. “Were you just about to suggest how I do my job? Because if so, I advise you to shut the hell up. You’re not my boss, and you’re definitely not my partner, so perhaps it would be best if you fucked off and didn’t come back.”

He turned away again and picked up his tablet as he pretended you were no longer standing there.

You plucked the device out of his hand, ignored the surprised noise he made, and placed your other palm between his shoulder blades to establish a physical connection he couldn’t ignore.

“I’m investigating these cases whether you like it or not, Detective.” You leaned closer, speaking directly next to his ear so as not to be overheard. “If you continue to refuse to cooperate, then I’ll find someone else who will be more amenable to my presence.”

For the span of two seconds, the detective remained completely frozen. And then he abruptly stood, grabbed you by the jacket, and swung you around. Your back slammed against the glass partition with a solid thud.

“I’m only going to say this once,” he growled, inches from your face. “I don’t care how many Barbie dolls CyberLife sends to the station. If you keep mouthing off to me, I’ll shoot you myself and throw you in the dumpster. Am I understood?”

“Perfectly,” you calmly answered, which served to only agitate the detective further.

His brows creased as his hands tightened around the edges of your jacket. The human was stronger than his wiry frame gave him credit for as he managed to hold you between himself and the glass, your toes brushing the ground but unable to find purchase.

You remained silent, returning his glare with a bland, pleasant expression despite the discomfort traveling your circuits. If the detective was going to continue to be a problem, you would need to report his behavior, and that might further delay the investigation.

Trying to adapt to his psychology was proving fruitless, and it was clear you had underestimated just how socially challenged he was. Perhaps seeking a new partner was the right course of action after all.

Elijah had stated that if the detective became too much of an issue, his brother would be a suitable replacement. But when you thought of the lieutenant, the idea of working with the human was…

Unpleasant.

You studied the human’s face, searching those dark brown eyes, but found no acceptance there. You were going to have to work harder to—

“Detective, uh… sorry to bother you…”

At the sound of the timid voice, the detective released your jacket and allowed you to stand on firm ground. He didn’t turn to look at the officer standing behind him, however, and continued to level a glare at you, effectively penning you in so you couldn’t step around him.

“What is it, Ralph.”

“It’s about the AX400? The one who kidnapped the little girl? Someone just called in on the APB, said they saw it in the Ravendale district.” He paused, wide hazel eyes darting between you and the detective’s rigid back. “If you need me to bring this to the lieutenant—“

“I’ll handle it,” he said, the heated glare finally pulled off you when he turned and walked away.

Adjusting your jacket of its newly acquired wrinkles, you took a moment to process the detective’s unstable and problematic behavior, and quickly followed before the detective left the station without you.

Next Chapter

#human!connor x reader #connor x reader #connor x android!reader #human!connor x android!reader #reverse au #dbh #my writing #my fanfiction

[peachyho]

The Fall of Icarus I

⦿ pairing: Heeseung x Reader

⦿ genre: angst, fluff, friends to lovers to enemies, mages

⦿ word count: 1.2k

⦿ warnings: mentions of blood, swearing, magic

⦿ summary: Icarus laughed as he fell.

Next ➸

"With this oath, I swear that we shall never harm each other as long as we both shall live." You pricked your finger with an engraved pin, symbols glowing red as they made contact with your blood. You winced at the pain, holding the pin out to Heeseung.

"Nothing shall break this bond, and it shall stand until the end of time," he said, nerves making him breathless as he took the pin from you, pricking his own finger. The symbols changed colour, glowing a deep blue as the two of you sat cross legged in front of each other. You had found the spell book hidden under your mothers straw mattress, and in your 7 years of wisdom, it seemed as if it was the most brilliant idea.

The two of you held your bleeding fingers over the pot of herbs resting over the fire pit. With a countdown, the two of you squeezed the blood off, watching as it sizzled when meeting the red hot metal. You watched for a small moment, waiting for something more to happen.

"Do... Do you think it worked?" Heeseung asked, voice small and unsure.

"Only one way to find out?" You replied, handing Heeseung the small paring knife and holding out your other hand. His eyes went wide as he took it, holding your outstretched hand and looking at you as if to say 'are you sure?'. You nodded, taking in a deep breath and closing your eyes, bracing for the pain. All you heard was metal shattering, and you opened one eye to look at Heeseungs amazed expression and the broken blade scattering the floor.

The two of you couldn't stop laughing, hugging and shaking each other in astonishment. The glee in his eyes was reflected in your own, and the two of you spent the night testing it just to see if it was a once off, smiles of joy never wavering.

—

The room was pitch black, save for the candles flickering on top of the grand piano. It had gone dusty from disuse, and the smell of rot and damp burned the noses of anyone who dared set foot. A lone man sat in the corner, glass of whisky in hand as he stared into space, the memory leaving as sudden as it had came. It hurt his heart in a way far too familiar for his liking, and he tried his best to push the feeling aside, drinking the rest of the alcohol in one gulp, ignoring the burn in his throat. It hadn't been enough to placate him.

His other hand was playing with his necklace, the cold iron burning into his skin, branding him under its touch. He ought to rip it off, throw it into a fire and watch as it melted down into nothing. Yet every time he tried, something was stopping him, his fingers instead going to open the delicate locket and looking at the pair of you, as if no harm would ever fall upon you. Gods he wanted to go back to those days so desperately, wanted to just hold you again as a teen who didn't know any of the worlds hardships either than hunger and cold. But he was 400 years too late for that.

