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after-witch · 3 years

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Fragile Little Thing [Yandere Hawks x Reader]

Title: Fragile Little Thing [Yandere Hawks x Reader]

Synopsis: Your “boyfriend” is having a rough day and he doesn’t appreciate you being such a difficult partner. If you can’t behave, maybe he can’t behave, either.

For request: a fic with Yandere hawks. Maybe he breaks/ ruins something extremely precious to his darling. Something that money just can’t buy.

Word Count: 1800ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped, abuse

The muffled sounds of Hawks returning to the apartment are all too familiar. Jingling of keys. Click, click, clicking of the locks. You know he'd love it if you greeted him at the door, like you used to do. Which is partially why you choose to remain in bed--though really, you've hardly left it since that morning, except to greedily drink water from the tap and use the restroom.

So it comes as no surprise when the door to your 'shared' bedroom opens and Keigo stands in the doorway, looking disapproving and sad and--you catch it, in the way his eyebrows furrow--slightly annoyed at the way you're in practically the same position as when he left: curled up on the bed, holding onto a pillow like a shield in front of you.

"Babe," he says. "We've talked about this. You need to get dressed after I leave. Did you even eat?" His tone is worried, oh so worried, but you see the way he looks around the room--at the mess, at his laundry on the floor where he dropped it--in distaste. "You could at least pick up when I'm gone. We both have responsibilities around the place, y’know."

You suck in some much-needed air and hold the pillow tighter.

"Then let me leave so I can live on my own and you don’t have to worry about me not cleaning up."

"Babe, you--." He clicks his tongue--stops himself from continuing on whatever road he was about to walk down. "Let's not start this again. We agreed to move in together. We agreed that I'd handle the bills, if you handled most of the housework."

The pillow is practically folded in half now, with the way you're clenching it. "Yes. Yes we did agreed to that. Until I realized that you're a fucking crazy person and you locked me up in this apartment for trying to leave." You stare directly at him, a challenge, daring him to contradict you again with his manipulative, deluded bullshit.

Instead, he sighs, and runs an exasperated hand through his hair. "Hey, okay, okay. I've had a really.... rough day." His voice is lower, almost gravely, and you believe him when he says it. Too bad you don't care anymore. "I'm really not up for a fight tonight. Let's call a truce."

When he says truce, your mind spins on a familiar reel. He wants a truce. He locked you up in this apartment and won't let you leave. He wants a truce. He made your friends and family believe you'd run off. He wants a truce?

The force of your thoughts has you scooching up in the bed and bracing your back against the headboard. You watch him--watching you--and wonder if he thinks you'll give in. Sometimes you do--it's inevitable, something you've thought long and hard about when you're in the apartment for hours upon end. You couldn't stand to live if you were constantly yelling at him, screaming, crying.

But you've had a few good naps, and you can stand it today.

"Fuck your truce," you spit, "and fuck your rough day--and fuck you."

His shoulders jerk in response to your words and fuck, is that satisfying. You've gotten to him. He wanted you to force a smile and say fine, whatever, what's for dinner. But you didn't. And now he can't go about the rest of his night in his deluded little fantasy that you're a willing spouse and he's going to have shitty dreams and hopefully an even shittier day tomorrow.

He's not at his limit, though, because he simply walks further into the bedroom. He stares at your dresser, the one pushed right up against his. You'd decorated it with your own knickknacks, back when you'd moved in--back when you were here willingly. Picture frames and personal mementos and jewelry that you don't bother wearing anymore.

He picks up a necklace, one he always complimented when you wore it out on dates--then increasingly, when you wore it on your evenings-in after he began insisting that you spend quality time in private instead, until finally you were trapped here and stubbornly refused to put it around your neck again.

"Angel, sweetheart, my sweet chickadee." He's tired. You're not--naps, good stuff. "Let's just both agree we're being… testy." He sets the necklace down and walks towards the bed. You flip your body around, bury your face down in the soft pillow so you can avoid looking at him. It’s childish, but you don’t care. "Then we can go make some dinner. Or we can order takeout, whatever you want. What do you say?"

His voice has an edge. You should be wary, you know this, yet your instinct for self-preservation lately has been smoothed away in favor of defiance, some meager inch of pride you can dig out for yourself.

And so you dig.

"Go. to. hell."

Something SLAMS--his fist, hard--on the headboard above you, just inches above the top of your head.

You don't have enough time to process what just happened before Keigo gets up, furious, feet pounding on the floor and voice hot with anger. You cringe at the tone, which has crossed from annoyed into flat-out pissed.

"How many other guys would put up with this shit? Huh?" You're half-listening, half-frozen.

You force yourself to turn over, keeping the pillow in front of you like a shield for more reasons than one, now.

"Most guys would expect to come home to a clean house and a good meal and a girlfriend who doesn't lay her ass in bed all day, crying about stupid shit."

You feel your own fury blooming in your chest. "I'm not your girlfriend--"

In a second, something shatters on the wall behind you, above you, throw just inches above your head. You crane your head down and you can just make out the mess on the floor, between the side table and the legs of the bed: jumbled shards of an ashtray, old and unused, something you'd stuck on the dresser ages ago when you were still allowed to have cigarettes. Before his jealousy turned to control, before he wouldn't let you leave--before you couldn't even smoke, because you couldn't open the windows.

You slowly turn your head to look at Keigo, and you stare at each other in silence, the air thick and hot between you. You can see his feathers bristling and your skin crawls at the thought of his feathers being the next thing to come flying towards you.

"I treat you like a princess," he says finally--and you scoff. You regret it immediately when you see his entire body, from his feet to his feathers, tense at the sound. You dug too deep.

"I treat you like a princess," he repeats, harsher, more strained. "And you don't appreciate it one fucking bit."

He picks up your phone, one of the few non-dusty items you've routinely set on your dresser in recent weeks. In a flash his arm moves, and you don't have time to say or do anything before it joins the ash tray on the floor. You glance and you can see the screen, black and shimmery, cracked into a hundred hairline cobwebs.

Don't move, you think. Don't move don't move.

He picks up a porcelain plate, thick with dust. A trinket from an antique mall Keigo took you on your... third date, you think. Or fourth. He trails his gloved finger along the dusty rim and wipes off the gunk on his pants.

"I clean for you," he says, voice low and spiteful. "You refuse to wash one fucking dish without trying to throw it at my head when my back is turned."

The plate is whipped so fast that it brushes your arm before it lands on the floor in a heap. At least its shards are on the floor, not your face.

"I cook for you. I buy you whatever takeout you want. You don't give so much as a nice little thank you."

You're waiting for something else to fly your way, waiting for the moment he finally says fuck it and hits you instead of the headboard, instead of the wall. But he's standing stock still now.

You're furious with him. You're scared of him. You want to reason with him. You don't know which feeling to deal with and so your words fall somewhere in between anger and terror and the need to placate.

"Keigo--" he looks at you when you say his name, and it's something. "Keigo, you kidnapped me. I don't want to be here. I--I broke up with you. We're not... we're not healthy together. Why can't you understand that?'

Tears are pricking at your eyes and his figure is a little blurry as he faces you with a strange calmness--strange, considering he just hurled hard, potentially sharp objects close to your face. You wipe your tears and his eyes are practically piercing into yours before he speaks.

"Take that back. Take that back right now."

You swallow against the harsh tightness pressing inside your throat.

"We're dating," he says, with the same low intensity. "We're very happy together."

You're so tired, now, so tired that it's hard to be angry with him. You just settle for being sad.

"We're not."

He turns back to the dresser and picks up a figurine--the figurine, the one you carefully set on your dresser the very first day you moved on; the only thing on your dresser that you dust off every morning. The last figurine your mother made you before she died, hand-painted and hand-made and the only one of her creations that you have left.

And he knows, he knows all this, he knows it's important and you can only let out a breathy, desperate cry before it's hurled at the wall with cruel force.

Your hands fly out to catch it--impossible--and the brief brush of the hard porcelain against your outstretched fingers is the last memory you'll have of it before it smashes against the wall. Fragile, broken, in shards.

The sound that comes out of your mouth when you see the shards of the figure, the shards of your mother’s memory is involuntary and primal. A sound that makes you clutch your chest to make sure you’re not dead--you’re not, no, you’re alive and you hurt so much that you think you’re going to break in half. Your hands clutch at your mouth and you scratch your lips without feeling or knowing it.

Keigo has already swooped in, and you don’t hear every word so much as his tone--so sorry and worried and oh-fuck-oh-fuck-oh-fuck, he didn’t mean it, he was just so angry, he’ll fix it he’ll fix it he’ll fix this. His arms and his wings are wrapped around you, gentle and invading, as he rocks you slowly. Back and forth, back and forth. You don’t fight. You don’t scream at him. You just stare ahead, at the empty space where the figurine used to be, a clean circle surrounded by a layer of dust. It was a fragile little thing--and so are you.

#yandere hawks #yandere keigo takami #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #yandere #afterwitch writes

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solarwonux · 3 years

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~1:44am~

warnings: suggestive at the end but for the most part is cute Wonwoo fluff

note: enjoy, I’m planning on posting everyday up until New Years so don’t get tired of me please, also requests are still open. Anyway, Let me know your thoughts.xx

masterlist

“The ceremony was beautiful.” You said holding onto Wonwoo’s arm while he searched his pockets for the room key.

“The only time I’ve seen my brother cry that hard was when I took his Gameboy away and accidentally dropped it in the pool.” He chuckled fishing out the key and inserting it into a slot. A hum of approval coming out of his closed lips as he opened the door.

“I always knew you were evil.” You muttered following him as he walked inside the room. The smell of fresh sheets engulfing your senses making your insides feel all warm. You let go of Wonwoo’s arm setting your heals down by the door before picking up the ends of your dress and walking towards the bathroom. Your shoulders falling. The pressure you had felt the entire night while in the presence of Wonwoo’s family and extended family finally wearing off.

“You looked beautiful tonight,” Wonwoo spoke entering the bathroom leaning against the doorway. “Mom came up to me at least twenty times just to let me know.” He said looking at you through the bathroom mirror watching you take your make up off.

“I was so nervous the entire night.” You grinned reaching over for your face wash, Wonwoo coming up behind you and hugging you from the back. His hand moving up to the tiny cutouts your dress had on the sides of your torso. Something he had done throughout the night leaving behind teasing touches against your skin.

“And you had nothing to worry about, everyone loved you just like I told you they would.” He nodded before placing a soft kiss against your bare shoulder, while you dried your now bare face with a clean towel. You set it down and turned around to face him, his arms staying put. “Wait until they see what I look like in the morning, they’ll take everything they said back.” You giggled wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You’ll still look beautiful.” He smiled, his thumbs sneaking into the cutouts of your dress causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

“How would you know you’ve never seen what I look like in the morning.”

“Don’t have to, I just know…call it best loving boyfriend in the world intuition.” He smiled down at you before placing a gentle kiss against your forehead.

“Hmm…I don’t think that exists, but I’ll take your word for it.” You smiled giving his lips a soft kiss before removing your arms from his neck. You patted his chest before walking out of the bathroom. Your eyes meeting the single bed as your heart starting to race again, remembering that this was yours and Wonwoo’s first time staying overnight somewhere and sharing a bed. You sighed standing in front of the hotel dresser taking off your earrings and then moving your arms behind you to take of you’re necklace that adorned Wonwoo’s named. A gift he had given you a few weeks ago for your one year anniversary.

“Don’t take it off.” Wonwoo whined as he stood behind you, his dress shirt wide opened. “I like seeing it on you.” He mumbled his arms finding their respectful place around your waist before leaning down and placing open mouthed kisses against your shoulder. The thin strap of your dress sliding down slowly, not bothering to fix it as you relaxed into his arms your back meeting his torso.

“Wonwoo.” You sighed feeling his lips travel up your neck sucking lightly. He hummed against your neck, the low vibrations rushing through you while his finger reached the other strap of your dress. Hooking his thumb underneath it and gliding it down slowly, his lips finding the top of shoulder staying there for a while before traveling down to your arm.

The two of you had talked about sex before and decided to just let things happen naturally instead of forcing them. You had been close before, a few make out sessions ending up going too far, but Wonwoo had always stopped the two of you before you could commit to something you weren’t sure either of you had been ready for. And now as the two of you stood underneath the harsh fluorescent lights of your hotel room. Need growing inside the pits of your stomachs, his kisses against your warm skin getting needier. You knew the two of you were finally ready to share such an intimate part of your relationship.

“Let’s do it Wonwoo…let’s have sex.” You whispered feeling his kisses come to a halt. You shut your eyes hoping you hadn’t read all the sneaky advancements he had made throughout the night wrong. Wonwoo’s shaking hands turning you over in his arms, his hand on your cheek as he ran his thumb over your lips gently.

“Please look at me?” He whispered. You opened your eyes and finding his loving gaze. His eyes softly searching your face for any sign of regret. “Are you sure. I don’t mind waiting?” He said admiring how flushed out you were just by feeling his lips against your skin, the need in his stomach growing at a rapid rate as he imagined your soft sighs falling out of your lips while he did more than kiss you.

“I’ve never been this sure in my life.” You nodded leaning in and giving your boyfriend a soft kiss. He smiled against your lips as he pulled you closer to him. Slowly walking you towards the bed. The kiss deepening, the passion stumbling out of your lips as he gently laid you down.

“I love you.” He pulled away from your lips, leaving open mouthed kisses down your neck, sucking a small bruise against your collar bone. A soft sigh falling out of your lip. He hiked up your dress, his hand caressing your thigh gently as his lips found the valley of your breast. You pushed off his dress shirt your hands gliding over the smoothness of his back. You reached up leaving a tempting kiss against his smooth shoulder.

“Show me then.” You said mumbling against his skin.

#seventeen fanfiction #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen timestamps #seventeen smut #svt imagines #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo smut #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo x reader

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arctickat2400 · 3 years

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Grace - Part 2 <> Damon Salvatore

Ten years later

Grace looks so much like her mother. So beautiful and she turned into her mother each and every day as she grew.

And today is her 16th birthday. She’s been waiting for today for so long, and all these years she hasn’t asked about her mother once. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but she’s been so happy.

Our friends are coming today for her birthday. Caroline, Elena, Matt, Bonnie, Stefan, Alaric, and Jeremy.

Grace never liked to make a big deal of her birthday. It may have been ‘cause Y/N died on her birthday, but I never told her that. I never told her how her mom died or that Bonnie had to save her life.

We decorated the dining room in red and black, her favorite colors, and Caroline had set the cupcakes in the center of the table when she got here. Grace didn’t like having a big cake for her birthday. Always something small.

It was almost 12 in the afternoon and Grace should be waking up soon. Everyone was here and everything was ready.

I walked upstairs to Grace’s bedroom. When she was about ten, when she decided she wanted to redecorate, we painted her walls red, put a few posters up, she had a black leather bed and her room was mostly just made of red and black.

I knocked on her door, but received no answer.

I walked in, looking around. Her room was as clean as it always was, her bed was made with her bear set on it, yet she wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

She wasn’t in her bathroom and she wasn’t at her desk, where she would usually be writing in her diary.

Just then, I almost fell to the ground in surprise as Grace fell from above and onto my back. She always did that, surprising me whenever and wherever she could.

“Hey, Dad.” She smiled at me as I looked back at her with a smile of my own.

She jumped off of me, walking in front of me as I took her hand in mine and spun her around. I always did that. She was my princess and I was her king.

I spun her towards me as I held her in my arms, kissing the top of her head.

“How is my stunning princess this fine morning?” I questioned her with a smile.

The weird thing is that whoever didn’t know that I was a vampire, which mostly every knows, they would think Grace is my age, or close to my age.

“I’m pretty good. I’m clean and energized and ready for the day.” She smiled.

Grace’s POV

Today was my 16th birthday and even though dad didn’t say anything, I know that he and our friends are planning a party for me.

I couldn’t hear anything downstairs, since I was human and I didn’t have vampire hearing, but I knew our friends were down there. It was always like I could read minds. Everyone believed I could.

Wearing a red and black sweatshirt with black jeggings, I slid on my glasses and some rings. I, then, picked up my bracelet with a music note on it and slid it on my wrist. But I noticed something.

There was a charm bracelet laying next to it. I don’t remember having this.

I looked to dad as he smiled at me.

“Oh, yeah. Happy Birthday.” Dad smiled, and I let out a little laugh. “It was your mother’s and she wanted me to give it to you for your 16th birthday.” He told me. I smiled at the thought of my mother. I’ve never met her or seen her, but from how dad described her, she seems incredible.

“Thanks, Dad.” I told him as he brought me into a hug.

I slid the bracelet along with my other, adding my red heart necklace on my neck. Dad had given it to me when I was old enough, maybe three years old, and he told me to never take it off. I never have.

“You ready?” Dad asked me. I nodded as he held out his arm for me to take.

Intertwining my arm with his, we walked out of my room, walking down the stairs and towards the living room.

We walking into the living room, but no one wa there. But, within the second, everyone jumped out and yelled, “Surprise!” Even though I hated surprises. I just smiled.

“Hey, guys. Thanks so much.” I told them, hugging them all. Caroline, Elena, Bonnie, Matt, Alaric, Stefan, Jeremy, they were all here.

“Happy Birthday, Grace.” Dad said, pulling me into a side hug as I set my hand on his chest and stared at all our friends.

We started with presents, everyone sitting in the living room. Gifts were piled up on the coffee table. I don’t see how anyone knew what to get me. I mean, I didn’t even know what I wanted myself.

I opened my first gift as everyone stared at me. Never liked to be stared at either, but no one cared.

This one was from dad. It was a new journal with a dark sky lit up with stars and mountains on it.

“I saw that you didn’t have many pages left in your other journal and I know I get you a journal every year, but I knew you needed it.” Dad confessed.

“Thanks, Dad. And I do need it.” I told him, leaning over and giving him another hug. Hugging was always our thing. There were always things that dad and my mom did to show their love for each other and dad did some of those things with me. It was our thing.

After maybe 10 minutes, I had opened every gift and most of them were small but there were also some big ones. Lots of jewelry, a sketchbook, pens and colored pencils and a new iPhone. And my favorite, a new laptop. Dad knew I needed a new one. My old one had lost one of its screws and was all broken and beat up. I kept telling him how much I needed a new one.

After I had hugged and thanked everyone for their very appreciated gifts, Elena passed out the cupcakes and after we ate, everyone just hung out in the living room.

“So, what should we do? Maybe go to the grill for some pool and burgers? My treat for Grace’s birthday.” Matt suggests as he looked at me and smiled. I smiled back.

“Thanks, Matt. That actually sounds great. But, I need to go do something first. I’ll meet you all at the grill in a few, okay?” I told our friends. They all agreed, heading out the door and to the grill. I headed upstairs as it was only dad, Stefan and I left at the house.

I snuck up to Dad’s room, hoping he wouldn’t find me.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my mom lately. I never mentioned her to dad since the night after the incident, but I’ve always thought about her. I’ve always wondered what she looked like and who she was.

Dad must have a photo of here somewhere in his room, and it’s today that I’d like to see and know about her.

I looked through his bookshelves, looking in books that he always seems to have out and a few that he seems to never even touch. I looked inside his dresser and in his closet. I couldn’t find anything. Did he even have a photo of her?

Just then, I remember that one night I saw a box on the mantle of dad’s fireplace. It looked special. I didn’t want to go through his private stuff, but I just had to see mom.

I walked to his fireplace, taking the box down and walking to his bed. I sat down opening the box. There was so much in there. There was jewelry and then there was a note and a picture. I looked at the jewelry. There was a ring in there that had an engraving in it.

I love you. Always and Forever. Is what it said. I guess that was her wedding ring that dad gave her.

I, then, saw a necklace in there. It was a silver chain with a diamond heart. It was beautiful. I took out the note. It read:

My beautiful Y/N,

I love you so much. Nothing can describe the love I have for you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. You make me a better person and I can’t thank you enough for the love you have for me. I will never stop loving you for as long as I live.

I love you, baby girl.

Always and Forever.

I wonder what the note was for. It’s sweet.

I, then, took out the photo and I couldn’t believe my eyes. She was so young. It was a photo of her and dad together. They looked so amazing together, with his arms wrapped around her as he placed a kiss on her cheek.

I ran into dad’s bathroom with the picture. I stood in front of his mirror and held up the photo. I look exactly like her.

I walk back to dad’s bed, sitting down as I stare down at the photo. A few tears come from my eyes as I hear someone coming up the stairs.

Dad steps through his doorway, staring at me with wide eyes.

I look up at him as we stare at each other.

“I look just like her.” Is all I could say. Dad sped towards me, sitting next to me and taking the picture from my hand.

He set it back in the box along with the note and the jewelry.

Out of nowhere, “What happened to her?” I went right out and asked.

He just looked up at me with sad, but sympathetic eyes.

“I guess it’s time to tell you now.” Dad admitted. He closed the box, setting it back on the mantle and walked back to me. He sat down next me and began telling me the whole story.

