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innocent-cat · 2 years

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Bbg, can you do a Jealous Tsukishima x Reader plzzz? Ily bbg /p

Never watched Haikyuu in my life. Read up on him, so be warned, i will NOT have the most accurate character of him down in this oneshot. So, with the fact that my knowledge of Tsukishima and Haikyuu are very frail, please excuse any errors, or poor use of character's behavior, or general plot. Making this js for u babes fr xx (lyt)

(I also have no clue how volleyball works. LOSER!!!!)

Jealous!Tsukishima Kei x Reader

Warnings - Reader calling someone a 'whore', uncomfortable advancements/situations, harassment to reader, entitled man,

"My loser is the best loser.", Tsukishima x Reader

.·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻

Your boyfriend of a few months, was currently playing volleyball for your collective high school, Karasuno. You didn't quite understand why it was so tense on the court, but you chose to cheer him on regardless whenever he had a game.

Being known as the person who just happens to be dating Tsuki, his team mates often poke fun at him to you. It's funny most of the time, but it gets weird having a group of people try to follow you around because you're dating their friend. Although, if he's not with you, hes with them, so you always know where to look when in doubt. How kind of them. To what you knew, he one of the blockers of the team. He told you often about how much his team needs him. You, of course, feed into this energy.

"Yeahh go get em' tiger.. you're so important!"

He always cracks a smile at your strange form of cheering, and appreciates it. Although he found it strange, he felt he should play better for you. Weird right? Trying to impress lil' ol' you.. Tonight was a night unlike any other game night, he was within his position and supporting his team with planned blocks. You couldn't tell which team was winning, but you tried your best to stay positive about it. which- meant- very, VERY, incomprehensible cheering. Mumbling, shouting, or just smiling, in hopes of some how, you sent the right message. "Ohh wow nice shot.."

You sounded a lot like a mother cheering for her kid. It was definitely working. (You hoped.)

Growing tired and confused, you eventually space out and leave yourself to your own thoughts. You have no clue whats going on, so you just imagine what ever you feel like. A cow spinning? A rockstar chicken? Your doll who you had left in time out before you left for falling and scaring you? Okay maybe not them. You felt bad for not returning them to the window you pretended they liked so much before you left. Oh no. What if it's lonely? It's probably lonely. Cold, shut out, shunned.. SHAMED, in time out.. Your thoughts are interrupted when you feel the weight beside you shift. Assuming it was Tsukishima, you turned to the weight with a smile, before jumping at the realization it wasn't your monotone'd boyfriend. "Hey! Couldn't help but notice you were sitting here all alone and sad looking.. Don't worry, I'm here to accompany you now. totally like a prince in shiny armor." Baffled, you stare at the teen who had approached you and sat next to you so confidently. You had to admit, you were impressed with how he wasn't embarrassed. You did think he was weird though. "Oh. Thanks?" You shrugged off his enthusiasm and tried to be as nice as you could force yourself to be. Tolerating him was already hard enough now that you're tired, confused, and bewildered at the sudden company. "Do you even really get this sport? You've been totally out of here the entire game." He poked at you. Confused, you look him up and down, taking in his description to ask Tsukishima about him later. What a weirdo. "Yea. My boyfriend is the nerdy blocker up there with the real thick rimmed glasses." You pointed him out, smiling softly. When the teen beside you noticed him, you let your finger fall, and your hands link back together in your lap. Within that moment, The ball quickly advanced to the front of the enemy's net, and they spiked it. Tsukishima tried to block it but- It smacked him. Square in the face. You stifled a small laugh as you watched the now stunned blocker look around hoping for someone to sympathize with him. He looks towards you like a child telling a parent they had just thrown up. Your face breaks out into a wide, humorous smile. His stance, his face, and his slightly pushed down glasses, all was a likely embarrassing moment for him, but all the funnier to you.

Covering your mouth with your hand, you snicker and giggle as you look back at the shocked volleyball player. You watch his eyes travel to the left of you, where the teen who started small talk sat beside you. His eyebrow raised, and obviously smacked back into reality with envy, he scowls at the boy beside you. From far away, you don't notice the facial change he shows.

The whistle blows, and the game starts anew. He turns back, and your small interaction comes to an end. He fixes his glasses, pushing the rim back onto the tip of his nose ridge, and gets back into his position. "Soo.. your boyfriend.. kinda sucks. At volleyball, I mean." The slightly taller boy curts, referring to the fact your boyfriend just got totally bodied by a ball. That probably hurt. A lot. You giggle. "Not all the time, but I also can't tell. I just kinda hope." "You know.. I play baseball.. It's a lot easier to understand than any game of volleyball. Lot cooler too. Lot cooler to date a baseball player over a beach game made professional player." You pause, face contorting at his words. What a man whore. Flirting with someone when he's aware they have a boyfriend? Steep. Real steep. Also, again, really weird. You look towards the boy, raise an eyebrow, and wait for him to lead on what he was saying. You wanted to see how long he'd drag his little 'You should totally ditch your lame, geeky, loser of a boyfriend because I play baseball.' game. Waiting for a response, you decide he's taking too long to click that you want him to talk back. You collect your things to stand, and like a mutt begging you to stay, he grabs your wrist. "Wow wow wow- Where you going there? You haven't even heard me out!"

"What is there to hear out? you're asking me to out right ditch my boyfriend because you play baseball and I don't even know your name." You scoffed, ready to make another statement before he tugs you back down, however, this time, instead of on a bench, he tugs you onto his lap.

"Would you- Get off of me?" You seethed, struggling against his arms, he snakes himself around your waist and under your popliteal (A/N, the popliteal is basically your knee armpit). Oblivious to the bell of the game ending, you keep fighting against him, clambering, and caught up like a spider's web. You hear the distant sound of shoes squeaking against the polished gym floors, advancing towards you, with the speed of just over a power walk. Looking over to the approaching sound, you look directly at none other than who is likely about to be your actual knight in shining armor. It did bug you how the guy got the saying wrong. Again, what a weirdo. "Do you mind? Did you always get your way as a kid or something? Put them down. You look genuinely pathetic." Tsukishima looks down at the odd teenager, towering above him. "Oh- is this- your boyfriend? Why didn't you tell me yo-" He's cut off with an uppercut from your now loose hand, to his jaw. Releasing you, he rubs his jaw, muttering curses and how 'you were ugly anyway' and 'You're lucky I even looked at you' Grabbing your bag, Tsukishima kicks him in the side, watching the man curl over clutching his side like a defeated pill bug. Scoffing, you turn to Tsukishima who is still shooting a lour face at the frustratingly idiotic oaf. Patting his shoulder, you guide yourself off the benches, hovering over railing as to not trip. You notice the lack of his presence, and turn to see he's still cursing at the man, scolding, and kneeling, like a parent to a child who broke a VERY expensive vase. "Tsuki. C'mon. We most literally don't have all day. Don't bother with him, he's just some moron. Getting under your skin lets him win." He gives the man one more apparently satisfying kick, before turning to accompany you. You follow him to the lockers, waiting outside to respect the team's privacy. After around 10 minutes of clicking and texting friends on your phone, you see a four eyed monster walk out of the lockers. Black hoodie, a brown flannel, and tan cargos. "No hello? Not even from the love of my life?" You call towards him, walking by him, and poking the side of his ribcage waiting for a response. "Right right, whatever. Hey." He smiled softly at you, his eyes telling a different story. "You okay? something up?" You interrogate, snaking your arm around his, and fitting hands like a puzzle piece. He huffs, thumb rubbing the back of your hand, continuing to walk, watching the stars. He walked you back to your apartment, every day after school and after games. If you recall, it was 'Something he just has to do for you', and ever since he's always done it. Even when either of you were upset at each other. You looked up at the stars with him, breathing in the cool, clean, night air. As you guys paced, you tripped. He tightened his hold on you, and pulled you back up. 'Thanks.' You muttered, unsure of what to say in the rough and awkward environment. "That guy. Who was flirting with you? That really bothered me during the game. I think I was too focused on you ditching me for him that I lost focus." There was a short pause, in between it you let out an understanding hum, and rubbed circles into the back of his hand via thumb. "..Did you.. say anything? To him?" He looks to the right, avoiding your gaze, seemingly embarrassed to even ask. "Yeah. First thing I said to him other than 'oh' was that you were my boyfriend. Real weird guy. Really weird looking guy too. Jaw too chiseled, too built, and I never even talked to him before. Don't even know the guys name." Tsuikishima let out a sigh of relief, tensity visually leaving his muscles. "I knew that." The two of you both laughed, enjoying the clear environment now comfortable to breathe in again.

"Uhm. Did you win?" You sheepishly look towards him, smiling. "It was totally rigged. I was the best player there."

"Glorifying yourself again, Tsuki?" "Nah. I'm definitely a huge carry for the team." He restates, letting out a snicker after hearing your laugh, self aware of how much he relies on his team-mates.

(P.S, please leave more requests for me. I'm desperate for prompts.)

#haikyuu #volleyball #tsukishima kei #tsukishima fic #jealous #jealous tsukishima #tsuki #jealous tsuki #tsuki x reader #tsukishima x reader #x reader #wrote this at 12:51 #pls enjoy #what the freak #what is haikyuu #wild guess #way longer than wanted #oops

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pinkmoondoll9shihtzu · 4 months

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this is a little silly and i'm totally aware, but i luv ur blog and resonate with ur outlook on things so i'm really curious 2 hve ur input. i turned 18 in december+ i graduated high scool this weekend and so it's like the first time in my life where i am independently adjusting to a big transition. i missed soo much classes due 2 my brain being fucked and even tho i had friends i still feel rly weird and outsidery i guess. if u have any advice or idk anything i'm running out of space bye xx

thats wonderful news...congrats on gradding its really hard to get thru it 💟 i almost didnt grad cus i was barely present at school, resented every facet of it, the system didnt make sense to me like i just couldnt perform. i dint go to college or anything after highschool i knew it wasnt right for me plus i didnt want the debt. i knew i needed freedom to roam or st..

and tbh i was suuuuch a smart & intuitive child for that decision o.o like thank god thank goddd. i wouldve folded SO fast with state of my mental health back then. unless u r going into STEM idt school is worth it. Like school nevr made sense to me cus u can just be intellectual for free by acting curiously ?? Like u can just live and read books and stuff . . .

i guess my only real goal has ever been to make a lot of DOPE ass memories ~~ push every experience to full potential of beauty it is capable of 🤩 and that is a tad willful of me, so my arrogance has lead to many defeats but despite how painful its beeen.. im glad i did it this way, no ragrets ^^ its wonderful to be 30 now & look back at it all. following my intuition always worked out in the end..

When you're 18-24 i think all u should really be doing is like. chilling, recovering from highschool, smoking cigs, taking photos, listening to songs, reading, trying different clothes, playing outside, Soaking eveything up like a sponge, taking it *in*...taking it all in then thru trial & error figuring out what Really resonates !! and PPL will try to tell u its a waste of time, dont listen!!!! create stuff but dont put pressure on urself to be good at anything yet. dont feel pressure to like, have solidified into something permanent yet? ifthatmakes sense.. goof around a lot, dont limit yourself to any existing structures, be new & expansive, open minded.

And just chill :] look around at your world all the time and think "Wow. I'm 18 and i'll never be 18 again and life is beautiful." i still do this for every age i ever am i think its so imporant to do this. Always Know your older self is looking back upon you kindly no matter how irredeemably fucking fucked u feel <3 i can feel the love from my 40 and 50 and 60 year old self right now. get excited for your unfolding story anon ^-^ i hope its really uniquely perfect just for U and Ur dreams come true. Sincerely, ⭐⭐⭐PMD9⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

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call-sign-jinx · 1 year

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Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw - Her

Summary - you’re Bradley’s best friend and he tells you who he loves which breaks your heart

Warnings - fluff, swearing, drinking

A/N - hiya me luvlys! how r u luvly people doing today? also, for whatever isn't requested specifically, the reader will always have a northern british accent, like a manchester accent. just a preference sorry ahaha xx

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x fem!reader

Bradley has been my best mate since I moved to America. I moved in right next door to him with my mum and dad and little sister Alya. We moved to America because my dad got a new job and thought it was best for all of us.

Bradley then became my best friend very quickly. The first day we met to be more precise. He stuck up for me when I were getting bullied during my first week of my new school. Some bitch decided to take the piss out of me and Alya cause we’re fucking Polish? Okay mate. Anyway, I’m getting side tracked here.

Bradley stuck up for me and Alya right off the bat. He was so sweet and he gave Alya his lunch cause them kids decided to fucking take her lunch which is just classic stupid ass bully shit from films.

Now god knows how many years later, we’re in the Navy, as Naval Aviators, went to different academies, and we’ve both been called to Top Gun. He was the first person I called to tell him. And I was the first person he called. We immediately went down to our favourite bar to celebrate, Alya coming as well cause she’s part of our group. But in all honesty, me and Bradley are closer.

Currently, me and Bradley are sat in his Bronco on our way to the Hard Deck to meet some of the other aviators. Hopefully there’s another woman there, if there isn’t I’m gonna be too overwhelmed with testosterone. I already get enough from Rooster over here.

Anyways, as soon as I got into the Navy, people gave me the callsign Fox (you can change the callsign and why you got it but I’m going to use this 😊) because “I’m a fox”, meaning I’m sexy, according to everyone at my academy. Which consisted of all men and one woman who was a WSO who soon retired to be with her family after a training scare. God I miss her, her callsign was Nyx. She was amazing. Bradley said I got my callsign because “I look cute but I’m a silent killer”. I like that reason better.

Back to the Hard Deck. Me and Bradley walked in talking about some shit we did back in high school. Which I am not proud of because it mostly consisted of making out with lads and getting stupidly drunk at parties which led to Bradley taking me home while I sang California Love.