The candles on the piano were starting to burn out now, only two left to flicker in the darkness. He risked a glimpse at his index finger, watching as the candlelight made the pinprick scar dance in shadows. He absentmindedly ran his thumb over it, standing from the chair tucked into the corner before waving his hand, the remaining fire going out. It had been too long a day for him, and the effects were beginning to drag him down. This house was far to large for a sole person, the emptiness always present on the edges of his mind. It was never meant to be just him, just Heeseung in the house he had built for the two of you.

His room was filled with mage books, incantations, scrolls and barely any space for himself on the bed. Another wave of his hand, and the fireplace burst into action, crackling bursting through the silence like a bomb. A particularly loud snap of a branch makes Heeseung flinch, bare feet padding against the plush carpet towards the small bare patch on the bed. Gods, his eyes were unbelievably tired. Even his thoughts began to slur as he got closer to the bed, not bothering to change from his midnight coloured button up and slacks as he threw himself onto it, scrolls jumping about with the movement. A book was digging uncomfortably into his ribs but he couldn't find the effort to move it, simply letting it press into his skin while he drifted off far too quickly than is considered healthy.

—

"Cmon Heeseung, what could be the harm? It's just a town fair, there'll be travelers and merchants!" You laughed out, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the door. He couldn't help but return the grin, eyes still shut over with tiredness.

"If you insist my little mage," His eyes shone with affection as he let himself get dragged along, barely managing to get his overcoat and scarf as you pulled him into the snow, laughing and playing in it all. The two of you hadn't been able to part from each other since your bond was made 12 years ago, growing and learning with each other. You learned spells together, learned potions and wand craft with each other. You had learned each other now.

He watched as you dragged him from stall to stall, passing vendors and food stalls. He laughed at the way you started shaking with excitement when you found a mages stall who had more volumes of books than you had ever seen. He let you pile up book upon book in his arms, adding in his own every now and then until the pile was getting far too much to carry. You split the pile between you as you walked back to the cabin far secluded from everyone. He tried not to make it too obvious, but the way Heeseung kept pushing himself into your side made you laugh with glee, kicking at his ankles every now and then.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence, each scanning their own pile of books for something worth interest. Heeseung couldn’t help but steal glances at you, softly lit from the small fire in the centre of the cabin, hair looking like it was in a halo of fire. It was one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever seen.

"Heeseung! Look at this one!" You urge him over, not even looking up from the tome in front of you. He sat himself behind you, resting his head on your shoulder with a hum of curiosity. You turned, kissing his cheek with a small smile before pointing out the spell to him. It took him a moment to register what he was reading, but when he did, he all but screamed in excitement, planting a giant sloppy kiss on your neck, arms wrapping around and squeezing you with a laugh.

"I can't believe it! You found it! Gods, I love you my little mage!" The two of you couldn't stop laughing, utter delight seeping through every pore. Finally.

#Heeseung #enhypen #Heeseung enhypen #Lee heeseung #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #enhypen imagines #enhypen fanfic #Enhypen scenarios #heeseung imagines #Heeseung scenarios #Heeseung fanfic #kpop series #enhypen series #heeseung series #tfoi

[crackheadgeminibby]

heaven

pairing: chris evans x black!reader

warnings: language, severe angst, age gap, potentially triggering subject (please do not read if you get triggered by stories)

word count: 2.2k

i do not consent to my work being copied in any way, shape or form or reposted on any other platform

not my picture

Today was the day. You were finally going to tell Chris that you were pregnant. You had learned about it three weeks ago when you kept vomiting in the morning and consequently did a test. After the test came back positive, you had scheduled an appointment with your doctor and according to her, you were supposed to be 9 weeks along and you were also supposed to get your first ultrasound picture.

You had forgotten your pill at home during a weeklong trip, but you hadn’t thought that it would matter since it was not the first time that you had forgotten it. It was an accident but that didn’t mean that you were any less excited about it and you knew that Chris would think the same thing.

You leave work as your 5pm doctor’s appointment approaches. You smile and wave at the receptionist as you exit the building. You’re backing out of your parking space as your phone starts ringing. Your car’s Bluetooth announces, “Incoming call from my love💗”. You smile softly and answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Hey baby. Are you still at work?”

“No. I have that… dentist’s appointment, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot. Are you still gonna be able to make it to dinner?”

“I don’t see why not, but if anything changes, I’ll text you. Can you still make it?”

“Yeah, I’m leaving for the house right now and then I’m taking Dodger for a walk.”

“Okay, great. I’ll see you later then?”

“Yeah. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You hang up the call and continue your drive to the doctor’s office.

You feel your throat closing as the doctor gently rubs your shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Evans…”

You cover your mouth as tears start streaming down your face.

“Would you like to keep the picture?”

You numbly nod your head as the doctor types away on the computer.

“Y/N? Baby? Where are you?”

You faintly hear Chris calling for you from the front door.

“Come on, bubba. Let’s find Mommy.” Dodger starts padding his way through the house as Chris follows.

The door creaks open and you immediately feel Dodger jump on the bed.

“Hey. You didn’t hear me calling you?”

You hear Dodger whine and feel him nosing into the top of the blanket that covers your head while Chris kneels next to the bed.

“Y/N?”, Chris asks as he carefully pulls the blanket from your head. He frowns as soon as he sees your tear-stained face.

“Oh, baby… What’s wrong?”, Chris asks as he strokes your cheek.