“So, her name was Y/N. She was the most amazing person in the whole world. One day, she had come home from Caroline’s house and it was a full moon that night. I was at the bar and when I came home, she was lying on the driveway… dead.” I could tell he didn’t want to say that, but he did. He went on.

“She was covered in blood and she had gotten bit by a wolf. By Tyler Lockwood. At that time, she was still pregnant with you, and we were able to save you, but we couldn’t save her.” He was almost crying now. I already had tears streaming down my cheeks as I stared at him in sadness and terror.

“We were able to get you out and Bonnie was able to use her power to bring you back. You were okay, but your mother wasn’t. When she died, and I wasn’t there for her, I could barely keep it together. I didn’t even want to live. But then, there was you. I couldn’t leave you. Your mom would’ve wanted me to stay for you. And I did and I made it my responsibility to protect you and keep you safe.” I could barely keep it together. I stared down at my hands as I was so close to breaking down.

“Grace, I’m so sorry.” He said to me, taking my hand in his.

Tears streamed from my eyes as I finally broke down. I cried my eyes out, bawling, as Dad brought me into his arms, holding me close as I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my head in his chest.

“I’m so sorry, princess.” He repeated. “She loved you. Even when she hadn’t met you yet, she loved you and she wanted so much to see you. And I know she can.” Dad added.

Damon’s POV

Grace has been upstairs for awhile. Stefan and I were waiting for her so we could leave.

I walked upstairs, going to check on her to see if she was okay. I didn’t hear anything except a steady heartbeat.

“Grace?” I called out. She wasn’t in her room, and the only other room up her other than Stefan’s was mine. I walked through my doorway only to see her sitting on my bed with Y/N’s box beside her.

I stared at Grace with sadness and sympathy.

I can’t believe she found it. She found the picture and now she knew. She looks exactly like Y/N.

Grace looked up at me and said, “I look just like her.”

I walked to her, gathering Y/N’s picture, jewelry and my note to her and putting them back in the box.

Just as I set Y/Ne’s necklace back in the box, Grace spoke.

“What happened to her?” I knew this time would come at some point. I knew Grace would ask about Y/N. She saw her and now she needs to know.

“I guess it’s time to tell you.” I told her. I set Y/N’s box back on the mantle and sat back down beside my daughter.

“So, her name was Y/N and she was the most amazing person in the whole world. One day, she had come home from Caroline’s house and it was a full moon that night. I was the bar and when I came home she was lying on the driveway… dead.” It pained me to say that. But, I continued.

“She was covered in blood and she had gotten bit by a wolf. By Tyler Lockwood. At that time, she was still pregnant with you and we were able to save you, but we couldn’t save her.” I almost couldn’t hold in my tears . It was so hard for me to talk about Y/N, but i had to be strong for Grace. She needs to know. Grace was already crying, tears streaming down her cheeks, her eyes filled with sadness and terror.

“We were able to get you out and Bonnie was able to use her power to bring you back. You were okay, but your mother wasn’t. When she died, and I wasn’t there for her, I could barely keep it together. I didn’t even want to live. But, then there was you. I couldn’t leave you. Your mom would’ve wanted me to stay for you. And I did and I made it my responsibility in life to protect you and keep you safe.” I told her. She looked so heartbroken and sad. I could understand that. She stared down at her hands, tears streaming from her eyes.

“Grace, I’m so sorry.” I told her, taking her hand in mine.

She finally broke. She was bawling now as I took her in my arms, holding her close as she wrapped her arms around my neck, her head buried in my chest.

“I’m so sorry, princess.” I repeated. “She loved you, so much. Even though she hadn’t met you yet, she loved you and she wanted to much to see you. And I know she can.” I added.

I held her in my arms as she cried.

After a minute or so, she sat up. I set my hands on her cheeks, wiping away her tears.

She put on a small smile as I did as well. She let out a small laugh.

“Thanks, Dad. I love you.” She told me and I loved hearing her say that.

“I love you, too, princess.” I told her, bringing her back into another hug and kissing her head.

“Now, let’s get to the grill. Everyone’s probably getting worried.” I told her.

We walked downstairs, meeting with Stefan by my car.

“Before we go, I have one more gift for you.” I told my daughter. I want Grace to have Y/N’s car. I had never taken it out of the garage and I’ve never shown Grace before.

I led her and Stefan to the garage, revealing Y/N’s 2014 Chevrolet Camaro.

“Oh my god! This is amazing!” Grace screamed in excitement.

“It was mom’s car. She would’ve wanted you to have it.” I mentioned.

“Mom had amazing taste.” Grace laughed. I smiled.

She hugged me once more before we got into her car, driving to the grill.

Grace’s POV

We arrived, answering everyone’s question to where we were and why we took so long.

For the rest of the night, we hung out at the grill, eating burgers for dinner and Dad even compelled the bartender to let me have a couple drinks. Not enough to get me drunk, but he let me have a drink or two.

I played a game of pool with each of our friends, the best game being with Dad.

He was my favorite person in the world. He’s always kept me safe, as he has wanted to for my whole life. He’s loved and cared for me and I couldn’t ask for more.

#damon salvatore #damon x reader #damon x daughter #damon salvatore imagines #vampire diaries #matt donavan #stefan salvatore #elena gilbert #caroline forbes #bonnie bennett #jeremy gilbert #alaric saltzman

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mmimagine-40 · 3 years

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Birthday Girl

Avengers x Reader

A request from @maximeevansblog. I hope you like this!

Warnings: Cussing, talk of a lost one, and very long! (Sorry I got a little to carried away.)

Y/n groaned as the alarm on her phone started to go off. She blindly reached for it, turning the alarm off. Before turning to the other side of the bed, letting sleep take over her once again. Only to be scared awake by her door being busted open and being jumped on. “Wakey, Wakey, birthday girl!”. Sam yells. Bucky jumps on top of him. “Happy birthday, Y/N!”. Y/n groaned , being crushed from the two avengers. “Get off! You’re fat!”. “Wow, that's just rude! Are you going to take that from her , Buck.”. Sam asked, looking back at him. Bucky scoffs. “She was obviously talking about you.”. “I was talking about you both! Now get the fuck off!”. Y/n groans , trying to hit the two to get them off of her. Bucky and Sam finally get off her only to lay next to her, caging her in between them. “So what are the plans today , birthday girl?”. Bucky asked, poking at Y/n’s cheek. “For you two to get the fuck out of my room and let me sleep!”. Y/n groans , slapping at Bucky's hand. “Oh, come on! You know you want to spend your day with your favorite heroes.”. Sam says squeezing her into a hug. Y/n looked up. “Stevie and Nat are here?”. Bucky and Sam both gasp , ‘hurt’. Falling back , grabbing their chest. Acting like they were hurt. Y/n tried to use this to her advantage and get up , away from them. But the two grabbed her before she could. Pulling her back down and into a sandwich. Y/n groaned trying to hit and kick them off of her. But it was no use. “Hey birthday girl, Breakfast is ready.”. Steve says coming into her room. “Stevie! Save me!”. Y/n puts a hand out. Begging for Steve to help her. Steve sighed, shaking his head. “You guys were just supposed to wake her, not suffocate her.”. “Well this is just payment. She called us fat and that we aren't her favorite!”. Sam says. Steve shakes his head at the kindness of the two grown ass adults. He walked over grabbing Y/ns hand and trying to help her out of the death trap. “ You guys know that if the birthday girl doesn’t get her plate first , no one eats right?”. Both Sam and Bucky boo before finally letting her go before making their way out of her room. “Thank you , Stevie.”. Steve nodded heading out to. “Hurry up we are waiting on you...oh and Happy birthday.”. Y/n said a quick thanks as he leaves. Jumping up right after. Throwing on a bar and some slippers. Staying in her pjs as she makes her way down to the dinning hall. “Happy Birthday!”, everyone yelled , as soon as she walked through the door. Y/n jumped a bit. Still in a sleepy mind set. “Blow out your candles.”. Wanda said , laughing. Holding a plate out to her. With pancakes, the top one has a smiley face made out of fruits and whip cream. The nose was a lit candle. Y/n giggled softly. This was something that her and Wanda always made each other for their birthdays. Y/n closes her eyes thinking for a bit , before blowing out the candle. Everyone clapped and cheered as she did. Y/n smiled with a slight blush. Taking the plate from Wanda and making her way with everyone else to the table to sit and eat. Y/n took her normal seat in between her dad , Bruce, and Steve. And in front of Nat. “Happy birthday, Sweetheart.”, Bruce says. Pulling her into a side hug and kissing her forehead. “Thanks dad.”. Y/n says. Starting to dig in as did everyone else. This was a tradition for at least Y/n’s birthday. To spend breakfast with those who live in the building and just hang out for the day. Then having dinner with everyone. ( the only different people at dinner were Clint and Lauren, Pepper and Morgan, Peter, and some others who can come.). “SO I was thinking , for your birthday Y/n. That Nat and Wanda take you out to go and take you out to get your hair done and go shopping and whatever you want. My treat.”. Tony says. Y/n cuts her eyes at him. “That sounds great, but why are you trying to get me out of the building.”. Tony groans as his shoulders fall. “Just once I would like you not to be able to read through me and know what's happening.”. Tony says, pointing his fork at her, eyes narrow at her. “I’m the daughter of Bruce Banner.

One of the top scientists. Pulse I grew up a big part of my life in a super building with a bunch of super geniuses. What do you expect?”. y/n says shrugging. “Pulse Tony, she grew up around you. She knows all your tricks.”. Nat says , rolling her eyes at him. Tony just huffs. Making everyone laugh. The rest of breakfast went like that. Talking about the day and random things. Laughing and joking. Many jabs being thrown back and forth between Sam and Y/n. All in the name of friendly love and jokes. After everyone was done, Most everyone went to some meeting they had. Minus Wanda and Nat. Who told Y/n to go get dressed while they cleaned up. ( They were already dressed and ready. Knowing of the plan since yesterday.). Y/n ran up to her room , looking into the closet to figure out what to wear. Once she was almost ready , when a knock on the door interrupted her. “Come in.”. Y/n yelled, as she was getting her bag together. She turns to meet with her father coming into her room. “Hi dad.”. “Hey, Sweetheart. I just wanted to come give you your gift before you leave.”. Bruce says handing her a neatly wrapped small box. Y/n smiled in thanks, rolling her eyes playfully. “Dad , I told you I don’t want or even need anything.”. “I know but this is not just from me.”. Bruce says. Y/n looks at him confused as she opens it. Mouth dropping as she looked at the old looking necklace. With a single , simple diamond. “It's also from your mom. It was hers, passed down to her from her mother. Who got it from her mother. She wanted you to have it.”. Bruce says, explaining. Y/n nodded as she wiped her face from the tears that fell. Quickly wrapping her arms around her father. “Thank you, dad.”. “Your welcome sweetheart. I love you and I'm so proud of how you have come. And I know your mom is too. We both love you so much.”. Bruce says , holding her tight. Kissing her hair as he strokes her back. “I love you too, dad.”. Y/n says as they pull back. Bruce smiles at her wiping her face. “I’ve to get to a meeting. You should be going too. Have fun.”. Bruce says kissing her forehead one last time before leaving for the meeting. Not wanting her to see him cry. She really turned out to be just like her mom. Y/n wiped her face , clean of the tears. She carefully put the necklace on and grabbed her things. Heading down to meet up with Nat and Wanda. They all meet at the entrance of the building and head out in Nat's car.

The first stopped at the hair salon. Nat and Wanda also decided to get theirs done. You know since Tony’s paying. Y/n decided to get her hair dyed a dark , reddish/purple color. (Plus whatever else you’d like. Cut and so forth.) She smiled as the hair dresser finished really loving how it came out. After they were all done , they headed out to the mall. Doing so shopping but mainly goofing around. Just having some fun. At one point Nat broke off from them disappearing. Only to come back about an hour later. “Nat, where’d you go?”. Y/n asked as Nat met back with them at the Starbucks in the mall , getting drinks. Y/n’s face dropped as she noticed the smirk on Nat's face. Never a good thing when it came to her. “Natalia.”. Y/n said , starting to not trust her. Nat just smirked as she held out the thing that she was hiding. Which was a build - a - bear box. “Just a little gift for you, Y/n/n.”. Y/n narrowed her eyes at Nat as she took the box. Walking over to one of the small tables to see what she got her. “NAt”. Y/n groaned as she pulled out the Captain America bear from the box. She turns to Nat and Wanda. Who were both dying of laughter. When y/n first met the avengers and moved into the building. Tony asked her who her favorite avenger was. Thinking that she would say him , iron man, or her dad. Not expecting her to say Cap. Since then everyone teases her about it. Getting her Captain American themed things. Which even Steve found funny , mainly because it still bugged Tony that he was her favorite and not him. “Aw now you can cuddle Cap every night. Almost like cuddling Steve.”. Wanda said, The last part to Nat. “I’m sure she’ll like that.”. Nat whispers back. Y/n glared at them , still hearing what they said. She rolled her eyes at them. Nat and Wanda are convinced that Y/n liked the said Captain. “I hate you both.”. Y/n stuffed the bear back in the box as Wanda and Nat still laughed behind her. “Can we just get something to eat and head home? Please?”. Y/n asked , pouting. Crossing her arms. Nat giggled as she hooked her arm with Y/ns nodding. Leading them to the car. “Oh come on. It's funny. Pulse, I bet cap himself will think it's cute you have a stuffed bear of him.”. Wanda hummed in agreeing. “For the last time , I don't have a crush on him!”. Y/n pushes Nat off of her as she groans. Nat and Wanda look at each other , as Y/n walks off without them. Both breaking out to a fit of laughter. Y/n pouts as she stands next to the car. Waiting for Nat to unlock it. “Aw come on Y/n/n. We’re just playing with you.”. Wanda says as she walks over to her. Pinching her cheek lightly. Making Y/n break out into a smile as she pushed Wanda’s hand away, softly. They all hopped into the car. Getting something to eat and then heading back to the building.

Once they walked into the tower. They all went their separate ways. Heading to their rooms to put their things away , as well as Wanda and Nat where needed for something. So Y/n just heads to her room to put her things away. When she got the bear , Y/n smiled, shaking her head at it. Going over to lay it on her bed on her pillows. After which she sat on the bean bag , playing on her phone. Waiting till she was called down. Knowing that it was going to be the same like every year. Everyone set up a little get together down stairs like it was a surprise for Y/n. As she waited she out as facetime from Peter. “Hi, Pete!”. Y/n said , as she answered the phone. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Y/N!!”. Peter yelled as he came on screen. Y/n smiled , thanking him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there!”. Peter said pouting. He was gone on a school trip. “It’s okay , Pete. We can hang out and do something when you get back.”. Y/n said. They went on to talk about their day and random things. They talked for hours , till Friday informed Y/n she was needed in the common room. “I got to go. I’ll talk to you later, Peter.”. “Bye, Y/n!”. Peter yelled. “Bye Peter!”. Y/n yelled back, before hanging up. She sighed as she stood up putting her phone in her pocket and heading down to the common room. Again, as she walked through the elevator into the room , everyone yelled ‘happy birthday’. Y/n smiled as she saw everyone there. (Steve, Bucky, Sam, Tony , Bruce, Nat, Wanda, James, Pepper, Morgan, Vision, Pietro , Clint and Laura. Thor and Loki.) “Y/n!” Morgan yells running over to her. “Morgan!”. Y/n yelled back as she opened her arms and embraced the little girl. “I got you something.”. Morgan said, pulling away from her and grabbing her hand. “You did?”. Y/n asked. Morgan nodded as she dragged Y/n over to her Mom who handed her the note and little box. Which she gave Y/n. Which was a happy birthday letter and the box held a handmade bracelet. “Did you make these?”. Y/n asked. Morgan smiled and nodded. “Aw I love them. Thank you, Morgan.”. Y/n pulled her into another hug , before putting the bracelet on. “Look I made a matching one for me and I made one for Peter.”. Morgan explains showing Y/n her bracelet.

The rest of the night was spent just talking and joking. Eating so snacks Wanda made, some cake and also gifts. It was one of y/n favorite nights. Not because of the gifts but just getting to hang out with everyone. With her family. (Even if not everyone was able to be there.)

Gifts:

Nat: A beautiful set of Kunai's (Which Y/n always wanted since Nat showed her how to use them and showed her , hers. Bruce wasn’t too happy about it)

Authors Note: Kunai's are Asian throwing's knifes

Wanda and Vision: They both made you some of your favorite treats

Pietro: Random things that you show him and bonded over (Mostly music stuff like vinyl's and things like that).

Tony and Pepper: Pepper tried to stop tony but there was no stopping the man. He got you so many things. Shoes , bracelets , clothing. anything and everything he thought you might like.

Bucky: Put together a little box of things from the 40s like snacks and chips (You are always asking him about the 40s and what it was like)

Sam: A drone that looked like his redwing (Because you and Bucky always try to steal it and use it)

James: a bouget of your favorite things and gift cards

Thor: A beautiful golden goddess arm cuff

Loki: A book from Asgard (One of his personal favorite from when he was younger)

Peter: (He gave his to Tony to give to you) Lego set of your favorite show or movie

As it got later some people started to slowly leave, first of which were Pepper, Tony and Morgan and Clint and Laura. Then shortly after Steve left. Which was a little unusual of him. He was one who usually stayed the latest with Y/n. It was there thing to be some of the last few and as they head off to bed , he would walk her to her room and they would talk about everything and anything. Some nights the talk went over into Y/n's room. A few hours after Steve left, Y/n stood up yawning and stitching. Saying good night to everyone and thanking them for the amazing birthday , before heading to bed. She stopped by Steve's room to wish him a goodnight but found it empty. Y/n tried to shrug it off as she headed to her room. Y/n sighed as she walked into her room , putting everything everyone got her down. She had an amazing day , but she was really exhausted. Y/n turned to get ready for bed when she noticed a certain Captain sitting on the edge of her bed. Holding the bear . He was looking down at it. He turned his head to look at her , feeling her eyes on him, with an amused smile and eyebrow cocked. “Really?”. He asked, holding the bear up. Y/n laughed , rolling her eyes as she walked over to him snatching the bear from him. “One it was a gift from Nat. Secondly , don’t be rude to Captain Beary.”. Y/n said. Fixing the helmet on the bear. Steve laughed , shaking his head at her. “Captain Beary?”. Steve asked. Y/n took a seat neck to Steve , holding the bear close to her. Steve just laughed, shaking his head at her. He turned to the side where her night stand was and grabbed something. Handing it to her. “Here. I figured it was best to give you this to you when we were alone so Sam or Bucky didn’t get a hold of it. Or deal with Nat's teasing.”. Y/n smiles at him as she takes the beautifully wrapped gift. It was wrapped in a dark blue paper. “What is this that we would get teased?”. Y/n asked, smirking as she cocked an eyebrow at Steve. Steve laughed as he stood up. “Well I guess you're just going to need to open it and see.”. Steve made his way to her door. “Happy birthday , Y/n. “. Y/n smiled giving a nod to him. “Night, Steve.”. “Night, Doll.”. With that Steve walked out of her room , closing the door behind him. Y/n bit her lip as a small blush came over her at the nickname. She turned back to the gift. Carefully she opened it. It was a brown , leather notebook. The size of a book. Y/n opened it looking through the pages. All filled with drawings made by Steve. Somewhere drawing from times where they would hang out and Y/n would describe something and see if Steve can draw what she describes. Somewhere from the 40s and time of Steve growing up. Those ones Steve wrote on the back of the page explaining what it was or a small story that involved it. Something Y/n loved. She loved to hear stories like these from Steve and Bucky. Somewhere random drawings that Steve drew of her or things she told him. Y/n smiled softly looking through all the pages. But as she turned to the last page she became speechless. Mouth opening as she looked at the page. Tears started to form in her eyes as she looked at it. The last page , Steve drew a picture of her and her mom together if she was still here. Y/n hugged the book to her as tears started to run down her face. “Thank you, Steve.”. Y/n whispered knowing he’s probably within distance to hear her , with his super hearing and all. Steve smiled softly hearing her thank you.

I hope you enjoyed this! And if anyone else wants to request something don't be shy to ask! The next part of Pup will be up shortly. I'm just finishing up some editing on it. But on a different note how do you guys feel about maybe a Mob boss! Steve rogers or Chris Evans story? -MM

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inforapound · 3 years

Text

The Devil Inside - Part 5

Thanks for reading. I’m going with a couple of shorter chapters instead of one long finale. Hope you like it.

Pairing - Ivar and reader

Warnings - dark Ivar, explicit smut, bad relationship, toxic love

By the following night without a word from Ivar, not a single call or text, and no sign of the black Camaro, you were no longer laughing. It felt like your world had collapsed to the ground. And, that alone was confusing as he was the one who had been such a prick. Right? Hadn’t he? Still, it was impossible to escape the feeling of guilt and some hard-to-define panic.

Your Ivar! Your beautiful, intense, complicated Ivar; his only fault being how much he loved you.

Was it actually over, you wondered for the zillionth time? Could the two of you work it out or would you never speak again? Would he ghost you? Ah yes, that was the fear creating the panic; you were worried he would write you off as though you had never existed. Just that idea, despite his display of rage, made your blood run cold and your heart straight-up rejected the notion that you were better off without him.