As I looked around my eyes instantly landed on a woman with military uniform on and my eyes lit up. I quickly made my way toward her, accidentally leaving Bradley, and introduced myself.

“Hi, oh my God, you don’t know how happy I am to see another female aviator here…” I looked to her name tag and saw her callsign, Phoenix. “Phoenix! I’m Y/N. But my callsign’s Fox. It’s really nice to know I won’t suffer with too much testosterone alone.” I was rambling at this point, but she didn’t seem to mind. She smiled and nodded at everything I said.

“It really is a relief, before you came over here I thought I would be alone with all these guys. And I love your callsign. How’d you get it?” Phoenix gave me a inquisitive look and I smiled remembering the day some jackass gave it to me.

“Because I’m ‘foxy’ then everyone started calling me it and it just stuck. Because of some fucking wankstain that gave it to me.” Phoenix then burst into laughter as I said “wankstain”.

“Guys are like that all the time, especially Hangman over there.” She points to a guy and he looks like a real life Ken doll.

“Just this moment I thought he was a 6’2 Ken doll. He looks fucking plastic. Wondered why the Hard Deck would put a Ken Doll display up in here.” Phoenix then began laughing to the point she had to hold her stomach.

As Phoenix gained composure, I felt a hand rest on my shoulder. I turned to look around and saw Bradley. I smiled up at him and rested my head on his hand.

“I see you’ve already met Phoenix.” Bradley stretched his arm across my shoulder and smirked at Phoenix. Does he like her? Why would I care anyway? Do I care? Does he like her though?

“Yep, and I like her more than you already.” I turned my body to face Bradley and he placed his hand on his heart in mock hurt.

“That hurts my feelings sweetheart, how dare you.” The new nickname brought heat to my cheeks. I looked down to my feet quickly then looked back up to him and put a smirk on my face.

“Aww poor Bradley, come on Phoenix we need to give him a hug. He’s having a bad day today.” I made a pouty face and Bradley just stood there with a pissed off smile.

“Shut up Y/N. You know you love me.” I rolled my eyes as Bradley came up and and hugged me by my side.

————————————————————————

“Bro, I can’t be arsed with getting up so early just to meet who we’re gonna be trained by.” I said to Rooster as he took a swig of the shared bottle of Apple Sourz that I got an hour before meeting up with him in his Bronco.

“Best not be some prick who’s full of himself. I swear if he is and he tries anything wiv me, you, Bob or Phoenix am gonna spark him out.” Bradley lets out a hearty laugh and pats my shoulder.

“You British people sure do have a way with words sweetheart.” There it is again. The nickname. It brings heat up to my cheeks yet again and it’s not dark enough to hide so Bradley can see it.

“Are you blushing Y/N?” I immediately look away as my worries were confirmed. Bradley saw me fucking blush. Great.

“No why?” I pretended to be oblivious to the raging red covering my face. It got even darker as Bradley squinted his eyes at me, getting a better look at the rouge covering my whole face most likely.

"You're as red as a tomato Y/N. Is something wrong then? If you're not blushing then why is your face red?" I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me, I may be called Fox but I don't think I can get myself out of this one.

"It's getting a bit hot? That's why. It's getting hot." Bradley rolled his eyes at my answer. But he didn't press on it any more. We sat in silence for what felt like forever. Until I broke the silence.

"Bradley?" Bradley sat up and turned to look at me before nodding his head for me to continue.

"How come you've never had a long term girlfriend? I'm sorry for asking but I've always wanted to know because, not gonna lie you are quite easy on the eyes so I just don't understand it." Bradley's eyes widened in shock. I was lying when I said he was "quite easy on the eyes" he's fucking gorgeous! He's fucking perfect for God's sake!

I immediately regretted what I said and before he could even open his mouth I blurted out, "Shit! Sorry! I don't know why I even said that. Just ignore it, you don't have to-" Bradley cut me off by putting his hand over my mouth.

"It's okay Y/N/N, I'm fine with answering any questions you have for me. We're best friends after all, aren't we?" I nodded in response.

"It's because I never truly or fully like or love them. There's something stopping me from doing that. Because I like that thing so much better and all I do is compare them to her." My eyes widened and heart broke, he was in love with someone? That's why he's never had a long term girlfriend? Because he's in love with another woman?

"Her?" Is all I could say. Tears threatened to come out of my eyes, I couldn't cry in front of him after he said that. It'd make it obvious that I was in love with him.

"Yeah, and she's amazing, I think I love her in all honesty. She's smart, she's funny, she's beautiful and she's brave..." I had to look away so Bradley didn't see me cry. She already sounds so much better than I could ever be and he only named 4 things about her.

"And she's got a Callsign that she hates but I absolutely love..." He grabbed my chin with his index finger and thumb and made me look at him.

"And do you wanna know what her Callsign is?" I nodded my head, wanting to know this amazing woman who made Bradley swoon for her.

"Fox." My heart literally stopped. I couldn't breath. The tears completely stopped and I couldn't help the massive smile that was painted across my face.

"Me?" I just wanted to confirm it. Confirm I wasn't imagining that he said my Callsign.

"Yes you. You're the reason I've never had a girlfriend for longer than a month. Because to me, you're so much better than all of them combined. And before you ask, the reason I didn't tell you is because I thought that if I had told you, you wouldn't feel the same and it would ruin our friendship. And yes I know that that's what every guy says to his girl best friend in most of the movies we've watched. So don't even comment on that." In response to his confession, I threw myself on him in a big hug that knocked him onto his back on the bonnet of his Bronco.

After I pulled away from the hug, I looked into Bradley's eyes and smiled. He loved me. Bradley fucking Bradshaw loves me!

"I love you too Bradley. I always have and I always will." Before he could reply, I connected our lips as I ran my hand threw his hair. His mustache tickled my top lip and it made me giggle slightly. Bradley almost immediately kissed back as his hands trailed down my torso to my waist and pulled my closer. I swiped my tongue across his bottom lip asking for permission and he quickly allowed it. Bradley then squeezed my waist which elicited a slight moan from my mouth.

When we both finally pulled away, Bradley had a look in his eyes that I've never seen before. I furrowed my brows, confused at his expression. "What?" I questioned him and all he did was smile more than he already was.

"I've just realised that my life is perfect now that I have you. And no one else can have you." I rolled my eyes with a playful smile on my face.

"You have to pop the question before you can say that, Rooster." We both now had the same smirk on our faces.

"Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, will you be my girlfriend?" He had a charming mixed with excited smile on his face. One I couldn't say no to of course.

"I would love to be." With that, he pulled my into another kiss.

I finally felt at ease with him. He is basically my emotional support animal but a human. He's always been there for me and now he's my boyfriend. I couldn't be any happier than this right now. Nothing can beat what I'm feeling right now.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw fluff #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster #top gun rooster #rooster bradshaw fluff #rooster fluff #rooster imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster top gun

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luffysinterlude · 24 days

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MINI UPDATE:

hiii everyone!! i just wanted to say thank u for all the feedback on my luffy piece <33 it really helps me out a lot, and i appreciate all of it !!

i just finished reading the Nana manga. when i tell you i have never read anything more heartbreaking in my entire life. like idk. so many complex characters. i kept seeing myself in a few. i will say that i feel like i learned a lot and not only that, but in a way grew up. idk. i see myself in early Hachiko and later towards the ending (?) of the story, i see myself in Nana. but other than realizing my issues….T^T….i feel like i’ve learned how to write better….it’s so well written, and i feel super inspired so i’m gonna try my best and get thru these requests!! i’m also making a masterlist :33 i’m thinking about writing for Nana characters as well, mostly because i’m in love with Yasu, and also, i think it’d be a great way for me to cope that ending.

also, works been super draining and i’m glad to have this little safe space of mine to let my creative side run freely. i’m currently in the process of planning to move out of my parent’s house, and i’ve been really discipling myself to do so. from there, i’m hoping to get a better job so i can 1) pay my bills responsibly & build my credit back up and 2) so i can afford to go back to school. everything always works out for me, so i’m gonna work hard and try my best, and find balance with doing what i love & doing what i need, and somehow be able to feel as if i’m doing both at once…lol

if you’ve read this far, we’re basically bffs now. jk….unless. i love making new friends so don’t be shy to interact! :33

i’m gonna watch one piece asap because i don’t want to be sad over Nana for too long because i’m afraid that i’ll start overthinking and compare my life to the characters i feel so close to, and send myself down a spiral

wishing you a happy good morning/afternoon/evening/night and abundance in every aspect of your life,

xx cathi ^*^

#luffysinterlude #cathi yaps #god #nana ruined me #i dont feel the same #but holy shit i loved it and i’m glad that i found it #i feel like a part of me evolved #i deleted most of my socials finished all 85 chapters in a week #im seriously gonna write for yasu #i love him so much #yasu made me realize i have a type in men #and hachi made me realize my type in women….#but i’m working on these requests #i’m gonna do my best to get to all of them!!

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serenailith · 1 year

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just wishing

for @dreamlingbingo

Square: d1, cybersex Rating: e Word Count: 7275 Ship(s): dream of the endless/hob gadling Warnings: none Additional Tags: alternate universe - human, overworked uni student!hob, sex cam worker!dream, sex work is real work, so much filth in this, dirty talk, sex toys, blowjobs, anal sex, gratuitous use of the word ‘beautiful’ Summary:

Hob never knew a simple weblink could change his entire life.

Link: on ao3 masterlist

Hob sighs and stares at the blinking cursor. It mocks him; really, it does. Each blink seems to say “You should be writing. You’re wasting time, Gadling.” And… It’s true. He should be writing. This paper won’t write itself, and if he doesn’t get it submitted by midnight, he’ll fail Medieval Literature, and then where will he be?

Slamming his laptop shut, he follows the action with slamming his forehead against his desk. His roommate scoffs and throws a licorice rope at his back.

“It can’t be that bad.”

“It’s worse. I haven’t been able to think a single thought that’s original.”

“Shouldn’t have looked at examples of past papers,” Matthew says, and Hob can hear the shrug in the American’s voice. “But anyway, I’m goin’ out. Got my eye on a real good-looking girl, and I think I might actually have a chance.”

Matthew drops the package of licorice on Hob’s desk, claps a hand on his shoulder, and wishes him well on his way out of their room. Hob waits until the door has clicked closed before smacking his forehead against his desk once again.

His cellphone dings beside his head, and Hob glowers at the device before unlocking it. It’s only a text from his mum, asking how his paper is coming along. He sighs and lies, tells her it is going incredibly well and will probably be his best one yet.

Once she is sufficiently mollified and has chided him for being awake so late, as if she isn’t awake just as late, she makes him swear to go to bed then signs her last text “Love, Mum xx”. Hob’s heart aches at the words. It’s been three weeks since he’s been home; work and schooling have taken up all of his time. He hates it—loathes, really—that he can’t see his family as often as he’d like, but he needs the money and he needs the education. So he resigns himself to reality and focuses on what needs to be done rather than the hopes he has that he can’t make come true.

Opening his laptop, Hob turns his attention back to his essay and struggles through the next three hundred and fifty words. It’s eerily similar to what he thinks pulling teeth might be like, and he can’t stop the sigh of relief when his cellphone vibrates once more.

Matthew: Not coming back tonight. Score! Dont do anything i wouldnt do. And make sure u clean ur mess ;)

Hob snorts and exits the message thread. Matthew is a crass bastard, but he’s grown on Hob like lichen on a tree. He’s a half-decent roommate and a better friend besides.

It gets the better of him, the silence of the room only broken by the occasional click of keys and the more frequent huff of annoyance. Hob wishes he could do what Matthew is—out drinking at a pub, evidently going home with someone—but no, Hob is forcing himself to focus on his studies.

Unfortunately, his attention span grows shorter while his frustration grows higher. Hob finally slams his laptop closed and groans, pressing the palms of his hands to his eyes. He lets out a long, steady stream of curse words until his head feels less like it’ll explode then breathes out slowly. Right. That’s enough for tonight.

Hob sighs and reaches for his cellphone. Maybe someone will be free for an hour or two. Three of his usual bedmates turn him down, citing their own studies, and the fourth doesn’t bother saying ‘no’. All he does is send a link. Hob frowns and stares at the letters.

On one hand, trusting unknown links is a bad idea. On the other, he trusts Malachi rather well. Unless Malachi was hacked…

Hob opens his laptop and types in the web address before he can overthink it more. The page takes a few seconds to load, but when it does, Hob nearly clicks out of the tab. As it is, he shoots a furtive look over his shoulder as if expecting Matthew to linger there as he normally does. But the room is empty. Matthew isn’t here.

Hob swallows harshly, squeezing his eyes closed, then turns back to the laptop. The page is still up, still set to what’s very obviously a porno site, and a banner is plastered over a video container, the words “Join now!” in a rather tasteful font. A box in the corner bears numbers, the counter rising steadily in droves. There’s no indication of what kind of porno Malachi sent, but—

Hob clicks the banner and swallows down his shame as he enters his credit card information. One try can’t hurt, right? The page reloads, and the banner is gone now. He watches as the camera suddenly flares to life a minute later and brings into focus a man against a dark background. Pinpricks of white litter the wall behind him, a veritable night sky brought to Earth and made touchable. But it’s the man who captures Hob’s attention most.

The man is gorgeous—mussed black hair, pale skin, and eyes so incredibly blue even through the screen. His kissable lips quirk into a small smile at whatever he sees on his end, and Hob realises he’s probably approving of the viewer count, which is well into the hundreds by now. The man’s gaze darts to his camera, and the breath is punched from Hob’s lungs at how it seems as if the man is looking at him, not the other viewers.

Perhaps that’s part of the ruse.