“I lost it.”

Chris frowns and shakes his head confusedly.

“Lost what?”

Tears start falling down your face again as you think about it, “The baby.”

Chris’ hand stops rubbing your cheek abruptly, “What? What baby?”

You reach for the picture that you had put on the nightstand. You shakily hand it to Chris and his hand trembles as he takes it from you.

He looks at it for what seems like the longest time until he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me?” He breathes in and looks at you with hurt in his teary eyes before asking, “Were you even going to tell me?”

A sob shakes your body as his questions register into your mind.

“I was going to tell you. Tonight, at dinner. I just wanted the picture before telling you.”

You look at Chris as tears fall from his face, seemingly in slow motion.

He silently gets up and lays down next to you, intertwining his fingers with yours. Your body shakes as another sob makes its way out of you. Chris gently takes you into his arms and whispers, “Shhh, baby. It’s okay. It’s okay…”

Dodger kneels at the foot of the bed and tilts his head quizzically. Chris waves him over and he lays down next to you as you continue to cry in Chris’ arms.

It had now been three and a half weeks since you had learned that you had miscarried. Chris had insisted that you stay home and rest and, as a result, you had been sleeping, reading, watching TV, or walking Dodger since then.

Chris had told his mom the day after you had learned about the miscarriage, and she had insisted on coming to visit you. She had stayed for about a day before she finally helped you scramble enough courage to tell your own parents. They had also come to visit you and had left a week later.

Chris was currently at the grocery store while you were watching a movie with Dodger in your lap.

Dodger gets up and runs towards the door before you hear it opening. Chris walks in and drops the groceries in the kitchen before coming over to the living room. He puts his arms around you and softly kisses your temple before asking,

“Hey, princess. How are you doing?”

You shrug and answer, “I’m okay… Could use some cuddles, though.” Chris chuckles next to your ear and kisses your cheek before hopping over the couch. He opens his arms for you, and you hug him before dropping your head into his lap. He starts softly running his fingers up and down your back and soon enough, you’re asleep.

You wake up a couple of hours later as the sun is setting. This was the first time that you had slept more or less normally since the miscarriage had happened.

As you stretch, you hear Chris’ heavy breathing. You look up at him and see that he also fell asleep. You smile and get up as silently as you can to not wake him up. Dodger had also come back from playing around the house and was sleeping on the other side of Chris.

As you walk to the kitchen, you realize that Chris hadn’t had time to put away the groceries before sitting with you, so you decide to start dinner after putting away the food.

You’re lost in your thoughts, humming some song from the movie you were watching as you stir the Bolognese sauce you were making for dinner, so when you feel arms wrapping around your waist, you jump and almost scream,

“Holy shit, Chris! You scared the fuck out of me.”

He laughs at your reaction as you put your hand over your chest.

“Sorry, baby”, he kisses from your cheek down to your neck while stroking your hips and asks, “What are you making? It smells fucking delicious.”

You tilt your head to the side to give him better access and softly moan as you subconsciously let go of the wooden spoon in your hand and put your hands above his. He starts sucking on your sweet spot, located behind your ear, and you start breathing heavily as he now rubs the inside of your thighs.

“Chris, you better stop before this sauce burns and nobody eats dinner at all.”

He softly chuckles and whispers in your ear, “I’m going to be eating a very tasty dinner either way.”

You turn around and softly hit his chest, “Chris!”

He kisses your forehead and smiles as he puts his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, you win. What can I do to help, baby?”

You smile and shake your head as you turn back to your sauce, shrugging, “I’m pretty much done so I guess just setting the table would be fine.” He nods and leaves to do so.

You finish cooking the sauce and put it, as well as the pasta you had already made, in serving plates and bring them to the table just as Chris is finishing setting up the table. He starts plating the food for himself along with you as you head to the far end of the kitchen to put out Dodger’s food.

After you finish with Dodger’s food, you sit down in front of Chris at the table as he hands you your plate.

“Thank you.”

He smiles at you and you both start eating before you hear a whine under the table. You look next to you and see Dodger looking at you with his big brown eyes, begging for some of your food. You shake your head and smile while saying,

“I literally just gave you food, Dodger.”

He continues to whine and as Chris looks over to the window, you snatch some spaghetti from the serving plate and give it to him.

As Chris sees you seemingly smiling at the floor and moving your arm, he tilts his head before looking under the table and seeing you feed Dodger.

“Really, Y/N?”, he asks while trying to keep his laugh in.

You burst into laughter and Dodger finishes eating before running away towards the living room.

You finish eating and start clearing the table. You open the faucet and start to do the dishes before Chris comes behind you and says, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of them. Go relax and I’ll join you after.”

You smile up at him and chastely kiss his lips.

You head to the living room and sit on the couch before calling Dodger over. He hastily walks over to you and lies down next to you with his head in your lap. You gently smile at him and softly pet his head as you turn on the TV and select The Lion King, Chris and your favorite movie to watch together.

As you wait for Chris to finish and join you, you take your phone from the coffee table and see you have some new messages.

lisa evans, 7:32pm:

Hi Y/N, I hope you are resting and are starting to feel better. Call me or send me a text if there’s anything I can do. Xx

momma, 8:26pm:

Hi baby, hope you’re feeling better. Call me or your dad when you get the chance so we can talk a bit, okay?