After months of the two of you cocooning away and blowing off the world, you were grateful, grateful, that your two best friends had your back. One look at your pale, despondent face the previous day, walking into class, and they flew into BBF mode.

God, they were great but you questioned their thinking. How would going out, within 24 hours of your love story ending, possibly help you?

But… there you sat in your room wearing a one-shouldered purple dress and strappy heels while Amanda carefully lined your lips and Kim flat ironed your hair. They yattered away as if to distract you, talking about what an asshole Ivar was, a complete psycho, and thank god you hadn’t slept with him. Eeeek, all that solidarity, and you had given them a watered-down version of what had happened during the fight.

Barely taking in their words, you thought over and over all that had been said in his car, questioning if it had truly been that bad. It felt awful at the time, but things seemed different after such a long time without hearing from him. Did it mean you had forgiven him? Definitely not but you still felt like a balloon bouncing in the wind without your Ivar.

Under it all, he just needed you and the thought of you with another guy was more than he could process. How can that be a bad thing? And it had been you, YOU, who desecrated his most treasured possession, his beloved mother’s necklace, a necklace he had imparted so lovingly. Wasn’t your behaviour as bad or even worse? Could he forgive you?

Tears rose in your eyes making the girls stop and stare, looking like a pair of barn owls.

“Oh babe,” Kim whispered squeezing your shoulder and Amanda leaned in, looking as if she was pitying a dog.

“Tonight is exactly what you need,” she nodded. “The dance will take your mind off of everything. Trust me.”

WELL, THAT WAS A FUCKING LIE.

The school gymnasium was dark and stuffy, the music pounding and the strobes seemed to flash all the way into your brain. It was the last place you needed to be! God! Every guy wearing a leather jacket made you do a double-take and Ivar’s absence screamed louder than the noise. Just twenty feet away your friends were dancing and yet you had never felt so alone. That must have been how Ivar felt, that day on the road, watching you run away from him. Your poor, love….. Where was he?

“Is it really you? Are you honestly here?” asked Mark Hasting as he, all-of-sudden, appeared at your side, reeking of weed and smiling one of his squinty-eyed smiles. “Mr. Lothbrok let you out of his grasp for a night. I almost don’t believe it.”

Not a word came out of your mouth and you looked from Mark back to the dance floor unable to tell him that the two of you had broken up. And….. that it was all your fault. Instead of easing Ivar’s fears, you had doused gasoline on his pain. Should you tell Mark that? What a horrible person you were? Oh god, what had you done?

Taking a deep breath, a gasp really, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“Mark?” you cried out and it turned into a sob.

“Yea, heeey, what’s wrong?” he scrunched his forehead with concern and stepped closer.

“Can you give me a lift home? I can’t be here right now.”

----

Waving your thanks to Mark, you watched him reverse out of the driveway and closed the front door. Not taking the time to remove your coat or turn on the lights, you riffled through your purse looking for your phone. You had to find Ivar.

Would you call or text? Call! Yes, calling would be better and if he didn’t answer, you’d go straight over to his house. Oh god, that was a nerve-wracking thought, driving over and just walking in. What if he wasn’t alone...what if some chic was there? Your mind began to spin as your insecurities played tricks despite knowing, in your heart-of-hearts, how unlikely that was.

Bringing his number up on our phone, you headed through your dark kitchen toward your room, your ears still humming from the music at the dance. Staring at his number, you slowed to a stop and leaned against the hallway wall, sliding down to sit on the carpet. It was time.... and it felt scary as you had no idea where to start and Ivar was not a guy to make things easy. It was no stretch of the imagination to envision him picking up and not saying a word, just listening on the other end as you stuttered on. Regardless, there were things that needed to be said and for your part in the horrible mess, you wouldn’t keep score. Honestly, how could any girl keep score who dated Ivar Lothbrok?

Deep breath in, you steadied your nerves and hit dial, your ear pressed to the phone as it began to ring. Waiting, listening, holding your breath, you didn’t at first hear the faint buzzing sound. It was when you lowered the phone that it captured your attention. Ending the call, you sat straining to identify it but all was quiet in the house; the sound was gone. Tapping his number again, you redialed, keeping the phone in your lap, your eyes fixed on the screen. The ringing began again along with that same buzzing.

Holy shit! Ivar was there! Somewhere in the house with his phone!

Ending the call, you weren’t sure what to do but panic hit your chest, and as if on autopilot, you silently pushed yourself up to stand. You didn’t call out his name, instead, walked, tiptoed, to your bedroom door hesitating when your hand touched the handle. Why weren’t you calling out to him? Why was your door closed?

A thousand thoughts and feelings swirled in your head but none you could name. Snap out of it, you blasted yourself! It’s Ivar, your boyfriend, your true love; the guy you had been pining for all day. Not some intruder on the other side of the door ready to do horrible things. Right? Of course not…. Of course not….you repeated to yourself.

Carefully you turned the knob and slowly pushed open the door. Your room was dark and at the end of your bed sat a hooded figure... waiting. The light was too dim to see his face and his hood concealed his outline. It was the tension in the air and the way his head suddenly tilted to one side, looking in your direction, that confirmed it was him.

“Oh my god!” you finally cried, and swiped the wall, hitting the light-switch on; both of you instantly recoiling and squinting from the brightness. “Ivar! You terrified me!”

Making no move to stand, he kept looking at you, his eyes skipping over your face and down your body, clearly analyzing the details of your appearance. It was his forced, joyless laugh that made every muscle in your body tense. Steadying himself, he fell silent before sighing in a way that gave no indication of his state of mind. Lifting his hand, he flicked his fingers, beckoning you closer, his wicked blue eyes conveying that all was not well.

Placing your phone on your dresser, you removed your coat, throwing it to the floor, and stepped out of your shoes. Walking toward him, you lowered to the carpet and stood on your knees, pushing in between his legs. He never took his eyes off yours and your mouth went dry from the intensity.

So fast it made you flinch, he brought his hands up and cupped your cheeks. Normally it would have melted your heart but his steeliness strummed all your nerves.

“Ivar?” you peered up into his bottomless eyes, his brows furrowed. “Babe, I was just calling you. All-day, I.…”

“Where are your parents?” he cut you off. “They’ve been gone all day.”

“Oh...” you hesitated, ignoring how he knew that, “They’re away. My mom is gone until Tuesday, my dad was supposed to be back tonight but his flight got messed up. He’ll be back tomorrow.”

It was hard to know what answer he was looking for, but that didn’t seem it as his face remained unchanged.

“They leave you alone over-night? A teenage girl with a bedroom on the ground floor and her fucking window unlocked. Any creep could get in.”

The irony was lost on him and pointing it out was not the thing to do. Instead, you waited for him to finish, knowing he didn’t actually want you to answer.

Not taking his eyes off you, he seemed to grimace as he, again, scanned your cheeks, and eyes and mouth, his eyelids narrowing further.

“And who are you so dressed up for, hmm? Mark?”

“No!” you rushed. “He just gave me a ride home from the dance. I asked him to. I was crying.”

That admission made his face flicker but only slightly.

“I was upset about our fight and missing you,” you explained.

Using your courage, you raised your hands and finally touched him, resting them on his thighs.

Instantly, he turned and you thought for a moment he was moving away but instead, he leaned back and grabbed the box of tissues from the nightstand.

“It's okay, I’m not upset anymore. Thank you,” your eyes flitted down to the yellow box he held up for you.

“No,” his face tightened, “Wipe your face. Take that stuff off.”

“Wha?”

“That lipstick,” he quipped, lifting his eyebrows and glancing at the box, urging you on. “And that crap on your cheeks.”

Slowly, you grabbed a tissue, pulling it from the box, another withdrawing behind. As you wiped the pink gloss from your mouth, and blush from your skin, he reached up and pushed his hood back, exposing the extent of his exhaustion; his pale face and dark ringed eyes and messy hair that for the first time had no product in it. Seeing his weariness, you wondered what kind of sleepless and heart-broken roller-coaster he, himself, had been on since your fight.

Grabbing the dirty Kleenex from you, he tossed it onto the floor and took your chin in his hand making you wish he would just break the tension and kiss you.

“You know I don’t like you wearing make-up.”

“I know, it's just...”

“It’s just what?”

“I don’t know,” you tried to look down, but he held your face in place, forcing you to look at him. You felt as if you were being scolded

“You don’t need that shit. You are so beautiful.” Shaking his head, his eyes lowered for a second and he sighed your name, his body and defenses softening and you jumped at the opening.

“Ivar,” you whispered, rubbing your hands over his jeans. “Babe,” you cooed softly making him close his eyes, frowning as if your affection pained him.

“What the fuck am I going to do with you?” he said quietly, opening his eyes and glaring. “What am I going to do?”

“Kiss me,” you replied despite his harsh look, thinking of the first day he picked you up at lunch. “Kiss me, and everything else will come,” you whispered and his face began to blur as tears rose in your eyes.

And like that, his mouth was on you, his hands holding your face, his breath revealing his relief and his whimper giving away his desperation. Your sweetheart was aching for you, all this time, but he had no idea what to do. His tongue pushed inside your mouth, his lips demanding more and you lifted your hands and gripped his hoodie, bracing yourself from the force of his emotions. Your beautiful Ivar had been adrift without you. Utterly lost!

Pulling back, he stared at you, his face filled with agony. “I love you so much,” he whispered, his own eyes filling with tears.

“I love you too,” you murmured back.

“Never. Reject. Me. Again,” he articulated as his nostrils flared, his threat easy to hear but you could see past it. “From this moment on, this second on, we belong to each other. Even more than we did before. Do you hear me? You. Are. Mine.”

“I was always yours, Ivar,” you sounded like you were pleading for him to believe you. “And I always, always, will be. I need you,” you whispered.

“I need you,” he repeated back as if swearing a vow. “Now,” he let go of your face and straightened. “Show me,” he jerked his chin and the slightest wave of arrogance came over him. “Show me,” he said again, raising his dark eyebrows expectantly. “With your mouth.”

What?

Was this a test, you wondered, wishing he’d continue touching you with the same love and need you felt just an instant ago. But of course his defenses were still up; he was searching for reassurance. The same reassurance you didn’t give the day before making the situation explode. Your poor Ivar, you would not let him down twice.

Nodding, you looked down at his lap, running your hands over the bulge in his jeans. If this was what he needed to feel your devotion, you would indulge him. In a flash, your quick hands had his jeans open, his beautiful cock upright in your grasp. It always amazed you how smooth his skin looked, his head a shade darker than the rest but all flawless with the slightest sheen.

Leaning down, you took him into your mouth, loving how it felt and his hand grabbed the back of your neck, not pushing but letting you know that he could. God, he tasted amazing; salty and clean and you tightened your fingers around his base and started to move.

Oh how you loved the way he hissed when you bobbed your mouth up and down, his hips jerking and his grip on your neck getting tight. Each time you took him into the back of your throat, it triggered that reflex and like some submissive craving pain, you were instantly turned on. What was wrong with you that the idea of suffocating on him made you wet? Picking up your pace made him moan and you began to slam down a little harder and a touch further each time, making yourself gag.

“Fuck!” he snarled in response clearly loving the sounds of it. “You want to choke on my dick, baby? Hmm?” he grunted out into the room. “Aw fuck I missed you. Last night and all fucking day, I missed you....so much.”

On you moved, and sucked and slurped, your lips sliding down his shaft, your throat getting used to the roughness.

“I’m so lucky to be with you. Fuck!” he growled, rolling his hips up toward your mouth. “I don’t give a shit about that other guy anymore. None of that matters. I just want to be with you. I love you.”

That was the closest you knew he‘d ever come to apologizing.

“Yea, baby, suck it,” he groaned again, “Suck my cock. You’re so beautiful. But don’t get greedy, I have plans for you tonight.”

Reaching down he yanked up the skirt of your purple dress, shimmying it higher until it was above your waist and you were kneeling in your thong. He obviously liked it as he growled and slapped your ass hard before pulling you off of him, his eyes staring at your mouth which must have looked red and puffy and totally wrecked.

“Get on the bed and open your legs.”

“Pardon?” your eyes flashed wide.

“I’m going to make you mine.”

@blonddnamedhandz @whenimaunicorn @sweeneythots @funmadnessandbadassvikings @redama @mdredwine @didiintheblog @fields-and-fields-of-poppies @oddsnendsfanfics @youbelongeverywhere @hecohansen31 @naaladareia @youbloodymadgenius @geekandbooknerd @ivarsgoddess @where-beauty-goes-to-die @zuxiezendler @punkrocknpearls @snatcherheart @lordsexmachine @fuchsiagrasshopper @wilhelmyna @heavenly1927 @cececolbert @peachyboneless @xbellaxcarolinax

#ivar #ivar the boneless #modern ivar #vikings ivar #Ivar Lothbrok #ivar fanfic #ivar and reader #ivar smut #ivar romance #ivar loth #ivar in highschool #vikings fanfiction #ivar love story #ivar and sarah

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all1e23 · 4 years

Text

Chocolate Dipped

Pairings: Sugar Daddy!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Steve has finally had enough of these two idiots.

Warnings: Angsty stuff.

A/N: I am feeling better! Just in time to make you guys cry for Christmas. This is in Steve’s POV at the start. I think I grabbed everyon’s tags but I was pretty sick this week. If I forgot to add you please shoot me an ask and I’ll correct it today. Also, half edited. I got lazy. lol If you like it come sing me a song, write me a story or scream at me! This is the sixth part of my series Sugary Sweet. Make sure you catch up!

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!***

“You goin’ home tonight, buck?”

Steve hung around the doorway to Bucky’s office, hovering like a worried parent. The small room was lived in. Two weeks have passed since they attended Stark’s gala, and Bucky made it a point to work himself to death every single day since. There were cartons upon cartons of takeout, guest pillows from his penthouse on the leather couch that sat under the large windows on the south wall, and Steve caught Bucky wearing the same white button-up three days in a row.

Bucky was avoiding something, and Steve had a decent idea of what that ‘something’ was.

“Hm?” Bucky mumbled, barely looking up from his computer as he did. “Uh, no. Not tonight. I want to get this done for the Danvers account.”

Steve sighed as he spun his keys around his fingers, debating how far he could push this before he drove Bucky away.

“We have people who do that now, Buck. Go home and get some sleep. Wash your hair.”

To Steve’s delight, Bucky looked up, humor lighting up his eyes and smile curling up the corners of his mouth.

“You sayin’ I look bad, Stevie?”

Steve forced through his concern long enough to grin.

“I’m saying you haven’t been home since you broke up with Y/n. Are you ever going to tell me what happened?”

Bucky’s smile fell the moment Steve said her name, and his eyes fell back on his computer. He wasn’t going to talk about Y/n or their arrangement. There was nothing to say. It was never a real relationship as much as Bucky wanted it to be, so there was no reason to treat it as such.

“I don’t have anything to say about it. There was no break-up. It was a temporary situation, and it’s passed. Let’s all move on with our lives.”

“Bullshit.”

“Goodnight, Steven.”

The quiet tug of the door and the hitch of the latch echoes in Bucky’s empty office, leaving him alone in the darkened building. He knew Steve was trying to help, but Steve wasn’t. Bucky didn’t need to be babysat. He needed to go back to that coffee shop, pay for your coffee, and walk away before he let his heart fall yours. Yeah, he knew sulking in his office wasn’t going to fix anything, but he couldn’t face going home. Your toothbrush was still hanging next to his, that drawer in his dresser was full of your clothes, and there was the picture of the two of you resting on the nightstand. Taking down the pictures in his office was bad enough; at least here, the sheets didn’t smell like you.

It has been weeks when the hell was he going to get over you?

Bucky really hoped it would be soon.

The bar was packed. No stool was empty, and the floor was full of kids half his age waiting for what was probably their first beer. Steve groaned. Dealing with grumpy Bucky and now this was completely unfair. The loud cheering made Steve wince as he pushed towards the middle of the crowd, it was hard to see through the crowd of twenty-year-olds, and he has never felt quite as old as he did at that moment.

When did he become this grumpy old man? He blamed Bucky.

Steve caught his wife’s whistle and grinned when he spotted her in one of those half booths that no one actually enjoys sitting at.

“How is he?”

Steve sighed and placed a kiss on her cheek as he squeezed into the seat next to her. That was a loaded question. He gripped his wife’s legs and pulled them over his lap, tucking her under his arm. Steve was going to make the most of the dollhouse-sized booth.

“He’s… a mess. I know he misses her, but he won’t talk about it. I’m not sure what happened, but I don’t think it was a clean break like he’s making it sound.”

“Do you think she left him?”

He shook his head.

No, Steve knew Bucky well enough to know guilt when he saw it.

“I think Bucky didn’t speak up when he should have is what I think, and maybe she got tired of waiting to be more than a game.”

Steve took a sip of Sharon’s red wine and made a face. She grinned and ran her fingers through his bread, scratching gently until he hummed softly and leaned into her touch.

“Well, I think,” Sharon whispered, watching the sleepy smile tug at Steve’s lips. “We are stuck sitting at the bar. The dining room is full of what appears to be teenagers. Somehow when we weren't looking, we became the oldest people in the room. It's a tiny booth or share a table with strangers.”

“That’s alright. We can stay right here.” Steve nudged her chin up with two fingers and smiled. “I like being stuck with you.”

“You think that sweet talk is going to get you somewhere?”

“Pretty confident. Bucky taught me all I know."

Steve grinned and pecked her lips.

A loud voice interrupted Steve’s train of thought and he couldn't help but listen in.

“Look, if fancy man bun can’t see how awesome you are, then you don’t need to waste your time on him.” Steve tried to fight his smile. Whoever that was, he wouldn’t mind sharing a table with them.

“But… I think I love him.”

Steve froze when he heard your voice, and he subtly peeked over his shoulder to find you sitting at a table nearby. You weren’t alone. There was a blond guy he didn’t know, his arm was around your redheaded friend that scared the life out of him sometimes, Nat he was pretty sure, and another red-haired woman he didn’t know. He turned back around before you caught him spying, and he tried to listen over the boisterous shouts and loud, obnoxious music.

This was getting ridiculous. He was getting too old to go to places like this.

“And that sucks,” The guy continued."He’s shit for dragging you along because he knew how you felt. Everyone knew. I’m not saying marry Johnny Lightning--”

You were talking about Bucky.

“Storm.”

“Storm. Whatever. I’m not saying marry him, but it will help take your mind off the asshole who broke your heart.”

“First of all, I only know his name. I don’t have his number because I don’t want to go out with him, Clint. I don’t want anyone else. Can we just stop talking about this, please? It’s bad enough you drug me out of my nice warm bed and made come here. Please stop talking about Bucky.”

“I wasn’t going to let you hide in bed for the rest of your life,” The woman -- Nat, said with a hint of venom in her voice. “I wish you would have talked to him like I told you to. Something is off about this whole thing.”

“I didn’t have time! Things were over before I realized they were.”

“You could go talk to him now?”

“What’s the point? He’s obviously done with whatever we were. I haven’t heard from him in days.”

Bucky was the one that broke up with you? Steve hadn’t expected that, but perhaps he should have.

Steve fidgeted enough to wiggle his phone out of his pocket, silently quieting Sharon before she could make a fuss and draw your attention. He snapped a picture over his shoulder, even though he shouldn’t. You were staring at rose necklace Bucky gave you in Boston while your friends chatted amongst themselves, your eyes were red and puffy like you had been crying non-stop for days. You looked incredibly lonely for someone sitting in the middle of a crowded bar and surrounded by friends.

He dropped the image into a message and sent it off to Bucky.

“I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

Steve placed a kiss on Sharon’s head and slid out of the booth, smiling at her confusion. He walked straight to your table and stopped next to you, making a point to get his shoes and black dress pants in your line of vision. You looked up, and your fingers slipped off the necklace, your mouth fell open and stuttered incoherently.

“Y/n, I think we should talk.”

-----------------------

Across town, Bucky sat in his office, still sitting at his desk hours after Steve left him only now he was staring at his phone instead of his computer. Bucky hasn’t been able to look away from the damn thing since Steve’s text came in over twenty minutes ago. You looked good. Great. A little sad, maybe, but beautiful. He read Steve’s words one more time, and his heart clenched again.

She doesn’t look like someone who moved on. I think you left a few things out of the story.

So he did leave some things out. It was his right to leave out whatever he wanted to. Steve didn’t need to know why things didn’t work out. It wouldn’t change the outcome.

“Hi.”

Bucky’s fingers shook at the sound of your voice, so much so he dropped his phone back onto his desk. You stood in the doorway to his office, fidgeting and uncomfortable. You were still in that little black dress you were wearing in the photo, so you must have come straight from the bar. Bucky slowly leaned back in his chair, his eyes glued to yours.

“Hi… what are you doing here? How did you get in?”

You looked guilty, and Bucky had to fight back a grin.

“Steve gave me his ID.”