Shaking his head, Hob swallows thickly and reminds himself that this is the man’s job. He blows out a breath and closes his eyes. This is so stupid, he thinks. Why is he doing something like this? Sure, he’s been without sex for months, but is cybersex really going to make a difference? After all, it’s his own hand with or without the man currently stripping on-screen.

And what a beautiful sight. wetdream slowly, carefully pushes the straps of his lacy teddy from his shoulders; his gaze remains firmly on the camera, lips curving slightly as he lets the lingerie fall out of sight. His hands toy with the edge of his underwear, the lace accentuating the sharp lines of his hips. He teases, but he doesn’t remove them.

Someone posts Take them off, sweetheart, let us see what’s underneath. The man on-screen shakes his head, though he does push the hem down an inch, just enough to show off the slightest hint of a patch of black hair.

Hob inhales sharply at the sight. It’s nothing major, nothing revealing, but it’s enough to send heat through his blood. He slides a finger over the laptop’s trackpad, tapping it once the cursor hovers over the chat-box, and hesitates.

hobgoblin: you’re beautiful

As soon as he sends the message, he slaps a hand over his face. God, he’s a right idiot, isn’t he? No one wants to hear that, especially not when they’re working. But the man on the screen is reading the message, and he doesn’t look angry or uncomfortable. In fact, he looks… pleased? There’s a tint of pink to his cheeks, and Hob revels in the sight even as messages come pouring in, calling him a moron.

He ignores them and focuses on the man now on his knees in the middle of a bed. His legs are spread, the fabric of his underwear clearly straining against the stretch, and Hob’s mouth goes dry as the man undulates his hips. Though thin, wetdream has a great body. He’s lithe, beautiful, and almost ethereal as he practically fucks the air.

Hob can’t stop himself: He stands enough to shove down his joggers then takes himself in hand. He strokes slowly, reclining in his seat as much as possible, and watches wetdream finally—finally—remove his underwear. He turns his back to the camera, looks over his shoulder, and Hob groans at the sparkle between the man’s arsecheeks.

Wish that was my cock, someone writes, and Hob scowls before hiding the chat-box. It’s easier this way, easier to pretend he isn’t pathetic watching a sex worker perform for hundreds of other people. He can pretend it’s a private thing, as if he and wetdream are…

No, that’s stupid. Creepy, even.

So Hob forces aside those thoughts and watches wetdream remove the plug, reaching for something out of view. When he turns back to the camera, Hob sees the rather impressive dildo in his hand. And an equally impressive dick.

Hob stuffs his fist into his mouth and squeezes the root of his cock, anything to drag this out. Anything to keep watching wetdream fucking himself with the toy while nearly nine hundred people watch. There’s no sound, so Hob shamefully lets himself imagine what noises are falling from wetdream’s lips as he rolls his hips and takes the dildo in further. Would he let out breathy little sighs, or deep moans that tremble in his throat? Would he murmur his lover’s name, give directions in a love-laden voice?

Hob comes too quickly but doesn’t move to clean up. Not until wetdream has come all over his own belly with twitching thighs and a blissed-out smile on his face.

The feed ends with wetdream’s face inches from the camera, a soft smile on his lips, and Hob rushing to rearrange his budget.

Thankfully, Matthew has found a young woman who doesn’t mind his… interesting mannerisms, so the next evening, he leaves the room immediately after his last class of the day. Hob waits for ten minutes to be sure his roommate is gone before he darts for his laptop and brings up the website again. He skims through the listings, trying to find—

There. wetdream.

He hurriedly clicks on “Join now!”

As he sits in his chair, counting the seconds until the cam starts, Hob realises he should feel ashamed for this. Not for supporting a sex worker. No, that would be stupid. Sex work is real work, and he’ll knock the lights out of anyone who says otherwise. No, he should feel ashamed for how desperate he’s acting. He’s had sex before. Hell, he’s even sexted before. This is only new in that it’s a complete stranger he’s watching. It’s almost like a porn video. No desperation needed.

But he’s never seen anyone in a porno look this beautiful, he thinks when wetdream comes into view. He’s wearing a corset and stockings, garters, and his eyes are rimmed with a thin line of black. His hair is still the same wild mess as it was last night, and Hob wonders if the strands are soft, would they feel like silk between his fingers?

He calls wetdream beautiful again just to see that subtle flush to his cheeks.

It takes two weeks before Hob has the courage to search the pricing tab of the website. He grimaces to himself at the cost listed. He can’t afford it, not if he wants to continue this thing called existing. Or at the very least, feeding himself. Sighing, he slumps in his seat and runs a hand over his face.

What is he even thinking? He’s already spent far too much on wetdream’s live-cams as it is. The only time he hasn’t spent money on the site is when wetdream isn’t listed. Which… hasn’t been often. Maybe three nights out of twelve.

“Fuck it, Matthew owes me a meal or two,” he grumbles before clicking on the link to apply for a private showing.

He only has to wait two hours for the email confirmation that payment has gone through and wetdream has availability for the following Saturday evening, a one-hour window from nine to ten. Hob sends back a message agreeing to the time then immediately begins planning on how to get Matthew out of the room for that hour. It should be simple enough—if his current girlfriend hasn’t broken up with him, she’ll keep him distracted. If she has, the promise of an opportunity to find another one might be sufficient.

Hob swallows and presses his fingertips to his eyelids. He’s being foolish, but damned if he can find it in him to change.

Three days has never felt so long. Hob could swear more than seventy-two hours has passed since he got the email, but nope. He’s gone from Wednesday night to Saturday, and nothing more.

As he’d predicted, Matthew is easy to get out of the room. Hob tells him about the secluded little courtyard on the other side of campus that he knows hardly anyone knows of, hints that maybe Matthew’s girlfriend would like to watch the stars for a while. Matthew is all too eager to disappear ten minutes before nine, and Hob lets out a breath of relief.

He hurries to log in on the website with the passcode the admins emailed him, and the page loads almost instantly. The feed is dark, disconnected. Hob chews on the edge of a fingernail as he watches the minutes tick past. Finally, at two minutes past nine o’clock, the video flickers to life.

wetdream wears what he wore the first time Hob ever watched his live-cam. The lacy teddy is just as Hob remembers it: dark as pitch, contrasting so beautifully to such pale skin, barely reaching a few inches past his hips. His underwear hardly conceals his half-hard cock. Hob wonders if wetdream was stroking himself in preparation.

Hob realises belatedly that he has no idea how this works. He hadn’t exactly asked the admins of the site, and there wasn’t anything listed in the FAQs. He bites down on his lower lip and lets his fingers tap out a message in the chat-box: What do I do?

wetdream’s head cocks as he reads the message, then he lets out what Hob can only imagine is a huff of laughter. Hob’s cheeks flare with heat, and he very nearly clicks out of the tab. Only the thought that he’d paid so much for this stops him. He doesn’t want to waste that amount of money. So he resigns himself to being a laughingstock—maybe wetdream will tell all his friends about the bloody idiot who can’t work a private sex show to save his life.

wetdream: Just tell me what you want me to do. I am all yours.

Hob… Hob can do that. He can tell wetdream what to do. But, then, the question remains: What the fuck does Hob want to see? He swallows and double-checks that Matthew hasn’t come back, that the door is still locked, then faces his laptop again.

hobgoblin: take off your top. i want to see you

wetdream does without hesitation; his fingers trail along his exposed skin, hook around the straps of his teddy, and he gazes directly into the camera as he pushes the straps down. The teddy slides down his lithe body until it vanishes from view. Hob blows out a breath at the expanse of smooth pale skin, the flat planes of muscle, the almost dainty lines carved to form this body. wetdream presses the tips of long fingers to his chin as he waits, and Hob could cry with how beautiful this man is.

He tells wetdream to remove his underwear, to get on the bed, to touch himself. wetdream moves quickly yet sensuously, stripping and leaving the camera where it is but bringing a tablet with him. Clearly, it’s meant so he can keep up with the chat. So he can obey Hob’s orders and fulfil his desires.

Once he’s situated on his knees in the middle of his bed, wetdream wraps a slender hand around his cock and gives it one long, slow stroke. Hob watches wetdream drag his nails down his bare chest, lines of pink left in their wake, before the hand splays over a sharp hipbone, dips down to fondle himself. wetdream’s tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, and Hob hesitantly types out another message.

hobgoblin: i want to see you open yourself up.

wetdream’s gaze darts to the tablet, a brow twitching, then he moves. When he comes back on-screen, he holds a bottle of lubricant. Hob watches with a dry mouth as wetdream coats his fingers. He turns until he’s side-on to the camera, lowers his chest so it rests on the mattress, and reaches behind himself. His lashes flutter closed, knees spreading slightly wider, and his wrist flexes as he clearly pushes his finger in further. He turns his head toward the camera, eyes opening to slits, and his lips curve the barest amount in the corners. His mouth drops open as his knuckles shift beneath his skin.

hobgoblin: just like that. you’re beautiful like this, did you know that? hobgoblin: so beautiful. hobgoblin: fuck yourself with your fingers for me, love.

Hob moans when wetdream does as commanded. He wishes he could be there, could hear what sounds spill from this man’s lips, could be the one opening him up until he’s begging for Hob’s cock. Hob doesn’t hesitate: He shoves down the band of his pyjama bottoms and takes himself firmly in hand. It’s harder to type one-handed, but he does it anyway.

hobgoblin: let me see your arse. let me see you nice and open.

wetdream moves again until he’s reclining against an impressive amount of pillows, legs spread, and Hob nearly swallows his tongue at the sight. He really, truly is open; it would be so easy to just push inside and fuck wetdream senseless. After a moment, wetdream’s fingers dive back into himself. The tablet still rests beside him, and he occasionally glances at the screen.

hobgoblin: do you wish it was me there? instead of just your fingers. do you wish it was my cock splitting you open? because i do.

wetdream nods, first slowly then more vigorously. Hob types out faster, love, that’s it, and God, does wetdream obey so beautifully. He obeys when Hob tells him to stroke himself, and Hob’s hand moves more quickly as wetdream fucks up into his own fist then back onto his fingers.

Can I come? wetdream mouths after a moment, eyes darkened and thighs trembling, and Hob has a helluva time typing yes.

“Come for me,” he groans though wetdream can’t hear, but that doesn’t matter: Ropes of cum stripe along wetdream’s belly only seconds later as his head falls back to expose his throat. Hob wants to bite it, to leave his mark so wetdream would never forget him.

The mental image is enough to send Hob over the edge himself.

hobgoblin: gorgeous

wetdream gives a shaky smile as he lies against his pillows, and Hob reaches for a tissue from the box beside him. To his surprise, he sees a message when he looks back at the screen.

wetdream: Do you want me to taste myself? hobgoblin: if you want to? i don’t have much of a preference in either direction.

That might change, he thinks as wetdream swipes a finger through the mess on his stomach. Hob’s heart skips a beat when wetdream sucks the cum from his fingertip, tongue wrapping around the digit as he stares into the camera as if challenging Hob. Hob’s cock gives a valiant twitch, but there’s nothing he can do about it.

He glances at the clock—it’s only been half an hour, and he’s already spent.

wetdream: You still have thirty-two minutes left. Is there anything else you would like? hobgoblin: no, you were wonderful. i enjoyed myself

wetdream grins before visibly tamping down on it. Shaking his head, he taps at the screen of his tablet.

wetdream: I am glad. wetdream: I enjoyed myself, as well. hobgoblin: thank you for a great time. good night, beautiful

wetdream comes closer to the camera, smiles once more, then the screen goes to the landing page. Hob slumps in his seat and runs his clean hand over his face. Well, that was… something.

There’s a partial refund on his credit card the next morning.

Unfortunately for Hob, the private show spawns something like an addiction. There’s an undeniably impossible-to-resist quality about wetdream that Hob can’t quite explain, not even to himself, so he doesn’t try. He merely adjusts his budget more and more, picking up extra shifts as often as he can to afford living expenses and the live-cams. As long as they don’t interfere with wetdream’s showings. He’s noticed a pattern to the cams, so he tries to schedule his life around them. It isn’t always possible to make it to one—he has to miss a handful over the next two months, between working and Matthew being in the room—but he tries.

He always makes sure to tell wetdream how beautiful he is.

Three months after Malachi sent the link, the term is over, and Hob is heading back home for the summer. His mum has been pestering him about it, and he’s missed his family fiercely. He hadn’t known just how much wetdream’s cams had been affecting his life until he checked the calendar just last week and realised he had only been back home twice a month since the cams started.

“Robbie!”

Hob grins and envelops his mother in a tight hug. She squeezes him once before stepping back. Frowning, Elizabeth runs her thumbs under his eyes.

“I’m fine, Mum.”

“You haven’t been sleeping well.”

No, I’m stupidly infatuated with a sex worker and can’t stop thinking about him. “You know how school is,” he says with a shrug before grabbing his bag. “Dad at home?”

He settles into his childhood bedroom with ease. It’s gone through some significant changes over the years. No longer filled with posters of cartoon characters or Formula 1 cars or toys meant for a seven-year-old little boy, the room suits him well enough now. He sets his bag on the floor by the wardrobe then sits on the bed.

He’s just begun thinking about wetdream—again—when a small form slams into his side. Hob chuckles as he pushes at his little sister’s shoulder until she backs away. Maggie beams before hugging him. Hob closes his eyes as he holds her close.

At only eleven years old, Margaret is the baby of the four children. She should be a spoiled princess, but she’s rather well-rounded and down to Earth. At the very least, there is little that Hob can complain about that isn’t typical younger sibling behaviour.

He presses a kiss to Maggie’s hair before releasing her. “What are you doing home already? Don’t you have school?”

“Mum said I can get out early today since you were coming home. Besides, it’s the last day anyway. We never do anything on the last day.”