We love you xo

daddy, 8:33pm:

Good evening sweetie. Call us tomorrow if you can

Love, Dad

You softly smile as your heart warms from their concern. You answer all of them similarly by saying that you feel a bit better and that you’ll call them tomorrow. Just as you’re sending the last text, Chris walks into the living room. You smile at your phone again and put it back on the coffee table as Chris sits down next to you and puts his arm around your shoulders.

“Who was that?”

“Your mom and my parents just wanted to know how I was doing. I told them we would call tomorrow.”

Chris smiles and nods before adding, “Okay.”

He reaches for the TV remote on your other side and pets Dodger a bit before playing the movie. Chris moves around a bit to get more comfortable and ends up lying down on the couch. He motions you over and you lay in front of him. He softly puts his hands on your hips and starts drawing circles.

You don’t realize until about halfway through the movie that Chris’ hands have moved from your hips to your stomach and that he is caressing it. Your breath hitches and you reach for the remote control that Chris had left on the floor in front of you. You pause the movie and sit down on the couch with a hand on your belly.

Chris readjusts himself so he can see your face and confusedly frowns at your thoughtful face: it certainly wasn’t watching The Lion King that had changed your mood that quickly. He puts his hand on top of yours that rests on your thigh and asks,

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

You tearfully look towards him and shakily exhale before saying,

“I think we should start trying. But for real, this time.”

He seems confused for a few seconds before the realization hits him. His eyes widen and he sits up next to you before taking your face in his large hands.

“Princess, are you sure? Rushing back into this really isn’t the best of plans.”

You shake your head and try to explain your thought process,

“No… I’ve thought about it for a while. Even before the…” You feel yourself choking up a bit before clearing your throat and continuing, “Before it all happened, I was already thinking about really having this discussion with you, it just snuck up on me before I could mention it. I- I think I’m ready now.”

You look over at Chris and immediately see the excitement in his eyes. He had waited for this exact moment for so long that he could barely contain the smile that was etching its way onto his face.

He enthusiastically nods and says, “Okay.”

5 MONTHS LATER

Chris nervously squeezes your hand and lovingly looks at you.

“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Evans. It’s a girl”, the doctor says while smiling at both of you.

You look up at Chris and playfully smirk, “A daddy’s girl in the making.”

#chris evans #chris evans x black!reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x woc #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfics #Spotify

[mxchellesworld]

𝟑 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐝 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟗

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐂𝐚𝐭 𝐀𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞, 𝐀𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐰.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: angst, heartache, drinking, drug use (I am not promoting it at all please don’t get the wrong idea)

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

***

You don’t know how long you stayed on your couch but you did know you were out of tears. Physically speaking of course. Mentally you were filled with sorrow and ready to burst at any given moment. 

Nothing seemed real to you anymore. Of course you had past relationships which were serious and followed with breakups. However none were as heart wrenching. Especially with how little time you were involved. But intimacy does bring out the feelings locked down within. 

You knew that once you lost Cat, Spencer would be gone also. Seeing him would be too painful. Perhaps they did have a reason for the no relationship rule. Had they broken the heart of others before and made it up just a precaution to save you from the pain?

Maybe you really were just a toy for them to use. Maybe it was all part of their game to have you fall at their feet then leave once they were satisfied. But Spencer was so kind. He adored you. Right?

You thought Cat really liked you too however that was quickly disproven. 

Your mind was racing a mile a minute screaming at yourself for letting out those stupid fucking words. None of this would be happening if you could just think before you spoke. 

_

Cat had gotten home around midnight. She peaked her head in the office to see Spencer quickly marking off tests. He looked up after hearing the soft padding of her slippers on the wooden floors. 

“Hey you’re back? I thought you’d stay the night over there,” he said with a soft smile. 

“What are you kicking me out already,” she tried to deflect with a joke. In his tried state he wasn’t able to detect the way her eyes were shifting not to look into his. 

“No of course not,” he laughed but it was cut off by a yawn “lets get to bed though. Busy week, we gotta rest.” 

She was grateful for his kindness and ability to lift her spirits without even trying. 

He stood up behind her and rubbed her shoulders on the walk to their bedroom. They did their nightly routines silently, making little conversation about house chores and Spencer’s exciting lesson plans. 

When Cat got into bed she couldn’t help but notice it seemed a bit colder even with his arms around her. She knew it didn’t have to do with their thin blankets but instead the newfound ache growing in her chest. 

_

The work week seemed to drag on for you. Gone was the glow you felt everyday with the anticipation of seeing Cat and Spencer for dinner or hearing from them over the phone. Although Spencer had sent you multiple texts in that time. None of which you responded to. Cat must’ve not told him about what happened. 

She couldn’t have expected you to explain it. You weren’t his girlfriend. 

It hit you. You weren’t his girlfriend. You weren’t either of their girlfriend. That’s why it was so easy for her to just walk out. The feelings were probably one sided all along. 

Abbie had to constantly tap you on your shoulder to get you back to work when your thoughts would spiral out of control. She noticed how the spark in your eye had dimmed and felt worried. Even when you were new, you were always so lively and ready to make conversation. 

During lunch she noticed you stayed in the office break room. She made her way to the cafe around the corner you liked and got you a coffee with your favorite pastry. She hoped you had stayed there so she could talk to you. 

You looked up from your phone hearing the tap of her flats on the floor. You gave Abbie a small smile noticing the coffee tray in her hand and baggy that smelled like sweet bread. 

“Hey Abs,” you said quietly perking up. 

“What’s going on Y/n/n. You’re not as smiley anymore. Do I need to beat someone up,” she tried to say menacingly. 