You held up a little white card as an explanation and gave him that same shy, nervous smile you gave him when he offered to pay for your coffee all those months ago. Steve could never just mind his own damn business. Nosy little punk.

Bucky should probably thank him for meddling this one time -- depending on how the rest of this night goes.

“Of course, he did.”

You took a few steps in, just enough that you could place the card on Bucky’s desk a keep your distance. Bucky watched your eyes scan his desk for your missing pictures, and he wanted to jump in and tell you they were on the bookshelf behind him now. They were hard to look at it all the time now. He saw relief flood you as you spotted them.

He still didn’t understand why you were here.

“Is everything okay, sweet girl?”

The name just slipped out. Bucky hadn’t meant it to. You weren’t… well, you weren’t anything anymore, and he didn’t have a right to call you pet names, but he couldn’t help it. Bucky wanted to call his sweet girl forever. Would have, too, if only the stars had aligned the way Bucky had wanted.

Bucky watched you as hesitated. You took a step forward and then stopped as if you were trying to decide where to go, towards him or out the door. He saw the conflict in your eyes as you fought with yourself, and then you stood up taller with your shoulders squared, having made your choice. You strode towards Bucky with determination, walking around his desk, and Bucky pushed off from his feet, letting his chair roll back enough to give you the space you needed-- wanted.

He hoped it was what you wanted.

Bucky didn’t move or make a sound. Just held his breath and waited.

You sank down on his lap, straddling his waist as you’ve done during the hundreds of times you’ve visited him in his office. Bucky waited until you settled comfortably, and his hands came up to wrap around you and rest against your backside. Your own find their favorite spot tangled in his hair, and the tears catching in your lashes were caught right away.

It took every ounce of strength he had not to lean in and kiss those tears away.

“You left.” You whimpered. “Just disappeared and stopped talking to me like we were never… something.”

Bucky’s heart twisted into something dark and ugly. He hadn’t thought there was much to say. Things had been off since he came home from Boston, and then that boy, he didn’t think there was anything left after that.

“I thought--” Bucky’s arms tightened around you, fingers pressed into your skin as he forced himself to admit what he was scared of since he first met you -- you didn’t really want him.

“I thought maybe you liked that kid from the gala. He's closer to your age and… he could be someone who wants the same things you want. I didn’t want you to feel like you were stuck with me if you didn’t want-- if this was temporary. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“No, that’s not what I want.”

Bucky swiped his thumb under your right eye, wiping away the tears he could no longer stand to see. He didn’t know how to ask if you loved him or how to tell you that he wanted more, but this? He knew this. Bucky’s spent the last eight months asking you want you wanted and doing everything he could to give it to you.

He could do this.

“What do you want, babygirl? Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”

There was only one thing you wanted.

“I want you to love me,” you choked out in a desperate, hopeless plea. “I want you to love me like I love you. I want you to be in love with me.”

“Oh, baby.”

Bucky cupped the back of your neck and let the other rest on your back, firmly holding you in place on his lap. This was something he should have said months ago.

“I’ve been in love with you for months. Maybe since I bought you that first cup of coffee and you looked at me with those sweet lips and pouty eyes. You’ve had my love, sweet girl.”

You sniffed and took a breath, your bottom lip still trembling as you twisted over his words.

“But-- I, I heard you telling you Sharon you didn’t want a future with me.”

Bucky’s nose crinkled, and his brow furrowed. “What? What are you talkin’ about, baby?”

“In Boston. That night you were drinking at the bar. I came down to… to see you, and you said you didn’t want a family right now and not with me.”

Bucky was smiling, and he could tell by your pout you were about to jump off his lap because of it. He couldn’t help it. This was good. The best news he has heard in weeks. This was all because he was an idiot, and he could fix that. He could stop being an idiot. Bucky took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around your waist, letting the chair lean back all the way, so you fell against his chest, and your feet came off the floor just enough to make you unstable if you tried to get up on your own.

He needed you to stay put a little longer, and if you wanted to leave after he said his peace, he would let you go.

"Did you hear what I said after that?”

“No," you squeaked. “I ran back up to our-- your room.”

“Our room.” He corrected.

"Our room." You amended. "Then you came up and we-- Well, we made-- we..."

Bucky didn't need you to say anymore. He remembered. Bucky absolutely remembered making love to you. He held you against him and carefully explained what really happened that night.

“I did say that, but that wasn’t what I meant. It came out all wrong, and you'll be happy to know Steve and Sam would beat my ass to defend you without a second thought. What I meant and what I explained to them that night was I wanted to wait until you were ready for all that because if I’m going to do all that? Get married and have kids; I only want to do it with you.”

You groaned and thumped your head against his chest. “Why is Nat always right? She said you didn’t mean it. That it was a mistake.”

Bucky chuckled quietly. His fingers gently rubbed at your scalp, and his lips found your skin, pressing soft kisses to your temple. “Probably because she could see it written on my face. According to Sam, I look like a lovesick idiot every time you’re near me.”

Forcing yourself to lift your head, you met his eyes and whispered,” Bucky, I do love you, and I don’t want that dumb bellhop from Boston or any other guy. You’re all I want, but I’m not ready to get married right now. I know you are, and if you want all that right now-- I don’t know, okay? I graduate in May, and then I want to work and-- and --I don’t think I can--”

Bucky’s thumb settled over your lips, stopping your panic.

“I know, and that’s why I said I wanted to wait. Let you find your footing in a new job and get yourself settled there before we even talk about it. I wanted to tell you all this in Boston. Tell you how much you mean to me. How you’re all, I think about, every damn day and the nights that I’m not with you are like torture.”

Your eyes twinkled with someone Bucky didn’t like, and his cheeks warmed right away.

“So that was the whole picnic thing? And renting out the skywalk?”

Bucky nodded sheepishly.

“I might have chickened out. I was worried you didn’t feel the same, and I wasn’t ready to lose you.”

One thing was certain; you were made for each other. You were both idiots.

“So, you do see a future with me?” You asked, nerves showing through your shaky voice. You needed to be sure. You couldn’t go through all that again.

“You weren’t just changing the subject with sex every time?”

Bucky barked out a laugh, the chair under you shaking from the force of it. You pursed your lips. He didn’t have to laugh so hard. It was a serious question. Bucky gave your hip an apologetic squeeze and shook his head.

“No, I didn’t mean to do that. It was incredibly sexy to hear you say you only wanted... me. You could have asked me for anything, and you just wanted me. I like that."

“It’s true, though. I don’t want any of that other stuff. You’re the only thing I want, Buck.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened, and his hand slipped under the hemline of your dress. “Somethin’ you want… right now?”

Your slender fingers gripped his wrist, and you shook your head. “Nope. What I want right now is to get you home, shower, and maybe sleep till late tomorrow. I haven’t-- I haven’t been sleeping great lately.”

The confession made Bucky remember how terrible he probably looked from his own sleeping habits over the past eighteen days. The last he saw in the bathroom mirror, the dark circles under his eyes, were getting pretty hard to hide. His beard was unkempt and thick and Steve wasn’t wrong about needing to wash his hair. He raised the arm you were still clutching and pressed a kiss to your fingers.

“This how it’s going to work from now on? Just goin’ tell me what to do all the time?”

“Yep. That’s how it works when I’m your girlfriend.”

Your eyes widen dramatically, and Bucky grins.

“I am… I mean, it’s okay I said that, right?”

“Well, you are my girl.”

Bucky can feel your tension deflate, and he really likes the smile on your face.

“Mmm, and you’re my sugar. My sweet fella.”

#sugardaddy!bucky x reader #sugar daddy!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #alternate universe #sugar daddy AU

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imaginethathaikyuu · 4 years

Text

kenma angst part 2 (for lack of a better title)

ok. this is the scenario that ive by far gotten the most requests for. at least 40 different requests for this by now. and after finally writing a good scenario after 2 failed attempts, here it is. ur welcome.

i feel like i have to mention that this was very inspired by the song 12 feet deep by the front bottoms in a very specific way (that ull probably notice if u know/listen to the song) so yeah give it a listen, its a good one

and of course this is a part two, so please read part one first! gender neutral reader

Kenma was sinking.

It was nearing 4 am. He was laying in his bed, the place he’d quickly determined to be the only good place left in the entire world.

He was drowning.

He couldn’t stop staring at his phone. At your text messages. At your number.

As if it was a spur of the moment decision and not something he’d been mulling over for hours, he pressed call. Put the phone on speaker. Wiped the last shred of tears from his face.

“Hello?”

But his eyes were filling up again.

“Kenma?”

He was sinking and sinking deeper and deeper and you were the one holding him under.

“What do you want?”

“To hear your voice,” he choked out, gasping for air that refused to fill his lungs.

That’s probably the most honest he’d been with you in weeks. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t a good excuse anymore, waking you up at 4 am just to hear your voice.

But it’d been a week since he last heard you. He thought you’d be able to pull him out of the sinkhole he’d left himself in.

He was probably better off not calling at all, though.

“Okay. I’m hanging up now.”

And then you did.

Kenma had rarely felt this angry at himself. And he’d never felt so pitiful.

He knew he shouldn’t bother you. That if he wanted to fix things, he had to stop being so damn childish, irresponsible, lazy. He couldn’t just call you like he used to and expect you to laugh it off. He couldn’t pretend that everything was normal.

He also knew that it wasn’t likely he’d get you back. Even if he explained himself and begged you to understand, words could only do so much.

Everything seemed to change for Kenma in the last week, more than he was comfortable with. And he wanted to change it back to the way things used to be. He wanted to make you happy again, to see you in his clothes again, to sleep in your bed again. Most of all, he just wanted to have you again.

While his life has been nothing short of unpredictable, there was one thing Kenma could still rely on.

“Get up, Kenma!”

And that’s Kuroo showing up at his dorm and beating down his door at 5:3o every morning.

Coincidentally, that was the one thing he wanted to change.

Kuroo had no regard for Kenma’s neighbors, something the boy learned when this routine began a few weeks ago. Morning practice now started at 6 instead of 8 - he had Kuroo to blame for that, as he basically made the new schedule.

“I’m up,” Kenma said to him after answering the door, making sure not to mention that he hadn’t even been to sleep.

Kuroo pushed him aside and invited himself in. “Practice in 30.”

“You don’t have to tell me that.”

He stumbled to his dresser and put on his tracksuit, struggling to stand on his own two feet. He was completely exhausted thanks to getting no sleep - after calling you, there was no way he was able to rest.

“C’mon, let’s go, we’re jogging to the gym.”

Kuroo grabbed Kenma by the shoulder and pulled him out of his dorm without waiting for his response. Kenma didn’t really jog, he just walked kind of quickly while Kuroo did all the running.

“You found my hoodie yet?”

Kenma took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“Dude! Can I have it back already? I swear I’m never letting you steal my clothes again.”

His fast walking slowed down. Kuroo started jogging backwards so he could face Kenma, feeling concerned about the silence. This didn’t feel like Kenma’s usual quietness.

“I don’t have it,” he replied simply, hoping to leave it at that.

“Well it’s in your dorm, right? Just bring it to -”

“No,” Kenma interrupted, “It’s not in my dorm. I don’t have it.”

Kuroo scoffed. “Where is it then? You just want to keep it, don’t you?”

Of course Kuroo wouldn’t let him get away without actually explaining himself.

“Y/N has it.”

“Oh.” Kuroo cleared his throat in that awkward way a dad would, then he turned back around and Kenma thought that was it.

Of course it wasn’t. “Sounds like a good excuse to go talk to - ”

“No.”

“We’re going to Y/N’s dorm after practice -”

“No.”

“I’m getting my hoodie back, and you’re getting Y/N back.”

To that, Kenma didn’t say no.

You were visibly taken aback when you opened your door to see your ex boyfriend and his best friend staring back at you.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Kuroo said, his voice booming through the hall.

“Hi?”

Kuroo elbowed Kenma in his side, offering a, “go on,” of encouragement.

“Uh…”

He couldn’t look up at you. Just hearing your voice in person was enough to make his heart skip a beat. If he looked at you, he’d probably break down crying and then beg you to take him back.

He didn’t know why it was so easy for Kuroo to convince him to do this.

“Remember that hoodie…?”

You scoffed before disappearing into your dorm for just a moment, reappearing to shove the sweatshirt into Kenma’s chest.

“Actually, that’s mine,” Kuroo said, taking it from him. “Sorry for the inconvenience. But my mom got me this hoodie. And then Kenma stole it.”

“I just forgot it was yours,” Kenma said quietly, trying his best to defend himself.

But it did help you realize why Kenma asked to have it back. You felt kind of silly now knowing that it wasn’t even his.

Kuroo, ignoring Kema, gave him a strong pat on the back and said, “Is there anything else you want to say to Y/N?”

Kenma hated this. He hated when Kuroo treated him like a kid. He hated knowing that you were standing right in front of him but he couldn’t hold your hand or play with your hair or even look up at you. He hated that he allowed himself to lose his best friend.

“I’m sorry,” he said, even though he felt himself slipping, sinking, drowning, just like he had last night. “I’m really, really sorry, for… for making you think that I don’t want you and for keeping things from you and for being late to lunch and for calling you last night -”

He took a deep breath, one that did nothing to calm him down but forced him to stop rambling to you, which he’s already embarrassed about.

But he’s here, so he should probably be honest while he can. And he should probably look at you while he still has the chance.

“I really miss you,” he said. His tears were clouding his vision but he still saw you. You were wearing an old shirt he bought for you in high school and a necklace he’d never seen before and your hair was a mess in his favorite way. You had obviously just woken up - what he wouldn’t give to have woken up next to you this morning could be counted on one hand.

Kuroo’s loud voice seemed to assault his ears when he said, “I’ll leave you guys to it. You know where to find me, alright?”

Kenma knew what that meant. What he meant to say is, ‘I’ll be there for you when you get your heart broken.’

Kuroo left while cradling his hoodie, and Kenma decided he probably should have just told him to wait outside for him. He didn’t have very high hopes for the rest of this conversation.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wiping his eyes and looking back down to the ground. “I shouldn’t have done -”

“I miss you too.”

You said it so quietly that he almost missed it, but his heart did backflips when you said it.

“But I don’t miss how you’ve been acting.”

And then it sank again.

“I know,” he replied. “It’s just… volleyball and class have both been a lot, and…”

He didn’t really have an excuse. What he said was true, volleyball has been a lot. The new schedule was getting the best of him, the extra practice wasn’t treating him well. And he was really struggling to stay afloat in his academics.

He didn’t know if he could be better. He knew that right now, he could make promises he’d probably break and sweet talk his way into getting temporary forgiveness for his own sake. And if he did that, he’d probably hurt you again.

But if he didn’t at least try to be better for you, he would regret it forever. There was no excuse to just let you go. He was going to try for you, for himself, for the years you two have been together. He couldn’t let that time go to waste.

He wasn’t going to make excuses or empty promises.

“I want to try,” he started, standing up straight and doing his best to face you. “I want to try to be better for you, I…”

“Kenma…”

“I know,” he said, feeling an extra spark of courage though he had no clue where it was coming from. “I know I don’t deserve it and that this is probably a waste of time but - but I love you and I have to try, please let me try.”

“...Okay, Kenma.”

“Okay?”

For the first time in a week he could finally breathe. He could take a breath without feeling weighed down. The pressure on his chest finally lifted.

“I want to try, too,” you said, albeit sadly. “I miss you. So much.”

And then you couldn’t help stepping out of the doorway and falling against Kenma’s chest, and he happily pulled you closer to him. It was only then that he realized he was still standing out in the hall, but you were in his arms again and he didn’t care if anyone saw.

“I’ll get better at managing my time…” he mumbled to you. “I will.”

Your response was a nod, and Kenma managed a small smile.

But his exhaustion was setting in. As much as he wanted to stand there forever, he was about to fall over.

“Y/N?” he whispered. “Can we…”

You were sure he was going to finish that sentence with something disappointing, something that would ruin the moment. Maybe even something uncharacteristically lewd.

“...take a nap?”

But you were relieved to see Kenma was actually acting like himself. With a soft laugh you said, “Yeah, we can.” And when he got into your room and fell into your bed, he pulled you as close as you could be before melting into your sheets.

Your bed was definitely the best place in the world, and he wasn’t going to lose it - or you - again. Sleeping next to you felt too good to go without.

#Kenma Kozume #kenma kozume x reader #kenma x reader #haikyuu one shot #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #angst #fluff #scenario

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instasiswetrust · 3 years

Text

Werewolf AU (Steve centric)

When the wolf finds him, Steve's been sitting on that rock for nigh on an hour. Or at least, he assumes it could've been an hour even when it feels like he's been there for merely a handful of minutes.

He doesn't turn to greet the wolf, doesn't even flinch, heavy gaze entirely focused on the two-story house he can make out at the bottom of the hill. From his place on the raised rock, just at the edge of the trees where the pine forest meets the last remnants of the suburban landscape, he knows no one can spot him from down there. He can see them though.

Two figures, partially hidden by the curtains that frame the open window, sit at a table. He thinks they might be having dinner, trading inane chatter like it was any other day. And you know, maybe it was.

(He tries not to dwell on how much that thought makes his chest ache.)

Behind him, a soft rustle can be heard, the crunching of heavy boots on dried pine needles, before someone sits next to him on the rock. Their legs dangle off the edge of the raised rock, and by the mismatched pink and green striped socks they are wearing, Steve can easily tell who they are.

"It's been two hours, Stevie. Dad thought you had gotten lost in the woods again."

Susie.

(For some reason he had thought Frank would've found him first. He decides not to think about the small spark of disappointment that he feels.)

"Sorry." He mutters, prying his gaze away from the house and facing her properly. She's shorter than he is and it makes him have to look down at her. In her hands is a partially eaten chocolate bar - where she got it, Steve doesn't know - and when she notices his eyes on her, she raises it slightly so he can take a bite from it.

Steve wonders if she's doing it because of the dried tear tracks on his cheeks, or the way his hair is lying limp against his head from all the times he had run his hands through it. Either way, he's glad she doesn't mention it

"Doesn't chocolate make us sick?" Maybe it's ironic for him to ask when he's taking a bite of the chocolate too, but he could do with the sweetness.

"Life without chocolate it's not worth living." And when she smiles, her cheeks dimple in the cutest of ways. It's honest, happy, and slightly manic, childish in a way that reminds him so much of Dustin that he ends up choking back tears.

She doesn't say anything but her eyes soften. Next thing he knows, she's all but pulled him into an embrace, his face smooshed into her shoulder in a slightly awkward angle due to their height difference. The way he doesn't even bother finding a more comfortable position, his whole body relaxing under her touch, is evidence enough of how much he needed something like this.

"I miss them." Whispered like a secret, his words muffled against the fabric of her pink cable knit sweater, even as the first sob wracks through him. “I k-know I shouldn't because they don't s-seem to care that I left but-”

Her hands are on his hair, fingers carding gently through it, even as she hums a lullaby under her breath. It makes him sob harder, face hidden against the curve of her shoulder, hands desperately clinging to her.

Susie never comments on it. She doesn't try to justify his feelings or vilify his parents. Her sole focus is on him, letting him cry it out without caring if her sweater gets stained with tears. Once he's finally calmed down, she waits for him to put himself back together before standing and helping him up.

“Come, Stevie. Let's go back before Dad starts worrying.”

------

The thing about shifting into a wolf was that keeping any coherent thoughts was absolute hell to do, especially when you had only been a wolf for three whole weeks. Thinking he could somehow sneak into town without being seen was foolish to even consider.

That still didn't stop Steve.

Dustin. Robin. Nancy.

Names repeating in his brain that made absolutely no sense to a wolf who couldn't make sense of abstract concepts. But they were important. He could feel it under his skin, like an itch that he couldn't scratch. How he would find them, he wasn't sure, but he would.

And that's how he ends up climbing clumsily into the open window that leads to Dustin's room, making a racket as he topples over half a dozen action figures that were settled on the dresser. His nails clack sharply against the hardwood floors, nose twitching curiously at all the scents that fill the room.

A sudden movement out of the corner of his eye has him turning his head to the side, finding himself at the foot of a raised structure that he vaguely remembers is meant to be den. On it, a human child holds a complicated plastic...thing, pointing it directly at him. He smells of curiosity and fear but under it, all is a scent so familiar that it makes the wolf's chest ache with emotions he can't name, a soft confused whine escaping him.

The child tilts its head at the sound, curiosity seemingly winning over his fear as he crawls closer to the edge of the raised platform, eyes locking on the wolf- No. On Steve.

That single moment of clarity is all Steve needs to trigger back the change, skin morphing and bones cracking, as his body protests with the pain of forcing him back into a form resembling something human. At last, there's no wolf, just a very naked teenager sitting in the middle of Dustin's room with a nerf gun pointed at him.

"Steve?!" He flinches despite Dustin's voice being no louder than a whisper. A cold breeze streams through the open window, making him shiver and reminding him that he's still very much naked.

"Look, I promise I will explain just-" Steve flushes, fumbling with the necklace on his neck until it spits out the change of clothes he had saved in there. "Let me get dressed because this is awfully embarrassing."