“Fair enough.”

Hob sighs and stares at his sister. Her blonde hair has been plaited today, and her hazel eyes sparkle with delight as she sits beside him on his bed, grinning. There’s a small stain of chocolate on the collar of her uniform jumper.

Her gaze slides around the room before alighting on the guitar leaning against the far wall. “Oh, can you please play Black Bird?”

“Which version?”

“From the movie!”

Hob laughs and nods. If his baby sister wants a song, a song she will get. So once the instrument is in hand, he quickly wipes off the dust, tunes the strings, then begins to play.

Before he knows it, three weeks have gone by. He’s found a job in the library, so he spends his days helping patrons find books and makes small talk with everyone. It’s a lot like his job in the university bookstore but less stressful. He doesn’t have fellow students yelling at him because they’re late for class or the books are too expensive.

Hob’s favourite thing about being home, however, is spending time with his family. Fourteen-year-old Maxwell, Nicolette and Andrew at seventeen, and of course, Maggie. His parents. Even his neighbours who never really liked him but now think he’s an exemplary young man for attending uni and holding down a ‘respectable’ job.

‘Respectable’. What makes a job respectable, Hob wonders. Perhaps it’s that he’s not stripping or whoring himself out. Or running a cam service.

Cam service.

Hob swears to himself, startling his family at the dinner table. His mother admonishes him for his language, despite the fact that the twins curse just as often as he does, and Max and Maggie have heard far worse. But he doesn’t care. He’d completely forgotten. How?

He forces himself to eat his dinner at a normal pace, even helps clean up as an apology to his mum for swearing around his siblings. As soon as she shoos him away, Hob nearly sprints up the stairs to his old bedroom.

It’s Friday which means, if he’s held to the pattern, wetdream has a showing tonight. Right about… now, actually. Hob hurries to log into his account and skims the listings until he finds the name of the correct live-cam. Blowing out a breath of relief that his card hasn’t been declined, he locks his bedroom door then sits on his bed, leaning against the wall.

The video is dark still, and Hob chews on his thumbnail as he wonders what wetdream could possibly be doing to prepare. He’s already growing hard just with the mental images of all the possibilities. He could be stroking himself until he’s erect, opening himself up for a plug to keep him ready for toys.

Hob’s thoughts stutter as the feed begins. wetdream sits on his bed already, legs crossed and showing off the high heels and stockings he wears. The sheer, black corset he’s donned accentuates the straight lines of his body, and it would look awkward on anyone else. But on him, Hob thinks it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen.

hobgoblin: hello beautiful

Hob has never witnessed anyone truly lighting up like this, not outside of Maggie on Christmas morning when their parents had given her a guinea pig. But wetdream does now. He doesn’t smile, his expression doesn’t change, but there’s something in his eyes that gives away his delight. Hob’s chest fills with a warmth he can’t describe. He’s the reason wetdream is so happy right now. He has to be.

Something about wetdream’s room is different. It takes Hob a moment to place it: He’s moved his bed. He’s moved his bed to make room for the silver pole in the centre of the room. A shiver slides down Hob’s spine at the thought of what’s to come.

Hob doesn’t send any messages while he watches wetdream work. And work wetdream does. He doesn’t strip this time, not really, but that’s fine. He’s gorgeous regardless as he undulates his hips against the pole, as he spins and nearly hovers off the floor, held firmly up by his thighs against the metal. Hob hides the chat-box when someone says it could be their pole that wetdream works.

Hob nearly comes to the sight of blue eyes staring directly into the camera and a kissable lower lip caught between teeth as wetdream plunges his hand between waist and lacy underwear. As he pulls his cock free. As he strokes himself teasingly, like he wants to put on one helluva show, and maybe he does. Hob lets himself imagine that it’s all for him. He comes a split second after wetdream does.

wetdream licks cum from his hand, and Hob wishes it was him doing it.

He’s just hovered over the X to close out of the tab, feed gone dark once more, when a chat-box pops up in the bottom of his screen.

wetdream: Tomorrow night, midnight. hobgoblin: ?? wetdream: You will see.

Hob raises a brow even as no further messages come in. Deciding to not ask more questions, he closes the tab and reaches for the tissues on his nightstand. He feels like a teenager again, going through puberty and too many tissues to be inconspicuous. He huffs out a laugh as he tosses the tissues into the bin under his desk.

━━━━━━━━━

It’s ten to midnight, and Hob is already logged in. Waiting. His heart races in his chest, and his palms have gone clammy. He repeatedly wipes them on his bare thighs; no point in wearing bottoms, is there, when he’s just going to shove them down in minutes?

A chat-box appears with two minutes to spare. All it contains is an invite link. There is no host information, just a site bot doing the work. Hob knows, though. He knows, so he clicks Accept without hesitation.

He isn’t disappointed: wetdream appears within seconds. The pole is nowhere to be found now, and the bed is back in its original position. He’s wearing the heels again, and Hob stifles a groan low in his throat at how they make wetdream’s legs look even longer. Other than the shoes, he’s completely nude. Hob watches him tap at the screen of his tablet as he settles in on the bed.

wetdream: I get one free credit to give per month. I chose you. hobgoblin: i’m flattered. thank you. wetdream: I have a request of you tonight, if you are amenable to that? hobgoblin: anything, beautiful wetdream: Tell me what you would do to me were you to be here. Tell me what you want of me. hobgoblin: gladly. lie back and let me see you. hobgoblin: god, you’re fucking beautiful. you listen so well.

Hob doesn’t mind that wetdream’s attention isn’t on him, it’s on the messages coming in on the tablet, as Hob tells every dirty fantasy he’s carried with him over the last four months. He’d kiss wetdream until they were both breathless, unable to speak. He’d suck wetdream’s cock until he was coming down Hob’s throat. Hob would bring wetdream to his knees and fuck his mouth before coming all over his face. He’d bend the gorgeous, perfect man over the nearest surface, open him up so slowly and gently, then fuck him until they were too exhausted to move anymore. He’d fuck him with the points of wetdream’s heels digging into his back, leaving bruises to remind Hob of their union.

Or maybe, maybe, Hob would let wetdream fuck him into the mattress. He has a feeling the man is hiding some serious strength in that slender body of his.

hobgoblin: play with your arse, love, beautiful one. come when you want, i’m watching.

wetdream nods rapidly, hand nearly a blur as he jerks himself off. He clenches his teeth, eyes squeezing closed, then his release is spilling free over his fist and abdomen. Some even manages to reach his chest.

It takes Hob an embarrassingly short amount of time to come after that.

You have a way with words, wetdream messages once he’s cleaned himself up, something he’s never done on camera before.

hobgoblin: only for you wetdream: You stayed away for quite some time. I hope all is well?

And is that… That’s apprehension, nervousness, on wetdream’s face. Hob groans at that before typing out yeah, everything is fine. sorry to make you worry. Something twists in wetdream’s expression, and he scowls at the screen.

wetdream: I did not worry. I was merely curious. wetdream: Have a good night, hobgoblin. hobgoblin: it’s hob.

The video cuts out but not before Hob sees wetdream mouthing his name to himself. Hob wipes away his mess then crawls into bed.

There is no live-cam the next week or the next. There is no live-cam until Hob is back at uni, six weeks after the free private show.

Hob still calls wetdream beautiful, but wetdream doesn’t seem to notice. Or care.

It’s almost Christmas by the time anything changes. Matthew refuses to leave the room, moping about being so far from home during the holidays, and Hob takes pity on the young man. He invites Matthew to spend Christmas with the Gadling family. Matthew grins and accepts cheerily; any sense of melancholy is gone now, as if a demon banished by an exorcism.

Andrew protests but finally concedes to giving up his room for Matthew, to sharing a bed with Maxwell. Hob, thankfully, gets his room to himself still. It’s bad enough sharing a room as a grown adult, but to share a bed? He’d rather sleep outside in the snow.

Hob waits until the others are in bed before locking his door and opening his laptop. He highly doubts wetdream would be hosting a showing tonight, so near to Christmas, but he wants to check anyway. A site bot has sent another message: Happy Christmas followed by a link.

Hob clicks.

wetdream: You were right. I was… concerned. I grew accustomed to you being in the viewer list, to your messages calling me beautiful.

Hob grins, shaking his head, and types back: you’re forgiven, beautiful.

wetdream: I thought perhaps I could show my remorse by giving you an early Christmas present. hobgoblin: far be it from me to turn down a gift ;)

wetdream smiles on camera, a shy little thing, before sitting back in his seat, showing more than just his head. He’s wearing a red negligee with a ribbon wrapped around his throat, tied in a bow beneath his chin. He chews on his bottom lip, and Hob realises with a start he’s wearing lipstick. Not much, just enough to give more colour, and he’s never wanted to kiss wetdream this much before.

His cock stirs, and he has to agree with the sentiment. This is—

hobgoblin: you are absolutely stunning, love, darling dream come true wetdream: Thank you, but just Dream is acceptable.

Dream. Fucking Hell, of course he’d want to be called Dream. And what a dream he is. Hob pinches himself to make sure this is real, that this is wetdream—Dream—baring himself as a present for Hob.

hobgoblin: it suits you. can i ask you to show me more of you?

Dream—God, fucking Dream—dips his chin and stands. The camera fills with the spread of sheer red and a half-hard cock in a thatch of black hair, then Dream steps back. Hob nods in approval at what he sees, the most perfect present he’s ever received, and types out a request for Dream to surprise him tonight. He wants to know how Dream would please him, by his own choices.

Dream obeys because he always does. He opens himself up, fucks himself on the dildo from before, as he types out a wish that it was Hob filling him. That it was Hob who was stroking his dick and that Hob would leave bruises on his skin to remind him of everything wonderful. He promises he gives the best blowjobs of anyone he knows—he should know, there was a competition involved. He’d make Hob so happy if Hob were there.

hobgoblin: come for me, love. god, i’ve missed seeing you like this. just for me, aren’t you?

Dream taps something, then “Only for you” comes through Hob’s speakers, a low whine of a voice that sends a shiver down Hob’s spine. Breathless pants, and a broken “Only for you, Hob.”

Hob comes at the sound of his name falling from such beautiful, kissable lips.

“Dream, fuck, Dream,” Hob groans, cum dripping down his fist, and he watches as Dream reaches his own climax on-screen.

He hesitates as Dream cleans up, as Dream approaches the computer once more. Throwing caution to the wind, he hurriedly types his phone number into the chat-box and bites down on the edge of his thumbnail as Dream reads the message. His eyes widen, gaze darting to the camera, and Hob can hear the quickening of his breath.

“Hob…”

hobgoblin: you don��t have to use it. just wanted you to have it just in case you wanted to. happy early christmas, dream of mine.

Dream closes out of the live-cam without response.

━━━━━━━━━

Unknown Number: Are you busy?

Hob stares at the text. It’s Christmas morning, and he’s meant to be downstairs right now. But he has a feeling he knows who’s texting him two days after he gave them the number in the first place.

Hob: Not if this is who I think it is.

The maybe-mysterious texter sends back a photograph of a very familiar body. Hob’s gaze trails along the well-known stature, the valleys and curves of muscle and the fine delicacy of bones. He’s just lined his camera up to take a picture of his own when someone knocks on the door.

“C’mon, Robbie, Mum won’t let us open presents until you come down!”

“I’ll be right there, Mags.”

“You better, or I’m throwing all yours in the fireplace.”

Her footsteps stomp back down the stairs, and Hob laughs quietly before typing out a message.

Hob: Happy Christmas, Dream. I, unfortunately, have a little sister who’s threatening the very survival of my gifts if I don’t get downstairs now. Luckily, she can’t take you from me, can she? 😉 Dream: No. She cannot. Happy Christmas, Hob.

Somehow, his parents have scrounged up gifts for Matthew. Hob has a feeling they were originally meant to be for him, but he’s willing to give up a few presents if it means making his friend happy and feel included. After presents have been put away, there comes breakfast, and Matthew fits in perfectly. He’s on his best behaviour which is a side to him Hob never thought he’d see.

All in all, it’s a pleasant time that only exacerbates the buzzing joy in his veins that comes from having Dream.

He knows it isn’t real. That Dream doesn’t truly care for him. That Dream saying he was only Hob’s was meant to make Hob feel special, to make him willing to pay more money. But goddamn it, Hob wants to hold onto the charade just a while longer. He’ll face reality soon enough. Now is not the time.

He eventually sends a photo of himself to Dream. Might as well let the man see who he’s been giving free private shows to. Might as well show him what he’s getting if only he knew.

Two weeks after the start of term finds Hob roaming around the campus. He’s been attending this university for two years, and there is still so much he doesn’t know about it. Once his face is sufficiently, painfully numb, he ducks into the campus coffeeshop and joins the queue. He needs caffeine and heat. Now.

He turns with his latte in hand, coming to a stop at the sight of two people at the corner table. One is a dark-skinned woman with gold wire-rimmed glasses, wearing an impeccable peacoat and trousers. The other…

The other is clearly Dream.

Hob would recognise that hair anywhere. The pale skin, the blue eyes shining in the weak January sunlight. The woman glances over, frowns, then says something. Dream’s lips tug down, and he turns his head to follow her gaze. His eyes widen when they land on Hob. His lips move, but Hob can’t understand what he’s saying.

Hob approaches the table slowly, carefully, as if the earth will open up and swallow him whole. Instead, he reaches the table without issue, and he smiles down at Dream.

“Hi.”

Dream lets out a soft sigh, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, before he glances at his friend. “Lucienne, I’m afraid I must go.”

“Oh. Of course. I’ll phone you later.”

Dream merely nods, rising to his feet, and Hob moves aside so he can pass. Once outside and halfway down the block, Dream turns to him and opens his mouth. No words come, not for a long moment, then Hob interrupts.