Her words made you chuckle. You could barley imagine her 5 foot stature reaching the top shelf so the thought of her beating up someone over a foot taller than her was almost comical. 

“No need to get violent. But thank you for the offer, I appreciate it.”

“Ugh fine. This is for you,” she said handing over the peppermint mocha and pastry. You look a bite of the bread and let out a content sigh. It was the first thing you had eaten all day. 

She sat down in the seat across from yours and put her hand over yours. Her small warm hand brought you a sense of comfort you had been craving all week. “You know you can tell me anything right,” she said searching your eyes. 

You sighed before responding, “I messed up Ab.”

“Is this about the couple?” 

You nodded, “I fell hard. And last Sunday Cat was over and we had just finished ya know.. but um the words just slipped out and I said I loved her,” you quickly wiped away the tear you felt slide down your cheek, “And she said she couldn’t do it and she didn’t love me back. Then she just left.”

Abbie stood up from her spot and made her way around the table to pull you to her frame. Her hands wrapped around you and she rubbed your back, “Oh Y/n/n I am so sorry. Don’t feel bad for expressing your emotions,” she let go and took your hands in hers to look in your eyes as she spoke. There was a look of understanding upon her features instead of one of pity. 

“In the few months I’ve known you, you have shown to have such a big heart and you care so much. And if they can’t give you the same then they’re not worth it. Okay?”

You nodded at her words pulling her back in for one last squeeze. You grabbed a napkin and started to pat your cheeks dry. Your phone started to ring and a dreaded contact name popped up. 

Before you could reach it, Abbie snatched it off the table and answered, “Listen buddy. Don’t call y/n anymore if you’re just gonna fuck with her. Or else you’ll have someone else to deal with.” She angrily pressed the red hangup button and you burst into laughter. 

“Abs you are insane. Where do you keep all the rage pent up in there?” 

She waved you off taking a sip of her coffee, “No one fucks with my girl.” 

There was a silence between the two of you. However your phone dinging kept on disturbing it. Spencer. He was asking what happened and what was going on. Why had you been dodging his calls and texts. 

“You know what you need,” she said with a smirk. You didn’t like where this was going. “You need a rebound.” 

“Abs it’s been a week,” you sighed, “I don’t know if I’m up for it.” 

“Ok I got you just hear me out. What if we go to the lounge. I can come over before and get you all dressed up. We show up and boom people are falling right at your feet because you’re so hot. Show them that you don’t care about them, you can have anyone in the whole fucking club if you want.” 

You really thought about it. Revenge was best served cold but you were so warm. You did care about them. But Abbie was right if you wanted you could have anyone. And you couldn’t let them take over your life because of a month of lust. A long month full of sweet smiles, warm hugs, and the best orgasms of your life. 

No. You couldn’t think like that. 

“You know what. I will go. Come over to mine at like 4 on Saturday then we can get ready together, pregame, and get there at like 7.”

She happily clapped and cheered, “Yes that is the Y/n I love.” 

It felt like some of the ache from the week was sliding off your shoulders. You were excited to hangout with her. It was like all your focus was on them and now you were able to live your life freely again, not giving a fuck about anyone tying you down. Both literally and figuratively. 

_

Saturday rolled around and you were buzzing. Abbie had showed up with the goods. Vodka and makeup. You already had on your dress. It was tight and black, perfectly hugging your frame. She had on a burgundy dress with long sleeves. Her hair and makeup were already done up, the only thing missing were the heels she held in her hand. 

“See Y/n even with just a dress on and you’re already sexy as hell,” she said laughing. 

“Yeah yeah. You don’t look too bad either, burgundy suits you well,” you said pulling out shot glasses. 

She poured them to the brim and you guys clinked glasses before shooting them back. You both shuttered at the heat growing in your chest from the clear liquid. 

“What the fuck is this rubbing alcohol?” you said looking down at her. 

“Do you wanna get fucked up or not Y/n/n.”

“Yeah but I’d like to be in control of my hands if I’m gonna be curling my hair,” you yelled at her as she walked over to your speaker. 

She connected her phone music started to fill your apartment. God you hadn’t felt like this since college. You missed having girl friends to hype you up and get you out of your funk after a break up. 

Within a few hours the sky was dark and the bottle of vodka was halfway gone. Your hair made it out into loose curls with minimal finger burns. Abbie had done most of your makeup. A sultry dark shadow was on your lids along with a matching lip. Everything was different than your normal look however a change was always good. 

Getting into the uber made your nerves spike up. You wished you had drank a little more before you left. Abbie could sense your uneasiness and grabbed your hand to comfort you. 

“Hey wait, I have these,” she pulled out a tiny bag which held two small pills. 

“Are you crazy,” your eyes widened as you looked at her. You had taken them before and it wasn’t a bad experience but they definitely clouded your judgement. 

“It’s just one,” she reasoned, “It’ll last like maybe an hour and you’ll feel so good.”

Fuck it. If you were acting out tonight then you were doubling down. It dissolved on your tongue and you just had to wait for it to kick in. 

When you pulled up in front of the club, the driver wished you a safe night and told you to take care. If only he knew. 

Abbie held your hand as you walked in. You took a deep breath and opened the door for her to walk through the dark corridor you hadn’t seen a while. 

You smiled widely seeing Luke sitting in the front desk. All the embarrassment from before was long gone as a giddy, floaty feeling took over your body. 