"I uh- sure?" And it's clear by his tone of voice that he's choking on a laugh but he does cover his eyes to give Steve some privacy.

It doesn't take long before he's fully dressed, sitting on the corner of Dustin's bed while his friend stares at him with eyes filled with curiosity and accusation. Steve cannot blame him. For all everyone knew he could've been dead no matter what the note he left behind said.

"So you're a werewolf." Not a question but he nods, feeling uncomfortable as he remembers Evan saying he couldn't tell anyone else for the safety of not only himself but the pack.

"You weren't supposed to find out about that but it's hard keeping human thoughts while I remain a wolf." Dustin has that look on his face that Steve knows means he wants to ask more questions but is refraining himself from doing so. It makes him smile at the familiarity of it all. "I'm not actually supposed to be here, in fact."

"Why? Did you get kidnapped by a werewolf cult or something? Is that why you left?"

Steve snorts, shaking his head quickly. "No, no. Nothing like that. It's just for safety, y'know? Monster hunters are common in small towns like this according to Da- according to Evan."

His slip up makes Dustin quirk an eyebrow.

"Were you just about to call this Evan guy, Dad?"

"Look-" But before he could start explaining, the younger boy interrupted him again.

"Wait, you said Monster hunters, not Werewolf hunters. Does that mean other creatures are real? Like Fae, and Tieflings, and Vampires? Is Dracula real? Is Mothman real?" He's firing questions with the swiftness of a TV presenter, Steve immediately putting hands on his shoulders to slow him down.

"Slow down, dingus." He teases, the old nickname making Dustin roll his eyes. "I'm not really supposed to be saying any of this but I guess since you've already seen me..."

"C'mon Steve, tell me at least a little! Please?" And Dustin's known Steve for long enough that he's aware the guy is absolutely weak when it comes to puppy eyes.

He sighs, running a hand through his face before caving in. "Monsters are real, yes. I only know a few, those that have visited the pack for the most part, but Dr. Herman has many Bestiaries around that he agreed to let me read once I graduate from Evan's pack dynamic classes."

Dustin is absolutely beaming with all the new information, a hundred questions waiting to be voiced on his lips but suddenly his expression falls, brows furrowing and teeth worrying his bottom lip. He's avoiding Steve's gaze and his scent stinks of sadness.

"Hey, what's the matter? I thought you would be excited to know Mothman might be real?" He's still saying nothing and Steve is starting to grow worried. Did he do something wrong?

"This means you aren't coming back...right?" It's barely above a whisper but Steve's hearing is so sharp that he has no trouble hearing him. Inside his chest, his heart clenches painfully.

When he shakes his head and Dustin's gaze falls to his lap, Steve feels like his body is being filled with lead.

"I still have my phone with me, and I might be able to visit in the future but... No. I'm not coming back, Dustin." Grief bubbles in his chest, choking him up and making his eyes burn with the tears he wants to shed but refuses to.

Dustin tackles him into a hug, squeezing him so hard that it hurts but Steve doesn't mind, hugging him back just as tightly. If either of them cries they don't bother mentioning it.

It's not important after all.

----

Dawn shines pink and orange over the horizon when he makes it back to the ranch, exhausted to his bones.

Evan is waiting for him in the kitchen when he steps in and Steve is not surprised. The older werewolf had the uncanny ability to know when any of them were getting into trouble, after all. So all Steve does is hang his head, feeling the weight of Evan's gaze on him.

"Sit." He says, and his voice doesn't give anything away. So Steve sits and waits for the reprimanding he's so sure will come.

Except it doesn't.

"You have been crying. Are you hurt?" Evan is truly concerned it seems, his voice firm but not too loud. Is enough to bring the tears back to Steve's eyes, a broken sob leaving him as he hides his head in his hands. And all the older man does is rub his back comfortingly until his sobs have been reduced to occasional sniffles. Only then does he speak again.

"Feeling better?" Steve nods, once, before stopping and shaking his head. Evan chuckles, his gruff voice is oddly comforting. "Ah, here I was thinking you had been taking all these changes a little too well."

"I'm used to rolling with the punches." Steve tries offering him a smile but it comes out looking more like a grimace so he ends up giving it up altogether. He hates how true that statement is but Evan understands.

(Somehow, he always understands when it comes to Steve's parents.)

They are both quiet after that, the silence comforting were it not for the way Steve's stomach roiled with his guilt. He had to say something, apologize, or the shame would eat him alive.

"Look, I'm... I'm sorry I went out to town without telling anyone but it's just- I was homesick, and I missed my friends so much, and I basically left without giving Dustin an expl-" He's babbling out of nervousness, excuses spooling out of him like worn thread but he pauses once Evan settles his heavy hand on his shoulder. Big hands. Hands capable of drawing the softest of portraits with as much ease as they could choke out a deer.

"I'm not mad, pup." Steve has to bite his cheek at that to stop his eyes from filling up with tears again over something so silly as a word. "Kinda expected you to eventually do it. Had Danny's cat familiar follow you last night just to make sure you would be okay."

Steve thinks he should feel offended by that last bit of information but he honestly cannot give a fuck when he's basically swimming in the relief that courses through him at Evan's words. He knows and he isn't mad. Knows and doesn't blame him for showing weakness.

(Knows and still loves him.)

Evan smiles, barely an upturn of his lips but it's there and his words are soft when he says, "Go to bed, pup."

He does. And for the first time in a while, he doesn't dream at all.

#dbd #dead by daylight #drabbles #steve harrington #evan macmillan #dustin henderson #dbd susie #werewolf au

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palettepainter · 3 years

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I’ve got post vaccine (moderna gang) shivers so I need to express fluff headcanons to spread good vibes

When Ecto was planning to propose, he had to keep it so hush hush because Higari can easily find things out. He didn’t tell anyone but higaris mother and his own parents. He was very happy that Higari was actually surprised with the proposal. Higari wears the rings on a necklace- his quirk doesn’t exactly make wedding rings easy to find.

As much as Higari prefers being a support hero, search and rescue jobs that go smoothly it’s very rewarding. He often checks up on those he’s managed to rescue, keeps in touch with some too. There’s this lovely older woman who he rescued from a crumbling retirement home who sends him baked goods every holiday. He visits her every month for tea.

When Ecto is sick, Higari cares for him easily. Even when Ecto acts like he isn’t sick. He’ll make him soup, make sure he’s resting, cold compress on his forehead. As stubborn as he is, ecto appreciates it.

Higaris favorite memory with his dad is digging around in the yard with him. Since they had the same quirks, it worked out. He showed him how to carve tunnels without the ground crumbling, or just played around in the dirt. There’s a picture of Higari when he was three, covered in dirt with his head peaking out of a hole. His dad was grinning, sitting near by like he was cheering him on. Sometimes, especially on days where thinking about his dad is hard, he’ll tell Ecto stories.

As someone who also got shivers after getting a vaccine I know the feeling, how you’re doing well!

Ecto proposing, Yes! I love the idea of Ecto proposing to Higari, and his rugged flirting smirking self just crumbles in the face of Ecto holding a ring to him. Ecto’s eyes are so full of love and he has such a soft grin on his face that Higari can’t help but tearing up, he tries to think of something flirty to say back, but he just can’t. He’s overwhelmed - probably ended up tackling Ecto in a hug with a big kiss, which threw Ecto off guard, thinking at first maybe he’d overwhelmed Higari when he started crying.

Higari wearing is around his neck, also yes. Higari’s wedding ring is the only thing that he will spend careful hours cleaning and polishing at the end of each day to make sure it stays in good condition, wears is around UA proudly - though I imagine for interviews outside of UA or when he’s called out for hero work he leaves it at home in a special box on his dresser or safely tucks it away in a drawer in the design studio, as much as he loves wearing the rink around his neck he dreads the thought of loosing it in a rescue, or having some nosy reports pester him for answers if they catch sight of it.

With Higari’s gear I’m a firm believer he’d be a great rescue hero in say like natural disasters or if a building collapsed. With his giant robotic suit and his know how on construction he could easily map a safe route to evacuate citizens from an unstable building, or quickly find a way to clean up after a land slide. Need to move a giant tree? No problem he’ll move it no prob. Citizen can’t move because they’re leg hurts? He can carry em out to safety. Kids they rescued are bored while they’re waiting for parents to pick them up? Higari tolerates them clambering about on his hero suit like it’s a jungle gym

Anything with Higari caring for Ecto or vise versa is so wholesome! In my NGAU I imagine Higari prolly knows all the tricks to help when someone is sick, he grew up in a big house with tones of little siblings, as kids they got sick a lot with how often they played in the garden and mud, they’ve all got very strong immune systems so it’s rare Higari or his siblings get sick - but Higari still knows all the tricks to help nursing someone back to health. He remembers to give Ecto some medicine, make him some soup, hot water bottle if he’d cold, flannel if he’s too hot and plenty of liquids. A teenie tiny part of Ecto might even enjoy all the attention, appreciating Higari’s concern. Too bad Higari is too stubborn to actually treat himself when he’s sick, with how little he gets sick he doesn’t take it all that seriously - thankfully Ecto is a patient man with many clones, so is willing to drag Higari back to bed if needed XD

And the last one with his dad...

Anon: Are you trying to make me cry-

In my NGAU Powerloader’s dad was all over him, spoiled Higari so so much. Spent many lazy afternoons slacking off work when the missus wasn’t looking to play around with Higari (bragged for like a week straight that he got his quirk, proud dad moment). Higari’s mother came out into the garden to see how the boys where doing, she finds her husband and toddler son covered head to toe in dirt and mud. She gets angry at them, insisting the two need a bath if they want to have dinner. Toddler Higari hated baths from the day he was born apparently, and it’s only until dear old papa gives him a bath is he willing to get clean. His dad puts bubbles in Higari’s hair, and Higari splashes bubbles onto his dads beard, who then makes a silly face to make Higari laugh. Too bad only one hour after tea the two got dirty again-

The first time Higari used his quirk was when he was outside with his dad. His dad was working on fixing up the shed, Higari sitting in a small play pen outside with some toys while his dad stood close by, able to work while also keeping an eye on Higari. Higari, bored of playing with his building blocks, begins to drag his little hands at the ground, and before he knows it he’s tunneling his way to freedome beyond the bounds of his baby playpen. This kind of scneario probably ensued:

Kaigo (PL’s dad): Phew *picks up tool box and turns around* Alright sweetpea, time to go back insi- *freezes when he sees the playpen is empty, and no baby in sight* W-WHAT?! *drops tool box, and rapidly looks around* Uh- H-Higari?! Sweetpea?! Where’d you go?? Come to dad, this isn’t funny! *rushes around a bit*

Higari: *tunnles his way up to the surface in his mothers flowerbed, a small pile of dirt with a flower sticking out the top sitting on his head*

Kaigo: *searching in the bushes* H-Higari?! Higari! Where are you?! *mumbles* Shit I took my eyes off him for two minutes! Where the hell could he-

Higari: BAPA!

Kaigo: *jumps and whirls around*..*heaves and sigh and rushes over* Oh thank god! *scoops him into his arms for a hug* You stupid lil’ ankle biter! Don’t you ever do that again! *holds him out at arms length* How in the world did you even get out??

Higari: *sneezes from the dirt, making the flower fall off his head*

Kaigo:..Wait. Did..D-Did you, DIG your way out?!

Higari: *incoherent baby noises*

Kaigo;...Ooooh you are in SO much trouble young man, you know how many years off my life you just took? Huh?...*scowls as Higari giggles* Oh so you think this is FUNNY?-

Higari: *grabs his nose* BA!

Kaigo:............*sighs* You’re damn lucky you’re cute, you know that?...Uh, how about we DON’T tell your Ma about this, okay?

Ever since then his dad had to watch him like a hawk, one minute Higari was sitting playing with his toys, the next he was trying to dig his way to the other side of the world. When he was old enough his dad did give him some lessons in how to dig safely so the ground wouldn’t become unstable. I imagine Higari may have madea few tunnels as a kid that where too close to the surface, and his very unsuspecting mum and dad would just sink into the ground collapsing an old tunnel Higari made. And Higari having pictures?? YES. His mum probably has a whole stash of pictures of Higari as a baby playing outside with his dad and her. Including the embarrassing photos, the kind of photos Higari would never want Ecto to see, but his mum showed him anyway.

Now I wanna write angst with Powerloader and his dad aaaaa-

#Powerloader #Powerloader family #MHA #Headcannons #Higari

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goldeneyedgirl · 3 years

Text

TwiFicMas Day 8: Forgotten

Happy Day 8! I have been travelling all day, and plotting Forbidden Fics, so on with the show!

Today’s fic is an untitled riff on the concept of Alice being found in the woods of Forks not only having forgotten her entire life, but still human - her last solid memories are running from James. It was very much meant to be an exploration of Alice and Jasper relearning each other, and falling in love again - though it got quite dark and depressing at one point - and looking at how far Alice has come from her human years. She is absolutely unclear of the year she’s in, and whilst she has some memories of the asylum, she is also unaware of just how damaged she was before she was changed. I hope that all makes sense.

Onwards!

What does she remember?

That is a loaded question. Matron asks her that every morning, as if she is a small child, whenever she can manage to talk. Her mind is gossamer thin, and tattered from shock therapy. She doesn’t remember much, but she does remember that her name is… her name is… Alice, yes.

The waking dreams she has are an illness, a terrible one, and she is mad.

Her dearest friend is Eli, the orderly. He was special, and a good man. He looks after her.

That’s what she remembers. The hunter. Eli taking her away from the asylum, wrapped in his itchy, old coat that smelt like smoke and grass. She was cold and tired and so frightened for Eli, because he is old and the hunt was strong… but he hid her away and went off to defeat the hunter.

This Alice is not their Alice, that is clear.

She is undeniably human, and so frail that Carlisle must resist the urge to check her immediately into the closest hospital. She speaks quietly, wringing her hands nervously. She doesn’t make eye-contact.

For Jasper, all he can think is that her eyes are blue. Blue-grey, really, a colour that nearly matches a scarf she bought back in the 50s. She has faint freckles over her nose.

The Cullens are very kind to me, whilst Eli has gone. Dr Cullen seems to think that Eli and I will be living with them for now on; that does make sense, I suppose, since Dr Cullen is a doctor, and I am still very ill. They had a very nice bedroom to give me, and clothing, so Eli must have written them. And Mrs Cullen was very nice when the dress she gave me was far too short and it upset me. The second one was much better, though it was black and I am sure made me look as pale as a ghost.

Mrs Cullen has cooked for me, as well – the smells are awful to a vampire, and the rest of them vanish whenever she disappears into the kitchen. She is always asking me what I like to eat, and she looked so sad when I told her I didn’t know, because the food at the asylum was so awful.

I keep away from the others, like Eli warned me. Though, Miss Rosalie was so lovely, I couldn’t believe she was real. I… I think I had a doll like her once. Her husband was a giant of a man who reminded me of the orderlies at the asylum, who seemed nice enough, but I wasn’t getting too close.

The redheaded boy seemed to like watching me a lot, but refrained from talking much. He seemed to have a lot of friends, though, as when he did speak, he was always talking about ‘Bella’ and ‘Jacob’ and ‘Seth’ and ‘Leah’.

The young blond man did not seem to be pleased I was in the house, leaving the room anytime I entered it, and when he was forced to be in my presence, he glowered at me, as if I were the most unwelcome creature in the universe.

Perhaps it should have upset me, but I am used to such glares.

Dr Cullen insisted that I spend a lot of time resting quietly in my room, though he allowed me to sit in the garden for a little while each day, and there was a never-ending supply of books, which was wonderful. I spend a lot of time attempting to pen letters to Eli, though my hands were still quite shaky, and my handwriting abysmal. My drawings moreso. I cried about it a little, when I was in my room, but I should be very grateful – my alternative to this lovely place was death.

My bedroom remained a mystery. Mrs Cullen assured me that it was mine, and I adored everything about it – the way the light filled the room every morning, to the dandelion lamp on the nightstand, to the bed with the silk headboard and piles of pillows. Mrs Cullen was always worried I was cold, bringing me as many pillows and blankets as I wished for.

But, I wondered if perhaps this room wasn’t intended for me. Mrs Cullen had filled the dresser with my clothing, and apologised, explaining the closet was used as storage, and I shouldn’t go through it until she had some time to clear it out. I had peeked, just once, and found it full of boxes and clothing. The clothing! I had never seen so many dresses! Most of them had been terribly short, but there had been every colour and fabric. I couldn’t imagine leaving behind so many beautiful things.

There were spaces in the bookcase as well, as if several editions had been pulled out in a hurry.

And I had found a necklace that had been left on the window sill, behind the curtain – a thin silver chain, with a glass teardrop on the end. It was lovely, and clearly beloved – the initials had been rubbed off the clasp, as had the engraving around the setting.

I had simply left it on the dresser and never asked, even when it vanished without mention.

It wasn’t the only mystery. I had noticed that I was kept out of many of the rooms of the house – my meals were served to me on trays or in the dining room. I was allowed in the garden or in my room.

But who am I to criticise their hospitality? Perhaps they keep things in this house that are not fit for human eyes.

Today, a man arrived. A policeman, though his uniform was quite odd. He looked quite stern, and when Mrs Cullen went to greet him, I disappeared back to the dining room to finish my breakfast.

Mrs Cullen is determined to discover my ‘favourite’ foods at every meal; I don’t have the heart to tell her after the ‘soups’ and ‘porridges’ of the hospital, every food is my favourite. Today, it is eggs that are like little yellow clouds.

“Alice!” the policeman sees me there and he smiles, but looks confused for a moment.

My glass of orange juice slips from my fingers and all I can think is that he is looking for me, the hospital has searched for me and they will drag me back to that dark, dim little cell, and I’ll be without Eli this time.

I know I am crying and screaming, though it sounds quite feeble to my own ears, and Mrs Cullen is trying to calm me, and the policeman looks bewildered, and the redheaded boy – Edward – is there and trying to fix everything.

“She thinks Charlie is going to take her back,” he keeps saying. “Get Jasper down here to calm her down.”

I must look a fright, my hair has fallen around my face, and there is orange juice spilt all over my dress and Mrs Cullen’s floor and there is glass everywhere.

“Carlisle left some sedatives,” Miss Rosalie says finally, looking rather stunned. Everyone looks rather pained but finally Edward nods.

And then I am calm.

I slump to the floor, my arms wrapped around myself. I am still frightened, my heart pounding, but I am calm.

“Charlie is a friend,” Mrs Cullen is telling me soothingly, smoothing my hair from my face. “No one is going to take you anywhere you don’t want to go, we promise.”

The calm fades into grief, and I fling my arms around her neck and sob like a child and beg for someone to fetch Eli for me.

They sit me down in the lounge room, all of them watching me. Esme has an album in her lap, and looks so kind and worried. I keep checking my hair, to make sure it hasn’t come loose. It’s not really long enough to pin up well, and Miss Rosalie never pins hers up, but it feels right.

And then Dr Cullen speaks. His voice is gentle and sad and it takes a while for me to understand the words he is saying.

Eli is, most certainly, dead.

But so is the hunter, and his vile companions.

I don’t make a sound, but suddenly my cheeks are wet, and I am crying. Esme pulls me into her arms and rocks me.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m sure he was a good man,” she murmurs against my head, and ice and fire rip through my veins and Edward hisses at Esme and I pull away, my heart pounding.

I’m sure he was a good man.

“What did he look like?” I demand from Dr Cullen, my voice hard but still shaking. “What did Eli look like?”

Dr Cullen looks startled and Esme is realising her mistake and I am realising that no one here has ever met Eli before. That I was never entrusted to these vampires by him.

Edward is just shaking his head.

“I’m sorry, Alice, but I never met Eli in person,” Dr Cullen says.

I let out a little moan, and wonder what comes next. A runaway girl in a borrowed dress.

Truly, how many times in my life shall I be left with nothing?

Perhaps I should have left the hunter to his meal and his pleasure. If I had known then what I do now, I would have.

My face is wet, and the collar of my sweater is sodden when I look up and spy a pair of shoes under the little console table in the entrance. They are small, small enough for me, and black, with a shiny gold toe. Worn, too, and I wonder whose they are. I wonder if that is why they took me in, to replace the ghost girl who left behind my bedroom and a closet full of clothing.

The family clearly doesn’t realise what I’m doing as I move towards the shoes. I am wearing good quality clothing – thick stockings and a grey dress with a black sweater – and now I have shoes. They cannot stop me leaving.

Well, they can. But I will fight until I am dead. I am tired of being a pawn.

Edward groans as I step into the shoes – a perfect fit, as if they were mine all along – and there is the fuzzy muttering I can never understand, and I wish they hung their coats by the door, but there is nothing for it.

Before I can open the front door, there is an iron-bar of an arm around my middle, and I look down and then up in shock, as Jasper bodily drags me away from my freedom.

“Let me go!” I squeal, trying to wriggle free. I am small enough that I could usually get out of Eli’s grasp; he would laugh and tell me I was like a cat, or a goldfish, too hard to catch. But this man, who has treated me with nothing but disdain, has compensated for my size, and I am trapped in his grasp.