“You’re more beautiful in person.”

Dream exhales sharply, fists the lapels of Hob’s jacket, and pushes him against the brick wall of a building. Hob barely gets out a sound of surprise before Dream is kissing him. Heat floods Hob’s veins, his skin, his entire being as he focuses on the taste of coffee and mint and Dream, oh fuck, is this really happening? He wraps his arms around Dream’s waist, tugs him in closer, and yes. This is real.

“I have been wanting to do that since Christmas,” Dream admits when he pulls away.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the first time I saw you.” He pauses, leans forward to kiss Dream once more. “Come back to mine?”

Dream nods and lets Hob lead him away.

Thankfully, Matthew is at class by the time Hob unlocks the door. He shuts it quickly behind Dream, pinning the man between body and wood, and kisses him again. And again. He makes quick work of unbuttoning Dream’s long coat, of sliding his hand along the hard plane of Dream’s abdomen, to wrap around his hip.

“What do you want me to do?” Dream whispers, and Hob nips at his bottom lip. “Hob…”

“Let me see you, love. I need to see you.”

Dream doesn’t bother putting on a show as he strips down to nothing, leaving his clothes in a pile at his feet. Hob groans and drops to his knees, presses a soft kiss to the head of Dream’s cock. Beautiful, he whispers before taking it in his mouth.

Dream shouts, hand immediately burying in Hob’s hair, and that’s all it takes. Hob sucks and licks and swirls his tongue around the head, takes Dream in all the way to the root until his nose is buried in coarse hair. Swallows around the cock in the back of his throat until Dream comes with a bitten-off cry and quivering thighs.

Opening Dream up is a fucking glorious gift from Heaven. He whines so wonderfully, shoves down onto Hob’s fingers with wanton moans, obeys when Hob tells him to roll onto his belly. Arse on display, Dream shudders as Hob runs a hand along his flank, lets out a broken sound when Hob pushes in. And Hob could die with that sound. He does as he promised so long ago: He fucks Dream in alternating patterns, rough countered by tender, until Dream is panting and Hob’s arms tremble from holding himself up.

Someone knocks on the door. Matthew’s voice calls for Hob, “I forgot my key, open up.”

“Go the fuck away,” Hob grits out, sliding his hand beneath Dream’s body to grasp onto his cock.

Hob comes first, out of breath and satisfied as he spills into Dream with abandon. He presses a soft kiss to Dream’s shoulder, bites down on the smooth skin.

“Come for me, my dream. Let me feel you.”

Dream’s breath comes out in a shuddering sob, and he thrusts forward into Hob’s tight grip over and over, moving between fist to cock then back again. Hob bites down harder, soothing the spot with his tongue.

“Come,” he all but growls into the skin.

Dream does.

Hob pulls Dream to the side once he’s finished, holds him close out of the mess he’s made, and Dream exhales shakily. Hob runs a gentle hand along Dream’s stomach and kisses the curve of his neck.

“I know this is a bit backwards,” he murmurs as soon as he catches his breath again, “but have dinner with me.”

Dream hums in response, nodding slowly, and Hob realises he’s fallen asleep when there comes the sound of soft snores. Deciding class can wait for another day, he burrows his face into the back of Dream’s neck and lets himself drift away. He can deal with Matthew later.

(Matthew retaliates by telling Hob’s mother all about her son’s new boyfriend.)

#the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream of the endless x hob gadling #dream x hob #dreamling #my writing #dreamling bingo

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bluehwale · 2 years

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Do u have any ateez angst fic recommendations with no happy endings cause I’m having trouble finding some and I just want to cry and be hurt for some reason ⁉️⁉️

hi anon!! i just realized that atinyblr is kinda deprived of angst fics with no happy endings bcs im actlly struggling rn but here's a list i came up with:

ateez fics that made me go ✌(TεT) at my vanity mirror

note. my asks are always open for angsty or any atz fic recs!! i'll be waiting

subtle variations of heartbreak — by @nonclassyparty

... ateez x fem! reader | status: completed ...

college au, high school au, lovers to exes, unrequited love, friends with benefits, Angst with a capital a, smut, fluff.

this has been in my tbr for a very long while (which reminds me,,, i really need to read it) but an irl recommended this to me and said, "i hate men brb kms." (her words, not mine) and i trust her judgement with my life so i know that this will absolutely tear ur heart into two :-D

also,,, i have read a few chapters of starring role also by nonclassyparty and let me tell u this author's angst hits different LIKE im pretty sure i felt smth close to a heartburn when i read them (10/10 experience would recommend)

SHE LOVES ME, HE LOVES ME NOT [part one] [part one and a half] — by @thelargefrye

... poly! ateez with yunho centric x idol! f! reader | total wc: 2.3k ...

idol au, angst, hurt / no comfort, fluff on part one and a half only.

i will eat up any fic where the mc gets into arguments/ fights with a member to the point where they're torn between listening to their lover or their pride

then they finally end up listening to their pride and the silent treatment sTARTS AND IT SEEMS LIKE THERE'S NO WAY TO FIX THINGS—

yes i have raging issues (pls read this fic)

the alliance — by @wordstro

... villain! wooyoung x gn! hero! reader | status: completed ...

hero/villain au, angst

i honestly can't recall whether this series has a happy ending or not bcs it's one of the first fics i read in atinyblr BUT i know it's angsty af

the reader is a hero in a team with a few other hero! ateez members as well but there's the remaining members who are villains

and they </33 fight against each other </333 even though they used to be cLose friends </33 or even lovers </33

you should just check out this author's ateez masterlist bc im pretty sure they hv a number of angst fics ++ their writing perfectly capture emotions (you can deadass feel it through the screen)

Memento mori — by @jaehunnyy

... soulmate! seonghwa x gn! reader | wc: 1k ...

soulmate au, severe angst, main character death.

soulmate au sniffles with a main character death sNiffles

u can never look at pink hwa the same way after reading this fic CONSIDER THIS A WARNING

chip is such an amazing author and this one hurteD (im charging my therapy bills to your card!!!!!)

but anyways, that is it for the very short rec list!!! these are just some fics at the top of my head rn so pls pls send in some angst fic recs bcs i need them xx

#answered #give it up for these amazing authors!!!! 😤😤😤#ateez fic rec #anon

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wojenka · 9 months

Note

can u tell us ab ur self harm journey? r u in recovery now? xx wishing u well ! - fellow self harmer

It started when I was around 11 years old. I don't exactly know why i started doing this but i did. At some point I stopped then I came back to sh around 2019 (12-13yo) mostly cause my anxiety problems that were heavily related to music school and how people would treat me there and also regular school this time not cause of people there but cause of the pressure my mother would put on me. it got even worse in 2020 when exams were getting close. Then in 2022 i started high school (technikum) or what would be considered college in most of countries. Programming major. I thought that i finally escaped my problems and I felt like I fit in then one boy started stalking me, sending me death threats, encouraging me to self harm. So it got worse again. School didn't do anything about this situation mostly cause one of his parents is an attorney or whatever so I am still in the same class with him. The only punishment he got is having to go to our school therapist every week. My anxiety and my mental health in general got worse. I had friends in real life but I also started looking for friends online. I met a lot of good people but also a lot of people who weren't good for me. Some of those people even made me believe that it's actually ok for me to cut myself and they made me cut for them and send them pictures of it. It made me feel loved for a bit but then I started feeling grossed out by it. And that's the point when everything gets better. I met my bf and he was different than most of people i talked to at the time. He made me stop for a bit. Then it got worse cause of a situation that I don't want to talk about. But now it's getting better again. I'm currently in recovery. It's hard sometimes but I try my best. As for today I'm 2 full weeks clean! I hope everything gets better for you too. I'm also wishing you well and I really hope today will be a happy day for you, anon! <3

#ask.answered();

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rrxnjun · 2 years

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well music taste is also kind of questionable since i don't really mind his music at all (although my taste in music is questionable for a lot of other reasons too lmaooo) i added all of them to my watch later (but the fact that jack manifold is in those videos and he is one of my fav streamers just makes them probably even better)

AHHH IM GLAD U LIKED THEM!!🥳you're here that's the thing is just such a nice song i'm glad that it's ur fav 🥹🥹

i kind of liked the chilling adventures of sabrina although i never finished the first season cuz i just for some reason can never finish shows🫡 but it also didn't become my fav show so i understand why didn't watch it🫡 ooo i never saw friend dahmer was it good??:o PASS ME BY IS ONE OF THEIR BEST SONGS OUTTHERE and tbh i deff recommend red velvet, if, lay your head down, easy love, heart made up on you (these are probably my favs from them but i'm not sure whether u will end up liking them or not😟)

dude i've been vibing so much to my by yael on my way to school that song is so🤌like that songs just adds life to my mornings!! i swear why is it so hard to find artist in native languages🥲tbh i was struggling so much with finding hungarian artists as well but then i found like three good ones and the rest i'm just trying to force myself to like (or more so ignore the thing that i don't like like cringy lyrics xd) ohh that probably makes sense why they feel nostalgic then!! thank u for telling me🥲

MY CLASS TRIP GOT CANCELED CUZ NOT ENOUGH PEOPLE APPLIED (?) FOR IT😭😭so sadly i'm not going anymore☹️☹️☹️☹️but i hope one day i will get another chance to go to slovakia☹️

(and school has been kicking my ass lately so sorry for the kind of late reply☹️ liebestraum anon💕)

ppls taste in music is sometimes so weird but somehow it makes sense. also i love how diverse it can get like u can find ppl who really do listen to a LOT of genres and i think thats great !!!! and even tho i do clown myself for my music taste sometimes,, at the end of the day its music and supposed to make ppl happy and thats what matters the most 🥰 ALSO JACK MANIFOLD IS SO FUNNY ISTG hes my fav guest on these 😩💕

i get u!!! if i dont hyper obsess over a show i hardly ever finish any either 😭😭 i dont get how ppl can push themselves through shows they dont like. omg my friend dahmer was...less chilling then the dahmer netfix series for sURE also i think evan peters did a better job than ross did at portraying him but it wasnt a bad movie imo! for obvious reasons i cant say i enjoyed watching it but i definitely dont regret it. ALSO I REALISED I KNOW ALL THOSE R5 SONGS U RECOMMENDED I JUST FORGOT ABOUT THEM AHAHAHA am i secretly an r5 stan and didnt know abt it ???? thanks for refreshing my memory i fucking lOOVE red velvet especially

the lyrics to my are also soso pretty imo!! a lyric from the song is my spotify playlist name LMAO its such a screamable song. its dedicated to his daughter 😌😌 altho i wont talk abt this bc i find the whole situation kind of..uhh yeah (love me some slovak drama). AHAHA i get u w the artists in your language!! i wish we had slovak artists that make music in the vibe of the artists u recommended to me :(

OH NOOO :((( NO BRATISLAVA FOR U THEN 🤧🤧🤧 id be bummed bro i loved class trips. we dont get those at uni anymore its depressing 😭😭 the first time i was in bratislava i was impressed w the old town centre i kept taking pictures bc i have a weird obsession w pretty buildings AHAHA hope u can visit some other time!!

its okay also!! my replies are so late as well so dont worry abt it😩 hope school is easier for u soon!! have a great day xx im rooting for u!!

#💌ask #liebestraum anon

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lfcthelovesofmylife · 2 years

Text

My Opinions on the England NT players

Luke Shaw -

literally looks like he’s 15 and 35 at the same time in some pictures. To this day I don’t know how old he actually is. Have not seen him play a single Man U match this season (i don’t like Man U so i don’t watch their matches but still). Does he still play football? I don’t know. Good goal against Italy so i have to give him some praise for that but i genuinely don’t know anything about him.

Mason Mount -

I cannot lie, I think I fell in love with him the moment I saw him. If love at first sight exists I think this is it. I would do anything for this man. He looks like he’d sit with you on a bench in your school gym and let you cry on his shoulder (defo not based on real life experiences). What more can I say about him? I would burn the world down for him and then jump off of a cliff if he asked me to. 10/10 especially after missing his pen in the FA cup final. He did that for me xx

Trent Alexander-Arnold -

Also the sexiest mf I’ve ever seen. Assist king. He seems like a bitch sometimes but I still love him. Does look like if you were nice to him he’d be nice back. Very proud of his achievements. Do just want to find him and give him a massive hug sometimes. I like the new haircut much more. It’s grown on me, he better not change it or some sorry words will be said. Hope he gets picked for the next England matches but I don’t want him to get injured because I’m not mentally stable enough to deal with that.

Tyrone Mings -

Literally the height of a fucking tree. He’d absolutely destroy me and my five foot two self with just a push. Quite scared of him but at the same time he looks like he’d invite me in for a cuppa and a few biscuits if I was walking past his house in the pouring rain. Probably has a kind soul but I wouldn’t want to get on the bad side of him.

Kyle Walker -

Kind of reminds me of a pigeon. I don’t know why, he just seems to have that familiar blank stare. Looks like he’d bark at you for stealing his sandwich in Tesco’s which he never actually bought. Do find him quite funny but that might just be when he’s with John. Overall I wouldn't particularly want to be besties with him.

Jesse Lingard -

Absolute icon. JLingz. Has the most adorable daughter, she’s so precious. Easily one of the funniest players in the game. I can already tell we’d be best friends. Especially love him after the reports that he got into a scrap with Hazza Maguire. Deserves the world. I hope I get to meet him one day.

Marcus Rashford -

Looks like a kind man. Don’t know if we’d get along because we’d fight over who’s Jesse’s better friend. Can already tell he’d try and make me a home-cooked meal if I ever said I was hungry. Would no doubt constantly try to give me food. I’d have to convince him he’s actually a good footballer because Ralf never plays him in matches. Looks like he’d get very emotional sometimes.