“Y/n you’re back,” he said excitedly, “No Cat or Spencer?” he questioned. 

“Nope. Those days are over. But this is my friend Abbie, we work together,” you motioned to her. 

Luke reached his hand out for her to shake, “Luke Alvez, welcome to the Underground Library sweetheart,” he said kissing the back of her hand. 

“Well we are gonna go have fun, see you later,” you said looking at him. 

“Of course, have a good time ladies,” he waved you off. 

“I’m fucking him tonight,” Abbie said looking up at you. 

You laughed at her and guided her over to the bar. You both ordered a mixed drink along with water. Your eyes roamed around taking in the place. Part of you knew who you were looking for but part of you was also dreading running into them. 

You noticed that the area which usually had couches and seats was turned into a make shift dance floor. Sweaty bodies were pressed up against each other and you knew exactly where you needed to be. 

You leaned closer to Abbie to talk to her, “Hey do you wanna dance?” 

“I’m not much of a dancer. But you go have fun babe, I’ll keep an eye on you from here.” 

You nodded and left your coat with her, “Hey why don’t you hand these over to Luke,” you said with a wink. 

You both split up and you made your way to the dance floor. The substances in your body made all your thoughts float away. You didn’t care if you were alone, you were in a sea of gorgeous individuals who were also having the time of their lives. 

A pair of hands grabbed your waist. You didn’t bother to turn around and just enjoyed the feeling of their body close to yours. You felt soft lips on your neck and you tilted it back to give them more access. 

The music was pounding in your ears. It was like the bass was boosted and pumping through your veins. You could barley hear the soft moans you were letting out from the feeling of their mouth and hands roaming your body as you grinded against one another. 

Finally they turned you around. It was a woman with straight long brown hair. She pulled you closer to her thin frame and you wrapped your arms around her neck. 

You leaned in to her ear saying your name, “I’m Y/n. What’s your name.” 

“Lindsey,” she said with a smirk. 

𝐚/𝐧; 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐞𝐲? 𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚? 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫!

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #cat adams x reader #cat adams smut #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds smut #chellewrites

[xfandomwritingsx]

Hold Your Breath - Chapter One: A Blank Page - Draco Malfoy

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Description: After decisions put you on opposite side of the war, returning to Hogwarts to finish your education proves to be challenging. Maybe closure isn’t the only thing you need from Draco.

Warnings/Labels: Angst. Hints of depression. Unhappy reunions.

Approx. Word Count: 3,000

A/N: I’m trying to keep the reader’s house open for interpretation, but I think it’s pretty plain to see that in my head, she’s a Ravenclaw. I’m also not a fan of this chapter. This is the chapter in which I converted what I had written of the oneshot into a longer piece so there are bits that to me still have a different feel than the rest. Makes it a little choppy when I read it, but hopefully it’s not bad for you!

Story Masterpost

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September 1998

The world looks the same as it always has outside of the train window, but it all feels different. Colors still feel muted and even though there’s less chaos raging behind the trees, they still give you an ominous feeling deep in your gut. There are familiar faces on the train, but not enough to make you feel at home. Eyes either avoid yours or stare uncomfortably long. You feel out of place. You’re not supposed to be here.

But, yet, here you are. Your classmates have affectionately dubbed it “The 8th Year” at Hogwarts and even that makes you feel ill-fitting since you didn’t actually attend any of your 7th year so how could it possibly be considered your 8th? You had spent all of last year in hiding, most of which at The Burrow working to gain trust and prove your worth. You’d spent the end of it fighting on the winning side and risking your life for people you once hated.

You don’t belong.

And right now, if you could, you might just get off the train and call it quits on the whole 8th year idea. But you’re already committed now and you refuse to be labeled a quitter. It’s time to move on and build a life for yourself and you know that starts with finishing your education as best you can. So you swallowed the nausea and stayed.

You are one of the last ones off the train partly because you don’t like being in the crowd and partly because you hope it might lessen the stares. Armed with a bag filled almost entirely of long sleeved shirts, you take a deep breath and step onto the platform.

The air is warm, though the threat of colder weather ahead lingers in the air. You yearn for it, having taken a liking to the cold in the last year or so. Trees still hold their color so you suspect you have to wait just a little while for it yet. At least it gives you something to look forward to.

You begin your walk down the platform, feet padding gently along the wood. One step at a time, you tell yourself. One foot in front of the other until they suddenly stop when the sight of Draco exiting the train a few doors down causes your lungs to seize. You’d heard he would be attending so it shouldn’t have stunned you to see him, but it did. You had chosen to ignore the fact that you’d likely run into him, instead choosing to blindly hope you could somehow avoid him all year.

The thinning crowd of people allows you to see him fairly clearly. He’s looks good, well and healthy even. The little boy who broke your heart had grown into a man somehow. Perhaps in the four short months since the end of the war, he had healed. Maybe he was atoning for his wrongs. A softness in your heart grows as you watch him, letting yourself briefly daydream about a happy reunion filled with apologies and hope for the future.

His eyes scan the platform and when they fall on you, your heart speeds up anxiously. His look is not warm or friendly and when you recognize the façade painted on his face, your girlish fantasies are wiped away. He’s nothing more than the same boy he’s always been, playing pretend in a black dress jacket and trousers with a coward’s fear hidden behind his steely eyes.