“Stop it!” I shriek, and I try kicking and hitting, but it does nothing except bruise my poor limbs. Miss Rosalie’s husband is truly laughing at me, and I’m sure I look quite a sight, my eyes and face all red and wet, fighting against this ridiculous behemoth of a man. Eli was not so tall as the Cullen men, and it is most unhelpful.

“Please, let me go!” I beg, but my voice is cracking, slightly hysterical, as they discuss me. As if I am a naughty child instead of the girl they have lied to.

“You’re hurting me,” I finally offer, rather pitifully. That one always worked with Eli, and it works quite well now. The man nearly drops me, and stares at me in horror – a look that makes me feel terribly guilty, though my back does ache from being held in such a way.

“Jasper,” Edward is looking at him; he has the saddest, most heartbroken look on his face I have ever seen, and I feel awful. “It’s okay, she’s fine.”

Jasper shakes his head and turns; a second later, the door slams.

“He gets to leave,” I say grumpily, and Dr Cullen and Mrs Cullen just look stunned at what has transpired.

Within seconds, a plan is formed. Dr Cullen, Edward and Miss Rosalie’s husband go after Jasper, whom I have caused great distress to, apparently. Miss Rosalie and Mrs Cullen whisk me back upstairs, where I am brought a cup of tea, and ignore my questions about Eli, a sinking feeling in my stomach until my vision swims and I realise they have played the same terrible trick my mother used on me when the orderlies came to take me away. I tip sideways on the window seat and Mrs Cullen carries me easily to bed, and oh, I hate them all. I cannot cry or co-ordinate my arms to move or speak.

But I have learned a valuable lesson. They will be kind and take care of me, but I have no power nor choice. And if I strike out at them, I will be punished. A tiny, hysterical part of my brain is amused that their weapon of choice is pills crushed in tea when they could break me into tiny pieces, but I will be quite carefully about accepting food and drink now on.

The Cullens are not to be trusted.

The tea was brewed strong, because I sleep through the afternoon and night. When I wake, there is light slipping through the windows. Normally, I would attempt to wash and clothe myself before Mrs Cullen comes in, but today, I do not. I attend to my needs in the bathroom, and drink water in my cupped hands rather than risk whatever is mixed in with the glass on my nightstand.

And then I return to bed. It seems that is where they prefer me to be, so that is where I shall stay.

It is quite late, mid-morning, when Mrs Cullen ventures in with a tentative smile and a tray, and then a concerned look when I do no sit up nor greet her, still clad in yesterday’s dress. I do not respond to her greetings, and I feel like a dying animal when she finally leaves to fetch Dr Cullen.

Having the doctor in my bedroom makes me feel quite unclean, brings shadowy horrors from the asylum to the front of my mind that I try to push away as he checks my temperature and talks to me.

“Grief, especially for a beloved friend, can be overwhelming,” he says finally, smoothing my hair in a way that makes me shudder and pull away from him. “You should eat, to keep up your strength, Alice. But rest is a great healer.”

He and Mrs Cullen leave, though a plate of toast and a glass of juice is left on my nightstand, and I wonder how many pills they have crushed into the mix. I wait forty minutes before I deposit the toast and juice down the toilet – they shall never guess that I didn’t consume it myself.

I am right, of course. Mrs Cullen’s smile brightens when she sees the empty dishes. I have been good and obedient and all is well, in the Cullens’ eyes.

They might think that they can control me and win whatever terrible game this is, but I grew up in a hellish place, learnt cruelty and sneakiness from the very best at it. No matter what they think they can do to me, I’ve survived worse. And I will survive them, too.

It has been almost a week since the terrible altercation, and they all suspect me. I refuse to leave my room, content to take my meals up there and read. The food is discarded via the bathroom, and I drink only from the tap. My bones are returning to the surface. Hunger is an old bedmate, one I’ve known since I was a girl, and I barely notice it anymore.

The brunette girl looks quite rough, in her trousers and shapeless sweater. She looked quite sour, too, as we sat in the dining room.

There is little chatter as she presents the food she brought with her. Apparently, the popular opinion is that I am so grief-stricken that Mrs Cullen’s food no longer tempts me, and that this strange girl can provide something that I will eat.

The sandwich is wrapped up in paper, with stickers to keep it sealed – it gives me slightly more confidence that the food has not been tampered with, though my body is well trained in going without food, and I am full after only picking at it for a little while.

The girl – Isabella, daughter of the Policeman Charlie – doesn’t talk much, and when she does, every second word is Edward’s name. It’s strange; I’m faintly reminded of my cousins fretting over boys, a hazy memory of a conversation I had no interest in, and wondered if they ever read a book.

Since I ate, the meal is declared a success, and Isabella is encouraged to return any time - with more food, and I wonder how many conversations about Edward I shall have to sit through.

I rather shocked the family, today. Dr Cullen weighed me in my nightdress, and found out that I had lost another two pounds. All that good work, undone. Mrs Cullen had looked terribly sad, and Miss Rosalie had scowled.

“If you don’t start eating, we’ll take you to the hospital and they’ll force you to eat,” she practically growls at me, and I wish I could laugh in her face.

“They attach a feeding tube to your mouth, and they will tie you down,” Miss Rosalie keeps speaking. I tilt my head to the side and think of the asylum, of everything I have lived through in eight years. Nothing Miss Rosalie can tell me will scare me.

“Please, Alice, is there anything you would like to eat?” Mrs Cullen is nearly begging me. I shake my head.

“Perhaps it is time to involve professionals,” Dr Cullen says in a sad voice, and there is a loud bang from upstairs that makes me jump.

“That would be a no,” Miss Rosalie’s husband says wryly.

I don’t know why, but I walk into the kitchen the next morning, and when Mrs Cullen offers to make me breakfast, I agree.

I agree to eat at least half and then sit in the garden with her.

I even agree to a cup of tea, though my hands shake something terribly when I drink it – why am I drinking it? – and I nearly drop the cup.

Mrs Cullen watches me with a tired look on her face, and smoothes my hair from my face as she takes the empty tea cup. I sit in the garden and wonder if I could vomit it all up - it sits uneasily in my stomach, as if it knew how unwilling I was to consume it. I wait for the effect, to feel sleepy or twitchy or dizzy or something.

Jasper is watching me from the doorway, with a flat look on his face. I haven’t seen him since the argument, and he doesn’t look particularly pleased to lay eyes on me, but when he sees me watching him, he moves towards Mrs Cullen’s empty seat and folds himself into it.

“I,” he begins, looking down, “I understand you’ve suffered a great loss and feel like we’ve betrayed you. And I never, ever would have allowed them to lace your tea with sedatives, had I been in the house. I’m sorry I left. But you are safe here. We want to protect you and help you. And I will explain more when you’re well again, I promise. But you must stop trying to harm yourself, Alice. You must eat. I can only stop them from sending you to hospital for so long, and I…”

I blinked at him curiously. He had stopped them? More than once? He had some sort of authority over them - over me?

“I don’t understand,” I manage.

“I know, and we’ll start explaining things soon, but for now, I need you to trust us. Eat, drink, speak with us. I will watch over all the food that is prepared, if that makes you feel better. But I cannot watch you hurt yourself like this, and I cannot leave you. I just…” He looked so sad as his gaze met mine. And something about that gaze, something about the softness of his words made me trust him. He wouldn’t have drugged the tea, wouldn’t have allowed Mrs Cullen or Miss Rosalie to do so either. He never would have hurt me or lied to me. Whomever Jasper was in this family, and to me, he was neither unkind nor cruel.

“Okay, I’ll try,” I said in a soft voice. “As long as you tell me the truth.”

#twificmas20 #ficmas20 #jalice #alice cullen #jasper hale #twilight fic #twilight renaissance #my fic #my fic: what does she remember

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barrysjumpsuit · 4 years

Text

blindsided - barry’s sister x rafe cameron (ch. 3)

part one, part two, masterlist

word count: 3.5k

warnings: cannabis use, cocaine use, physical and verbal abuse, underage drinking, anxiety/depression, mentions of sex, the whole nine yards tbh

synposis: christy is a lifelong resident of the outer banks. after a series of hookups with rafe cameron, kook royalty, she’s smitten. what she doesn’t know is about what her boyfriend and brother are involved in behind her back

a/n: things are starting to get good... I’m super excited to write the rest of this! got some wild shit coming up. read this for SOFT RAFE. (side note, the necklace part is 100% a marie thing that i do and wear. i studied moon snail predation on clams so HMU if you wanna learn abt the ecology of the long island sound) (also in this house we stan naturdays)

----

Rafe had listened to Christy’s begging when she was saying she wanted to go to the Boneyard separately from Topper and Sarah. They slipped out before the others were done getting ready, but Christy still couldn’t bring herself to relax.

Her boyfriend was on edge too. They were silent as they drove south, Rafe eventually pulling off the road as they reached the trailer. Barry’s bike was gone from where it usually sat, and Christy was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.

Rafe followed her into the trailer. It was weird seeing Rafe Cameron, so well put together, in her shithole of a home. He knew better to comment on the state of things, and he looked visibly uncomfortable.

“Come on and help me,” Christy said, grabbing his hand and leading him down the hall to her bedroom. She unlocked the door and pulled him inside before closing it. “You know how to pack cigarette joints?”

“Can’t be too hard,” he said. Christy pulled out a mason jar of bud from her last harvest, along with two paper plates she kept for this exact purpose.

“We’ll do all of them,” she said. “I have a couple already made.”

Christy sat down on the bed next to Rafe. Their knees touched, the jar between them. She busied herself grinding the nugs, picking out the stems while Rafe started emptying the cigarettes of their contents.

“You know,” Rafe said suddenly, breaking the silence. “I’ve never smoked weed.”

“Really?” Christy asked. She was genuinely surprised. “Y’know, they say it’s the gateway drug, and…”

“Yeah, I went straight to the hard stuff,” Rafe said quietly. “It’s more of a… pogue thing.”

“What, so we’re stereotyping drugs now? I’ve seen you drink Natty Light. That’s as pogue as alcohol gets.”

“Naturdays!” Rafe protested.

“As if that makes it any different.” Christy grinned and tapped the grinder to the paper plate that sat in Rafe’s lap. “You want to try?”

Rafe nodded, and Christy looked up at him. There was something soft about him now, sitting in her bed in her shitty trailer. He hadn’t said anything about her living situation like he normally would. He hadn’t refused to help her.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Christy said quietly. He looked up at her, smiling softly. “We can wait until we’re there or until we leave. It’s up to you.”

“What will it feel like?” he asked.

“You really are clueless. We’ll wait until we’re away from the party, okay? This strain chills you the fuck out. It’s the only way I can sleep most nights.”

“Really?” he asked. “I didn’t know that. You always seem to fall asleep pretty easily.”

Christy bit her bottom lip before answering, focusing on twisting her grinder. “It’s because I feel comfortable with you.”

Rafe’s hand was suddenly cupping her cheek. He had moved the plate and his in-progress work to the bedspread and was leaning forward, perched on his knees. “Christy…” he murmured, his lips tantalizingly close to hers. “Really? You mean that?”

“Yes,” was all she could say. She could smell his breath, his deodorant, his cologne.

“You mean the world to me,” Rafe purred, moving his hand so it rested on the nape of her skull. “I love you so much. I’m glad we found each other.”

“Me too,” Christy whispered, and Rafe’s lips were on hers. They were gentle, patient, and tender. The kiss made her feel safe, reciprocating what she had just confessed to him.

Normally, Christy had a tough exterior. She was closed and blunt. People knew her for that, and even Barry commented on it. She didn’t know why Rafe of all people unlocked her as if he had a key, melting her heart and opening her up. It was true: she usually smoked herself to sleep every night. If she didn’t she would toss and turn into the early hours of the morning, and by then she would give up and go for a run or boat ride. Whenever she spent the night with Rafe, tucked into his bed and in his arms, her brain stopped worrying. It stopped running through endless scenarios, and she slept.

Rafe was the one to pull away. He smiled gently at her. Some of his hair fell over his eyes, so Christy reached up to tuck it back where it belonged. “I love you, Rafe Cameron.”

“I love you too, Christy,” he murmured back, kissing her once more on the forehead before sitting back down on the bed and picking up the paper plate again.

The two of them packed a cigarette carton full of joints in half an hour. Before they left, she pocketed her bowl, a couple baggies with nugs, and JJ’s five grams.

“This is a cute picture,” Rafe said as Christy stowed the last of the bud underneath her bed. They had used half of it prepping for the kegger. She looked up to the picture frame he was holding.

The photo was of her and Barry. They were younger – Christy was fifteen and Barry was nineteen – and on the boat. They were holding a fish, a huge striped bass they had hauled in on light tackle. A shadow was cast over a corner of the picture, and Christy’s heart twisted.

“You okay?” Rafe asked, and she just nodded. “What is it?”

“My mom took the picture,” Christy said quietly, taking the frame from him. “This was one of the last memories I have of her before she killed herself. Like a week later.”

“Oh baby…” Rafe put an arm around her, kissing the top of her head, and she leaned into him before putting the picture frame back on her dresser, face down.

“Let’s get out of here,” Christy suggested, and she gently pushed Rafe out of her bedroom. She turned and relocked the door before pocketing the keys and walking down the hall.

“Look who we have here! Rafe Cameron!”

Christy froze at Barry’s voice. Rafe’s hand tightened around hers, to a point where it was almost painful. Barry was sitting on the couch in front of the coffee table, and she could tell he just did a line.

“You just can’t stay away, can you, boy?” Barry said, standing and sauntering over to them. Christy tried to push Rafe behind her, but he refused to budge. “You fucking my sister again? We’re going to have words.”

“Barry, stop it!” Christy put her hands on Barry’s chest and shoved him, but he barely moved. “We’re together, okay? We were just stopping by to get some weed to sell.”

“You sure you don’t want anything else?” Barry asked, dangling a baggie of cocaine in front of Rafe’s face. Christy could tell he was bristling with anger and doing everything he could to restrain himself from swinging a fist. “Right here, Country Club. She’s got your name on it. I miss your business, you know.”

“Barry that’s enough!” Christy yelled, shoving herself between the two of them. “Rafe, let’s go.” She tugged on his hand, but Rafe remained rooted to the dirty carpet of the living room.

Rafe didn’t say anything. He and Barry stood, staring at each other, both of them seething with anger.

“I don’t want your fucking blow,” he finally said, turning, and storming from the trailer.

“You’ve got yourself a keeper there, Chris,” Barry said, swinging the baggie. “A real winner.”

“Fuck you, Barry!” Rafe yelled from the other side of the screen door.

“Go. Sell your weed and fuck your kook. Fuck your kook in his mansion, eat his food, sleep in his bed. And leave me here.”

Barry’s words followed her from the trailer. Rafe grabbed her and they hurried to the truck, getting in and peeling out of the yard.

Rafe was quiet, and Christy knew what that meant. He was pissed. Christy couldn’t help but press herself against the door, making herself small.

He didn’t pay much attention to her until a whimper made its way out of her mouth. She closed her eyes at the sound, knowing that Rafe looked over to her. “Oh, baby…” he said quietly. A hand touched her shoulder and she flinched.

Christy had seen Rafe angry before, plenty of times. He was the only person she had ever seen seriously take on her brother and make her fear for him.

“Just… leave me alone, Rafe,” she muttered.

“Christy, I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Rafe, just be quiet, please.” She opened her eyes to look at him. He looked shocked, his mouth slightly open. Christy looked away before closing her eyes again.

She felt him pull the truck over to the side of the road. “Christy,” he said again, softer this time. “Hey. Come here.”

Rafe pulled up the center console and slid across the seat so that he could wrap his arms around her. Christy curled into him, trying to hold back tears but failing as Rafe’s fingertips started making lazy circles on her back.

She wasn’t sure what she was crying about. Barry’s words rattled her. The whole exchange did. She knew Barry’s words were true. Christy had left him when things got tough. But she knew she couldn’t totally blame herself. He wasn’t doing much to help his situation.

Rafe encountering Barry was something she didn’t want to happen. But it did, and it was bad, but not as bad as she thought it was. Maybe it was best for them to get their anger out before she was deeper in the relationship with Rafe, and before it was more of a secret. It was bound to happen at some point.

“I’m good,” she said, making a slight peace with her thoughts. Christy unburied her head from Rafe’s chest, rubbing makeup all over his face as she wiped the tears from her eyes. “I’m okay.”

“You still want to go to that party?” Rafe asked, leaning his cheek on the top of her head.

“No,” she replied. “But I at least have to stop by. I’m selling someone some weed. It won’t take long.”

“Okay,” he said. Christy felt him press a tender kiss to the top of her head before sliding back over in the seat and pulling back onto the road.

The sun was about to set. As soon as Rafe parked near the Boneyard, Christy hopped out of his truck. She walked through the grasses and onto the beach, knowing exactly where JJ would be. He was manning the keg with John B, the hose in one hand, a beer in the other. Christy shoved through the crowd, consisting of mostly tourons, and slid up next to JJ.

“Follow me?” she asked, and he wordlessly handed the hose to John B.

“Hey, Christy, you okay?” JJ asked suddenly. Christy kept walking, but JJ continued. “You don’t look too good, dude.”

“Thanks for pointing that out,” she snapped at him. They were still too close to the crowd for her to feel comfortable doing a deal of anything larger than a couple blunts.

“I’m serious. Hey.” JJ reached out, grabbing her arm so that she faced him. “Is everything okay?”

She just sighed. “Want to smoke a joint with me?”

JJ was visibly confused, but he didn’t protest. They sat on a piece of driftwood, and Christy pulled out one of the cigarette joints she and Rafe had rolled earlier. She lit it, taking a few hits, before passing it to JJ. She waited a few minutes before speaking the first words.

“I don’t know what in the fuck I’m gonna do, JJ.”

She was surprised the words rolled out of her mouth like they did. Maybe it was the weed, or maybe it was the walls crumbling in her brain, wanting to push her old life behind her.

“Care to elaborate?” JJ asked beside her.

“I’m dating Rafe Cameron,” she stated, knowing that JJ could put the pieces together.

“Oh,” he said, surprised, furrowing his brow. “I didn’t expect that.” Before Christy could say anything, JJ’s eyes stretched wide, and he looked at her. “Oh. Holy shit. Does your brother know?”

“We had our first encounter with him about an hour ago,” Christy replied, taking the joint back from JJ.

“I take it it didn’t go well?” he asked, and Christy shook her head.

“Nope,” she said, smoke coming out of her mouth. “Barry’s not having much business. Hasn’t been good ever since Rafe ghosted him. He won’t move his own product, he needs people to buy from him in bulk, which no one will do because Rafe told everyone he’s a crazy motherfucker. Right now it’s just a few close friends he has.”

“Agatha probably didn’t help, huh?” JJ asked, and Christy just shook her head. “If anyone can get through it, it’s you, Christy. You’re pogue through and through.”

“You don’t know me,” she said quietly, handing him the joint. Her eyelids were heavy and she pressed her palms into the smooth, soft surface of the driftwood.

“I know enough. Anyone to have been through as much shit as you can get away from that situation. It takes one to know one, Christy.”

She looked over at him. JJ was smiling softly, and she couldn’t help but smile back.

“Here’s your weed,” she said, pulling the baggie out of her pocket. “Same strain you’re smoking now. You can finish the joint, too.”

“Here’s your fifty,” JJ said, handing her two twenties and a ten. “Thanks for your business.”

“And for yours,” she said, standing. JJ laughed as she had to catch her balance.

“Hey Christy?” JJ called quietly as she turned to walk away.

“Yeah, JJ?”

“Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“You got it,” she said, turning away so JJ couldn’t see her smile. The two of them had always had a natural understanding of each other. It takes one to know one, as he said. It was true.

Christy trudged up the beach and back into Rafe’s waiting truck. “You good?” he asked, and Christy nodded.

“Let’s go get stoned.”

---

Christy woke up before Rafe did. He was rolled towards her, an arm draped around her waist with his mouth slightly open.

Rafe’s breath smelled of weed. She smiled to herself, remembering the events of the previous night. They had gone onto the Druthers, laying on the outside seats, and smoked. The strain Christy brought was her favorite indica. She usually smoked it before bed. It was the only thing that would shut her brain up.

“This is nice,” Rafe said after a few hits. His eyes were soft under his hooded lids. “I like it. I feel good.” They were laying next to each other, feeling the boat rock gently beneath them. She was laying on his chest while Rafe gently threaded his fingers through her hair, occasionally scratching her scalp.

Christy fell asleep like that. She only woke up once to Rafe carrying her down the dock; she murmured his name and tightened her grip as she felt him step onto the soft grass. He had to briefly put her down to open the door to the house, but he picked her up again and quietly ascended the stairs before pushing open his bedroom door and setting her down in his bed, sliding next to her and pulling the covers over them.

That’s where they were now. Rafe Cameron’s bed. His grey pillowcases smelled like him, like cedar and seawater. It was an odd combination, but she liked it.