Jack Greasy…I mean Grealish -

Don’t like him because he’s a bit of a bellend but I have to admit he’s extremely funny. Doesn’t seem like he has a single brain cell left so it would probably be very difficult to have an actual conversation with him. I salute his girlfriend for putting up with him. I could probably drive better than him. I don’t have my driver’s licence.

Hazza Maguire -

Absolutely terrified of him. Would probably tell me to go back to my own country. If I saw him begin to walk towards me I’d run the other way. He’d try and fight me because I’d tell him he’s a shit footballer. Nothing more to say. Traumatises me just thinking about it.

Jude Bellingham -

Absolute sweetheart in my opinion. Looks like he’d protect you from all those creepy guys at a house party or club. Would definitely cover your drink if you had to go somewhere for a quick second. Seems like a lovely guy. Want to see more of his personality on the England youtube channel.

Jordan Pickford -

Hate him but at the same time I love him. He’s so funny and for what. Suddenly manages to bring out all the skills for England but he’s horrendous for Everton. Might just be because it’s Everton. I do want to punch him sometimes. Wouldn’t be surprised if someone from the team already has.

Phil Foden -

Looks like a prick. He always looks like he’s going to complain about something. Would not be able to stand the guy for a single second. He just looks annoying. I see him on my tv and immediately change the channel. Every time I see his face I want to punch it.

Jordan Henderson-

DILF. He is the definition of a gentleman. Looks like he’d hold the door open for you if he saw you walking down the corridor. Just seems like the best person to work with. Has an absolute heart of gold. Would sell my soul for him 100%. The best captain in the Premier League. In my opinion he should be captain of England but Gareth doesn’t like Liverpool players. I know he’d give me a whole motivational speech if I told him I was going to give up on my education. He’d 110% hold you in his arms while you cried for a whole hour.

Ben Chilwell -

Looks a bit like a Lego man. He has a very square head and I don’t know how to feel about it. He has some of the stupidest tattoos I’ve ever seen but in all fairness he’s a good player. Just don’t support some of the things he’s done (but I won’t go into that). Does look like a massive weirdo. Would probably be a bit scared of him when he’s drunk.

Raheem Sterling -

Runs a bit like a dinosaur. Very good player just don’t like the fact he left Liverpool for City. The only good thing about that is the fact that he’s managed to get a decent trim now. Arguably one of the best players in the England squad but i’m still holding a grudge against him.

Hazza Kane -

Looks like he might call me a racial slur. I would 100% be able to absolutely hammer him in a fight. Don’t really like him at all. How are you captain of your national team if you can’t even be captain of Spurs. SPURS. It’s just a bit embarrassing on his behalf.

Reece James -

As I said previously, he looks like he’d absolutely batter you in a fight but he’d also give you a really good hug if you were sad. Reminds me of a teddy bear. Seems like he’d have a bit of a short temper, but as long as you were his friend you wouldn’t be in danger. If you weren’t, good luck to you (RIP).

Jadon Sancho -

Proper joke man. Again, I’d be best friends with him because I think we have a very similar sense of humour. Would no doubt annoy every single member of the team. We’d be banned from seeing each other because we’re too annoying together. Is he okay? I haven’t seen him play in a long time.

Declan Rice -

My boyfriend’s best friend. We’d also be best friends. There are too many funny players in this squad, but this guy is my absolute favourite of them all. His rendition of ‘Ice, Ice, Baby’ brought tears to my eyes. Should be the new national anthem. Extremely happy he’s got a much better trim now. Does need a bit of a tan though, he looks ghostly white sometimes. He should ask Mason where the best tanning beds are.

Kalvin Phillips and Kieran Trippier -

Had to put these two together because I genuinely have no opinion of them. Literally who are they.

Bukayo Saka -

Looks like such a nice guy. The type of guy you’d bring home to meet your parents. Would offer you popcorn if he saw you around, and would always ask how you’re doing and actually mean it. Wins the award for ‘Nicest Guy’. Don’t understand how anyone could not like him. Would probably cry with you while you’re crying.

John Stones -

Perfect name for him tbh. Looks like he’s stoned half the time. He’d probably punch the Hazza’s for calling you a racial slur. Would be the best person to get drunk with, he’d probably try and give you (really bad) relationship advice and then convince you to sing Valerie by Amy Winehouse with him. Overall a decent guy, only downside is that he plays for City.

#mason mount #trent alexander arnold #declan rice #bukayo saka #jesse lingard #marcus rashford #john stones #jordan henderson #tyrone mings #jadon sancho #jude bellingham #mason mount imagine #trent alexander arnold imagine #declan rice imagine #marcus rashford imagine #john stones imagine #keira's random writing x

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honeypiehotchner · 3 years

Text

painfully professional (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- one shot

Special thank u to @vcodns for sending an ask about this wip and helping give my brain the last kick to finally finish it xx.

Summary: You’re a new agent with the BAU and everyone has warmed up to you except your boss. It’s tearing you apart, but you don’t know why.

Warnings: angsty beginning, fluffy ending, mentions of being stood up on a date

(i feel like i use this gif too much but idc it’s so cute look at HIM)

Something you’ve always been proud of yourself for is your ability to mesh into any existing environment. Starting at a new school almost every year made it normal to you, so when you picked up your life and moved to Quantico, Virginia, for a temporary position at the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, you weren’t scared.

In fact, on your first day, you made friends with basically everyone on the team. You bonded with the resident genius over your nerdier interests. You found a connection with Penelope Garcia this way, too, that then traveled into your love for all things bright and colorful. She showed you her office and you were practically in heaven.

Derek Morgan wasn’t hard to become friends with at all, but Penelope warned you about him being a huge flirt. Lucky for him, you know how to flirt right back, and that made him grin and say, “I like you.”

Emily Prentiss looked you up and down when you met her, but your love for coffee won her over. When JJ joined the two of you in the kitchen to grab her own coffee, Emily mentioned JJ’s son, Henry, and you wasted no time asking questions about him, letting JJ gush over her baby boy. You used to do a lot of babysitting in your hometown, so you understood entirely when JJ told you about Henry’s recent tantrums with starting school.

You already knew David Rossi, having seen him a few times at visits to the academy, and it was on his recommendation that you even got this position with the BAU.

The only person you struggled to be friends with was the unit chief, Aaron Hotchner.

Granted, he’s your boss, so you don’t exactly need to be friends with him. But being friend-ly wouldn’t hurt, and that seemed harder than anything you’ve ever done.

Now, a month and a half into your time here at the BAU, Aaron -- or Hotch, rather, as everyone calls him -- hasn’t changed or warmed up to you one bit.

At first, you assumed it was just the way he is. He did lose his ex-wife just a year earlier, now raising his son, Jack, on his own. That’s a lot to go through.

But then, you heard him telling jokes with Spencer, smiling at JJ, and telling Penelope how much he appreciates her efforts, and you started to get confused.

It’s not that you want to fish for compliments or praise because that’s something you could care less about. You just want a smile. That’s it.

The most Hotch says to you is “Good morning,” or “Hello,” or “You’re with--” whoever you’re splitting up with on a case. Nothing else.

You’ve tried initiating conversations multiple times. You hate it, but you’ve even gone as far as sitting next to him on the jet, but still nothing. Complete silence, or once, the last time you sat next to him, he moved seats.

It’s pathetic to think about, but it made you tear up a little.

You finally, finally work up the courage to go into his office and ask him the single question that has been bugging you. “Is my work satisfactory?”

Hotch looks up from his paperwork with a raised eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Am I doing a good job?” You ask again. “Is there anything I can do better?”

He stares at you for a second, his pen hovering barely a centimeter above the paper. “Nothing is coming to mind. Why?”

You shake your head slowly, realizing you’re not going to get anything from him. “I just wanted to check, that’s all.”

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll...let you know if I see anything. But, so far, you’ve been doing great. Seriously.”

“Thank you,” you say, trying not to look or sound too bubbly.

Yes, it’s the only praise he’s given you since being here, but it’s not the answer you thought you’d hear. You were certain you must’ve been doing something wrong that he was waiting for you to bring up, that maybe it was something minor that a green agent wouldn’t notice, that by you asking him if you’re doing your job effectively would be a sign of your self-awareness.

Maybe you’re too self-aware. Maybe that’s the problem.

+++

The third hour ticks by and you finally give up. The waiter feels terrible for you obviously being stood up, so he tells you the drink you ordered is on the house. You gather your things and make the walk of shame from your half-empty table for two through the crowded restaurant.

It could just be your shame, but you swear you see the other patrons giving you sympathy glances.

You’ve made this walk more than you’d like to say. You don’t know what it is, why you can’t seem to land a date. You’ve tried. You’ve been trying. But tonight might be your breaking point. This might be it.

When you told your best friend about your troubles at work, she asked you if you had feelings for your boss.

You promptly denied the accusation and to prove your point, said you had a date tonight. Which you didn’t, not at the time, but because you never back down on a point, you found a date.

Only to get stood up. Again.

The angry and hurt tears fall down your face when you reach the sidewalk. It doesn’t help that ever since your best friend accused you of liking your boss, you’ve started noticing things. Things like why have you been so eager for his approval? Is it really only because you want to do your job well, or is it something more? Is it something it shouldn’t be?

Something else that doesn’t help matters is that you took an Uber to this restaurant. Like an optimistic idiot. You should’ve just driven, but you wanted some wine. You didn’t order any, though. Drinking alone only makes the feeling of loneliness worse.

“Y/N?”

Your eyes widen and in a split second, you’re wiping your tears and putting on a brave face. “Sir. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Please,” Hotch chuckles lightly, something he has never done around you, and the sound makes your head spin. “We’re not in the office. Feel free to call me Aaron.”

“Okay…”

“Hotch is fine too,” he offers, noticing your skepticism. “Is everything alright?”

“Yep, yeah,” you nod, shifting your weight on your feet. “All good.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, raising his eyebrows in soft sincerity. “I don’t want to pry, but I did just see you crying.”

You sigh, knowing the look in his eyes all too well. The pity. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend to care,” you murmur. Oh, God. You sound like a pathetic teenager. You seriously need to get a grip.

Hotch stills. That’s not what he was expecting you to say. “Y/N… I do care about you.”

“I’m sorry, I just don’t believe you,” you laugh weakly, wiping your cheeks again as more tears fall. “Sorry, that was...mean, I’m sorry you have to see me like this I’m-- I’m just having a really bad night.”

“If you say so,” he says quietly, backing down. “At least let me walk you to your car.”

“I didn’t drive here, actually,” you sniffle, more tears falling at the admittance as if it’s anything to cry over, but it feels like just one more stupid decision on top of all your others. “I’m stupid.”

“You’re not stupid. Let me drive you home. I’m parked just across the street.”

You hesitate. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he says seriously. “It’s late, and I don’t like the idea of you in a stranger’s car. Let me, please.”

He’s been your boss long enough for you to learn not to argue with him, so you say, “Okay.”

You use the little time it takes to walk to his car to get yourself together. It’s bad enough your boss walked up on you crying after being stood up, and you don’t need to make it worse by being a sobbing mess in his car. You just need to get home and then you can cry in the shower and go to work tomorrow like nothing happened.

That plan is thrown out the window when Hotch opens the passenger door for you. Your eyes widen and your best friend’s words echo in your head. “It sounds like you like him. He’s single, right? What if he feels the same?”

Doubtful. You told her that, too. It’s doubtful. He’s a widow, a single father. What would he want with a young agent like you? Why are you attracted to him?

“You can put your address into the GPS,” he says as he slides in the driver’s seat. “Or just point me in the right direction, whatever you want.”

You opt for pointing. “Just go straight for a little, but you’ll make a left.”

He pulls out onto the street and the silence returns. So do your loud thoughts.

“How was dinner?” He asks, and you scream internally.

“It was. Um. Good.”

He chuckles again, and your heart hammers in your chest. You look over at him and notice for the first time that he’s in casual clothes, a t-shirt and jeans, not his usual suit and tie. It shouldn’t be as attractive as it is, and he shouldn’t look as pretty as he does right now in the low light.

“What?”

“You didn’t sound convincing,” he says. “Was the food bad?”

“I didn’t eat.”

Hotch is silent for a second. “Why?”

You’re sure he knows. You’re sure he’s done every bit of profiling on you to find out all these answers. Still, you humor him. “I uh...I had a date, but he didn’t show up.”

“What?”

“It’s fine,” you exhale, weirdly relieved to have that bit of information out. “Not the first time it’s happened to me.”

He’s quiet for another moment. “Do you...Are you hungry?”

“Not really.”

“That’s too bad,” he says, using a tone you’ve never heard him use before. Playful. “Because there’s this really good Chinese place up here that is open late.”

You feel your stomach quietly rumbling just from the mention of food. It’s a bad idea, though, he’s your boss.

But he looks...hopeful. And damn you, you feel hopeful, too.

“Okay,” you say quietly. “I could go for some Chinese.”

He grins. He actually grins and it knocks the breath from your lungs.

+++

Hotch wasn’t kidding when he said the Chinese restaurant is open late. The two of you sat down around ten, and the next time you look at your phone, it’s nearing midnight.

Conversation has never been easier with him. He has a hidden sense of humor that leaves you in stitches most of the time, and a habit of being a lot goofier than he lets on. It’s exactly the kind of company you needed tonight.

“Thank you for this,” you blurt, not wanting to forget. “I needed this.”

“Me too,” he says. “So thank you for coming with me.”

“Anytime,” you reply before you can stop yourself. “I mean-- Never mind. You know what I mean.”

He smiles, but he says nothing else, and you think he has let it slide.

See? You tell yourself internally. He’s just being friendly, finally. Nothing more.