He doesn’t even acknowledge you, just keeps scanning the platform before adjusting his jacket and continuing on his way. Pushing back the anger you feel starting to bubble, you tighten your grip on your bag and make your way to the carriages by yourself.

~~~

Your memories of him have always come in waves and the last two weeks have been no different as you settled into your new, old routine at school. You can go hours, even days without thinking about him and then out of nowhere, a memory will hit you so strongly that you feel like you’ve entered a pensieve.

Even now, looking at him across the great hall, you can still remember his touch. You can still practically feel his breath on your skin, your nails in his back. It was pain and comfort all in one. You remember how he’d laid his head in your lap afterwards. You still can’t be sure if the wetness left on your thighs was sweat or if he’d cried while he laid with you.

You cringe at how you had so naively thought that was the end of it. You were his salvation and he’d wake up the next morning and run away with you to the other side, to the right side of the war. But those had been foolish, little girl dreams. And you promised yourself after seeing him exit the train that you wouldn’t get involved with Draco Malfoy again.

So why can’t you stop staring at him?

Maybe because he hasn’t so much as acknowledged your existence yet and that, more than anything, pisses you off even if it shouldn’t. Despite your vow to yourself, you crave him talking to you, looking at you, noticing you’re alive for Merlin’s sake! Instead, you feel like you’ve been completely invisible to him. While this clearly made it easier to not get involved, it bothers you. He’s taking away your choice to be rid of him which is just rude.

Fingers snap in front of your face.

“Do you just want to hex him and be done with it?” Ginny asks next to you, a ghost of a smile on her lips. One positive of this year; the voluntary segregation of sitting with your house had been all but completely abandoned, allowing you to sit with the very few friends you have. “You could probably do it with minimal punishment.”

“I don’t want to hex him,” you argue softly, forcing your eyes back down to the plate in front of you. Ginny raises an eyebrow at you.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes!” You let out a huff and poke the food with your fork. “No. Maybe a little bit,” you admit. She nudges your shoulder with her own and sighs sympathetically. Ginny was never someone you thought you’d end up close with, but after staying with her family during the war, she’d become practically like your sister. She’s a better friend than you’d ever had before. Probably better than you deserve too.

“Have you spoken to him?” She keeps her voice quiet amongst the chatter in the hall. You look at her, full of irrational guilt, and shake your head in the smallest fashion you can. “Maybe you should.” You look back to him and remember the way he felt on top of you, whispering your name and the way your legs wrapped around his waist. But then, just as suddenly, you’re hit with the memory of him walking away from you in the middle of the night with a hollowness in your chest.

“I think that’s the last thing I need to do.” You force yourself to stop looking at him throughout the rest of your meal and attempt to join into jovial conversation at the table.

Fate, however, seemed to have heard your words and thusly thrust her middle finger out to you, because Draco is suddenly everywhere. It was inevitable that you run into each other, after all, you had classes together, but he still seems to be within your eyesight an excessive amount; sitting right in front of you during lessons, resting under your favorite tree, always managing to be where you can see his face during meals. Your only reprieve is your common room which you’ve taken to staying in during most of your free time.

Going strictly to and from classes and meals has become tiresome though. You’re starting to feel like you’re back in hiding and can feel a darkness creeping in. You don’t have an abundance of friends at Hogwarts. Or anywhere really. The loneliness threatens to eat away at you sometimes, but you keep it at bay by keeping your nose in your books; a coping skill you’ve become entirely too proficient at executing.

But today you venture out, book in hand, hoping to find a quiet place with a little background noise to read. A change of scenery and a breath of air may help the frayed nerves you haven’t been able to shake these last weeks. Your feet carry you to the library almost without any thought. It had been among one of the first areas rebuilt and reconstructed after the war and though they built it much the same as it had been, it had a distinctively new feel to it.

It’s a bit of a bustle with people, mostly first and second years who think studying is still the most important thing they can do. Idiots, you think. You walk around for a little bit, admiring the fresh wooden tables and shelves, before gravitating towards a back corner. There used to be a couple of chairs in a back row of books by the muggle section that no one ever frequented. With any luck, it might still exist.

Fate smiles down on you, but it’s a wicked smile because yes, your little nook is still there, but so is Draco. He sits in the armchair in plain clothes, an elbow on the armrest, and his face propped up on his fist as he stares down at the book in his lap. His platinum hair falls into his eyes, yet he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. He looks so ordinary, like he could be any man in the world and it irks you in a way you can’t put into words. He’s not ordinary. He’s not any man. He’s Draco Malfoy.

You stare long enough for him to sense it and look up from his book. And for what feels like for the first time all year, he looks at you. He freezes for just a moment, as though he’s shocked or perhaps scared at the sight of you. Then in a blink it’s gone, replaced by a softer tone in his eyes.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, his voice a rush of warm nostalgia. He closes his book. “I can leave.” Even though you’re negatively shaking your head, he gathers the bag at his feet and stands.

“It’s alright,” you try to tell him. “I’ll just go somewhere else.” He’s already standing up in front of you, ready to slink past. There’s an urge to reach out and grab his arm. You repress it.

“No, it’s fine. You like this spot.” He says it so quickly and his eyes flitter to anything but your face as he passes. Before you can try to say anything else, he’s disappeared beyond more shelves of books, completely out of view.

You’re left standing there looking after him feeling entirely unsatisfied and empty with the interaction. You can’t put your finger on or voice what you wanted to happen, but that certainly wasn’t it.

Sighing, you concede to do what you had come for. Even that proves to be too difficult because when you settle into the chair, it’s still soft with his imprint and warm with his body heat. It gives you the barest sensation of having him wrapped around you. It reminisces more than it should of that too-long-hug you shared before he’d kissed you for the first time. The memories washing over you make it too difficult to focus on the words in your book. You snap it shut and leave. The common room is clearly the better place to stay.