Rafe had put her phone on the bed between them. The time read 5:32. Her shift started at 7, so Christy decided she could get away with a few more minutes of dozing. Her work apron was draped across a chair in Rafe’s room, and she could probably rewear the previous day’s clothes, which were piled on the floor next to it.

Christy’s stomach rolled at two missed calls from Barry. He wasn’t a texter. He was a caller. Christy was a talker, hating phone communication and opting to talk to people face to face. She willed herself to push the thought of what he had to say until she would go home after her shift that afternoon.

Rafe was still asleep by the time she left for work at 6:30. She kissed him gently before closing his bedroom door softly behind her and trying to leave the house undetected.

On her walk to work, she smoked a cigarette, willing the brief high to wash away the thought of Barry, which lingered in the back of her head. Instead, she focused on the sound of the laughing gulls on the shore, and the rhythmic lapping of the waves as they reached the beach. The crunch of her shoes on the gravel shoulder of the road, of the sound of cars driving by her, of the voices greeting her as she passed houses.

Work was busy with tourists, rebounding back to the island after the hurricane. The hotels had power again, and she talked to her guests about what they had been up to. She liked hearing their stories: what drew them to the OBX, where they came from, who they were. One young couple had just gotten engaged the day before. One table seated an older couple, travelling down the east coast from Connecticut looking for seashells, and asked her the best spots.

“At low tide, the west side of the island is the best,” she suggested, topping off their coffees and putting another handful of prepackaged creamer on the table next to their mugs. “The sound makes it shallower, so there’s lots of critters living there. More intense wave action on the east side will wash some up but they’re usually pretty banged up.”

“That’s a neat necklace,” the woman pointed out. Christy picked up the pendant, smiling. “Did you find that?”

“This? Oh, thanks. I love it. My mom found it.” She couldn’t help but smile at the couple, and at the memory. She pulled it off to hand to the woman. “It’s from a moon snail. The hole is a drill hole, see how regular it is on the edges? Moon snails are predatory, they’ll drill into whatever they can. Usually clams and other snails. Even other moon snails. Like this one here.” Christy pointed out the perfectly rounded hole.

“Did you find it here?” the man asked.

“Nah I’ve found some here though. They’re everywhere. I found this one at Edisto Island near Charleston. You guys should definitely check it out, it’s the best shelling beach I’ve ever been to.”

The couple tenderly looked at each other. “That’s where we got married,” the woman said. “Thirty five years ago. That’s one of our next stops.”

“It’s a special place, that’s for sure,” Christy said, smiling. Mr. Carrera’s voice sounded through the restaurant, calling out her name. “Is there anything else I can get you two?” she asked. The couple shook their heads, and she turned to make her way to the counter.

“I’ve got a big to go order just called in,” he said, scribbling on a notepad. “Can you and Kiara make sure everything makes it into the right containers for them, and then help load it up?”

“Sure thing, Mr. C,” she replied. They were at an odd time of the day – they were still serving breakfast, but had just opened up orders for their lunch menu. Since it was a Sunday, the place was packed with brunchers, and her section was full, keeping her mind occupied.

The shelling couple left her a hefty tip and a sweet note on the receipt. Maybe she would see them on her walk home at the beach she told them about.

“JJ told me about you and Rafe,” Kiara said as they were packing to-go containers into plastic bags as the orders were finished.

“You gonna warn me about him?” Christy asked flatly, almost disinterested. It sounded bitchy of her, but she knew Kiara cared about her.

“Just… be careful.” Kiara replied quietly. “If you ever need a buffer or place to crash away from them… let me know. Okay?”

Christy looked at Kiara, surprised. “Thanks, Kie,” she smiled. It was nice knowing there was someone looking out for her, even if they weren’t extremely close.

The rest of her shift went by quickly and effortlessly, but as she closed out and began walking him, she was smacked in the face with reality. Barry would be waiting for her, without a doubt. She also realized she hadn’t gotten any texts from Rafe. It was two in the afternoon. Surely he would be awake and wanting to talk to her, right?

Christy walked along the beach, her shoes shoved into her backpack. She saw their boat tied to their dock, the trailer just up the shore from it, and she started towards the trailer. Barry was laying on a couch outside. It was nasty – they usually just draped a tarp over it whenever it rained.

After mentally preparing herself for this interaction all day, she was surprised to see Barry grinning at her, calling out to her giddily.

Christy could tell he wasn’t high, but sober. His mood plus his mental state didn’t make sense

Something had happened.

----

fun stuff to come in the next few chapters! shit’s about to hit the fan ;)

taglist (msg or ask for an add!) @stargazingstarkey @letsgofullkook @ims0golden @ampanonyg @hoeforpankow @jjsmentalpolaroids @drewstarkey @obbx-tings @bricksatanakinswindow

#outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #jj maybank #jj maybank fanfiction #kiara carrera #john b #john b routledge #john booker routledge #pope heyward #drew starkey

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peraltasames · 4 years

Note

👔 :))

Anonymous said: 👔 Jake and Amy pls

Anonymous said: oooo 👔 for the drabble!

For someone who pushed out an eight-pound baby just a few months ago, Amy has to admit it - she looks hot.

She managed to zip up her favourite red dress, which she’s missed dearly for the past year or so while she’s been relegated to maternity clothes and her husband’s baggy t-shirts. Thanks to Noah already being at Karen’s for the night when Amy got off work, she actually had time to take a long, luxurious bath and shave her legs for the first time in weeks (she thought she was busy before being a mother - she was sorely mistaken.)

Her hair is curled and she’s just put the finishing touches on her makeup when she hears the front door.

“Sorry I’m late, Charles kept harassing me to show him more baby pictures and then traffic was-”

Jake stops abruptly in the doorway to their bedroom, his eyes as wide as saucers as he very thoroughly checks her out.

“All it took was three months of seeing me in nothing but sweatpants to get this reaction, duly noted,” Amy teases, standing and smoothing out the wrinkles on her dress.

“Uh, you looked just as hot with baby spit-up in your hair and wearing the same pyjamas for three days,” Jake states matter-of-factly. “I’m simply admiring my super-sexy wife in the super-sexy dress she wore on our first date that made me fall madly in love with her on the spot.”

She smiles adoringly, the makeup mostly obscuring the redness creeping onto her cheeks. Even at nine months pregnant, covered in sweat during labour or sleep-deprived and desperately needing a shower, he manages to make her feel beautiful.

She crosses the room to wrap her arms around his neck, leaning in for the first quick kiss they’ve had time for since they woke up this morning to the sound of crying coming from the bassinet a few feet away.

“Hmm, if I remember correctly, you liked taking off the dress even more.”

“Title of our sex tape,” he grins.

She rolls her eyes, pulling away to grab the necklace he got her for a first anniversary present from the top of the dresser.

“Can you?”

Jake nods, taking the silver chain from her and standing behind her as she looks in the mirror. He pulls her hair to the side carefully before wrapping the necklace around her neck and securing the clasp. He slightly adjusts the chain so the little infinity pendant lies perfectly in the middle.

“Thanks, babe.”

“Any time,” he murmurs, his arms sliding around her waist. His lips press to her shoulder, and she smiles at the butterflies that begin to fly around her stomach. Some things never change. “You’re so beautiful.”

She turns in his arms to kiss him again, her thumb sweeping over his cheek.

“You should get ready. Our reservation’s in half an hour.”

“If you insist,” Jake sighs, reluctantly letting his hands fall from her waist.

She pulls away to go call Karen and check in before they leave, but his hand on her arm stops her before she can leave the room.

“For the record,” he murmurs, his lips hovering over the shell of her ear, “I can’t wait to take that dress off again in like three hours.”

Amy smirks, pecking his cheek. “Maybe two if we skip dessert.”

send me an emoji and i’ll write a drabble!

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chilly-me-softly · 4 years

Text

This Can’t Be True • John Stones

Here we go for another day, this is another long long one so enjoy it. This contains a sensitive topic such as death mention so I understand if you won’t read it.

You feel a little weight on your body as you wake up and sigh, almost unconsciously holding onto John.

"Good morning" he whispers in your ear with his hoarse voice, leaving a kiss underneath it and holding you a little longer.

"Morning" you sigh by sinking your head into the pillow as you can but he rolls on his back on the mattress carrying you on him. You complain about the sudden change of position and he giggles, making his bare chest vibrate beneath you.

"Come on, you said you'd get up"

"I hate you" you murmur making his chest vibrate again.

"You said you'd say that too" then you mumble something incomprehensible by pressing your hand on the mattress and lifting your torso from his body.

"I hate you, I mean it" you narrow your eyes making your best threatening face as he shakes his head getting up, a smile always on his face.

But you're quick to jump on his back and wrap your arms and legs around his chest, "That's not true, I love you" you murmur with your face buried in his shoulder and he takes a few steps towards the mirror before stopping.

"I love you too" he looks at your reflection for a few seconds before you start your day and prepare for the different things you have to do that day.

With his suit he is ready to go to practice, and he approaches you wearing your watch in front of the dresser and smiles at you in the mirror before helping you with the necklace and leaving a kiss on your neck.

You're wearing a blue blouse and fancy pants, an important meeting in a few hours that requires a certain outfit and looking at you you are so different now. But you can't be more alike.

You and John have been married for less than two months, still in the honeymoon phase that you postponed waiting for the end of John's football commitments. And honestly it doesn't weigh on you because you have that ring on your finger now and every day you spend with him at home is a constant holiday.

"I've got to go" he says, holding you close but not letting you go.

"Okay" you sigh as you turn towards him and your heels give you a few more inches so you don't have to get up on your toes to kiss him.

"Remember, I have to do something with Kyle so I'll come back later, okay?"

"Okay, I'll see you when you get back" you smile and he smiles before taking your hand and leaving a kiss on your ring before he leaves for good.

You go to your meeting a few minutes later, as usual they require punctuality they don't have. But it's best not to point it out to them since you'd like to keep your job. This goes between useless speeches and pauses and presentations that seem endless and eventually they free you.

You check your watch and hurry out of that building because you have somewhere else to stop before you go home.

"I know, I know I'm late. Sorry, they held me up" you apologize to the guy who's closing the door of his car while you're holding a box in your arms and your shoulder strap could fall off at any moment.

He comes to help you so you can open the front door and you smile at him, "Thank you Kevin"

"Put it there please" you point to the table in the living room while you take off your shoes and tell him you'll be right back, you really need to take off those work clothes now.

When you come down wearing John's sweatshirt and suit pants, Kevin is already rummaging through the contents of the box and gets a little scared when he hears your voice.

"So you're sure John's not coming home right now?"

"He was busy with Kyle, don't worry. And then you're here, practice is long over so" you shrug while he agrees with you.

"So, how's the situation?"

"Well, it's two weeks away but I've already ordered the cake and I only have a few people to warn and... I think John doesn't suspect anything" you comment unrolling a banner and checking that everything is perfectly written.

"Good. The club confirmed, they said we can bring our stuff in a few days before and tell them how to fix everything"

"Perfect"

"Are you sure you don't want to get into a giant cake with a sexy outfit for your groom?" he mocks you again as you roll your eyes giggling lightly, shifting your attention to the phone that started vibrating.

You answer even though it's not a number you have in your contacts, your job involves receiving calls from strangers even quite frequently.

The carefree expression on your face suddenly disappears however, Kevin literally sees your face lose colour and is immediately close to you wondering who is on the phone. You answer the person on the other side as if you were an automaton, on the outside you may look calm but inside you are completely chaotic and you can't think clearly.

"John" you murmur as soon as you hang up, the look lost somewhere while Kevin looks at you worried and alert in case you faint. But still he makes you sit in the chair next to him, wondering what's going on.

"John" you whisper again, "i-it was the hospital they said he had an accident and he-he" you can only explain while your hands are shaking and you grab your cell phone, but it falls on the table making a deafening noise.

"Kyle! He said he was with Kyle" you murmur frantically as Kevin covers your hands with one of his.

"I'll do it, I'll call him" you see him pick up his phone and take it to his ear but it's like you're experiencing something extra corporeal because you can't hear the guy talking. His lips are moving, but your ears don't get a sound.

He squeezes your hand again and he doesn't have his phone to his ear, "What's wrong?"

"He said he's not with him. He-he didn't see him after practice"

Trying not to show how much the news has upset you, you get up and head for the car keys on the cabinet.

"What do you want to do? No, I'll drive you come on" Kevin is right in front of you, taking your keys away, and you just nod off to the door and wait for him to follow you.

You don't know where to go. You're not a hospital lover and fortunately you've never needed to go in there for yourself or anyone you know, they look like mazes and all that white just adds to the sense of disorientation in those corridors that all look the same.

You ask for information at the front desk and the nurse looks at you sorry when you tell her why you are there, before sending you in the right direction. Reading all the signs on the way, your heart begins to beat faster as a larger sign on a door tells you that you are there. Your legs almost give way, but you have to be strong as you keep repeating yourself.

Kevin keeps watching you, you haven't said a word since you got in the car and he doesn't want to force you. The situation is delicate though, and he doesn't know if it's more appropriate for you to call someone, maybe a member of your family.

The doctor who comes to meet you explains what happened. Apparently there was a head-on collision between two cars and the people involved did not make it. They need to get an ID from the person closest to the victim, it's procedure, and since you're his wife, it's up to you.

He takes you to a room where there is a window hidden by a curtain, the doctor tells you to take as much time as you want and you stare at that grey shutter in terror. Until you nod your head.

The doctor then goes a few steps away, knocks on that glass and the curtain goes up. It only takes you a few seconds to turn around and bury your face in Kevin's chest. The boy holds you in his arms as warm tears finally start streaming down your cheeks.

That's not him. An entire brick house is moving away from your heart and your stomach at the same time, it's not him.

"It's not him" you whisper as the doctor pulls the curtain down and takes you out of that room.

You can't stop crying while the doctor apologizes for the unnecessary scare he caused you and as before, it's Kevin talking to him.

"Why... why did you think he was my husband?" you wonder. You want to know what's going on. Because apparently John lied to you and you really want to try and figure it out and know where he's at this point.

"The police told us the car is registered to his name and his wallet and phone were also found inside it"

You look Kevin disoriented, how did that day when you were supposed to take care of the final details for John's birthday party end up like that?

And you come home, the boy walks you to the door where Kyle's waiting for you. You hold him close to you and some tears slip from your eyes as he takes the keys out of your hands and opens the door for you. All three of you enter the house in silence, interrupted only by you sniffing and trying to get yourself into a clear head.

"Where is he, Kyle?" you ask coldly, but your voice is shaking. You're on the couch, your back slightly forward and your elbows on your knees while your hands are joined together and your thumbs go to massage your temples.

"I don't know" he replies and your head snaps up so you can look him in the eye.

"Please, I don't care where he is. I just want to know if he's okay"

"I don't know, really. All I know is that he had something to do and asked me to cover him up" he admits as he lowers his gaze at the end and a tear falls on your cheek, ending up undisturbed all the way to your neck.

"I have to call the police" you murmur as you reach into your pockets for your phone.

"Maybe we should wait a little longer, normally-"

"He's out there who knows where, alone, with no ID or phone. You're crazy if you think I won't do anything"

"It's not what I'm saying, but they won't do anything until 24 hours after he disappeared"

"Then we'll go out and look for him. Guys, I can't-" but your sentence is interrupted by the door opening.

John walks into the living room and doesn't even have time to see you actually there, that you're on to him. He takes a few steps backwards caught off guard, sticking his hands under your butt so you don't fall over while you're crying on his shoulder.

"Hey what happened?" he murmurs softly caressing your head and leaving a few kisses on your temple. You keep crying without giving him an answer, happy to see him apparently safe and sound.

Then your legs give way and then he gently slides you down, holding you by your hips until he's sure your feet are firmly on the ground.

"Hey" he repeats again, taking your face in his hands, "What happened?" but you shake your head between the sobs, you can't speak, so he asks the question again but to his friends.

The two of them look at each other before nodding and Kyle tells him to sit down first, so he sits on the couch carrying you down with him and holding you.

"Where were you?" your voice comes muffled to his ears before either one of them can say anything and John sighs.

"It doesn't matter now, I want to know what happened here now"

"Yes, it does! I had to go and recognize a dead body because they thought it was you!" you hit him in the chest while he opens his eyes wide, "And for crying out loud I couldn't find you John and you weren't with Kyle! So I need to know where you were and I want to know now"

He holds you in his arms again, an incredulous expression on his face as he glances at the two boys in the room as if looking for confirmation.

"I'm sorry love, I'm so sorry. I just wanted to surprise you so I asked Kyle to cover for me, then a woman was assaulted and I stepped up to defend her and this guy ran off with my car. I was at the police station until now to file a report"

"Oh my god, so he robbed you and then he... died?" you look him in the eye while he puts his thumb on your still wet cheek and then shrugs.

"I guess so"

The boys just stay a few more minutes to make sure you're both okay before they decide to leave you alone. You hug them both thanking them for being near you, the red one in particular, before closing the door and returning into John's arms. His gentle touch and heartbeat calm you instantly, but you can't help but think back to everything that happened in such a short time.

The situation has helped to make you understand even more that it's with him that you want to spend the rest of your life, in his arms, and if something happens to him you are not ready to let him go yet. You haven't experienced anything of your love story yet and it scares you to know that your life could really change on any given day. You don't know how you'd react if he was actually on that table.

"Me and the guys are throwing a surprise party for your birthday" you murmur suddenly and you're not looking at him but you can feel his smile as he leaves a kiss on your head.

"I can't imagine I almost had to cancel it for a..." you can't say it, your eyes get wet again and then he raises your face putting his hands on your cheeks.

"Hey hey look at me, I'm here. I'm here, okay? And I'm not going anywhere"

"Please" you beg with your broken voice.

"I'm here" he repeats before placing his lips on yours and tears mingle with passion, worry, love.

That night passes restlessly, but John is always beside you holding you and reminding you that everything is fine. Your fingers intertwined and your head on his heart.

#john stones #john stones imagine #john stones imagines #football imagine #football imagines #one years project #my writing #original

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konig-is-bbygrl · 4 years

Text

If I asked you to stay, would you?

Summary: Aaron has been watching Indie for months. He desired her. He wanted her. He needed her. He finally decided to act upon his need. Will she finally return his feelings?

Category: Angst, Forced Fluff

Warnings/Includes: Kidnapping, Stalking, Stockholm Syndrome, Light Canon Typical Violence, Hotch x Indie (female OC)

Word count: 3045

This is for a writing contest for @veraiconcos

Indie knew she had a stalker. He had just followed her to work and the coffee shop. She hadn’t gone to the police. She figured he was harmless. He would just follow her around before losing interest and going away on his own. She found that she was very very wrong.

As she walked out of her work, Indie felt like she was being watched. She tugged her jacket tighter around her shoulders. Seeing that her car was parked across the dark parking lot. The streetlight in the parking lot had been out for weeks and had no prospects of getting fixed.

“Just great,” she sighed as she walked across the parking lot.

A large, firm hand suddenly clapped firmly over her mouth while another one gripped her waist.

“Don’t scream,” a gruff voice rumbled in her ear.

The man that grabbed her turned her around and started walking her back to the other side of the parking lot to a blacked-out SUV. She attempted to plant her feet firmly to the ground but he was a strong force behind her, pushing her forward. Indie struggled against him but didn’t scream. She didn’t know if he was armed or what he was capable of.

The pair reached the SUV. Indie saw a chance for her to make a break for it. Taking a swift step away from him, she tried to escape his grasp. Unfortunately, his grip was like iron, holding fast onto her.

“You need to learn a lesson,” he growled into her ear, grabbing a length of black fabric from the car. He quickly wrapped it, once, twice, thrice, dizzyingly fast around her wrists before tying her hands behind her back. He grabbed another length of fabric and wrapped it around her head, using it as a makeshift gag.

He placed a firm hand to the center of her back and pushed her into the backseat of the SUV. Indie fell into the backseat of the car and the door slammed shut behind her. A sob left her throat as she watched him get in the driver’s seat and start the car. She tried to look around for a way out.

“No use looking, there’s no way out from here. Child locks are on. Might as well just lay back and enjoy the ride.” The man said, looking back at her through the rearview mirror.

She continued to cry in the backseat of the car as they drove. The man’s eyes were still visible in the mirror. His eyes seemed to soften when the tears began falling down her face.

The pair drive for nearly four hours. During the long drive, Indie fell into a fitful sleep in the backseat. She was awoken by particularly harsh braking of the car. It sent her forward and onto the floorboard of the car. She groaned against the gag through the haze of her tiredness. Indie’s mind snapped to realize where she was.

The back door opened to reveal the man. She tried to back away from him only to be grabbed by firm but gentle hands. It was evident in his grip that he truly didn’t want to hurt her. He tugged her from the back of the SUV and semi-dragged her up the driveway to the house. The house was pushed back from the road, hidden by trees. Somewhere no one would think to look.

He took her into the house and locked the door firmly behind them. Indie was now thoroughly trapped in the large house.

The man looked at the young woman in front of him. “I’m going to take the gag out, but your arms will stay tied.”

His hands moved carefully to the back of her head where he untied the gag and pulled it from her mouth. She took a deep breath and glared at him.