As promised, Hotch drives you home, and ever the gentleman, he actually gets out to walk you to your front door.

You try to think nothing of it, given that he opened the car door for you earlier too, and then had dinner with you. You chalk it all up to pity, most likely, for the state you were in when he stumbled across you. That alone will haunt you forever.

Hotch stands idly by you while you fish for your key in your purse. While you’re still looking, he says, “I had a good time tonight.”

You freeze, looking up from your purse. “Me too,” you whisper, barely any noise coming from your lips.

He’s closer than he was a moment ago, but you’re not sure if that’s your overthinking mind. He’s looking at you, though, differently than he has before.

Your heart thumps loudly, your eyes locked on his. How did you never notice your feelings before? They seem so obvious when you’re standing here with him, taking in every inch of his face.

“Is it bad that I want to kiss you right now?”

His question stuns you to speechlessness, but you manage to shake your head.

It’s slow. Everything about this has been a slow descent, a losing battle, both of you fighting tooth and nail against your true feelings.

Your purse drops to your feet when your lips finally meet his. Your hands rest on his shoulders, one of his on your waist and the other on your cheek.

His lips are soft, much softer than you’d expect from such a rigid man, but he has shown you his gentle side tonight. You yearn for more of it, for more of him. You don’t know how you never realized.

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, keeping you close. Your arms shift to wrap around his neck, and you can’t help the smile that crawls to your lips.

He has one, too, and he doesn’t even realize it at first. “I have wanted to do that for two months.”

“Why didn’t you?” You murmur.

“I was trying to be professional,” he says, chuckling. “Dave told me I was being stupid.”

You lift your head. “Rossi knows?”

“Are you kidding me? He confronted me about it during your second week. He knows me better than I know myself.”

“Sounds like my best friend,” you laugh. “She accused me of having feelings for you and to prove to her that she was wrong, I had that date tonight.”

“And look how it turned out,” he smiles, kissing you again, sweeter this time. “We should have dinner tomorrow at my place. I’ll cook and we can talk.”

“That sounds really nice,” you admit. “But, if you’ll excuse me, I have a best friend to text and pajamas that are calling my name. It’s pretty late and my boss makes me come in super early,” you tease.

Hotch shakes his head at you, but he’s grinning. “I’m sure he won’t mind if you come in a little later tomorrow.”

“Oh really?”

“As long as you bring him a coffee,” he says. “Something tells me he was out pretty late too, hanging out with this dream girl of his.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Goodnight, you goof.”

He kisses you goodnight once more before letting you go, a weightless feeling in your chest. You send a single text to your friend, knowing she’ll want details tomorrow, Fine, you can say you told me so…

+++

The next morning, you show up at the BAU a little over half an hour late, which is enough to make everyone on the team share glances, but then you walk straight to Hotch’s office.

“Hey,” you knock on the doorway, trying not to smile too hard, knowing you have the entire team’s eyes on you. “Sorry I’m late. I brought a coffee to make up for it, though.”

“You’re forgiven,” he says, standing to meet you in front of his desk. “Don’t get used to bribing me, though.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” you reply. “Late night?”

“Mhm,” he says, lifting the coffee to his lips. “You?”

“Somewhat,” you say. “They’re watching us, aren’t they?”

“Like hawks,” Hotch replies, barely moving his lips.

Outside in the bullpen, everyone is crowded around Spencer’s desk, asking him to relay what the two of you are talking about in Hotch’s office.

“They’re smiling a lot,” JJ points out suspiciously.

“She never brings anyone coffee, definitely not Hotch,” Penelope says.

“And he seems to be a little too forgiving of her being late,” Emily says. “When I was that new, he wasn’t smiling like that when I was late.”

“I still think there’s something going on with them two,” Derek says, ever so skeptical.

“What are we doing?” Rossi’s voice is the loudest in the bullpen, making everyone jump from where they’re crouched by Spencer’s desk. “Eavesdropping, much? What are we, children?”

You exit Hotch’s office at this point, quietly making your way to your desk with your coffee. Everyone watches you carefully, and you feel their eyes, so you finally look up.

“Can I help you guys with something?”

��Why were you late?” Spencer blurts.

“Traffic, Spence,” you chuckle. “I left a little later than I should’ve this morning and got caught in it.”

“Long night?” Morgan asks, smirking.

You exhale, nodding. “If you’re really so curious, yes. My date stood me up.”

“Oh, babe,” Penelope frowns. “Are you okay?”

“All good,” you say, accepting her hug. “It’s for the better, he was probably a dick.”

“He is one if he stood you up,” Emily scoffs. “The audacity that men have.”

“Yeah,” you roll your eyes, catching Hotch looking at you from his office. “The audacity,” you repeat, hiding your smile.

#painfully professional #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst #fluff #angst #angst with a happy ending #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x fem!reader #hotch fluff #hotch angst

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myherowritings · 4 years

Text

PART 4. HOW THE RICH SUCK THEIR OWN DICKS

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 2.9k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. enji makes an appearance bleh, enji being classist, enji...ew, okay i swear most of the chapter is shouto and y/n being cute though

A/N. ngl i have genshin brainrot real bad at the moment but i still have motivation for ceo!shouto and ceo!shouto only u.u there are only 7 parts to this series so we’re at the halfway mark already AHHH i hope u enjoy reading and lmk what u think!! :3 xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

Shouto’s day went from good to bad faster than it took to pull an espresso.

It started off with a good morning text from you and having a brief, but pleasant, interaction at your work. Actually, the past few weeks have been going along a similar routine that he found himself settling into all too comfortably. You even upheld your promise of stealing him away one weekend to walk around the park, get food, and just have time to relax and be happy for once.

Getting to be in your presence almost daily became so normalized in his life that even some of his employees heard about the cute barista with the best pastries. Yet, although he saw you often, he found himself wanting to talk to you more and more.

But for now, Shouto told himself to settle with starting the mornings off with you. They were the best mornings he’s had in a while and he didn’t want to sound ungrateful.

Today, however, went sour fast after he heard his father was coming up to the top floor for a meeting with him. He didn’t find the idea of Enji visiting to be the most abhorrent thing, but the moment his father opened his mouth, Shouto quickly took that back.

As expected, his father reminded him about the annual charity gala Todoroki Enterprises was expected to attend. Handfuls of galas ran through the year, but the once hosted by Naruhata Industries under the guise of raising money and awareness for the charities of choice.

In theory, a charity gala ball sounded humanitarian and a way for the upper class to give back, but in reality, most of the funds collected didn’t go to the actual charities, instead they went to paying for the venue, live bands, entertainment, the most expensive catering, decorations, and more. What presented itself as a charitable event in the eyes of the public was really a way rich people could flaunt their wealth and feel good about themselves for doing absolutely nothing to benefit society. A way for the rich to suck their own dicks, if you would.

Shouto absolutely hated it.

It was also a press opportunity and, in his father’s eyes, a way to gain public favor for the Todoroki business. Today, Enji attempted to tell him that bringing a date that fit the mold of high society was the best way for him to establish rapport through media coverage. Apparently, the image news outlets have placed on Shouto were either a heartbreaker and playboy with no care for other’s emotions, or a monotonous stoic who seemed like a robot with no care for other’s emotions.

In either cases, there seemed to be a theme of Shouto not caring for others.

He sighed.

“You can’t keep that image, Shouto,” said Enji with his arms folded across his chest. “If the media sees you with someone—a nice girl with a good upbringing—then your likeability will increase tenfold. If there’s no one you like, I’ll have to set up a date for you.”

For a while, he was torn between telling his dad to fuck off and trying to do as he said to keep peace within the family. But then, an image of you popped into his head.

“Actually, there is someone I like.”

Enji narrowed his eyes. “Oh? An educated girl with wealthy parents?”

“There’s someone I like,” he simply repeated, the tone in his voice growing cold.

He didn’t know anything about your upbringing or family nor did he exactly care. Shouto didn’t want to bring a date to the dumb gala, but if he had to, he would want it to be you. Only if you agreed, of course. But if you weren’t willing, then he had to face the facts that his father would most likely force a date of his own choosing upon Shouto.

“That’s good you like someone, son,” Enji said through his teeth, “but we have to make sure it’s not some sort of...loose woman. That’d be even worse publicity—”

“I like someone and if you really cared about my happiness like you said you did, that’d be enough.”

There was a tense silence in the air. Shouto didn’t have enough fingers to count the number of times Enji had told him and his siblings that he would try to be a better dad. A caring dad who only wanted what was best for his children. A better husband for Rei. A better example for the public. The first few times, Shouto believed it. But Enji said the same things over and over again with no lasting change and Shouto was just fed up.

After hearing the same lie told to him over and over again, it seemed to lose its weight. He seemed to lose his hope in his father ever changing.

Still, Shouto had to deal with him for as long as he lived. That much he knew as a son living in this society.

But he hoped Enji at least had enough guilt to let him have this.

“Fine.”

Shouto blinked in surprise.

Enji stated, “If you think your date can help your public image and not be a complete embarrassment to the business, you can bring them.”

That was the closest thing to approval Shouto would get today. He nodded and listened along to whatever else his father had to say, the only thing actually on his mind was thinking about how he would ask you out on a date to some stuffy gala. And hope that you’d say yes.

— ✩ —

“Wait, so, let me get this straight— You’re the CEO of Todoroki Enterprises and even after almost two months of knowing you, I had no clue?”

He inclined his head, looking solemn. “Yes, I’m sorry. Are you upset with me for not telling you sooner?”

Initial shock aside, you couldn’t say that you were too surprised at the revelation. You knew Shouto was wealthy and probably in some high-up position in the business industry, but you never knew to what extent. A CEO? That had to be the highest rank in a company! And a company as well known as Todoroki Enterprises?

The thought made you a little nervous. The guy you slowly befriended over the course of short cafe visits and silly texts was Mr. Todoroki? Or worse— The guy you stole away from doing work for a whole weekend was someone as busy as a CEO? You internally groaned. That had to be against laws of the universe or something.

“I’m not upset, no,” you said with a shake of your head. “I just...can’t believe it I guess.” Eyes widening, you were quick to amend your words. “Well, I can believe it. You seem very intelligent and well-put together and, uh, rich! But I guess I just didn’t think a CEO would be so funny and kind.” You winced. “Oh no, is that mean to say?”

“I don’t think it’s mean.” He shrugged. “You’re right to say most people in this field aren’t known for their delightful temperaments.”

You absentmindedly drummed your finger against your thigh, trying to process this new information. “So you’re Todoroki Shouto...and you want me to be your date to the Naruhata Charity Ball?”

“Yeah. I know it’s a huge favor to ask, and I promise you can say no if you choose,” said Shouto in earnest. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to agree.”

With a hum, you stretched your legs out under the table before crossing one over the other again. It was a Saturday afternoon where you had no work and Shouto managed to escape from his for a few hours of the day. You took him to your favorite ice cream place nearby and the two of you ate at a dining area outside the establishment.

Just a mundane day as two friends hanging out with each other where you found out one of those friends was the chief executive officer of a billion dollar business headquartered in Japan.

Totally normal, everyday occurrences, obviously.

“And you need a date for this event?” you asked. In all honesty, you would be more than happy if Shouto asked you out on a date. He was fun and you enjoyed getting to know him. But these particular circumstances made you a tad bit more nervous.

“I normally wouldn’t need to bring one, but my father insists it’d help my public image and in turn the image of the company.” With a pinched look on his face, he took a bite of his ice cream. “In other words I bring a date or he picks one for me.”

You weren’t the most caught up on super rich people drama, but it was almost infamous how estranged the Todoroki family was. Again, you didn’t know much but you did know enough to say that Todoroki Enji seemed like a Class A asshole. If you could help Shouto out with his weird dilemma, you saw no reason not to.

“So this charita gala is like where they have those live auctions and silent auctions and get tipsy on fancy wine and champagne for hours right?”

He tilted his head to the side. “Yeah. Have you attended one?”

“Not quite,” you said with a sheepish smile. “I’ve volunteered at one in school though. As one of those runners? It was fun. I got a bunch of those tiny complimentary candies!” Your mouth watered at the memory. “What kind of drug were in those candies? I’ve never had candy so good before!”

“The tiny, circular candies with the excessively big wrapper? The fruity ones?”

You shot up in your seat, excited he knew what you were talking about. “Yes! That’s the one!”

The corners of his mouth quirked upwards. “I always see those at these types of events.”

“So… The candy will be there at the gala you want me to accompany you to?”

“Most likely.”

“Can I take a bunch of those from candies there…?” you asked with an optimistic grin.

“I’ll be your accomplice in sneaking them out.”

“It’s a date!” you said before Shouto could get another word out.

You’d be reunited with those yummy, fancy candies you’ve been separated from for far too long. What other reason did you need to agree?

With a determined look on your face, you held your hand out for Shouto to shake to seal the deal.

He blinked. “Wait. Did you want to discuss it some more? Maybe have a few days to think it through? I’m grateful, of course, but I don’t want you regretting anything.”

“No. I won’t regret it. I’d do anything to taste those candies again.”

Shouto looked unsure what to say. “Isn’t there some parable warning people not to be bribed by candy?”

“Not to take candy from a baby?”

“No. Not that one.”

“That’s the only one I know.”

“Never mind then.”

The two of you exchanged confused looks before letting out fits of laughter. You weren’t sure if either of you knew exactly what the other was laughing at, but the moment was an enjoyable one nonetheless.

“Yet another reason to bring me to that fancy event— I’ll make sure you’re entertained all the way through,” you playfully bragged, smoothing down the front of your shirt.

“The event will definitely be more bearable with you there.” He licked a small bit of his ice cream from his pink spoon, making a sound of approval. “But you can change your mind about coming at any time, Y/N.”

“I won’t,” you said, holding a pinky out. “Pinky promise.”