~~~

All of your interactions after that are all short and insignificant. He’s always there, but never looks your way. If he does have to speak to you, it’s always in a minimal way. It never fails to leave you frustrated and angry. Even your books aren’t easing your tension like they used to.

It's been nearly a full month now and throwing yourself into your studies hasn’t helped you any either. You’ve practically finished the coursework for half of your classes. Your homework is done well before you wish to go to sleep for the evening. You haven’t set foot outside the castle walls. You have so few friends, no family, and no one who can relate to your troubles. And the one person you’d counted on your whole life, your best friend and the boy you would have done almost anything for, barely even looks at you.

The suffocation of it all comes in the darkness of night. It crushes down on your chest and burns on your arm. Your fucking arm. You’ve scrubbed it. You’ve concealed it. You even went so far as to try to cut the skin off. Nothing works. That skull and snake are with you forever. And everyone knows it.

Some nights you can’t take it. You can’t merely lay in your bed and pretend sleep will come peacefully. So you leave your room. You wander the castle, trying to find those places that bring warmth to your heart and avoid those were people died.

Tonight, you go to the courtyard just to look at the stars. There’s something soulful about the sky. It’s where muggles look to when they pray to a higher power. It holds a universe more expansive than you could ever imagine. It could swallow you whole if you let it or maybe, just maybe one day it will show you how to be happy.

You forcibly don’t recognize that laying in grass and looking up at the sky had been something you and Draco used to do together. It works well enough to let you enjoy the activity again by yourself, but it blinds you to the idea that Draco might be doing the same thing.

You shouldn’t have been so surprised when you reach the courtyard and he’s there, leaning back on the fountain and staring upwards, but you are. When your shoe crunches on the gravel, his head snaps to you and with his own surprise, stands up.

Another short apology. Another move for a quick exit in the opposite direction of you. Your fists clench at your sides, unable to bottle in your anger any longer.

“Oh would you shove off with that?” you snap before he can slip back into the shadows. He turns and raises an eyebrow at you. “I was ready,” you tell him angrily. “I was ready to come back this year and hate you. I was ready to avoid you and shoot you pissed off glares from across the room. Then I get here and you avoid me!” His face puzzles for a moment.

“So you want me to try to talk to you so that you can tell me off?” A little bit of his old self, of the Draco you once knew and loved, comes through in an irritated eye roll. “Sorry to disappoint.” You let out a huff of air and cross your arms.

“Why are you avoiding me?” The puzzled look on his face returns.

“The way you’re reacting right now doesn’t answer that question for you?” He tilts his head and hums mockingly. “Not as smart as I thought you were.”

“Smarter than you are, clearly.” He grinds his jaw at your condescension and then he’s walking up to you, getting closer than he’s been all year and your bravery falters for a moment as your feet step you back and your arms uncross to hang useless by your sides.

“That’s why I haven’t approached you. I don’t need another lecture. I’ve been to trial. I’m on probation. I’ve had everything I’ve ever done wrong put out in front of me in excruciating detail. I don’t need you to give me another run through.” His eyes and his tone are cold, hard. You recognize it all too well and while he’s gotten better at hiding it, you can still see the pain underneath. It tries to soften you, but ultimately fails.

“They shouldn’t have let you come back,” you spit at him, instantly regretting the words when he pulls away. You don’t mean it. Of course you don’t mean it, but you say it with enough venom and hate that he believes it.

“We all made mistakes,” he hisses at you before glancing down to your arm. The heat of his stare practically stings and you have to resist that instinctive pull to hide it away. “I hear you’re the shining example everyone uses to demonstrate that not all bad guys hail from Slytherin, even despite the fact that you changed sides in the end.” The only reason you don’t crack your palm over his cheek is because you give in to the need to hold onto your left forearm tightly, your palm now busy cradling the skull of the Dark Mark underneath your shirt sleeve. “How’s that feel?”

“You’re horrid,” you tell him weakly. He tilts his head again.

“That is what everyone says.” He gives a shrug that tries too hard to be casual and finally steps out of your personal space. With a small shake of his head, he turns to leave again, but you refuse to let him get the last word.

“At least I tried to atone!” you call after him. He pauses, but doesn’t look back. “I did the right thing when it mattered!”

“And where did that get you?” he asks bitterly. “Where did it get your family?” You suck in a harsh breath and try desperately to hold back the tears that are abruptly burning behind your eyes. Dead, you think. It got them killed.

“They made their own choices.” It sounds rehearsed because it is. You told yourself those same words over and over again every night for months. Your parents weren’t good people. You knew that. They were still your parents though and when you heard He’d killed them, it hurt more than you want to admit. And Draco knew that. Draco knows your weaknesses and your soft spots and just how to twist a knife into you. Perhaps that’s why you hated him so much.

“You don’t bother me and I won’t bother you.” He still hasn’t even so much as looked over his shoulder back at you.

“Fine,” you answer curtly, your hand still wringing around your forearm. When he leaves, you allow yourself to crumple onto the ground and cry. You feel so much hollower than the last time he’d left you in tears. Back then, the air had practically crackled with tension and death and war. Now the air is silent, calm and that makes it all the more unsettling. All the more finite.

~~~

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