“Why? Why me? Why do you want me?” she demanded as he led her through the house to a bedroom.

The bedroom was rather plain. The walls were a cheery yellow, the blankets had sunflowers on them, same with the pillows. The carpet was a soft cream color. Other than the colors and covers, it had no artwork on the walls. There was a comfortable looking, yellow armchair in the corner and a large dresser on the wall across from the bed with a mirror next to it. Atop the dresser was small things Indie thought she had lost or misplaced. A few pairs of earrings, a necklace or two, a hairclip. The severity of the situation was now thrust in front of her face.

“See? I furnished this room for you. With sunflowers. You love sunflowers. I saw you bring sunflowers into your apartment every other Wednesday. And you wear that one sunflower dress at least once a month,” the man explained proudly.

Indie looked around the room in a horrified fascination. By seeing the bits and bobs he had collected on top of the dresser, she realized that he had entered her apartment. He led her gently to the plush bed and sat her down on it. He gently undid her ties but kept a firm grip on her wrists. He tied one of her wrists to the bedpost.

“Please don’t pull. I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” he said quietly.

His voice carried a soft caring tone. It sickened the bound woman. How could he sound so caring but have done something as horrible as stalking and kidnapping? She inched away from him as he stood from the bed to look at her. He looked down at her face with a softened gaze.

“I’m sorry to do this to you. I didn’t want this to happen this way. I wanted us to meet and be normal. But after you rejected me for the third time, I just couldn’t handle it anymore. I needed to have you before someone else could. Please don’t be upset,” he pleaded.

Indie stared up at her captor in disbelief. “Don’t be upset? Seriously? You kidnapped me! You’re holding me captive in a cabin in the woods! How can I not be upset?” she snapped at him.

His face contorted. It looked like her words had truly hurt him. His expression quickly turned cold and almost professional.

“I needed to have you in my life. I couldn’t live without you. I’m hoping that with time, you can come to understand my perspective on this,” he said calmly, “but I can see that you want to be left alone to contemplate your new situation.”

He turned his back to her and left the room, shutting the door behind himself. Indie was now left alone with her thoughts in the room. The sickeningly pleasant yellow room. She laid back on the bed and thought about the situation she had found herself in. Kidnapped, alone, helpless. At the mercy of a man who seemed apologetic for doing this.

Lost in her thoughts and with no clock in the room, Indie lost track of the time. Her mind went numb, just staring at the wall in front of her. The boredom slowly began lulling her into a light sleep. The longer she stayed still with unfocused eyes, the deeper the sleep became.

Indie was only awoken the next day by the sunlight coming in through the open window along with the chirps of the birds outside.

Her captor opened the door just a crack and peaked in. A smile grew on his face.

“Oh good, you’re awake!”

He pushed the door open and was carrying a tray with pancakes and a glass of orange juice on it. He walked in and set the tray down on the bedside table. He moved to the other side of the room and put the yellow armchair at her bedside.

“I brought you breakfast. I know you love pancakes. You get them every time you go to that diner next to your work,” he said nonchalantly as he cut up the pancakes for her.

“I can cut my food,” she said in a snappish tone.

“I know you’re capable but I can’t trust you with the knife and fork just yet. Besides, this is a good way for us to build trust don’t you think?”

She didn’t respond. She knew she couldn’t pull off a hunger strike. He wouldn’t accept that.

He lifted a fork of pancakes to her lips. Indie opened her mouth to the food while glaring at him. This is how it continued for a while until the captive decided to ask a question.

“What’s your name?” She asked timidly.

His eyes flickered with thought. “Aaron.”

Silence befell the pair again. It was only broken by the occasional clinking of the fork meeting the plate. When the pancakes were finished, Aaron’s eyes flickered up at Indie’s bound wrist.

“If I asked you to stay, will you?” He asked her.

Thoughts raced through Indie’s mind. Would she? This would be her chance to escape. However, if she made her escape now and he caught her, she could be worse off than before. His kindness might not reach that far.

“Yes,” she responded, her voice sounding foreign to her.

A grin of pure joy split Aaron’s face. He quickly leaned out of the chair to put the plate on the side table. He then shifted and untied her wrist. His hands were gentle and warm, but calloused. Her hand was soon released from the ties.

“There, I’m sorry if it was too tight. I was just worried about you running away,” his voice was soft and gentle, the vulnerability showing clearly.

The pair moved to the kitchen. Aaron led her to the sink that was filled with steamy, soapy water. He started washing the dishes with her next to him. The muscles under his skin rippled as his hands moved under the water. If it were any other circumstance, Indie would have been attracted to this man.

Observing her surroundings, she noticed the locks on the windows and doors. She would need a key to get out on her own. The windows were shatter-proof.

After finishing with the dishes and drying his hands, Aaron turned to look at her.

“I’ll be leaving for a few days for work. You know where the food is and there are clothes I’ve bought for you in the dressers in your room. You’ll be alone for a few days. Is that okay with you?” He asked, his voice hesitant.

“I… I should be okay on my own…” she said, her voice matching the nervous tone of his.

“Good. You can watch the tv or listen to the radio. There are lots of things here you can do here to entertain yourself while I’m gone. I promise I’ll return to you,” his kind tone returned to his voice.

“Okay, thank you, Aaron,” she replied, her eyes not meeting his.

Later in the morning, Aaron left for work. Indie tore apart the house, looking for a key or a way out. Her captor, however, knew how to cover his tracks well. There was no way out and no keys to any of the locks in the house. Sliding down the wall in the hallway, the feeling of just how trapped she was set in. Tears fell down her face. How would she get herself out of this?

She stayed in a fetal position for what felt like hours. By the time she pulled herself up from the floor, the sun was higher in the sky and the clock read 11:50. She had effectively laid on the floor crying for two hours. She went to the kitchen and found the radio that was sitting on the window sill. Turning the small device on and tuning it to a station she liked, she sat at the table and just listened to the radio for a while.

Again, she zoned out for a few more hours, just letting the rhythm of the songs wash over her and take her away from her desperate situation.

Indie was snapped from her daze when her stomach growled.

‘I should probably make something to eat,’ she thought to herself.

Rising from the table, she went to the fridge and found the required ingredients to make a sandwich. After making her sandwich, she tucked into her early dinner. She stayed sitting at the table for a while longer before washing her plate and putting it away. She then went to her bedroom, changed into her pajamas, and went to sleep.

The bed was large and soft, cradling her in comforting warmth. Sleep quickly descended upon her, pulling her into a restful slumber.

This was how the next few days went for Indie. She found herself falling to a strange routine. She woke up, made breakfast, and listened to the radio until she was hungry again. Then she made lunch and listened to the radio. It gave her a sense of connection to the outside world that she was trapped away from. She was alone for four days and found herself becoming lonely, even with the tv and radio. There was no one there in person. No companionship.

As she went to sleep on the fourth night, her mind drifted to Aaron. The muscles in his forearms and how they looked when he was washing dishes. How shiny his dark hair was in the morning light the day he left. His big brown eyes that looked nearly onyx in color. Longing struck her heart like a knife, cutting through her breast. Indie found herself missing the man who had stolen her away from the world outside the windows. Tears filled her eyes. Harsh tears at her missing her kidnapper, but also tears of pain as she missed her only human contact. She cried until she fell asleep.

Early in the morning, about three a.m., Indie was awoken by the front door slamming shut. Aaron was home. Throwing the duvet off herself, she nearly flew out of the bed and down the stairs.

She was greeted by the sight of Aaron in the doorway. His eyes look exhausted. He looked haggard and worn. But a smile split his features nonetheless.

“You look happy to see me,” he said, closing and locking the door behind himself.

“I missed you,” she muttered, looking down at her bare feet.

“Y-You did?” he sputtered, shock evident in his voice.

His question was answered with a nod. The grin on his face only grew wider, if possible. Dropping the suitcase in his hand by his side, he stepped forward and opened his arms for her.

“Would you like a hug? I’m sorry I had to leave you for so long,” Aaron said quietly.

Indie hesitated for half a second before pressing herself into his arms. His large, broad arms closed around her, engulfing her in warmth. She felt her body completely relax when he held her close. The pair stayed like that for a long while before Aaron pulled away just slightly.

“We should get to bed. Work drained me completely. Would you like to sleep in the bed with me tonight?”

A smile matching his grew on Indie’s face. “Of course,”

They headed up to the bedrooms and straight to the master bedroom. Once there, he got changed into some pajama pants and an old t-shirt to sleep in. He climbed into the bed with Indie and hauled her closer to his chest. His arms acted as a firm cage around her body. She fell limp in his arms as sleep pulled her back into its embrace. His arms tightened just a bit more around her.

The next morning, Indie was awoken by a hand rubbing comfortingly up and down her back. She hummed at the pleasing sensation of the warm hand tracing her spine. Her eyes fluttered open. The sight that greeted her was Aaron smiling warmly at her.

“Good morning,” he said quietly, voice gravelly with sleep still.

“Good morning. How long have you been awake?” Indie asked, wiggling just a smidge closer.

“Not long,” he yawned.

The pair laid in the bed for a bit longer before Aarong sat up.

“Come on, we should have breakfast. I want to get some housework done today,” he informed her as he got out of the bed.

Indie followed close behind as he made his way to the kitchen. He made coffee and started making breakfast for them. The smaller of the two hopped onto the countertop next to the stove and watched him make scrambled eggs for them. She watched him in comfortable silence.

“Breakfast is done,” he said cheerfully, plating the eggs.

She hopped off the counter and sat down at the table where Aaron put the plate of eggs in front of her.

“I was thinking about opening the windows today. Would you like that, sweetheart?” he asked as he sat down across from her.

Indie grinned widely. “I’d love it if you opened the windows,”

“Remember, you promised you wouldn’t run away from me,” he reminded her.

“Why would I want to leave you, Aaron?”

That simple phrase brought tears to Aaron’s eyes. While his eyes were wet, they were joyful. He grabbed her and pulled her against his chest, squeezing her tightly. He pressed his face into her hair. That simple phrase was enough to make his heart soar.

“Thank you,” he muttered into her hair, “Thank you, thank you, thank you,”

Indie smiled and hugged him back. Her hand ran up and down his back. Aaron pulled himself away and wiped his tears before moving to the windows. He quickly unlocked them and threw them open.

“I’ll have the windows open every day if it means you will stay, Indie,” he told her, taking her significantly smaller hands in his.

She smiled up at him. “You’re amazing, Aaron,”

Aaron hummed in thought as he continued to hold her close. He closed his eyes in contentment. The pair stood together for a long time, just listening to the sound coming in from the windows. A cool breeze blew in, gently moving Indie’s hair. A whisper of freedom. But for the first time since Aaron had taken her, her freedom was nothing but a distant thought.

#vicficwriterchallenge #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x oc #female oc

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desiraypark · 4 years

Text

Drawing the Line (Final)

Characters: Kylo Ren x Tiffany (OC, Blk/F) Setting: Modern/Current Universe - comparable to an urban area in present-day U.S.A. Content: PLEASE READ AND PLEASE HEED: Infidelity; stalking (via third party); domestic violence (choking); threats; threats of false accusations Word Count: 2,027 Part I / Part II

Tiffany knew she was being watched. She climbed out of the Uber car with her duffel bag and purse and made her way to her apartment. Before opening the door to the lobby, she looked over her shoulder and spotted a black car slowly riding past. The windows were tinted, but she knew the driver was watching her. She walked into the building, rode up the elevator, and found her way to her quiet apartment.

First, she made herself some lunch. Then, she pulled out clothes to wear to work the next morning. She’d called out for Friday, the day after her procedure, and knew she needed to show up Monday looking lively--like nothing had happened. Like she had nothing to be ashamed of. She needed to convince herself. She pulled out a blue blouse, gray slacks, and the gray blazer that came with it. Just when she began to fill her garment steamer with water from the bathroom sink, she heard her lock turn and the door open. It only took him two hours.

He stood in the hallway in front of the bathroom, just staring at her in disbelief. She said nothing. She just filled her garment steamer up.

“Why did you do that, Tiffany?” he asked.

She turned off the faucet. “I already told you why.”

“When I left that night, I assumed that we’d settled everything,” he said.

Tiffany walked out of the bathroom and into her bedroom. She plugged her steamer into the socket beside her dresser and placed it down.

“When you left to go home to your family,” she said. She brushed past him--wincing at the smell of liquor that on his breath--and walked to the kitchen. He followed behind.

“I’m going to start packing tomorrow evening,” she said, opening the refrigerator.

“For what?” Kylo asked.

Tiffany grabbed a can of ginger ale. “You told me if I did, I should start packing, right?”

He stepped to her and held her face in his palms. “You know I didn’t mean that shit.” Then, he rested his forehead against hers.

“Look, we can move past this.”

Tiffany put the soda can down on the counter behind her and pried Kylo’s hand from her face. Then, she walked out of her little kitchen and put space between them.

“No, Kylo. I’m leaving either way. I’m leaving this. I’m leaving you.”

Kylo stood in the middle of the kitchen, staring at her. His neck turned and he looked out of the window. Tiffany watched him, awaiting his response. Then, he looked back at her. With just two steps, he was in front of her.

____________________ Brown leaves flew outside of Tiffany’s window as she sorted through the belongings on her dresser. Everything was valuable, but not to her anymore. Every few seconds, she held up a necklace or a bracelet and remembered when he gave it to her and why. But she’d shake the memory off and put whatever piece of jewelry in the small plastic crate. She had plans to take the items to a thrift store. Suddenly, there was a knock at her door.

Before going to the door, she grabbed a knife from the kitchen. Then, she adjusted her turtleneck sweater, walked to the door, and looked through her peephole--eyes greeted by the sight of thick faux fur and wavy brown hair. Tiffany opened the door--a forest green skirt peeked out from underneath the fuzzy jacket, as well as tan-colored Valentino shoes.

“Did you leave him?” Chelsea asked with a huff.

Tiffany’s eyebrows furrowed. She looked past Chelsea, seeing if someone was with him.

“Huh? How do you know wh--”

“I know everything, Ms. Palmer,” she said. “May I come in?”

Tiffany searched the surroundings again and opened the door. Chelsea stepped inside.

“Thanks,” she said.

She looked over the apartment, then at Tiffany. “Did you leave him or something?”

Tiffany shook her head. “I--”

“He’s been a fucking mess since yesterday. Came home drunk and started yelling at everybody, including the kids. I had a mind to shoot him in the fucking face as he slept...” Chelsea said.

Tiffany stared with crinkled brows and a lax jaw. Then, she licked her lips and nodded.

“Yes…” she said. She swallowed. “I left him. I’m moving out.”

“Why?!”

“Why?!” Tiffany asked. She shook her head again. “Because he’s married with kids.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Ms. Palmer. Kylo and I could give two shits about each other. I have a guy in the city, and he has you. We’re only married for b--”

“Business purposes,” Tiffany cut across, rolling her eyes and walking into the kitchen.

“Yeah, business purposes,” Chelsea finished. She walked to the half wall separating the kitchen from the living room. Tiffany grabbed a bottle of water from her fridge and twisted the top off.

“Why are you leaving him?” Chelsea asked.

Tiffany leaned against the counter and contemplated her answer. She avoided Chelsea’s curious gaze. “Because he can’t give me what I want.”

“And what is that? A house?” Chelsea looked around the apartment. “I must say I expected something a little more posh than this with the way he started moving our fucking money around…”

Tiffany sighed and took another sip of water.

“Oh, marriage?” Chelsea asked. “White picket fence, cute dog and kids. It’s all overrated, honey.”

Chelsea scoffed. “We don’t even have that shit and we can afford it. But I know it’s because he wants it with you. He really loves you. I know he wishes he were with you. I can tell when the two of you have fought. I can tell when you’ve made up. I see the way his face lights up when he texts you…”

Chelsea placed her hand on top of the half-wall, her fingers bumping into a key on a ring. “If you want all of that fluffy shit, I can definitely work something out. You have my blessing.”

Tiffany rubbed her temples and shook her head.

“It doesn’t matter, Mrs. Ren. It’s over between us. I’m getting out of this apartment,” Tiffany said.

She put her water bottle down and folded her arms. Chelsea sighed.

“Such a fucking shame,” Chelsea said. “Now, I have to deal with these fucking tantrums and hissy fits for however long…”

“Oh, poor you, Mrs. Ren!” Tiffany shouted. “How about this?”

She walked toward the half wall and yanked her turtleneck down. “I sure hope his tantrums don’t last as long as these fucking bruises! I really do.”

Chelsea’s jaw dropped and she stepped back. ____________________

“No, Kylo. I’m leaving either way. I’m leaving this. I’m leaving you.”

“This is the only way you’re fucking leaving me,” he said through clenched teeth.

Tiffany fought to breathe. She pounded her fists against Kylo’s arms and his chest. She clawed at his face, but he turned away from the path of her nails. Soon, tears started streaming down her face. She stared him dead in the eyes and his own widened. He shook his head and let her go, her body sank to the floor. She gasped and coughed, and began to cry.

“Tiffany…” he said, kneeling beside her. Tiffany’s eyes widened. She jumped away and slid on her backside toward the kitchen.

“Get away from me,” she strained.

“Baby, I didn’t mean it!” Kylo said maneuvering toward her and grabbing at her shoulders. Tiffany backed into the kitchen, scrambled to her feet, and yanked the chef’s knife out of the wooden block on her counter. Kylo stood up and stepped backward with his hands up.

“Get away from me! Get the fuck away from me!” she screamed, tears gushing down her face.

“I FUCKING LOVE YOU!” he shouted, stepping toward her again.

Tiffany grabbed something within her reach--the can of ginger ale--and threw it at him. But he dodged it.

“Get out!”

Kylo bit down on his quivering bottom lip. “You know I didn’t mean that shit, Tiffany! You know Iove you...you just make me fucking crazy!”

“No, I don’t! Don’t fucking blame me! Leave your key and get the fuck out!” Tiffany cried, pushing against the counter--her body searching for another layer of security.

He shook his head, pulled the key from his pocket, and put it on top of the half-wall. Then, he closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. He lifted his head and took a deep breath.

“I’m gonna let you cool down and we’re going to work this out,” he said, pointing a firm finger at her.

Tiffany shook her head in shock. “We’re not going to work anything out. Get the fuck out of my apartment.”

____________________

“I...I had no idea,” Chelsea said, her jaw still hanging low. “I’m...I’m sorry…”

Tiffany buried her face in her hands, then wiped the tears just as quickly as they fell. “I suppose that’s what I fucking get, huh?”

“Oh, no,” Chelsea said, rushing around and into the kitchen. “Abso-fucking-lutely not!” She held Tiffany’s shoulders, but Tiffany pulled away.

“I’m sorry, but please just leave me alone,” she said.

Chelsea swallowed and nodded. “I’m so sorry.”

She walked out of the kitchen and toward the door, then stopped and turned on her heels. “Let me help you, please.”

Tiffany shook her head and laughed. “I don’t even trust you.” She grabbed her water bottle again, but rubbed it against her forehead.

“That’s understandable,” Chelsea said, eyes filled with empathy. She looked down at the half-wall and let her eyes linger on the key sitting atop it. “He has another key.”

Tiffany looked up at Chelsea.

“I think…” she added. “I remember a receipt a few years ago. I don’t know exactly what it was for, but...”

Tiffany nodded, acknowledging what she was saying.

“If you need any help, you have my number,” Chelsea said. She turned around and walked to the door. Tiffany rushed to the door, locked it, and rested her forehead against it. Then, she sank to the floor and sobbed. ___________________ The New Ren House

“Yeah, do what the fuck you have to do,” Kylo said, rushing off the phone. “Alright.”

Chelsea strolled around the corner, just in time to see Kylo hang up his flip phone and quickly look down at his smartphone. He rolled his eyes at the sight of Chelsea and her smirk, then took a swig of his drink.

“What?” he asked.

Chelsea walked behind him and ran her fingers down his chest. She planted kisses on his cheek.

“Your boyfriend out of town?”

“No, I’m actually going to see him tomorrow,” she said. Kylo grunted and took a sip of his drink. Chelsea kissed him on the neck, then nibbled on his ear.

“I know that you’ll probably be able to find her…” she mumbled into his canal. “But if you ever put your hands on her, or any other woman again…”

Kylo slowly put his drink down, as Chelsea sucked at his neck again.

“I will beat the shit out of myself…” Kiss. “Tell my father you did it…” Kiss. “...and let him chop you into tiny pieces and fry you up for breakfast.”

Chelsea licked a stripe up his neck and to his cheek. Then, planted another kiss. She walked out of the study and froze in the hallway. She put her hands on her hips and smiled.

“Come say goodnight to your father, my loves!” she said.

Little feet ascended onto the study, and Harlan and Harper--a twin boy and girl with thick heads of brown hair--cautiously walked into the study.

“He’s in a good mood tonight. Go in and say goodnight. Tell him you love him infinity times two,” Chelsea said. She glared at Kylo, and he stared at her through hazy, watery eyes. Then, he rotated his chair and let his children run into his arms.

___________________ ...the end?

#drawing the line

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