With what seemed like a bashful expression on his face, Shouto extended his own pinky to interlock yours. You sealed it with a kiss and a heart, like you were a kid again.

“Now, am I supposed to be in love with you at the gala?” you asked nonchalantly, finishing off your last bite of ice cream. He offered you a spoonful of his and you tried not to grow too flustered at Shouto feeding you his dessert. You murmured a quiet, “Thanks.”

He gave you a small smile. “You’re welcome. As for being in love… I don’t think that’s necessary. Just pretend you like being around me, I think.”

Under the table, you nudged his shoe with yours, pulling a face. “I don’t have to pretend about that, silly.”

“Ah, well,” he paused, offering you another spoonful of ice cream, “I don’t either.”

“I’m glad.” Then, “Is this strawberry? I was never a big strawberry ice cream fan but for some reason this tastes so good.”

You ignored the nagging voice in your head that said maybe it wasn’t so much the ice cream flavor but who you were enjoying it with.

The two of you finished his dessert in peace and after cleaning up the area with a napkin, Shouto turned to you with an intent look on his face.

“Before the gala, would you mind if I talk you shopping so you could pick out what to wear?” he asked. “I would pay of course— It’s the least I could do to say thank you.”

You shook your head. “You don’t have to thank me! You’re my friend and I want to help.” You thought about it for a moment. “And get the candy.”

“Anything for the candy.”

“Exactly,” you said in complete seriousness. “But I wouldn’t mind going shopping with you. You could help me decide what to wear! I’m not exactly sure how to dress for an event as fancy as this.”

“You could wear anything to the event and still look amazing.” His words were ones of flattery but his tone sounded completely genuine.

Heat rose to your cheeks at the compliment. “Look who’s talking— You’re practically runway ready no matter what time of day.”

“I’ve never walked a runway before.”

You stifled a laugh at his literal interpretation of your words. Cute. “Me neither.”

He looked confused at why you were grinning, but it still brought a smile to his own lips.

By now the sun had begun to set and Shouto was walking you to the train to see you off before you went home.

“Can I pick you up next weekend in the morning?” he said. “So we can get your outfit for the gala?”

“Sure! I’ll text you my address.”

He nodded in contentment. “And again, you don’t have to worry about any costs.”

“Is this why my friends have called you a sugar daddy?” you teased, bumping your shoulder against his as you walked down the street, side-by-side. “But thank you. Shopping will be fun— We can even match colors!”

“Mn.” He looked between the both of you, as if trying to picture what colors would complement each other.

You crossed the sidewalk in a comfortable silence, enjoying the scenery by Shouto’s side. A few times, you even felt his knuckles brush against yours and you had the undeniable urge to hold his hand. Would that be weird? you asked yourself before deciding against it.

Just because he asked you to be his date for the Naruhata Charity Ball didn’t mean he actually liked you, right? It was just a favor from a friend to a friend.

Something about that though made your stomach unsettled. Maybe part of you wanted it to be a real date— Wanted this to be a real date.

“So I won’t be seeing you tomorrow,” you said after a moment’s silence, trying not to look too dejected.

You knew he’d still text good morning and good night and ask you random things throughout the day (all of which you found really endearing, by the way), but it was still different from seeing him in person. Even though your time together in the morning was small, they still were enough to make your day. The thought of your waking hours being so entwined made you nervous, but for some reason it didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would. In fact, it was sort of...nice.

“I’ll see you Monday morning, right?” you asked hopefully, though you were already fairly certain of the answer.

Shouto nodded. “Of course. It’s already marked on my calendar.”

“Ever the flatterer, hmm?”

“Not flattery, just the truth.” He pulled his phone out and showed you his (rather packed) calendar app. To your surprise, a little reminder that said ‘See Y/N :)’ was marked on his Monday schedule.

Unable to stop the beam from spreading across your lips, you hid your face in your hands. Gosh— Did he have to be so cute? He was making it harder and harder to only like him as a friend. And even now, you weren’t sure if you liked him only as a friend.

But you pushed those thoughts away.

That was something to deal with at a later time.

When you reached the train station you normally took home, you turned to Shouto, giving him a big hug. He was tall and warm. You could feel his lean muscles through his button-down shirt as you rested your head against his chest and arms around his waist.

“Thanks for today,” you mumbled. “I’ll see you again soon.”

After a pause, he gave you a hug back, hands rubbing hesitant circles on your back in a way that made you smile. “Text me when you get home safe,” he said as you both reluctantly released each other from an embrace.

“I will,” you promised. “You do the same! Later, Shouto!”

And with that, you waved goodbye and boarded the train, unable to shake the unwavering grin on your face all the way home.

a/n: when shouto started feeding y/n spoonfuls of his ice cream i cried (Ｔ▽Ｔ) that’s so cUTE OF HIM LIKE PLS SIR STOP BEFORE I FALL MORE IN LOVE WITH U !! >:O he’s such a sweetheart ahhhh,, i hope all the fluff made up for the brief appearance of endeavor ಠ╭╮ಠ FHDJKF

what to expect in the next part:

shopping for the gala time !!

y/n struggles with their fEeLiNGs~ part 2

oh my, y/n has to try on dresses? oh my, it’d be a shame if they needed help putting it on :o *fake gasp*

yeah things get just a lil steamy but shh

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celestialrry · 3 years

Text

stood up

3.5k

hello everyone!!!! I've been awol for literally weeks because i had absolutely NO motivation to write but i finally finished this piece ˊᗜˋ so YAY. ALSOO thank you for following me, liking, and reblogging my pieces (it encourages me somuchsothankyouireallyappreciateit-- and remember reblogging really helps us writers :))) ) here’s a hug for all ur patience and feel free to send me asks or requests i love talking to you guys! ε(♡'-')з

summary: Harry keeps standing Y/N up. (request from @ballerinrry! thank u love)

warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol and sex, angsty but with a happy ending cause for some reason i can never let them end on a bad note

Y/N was excited.

It had been a while since Harry had asked her to go on a date, it was always the other way around recently. She couldn’t blame him though, Y/N knew just how busy Harry always was, and it wasn’t like he was purposefully not asking her to go do things, he just had a lot on his plate.

That’s what she kept telling herself anyways.

It’s what she told herself when it had been 2 weeks since they had even eaten a meal together, and given the fact that just a few months ago Harry had come back to London for a while, that was rare. So, Y/N asked him to grab lunch on a Saturday while they were lying in bed together, and when he agreed, but failed to show up, leaving Y/N sitting at the cafe, her lips morphed into a frown and her eyes not focusing on the phone in front of her, she told herself he was simply booked up with meetings and studio time and such.

Thats what he told her when he got into bed that night to apologize for accidentally standing her up. She forgave him, of course, and suggested they could just get dinner the next week. He agreed, even walked around to his calander her to show her he was marking the date off in his calendar with a heart, her first initial, and 7:00 PM etched into the little box with red sharpie.

So, the week passed with quick kisses of good mornings and good nights, and while Harry was gone Y/N had on a black dress she had been excited to wear for a while now, with those little mini silver heels and a coat strung over her shoulders as she sat on her couch waiting for Harry to swing by to pick her up. She shot him a text that simply asked “You otw? xx”

He was not.

It took about 30 minutes of waiting on their couch to realize he was standing her up, again. And it took until the next morning for Harry to see her text (his phone had been on do not disturb while he was at the studio and he ended up spending the night at Sarah and Mitch’s after a few beers), and for the guilt to seep through his veins.

He apologized, again. And Y/N forgave him, again.

Only until it got to the point where Y/N no longer remembered the amount of times Harry had stood her up, for being at the studio, or sleeping after a meeting, or simply just not paying attention to his phone, she knew there was a problem.

Harry was fully aware of the problem too. He knew that this was no way to ever treat a partner, and if someone was doing this to him, he’d dump them— well, he’s never been one to end a relationship unless it was necessary, so that’s an exaggeration, but it’s the principle of the thing.

Which is why when he got home one day around 11 PM, gave her a kiss to the forehead after she sat up in their bed to give him a hug, and a soft “Can we talk?” escaped her lips, he knew he had to fix this. So he asked her if they could talk over dinner the next night, he just wanted to sleep but also wanted to fix things with his girl, asking her if she was free of course, before telling her he’s gonna make a reservation at that nice restaurant the two of them used to go to quite often, because “it’s been a while since I’ve taken my favorite girl out”.

A grin broke out on her face because he had asked her! And if Harry was planning it, there’s no way he’d cancel or stand her up.

So yeah, Y/N was excited.

She woke up that morning with a smile on her face, and something akin to a what she thinks a rainbow would feel like running through her veins. It had only been a few months since she’d last been on a date with her boyfriend of almost 2 years and a half in person, and she was going to make the most of it. Because after this date, things would change. They’d spend more time together again and it would be like this little bump (that neither had acknowledged) never happened.

Y/N did, well, everything to prepare. Took a long shower, shaved, put on that coconut lotion Harry likes— he tended to dig his face in her neck when he smelled it while holding her—, brushed her teeth more than 3 times, dug in her closet to find that one patterned soft purple dress she bought ages ago but never had a change to wear it, until now, put on those really cute heels Harry said he liked once (“Looks like something you’d wear on a runway pet, I love ‘em.”), and even styled her hair differently than normal.

He had told her he would swing by at 8 on the dot after the studio, and soon enough, it was 8, with no sign from the man who made the promise himself. Y/N thought maybe there was traffic, he was just running late, texted him a quick, “Can’t wait to see you!! xxx” and put her phone on the coffee table, waiting on their couch.

8 turned to 9, 9 turned to 10, 10 turned to 11, and soon it was midnight. Y/N doesn’t think she’d ever felt more empty than how she felt then, walking to their shared room of a year, slipping off her heels and tossing them towards the closet, as well as pulling her dress over herself and letting it fall to the floor behind her, grabbing that one t-shirt she always wears when she needs comfort (which just happened to an extra 2018 Live on Tour shirt Harry had laying around that she snatched just 3 months into them dating), and flopping into bed.

She couldn’t fall asleep, and instead spent her time curled up in their bedsheets, a steady flow of tears making their way down her blush covered cheeks.

。:°ஐ

Harry usually didn’t make mistakes.

Sure, he had his moments, grabbing the wrong coffee off the counter when his name was called at the cafe, forgetting to text Jeff that he actually couldn’t make it to a meeting that was scheduled in a few hours. Just little things, things that didn’t matter that much, and could always be fixed. He didn’t usually make mistakes that weren’t easy to fix. He just wasn’t that kind of guy.

Until, he was.

Harry loved Y/N. He loved having her around, loved spending time with her, loved loving on her, loved kissing her, loved touching her, loved the way she went about almost everything. He was so in love with her, that hurting her was out of the question. He never wanted to be the one to make her cry, make her bottom lip quiver before the tears rushed out like he’d seen many times before, due to movies, his songs (which as sadistic as it sounds was an ego builder to have someone so close to him so affected by the music he wrote), her school work, or even her friends that weren’t being so nice.

In fact, he was so in love with her, even being so afraid of commitment (it took him over a year of them dating to ask her to move in), all he wanted to do was blurt out those 4 dreaded words. “Will you marry me?” It was a bond for life, and he was terrified of that, but with Y/N all he wanted to do was spend the rest of his living days with her.

When Harry had come back from being in L.A. for so long and finally being in the same city as his girlfriend back at their home, all they did was spend time together. Every time he saw Y/N all he wanted to do was say those 4 words that he hadn’t even fully come to terms with himself. It was dangerous, and Harry’s self control when it came to Y/N was lacking, so he simply did was every normal person would do in his situation.

He stood her up.

Many more times than he could count, and of course he felt like the shittiest person in the world— shittiest boyfriend in the world—but at least now she can’t possibly be under the impression that he wanted to marry her, which is what he wanted. Or thought he wanted, until Sarah called him up one day after he had stood Y/N up for dinner the night before and told him off. Told Harry just how fucking terrible he made Y/N feel, how unwanted she thought she was, how she felt like they were loosing their relationship, and Harry didn’t know what to do with himself. (Of course Y/N had sobbed to Sarah about it over the phone while she was drunk off the wine she opened 40 minutes after Harry said he would be there, so she really didn’t even remember the conversation).

And later that day Harry had come home, heard her wavering voice asking if they could talk, and decided in his head he would tell her how he felt, how sorry he was, and how he wanted to be with her forever and love her forever if she allowed him. He had a few expectations for their dinner, that Y/N would probably tell him how he’s made her feel, and Harry would apologize, tell her why he did it, explain he thought it was no excuse, then tell her he plans on marrying her (obviously not proposing just yet, but finally bringing up the conversation they had never had even though they were in a serious committed relationship) and they’d go back home, have the most amazing sex ever, and forget about the whole thing.

What Harry didn’t expect was to get a call from Jeff around 5 asking him to come to the studio to fix few vocals, then end up nailing down 2 songs in one night, go to a bar with the band to celebrate, get drunk, then pass out at Mitch and Sarahs flat.

But that’s what happened, according to Mitch, who woke Harry up the very next morning.

“Good morning man, wakey wakey,” Mitch’s teasing tone echoed through Harry’s (what felt like full of vodka) brain as he groaned and squinted his eyes. “Why are you waking me up at this hour in the morning?” Harry asked drearily, sighing and simultaneously regretting last night as a whole because the last thing he wanted to do while hungover was be up before at least 9 AM.

“We’ve gotta go to meet with Jeff about tour in like a hour, H” Mitch stated .

At Mitch’s words Harry sat up on their couch, eyes wide in fear. “Wait mate, I thought tha’ meeting was on Wednesday.”

“It is Wednesday H, god how drunk did we let you get last night…” Mitch said, beginning to recount some of Harry’s antics the night before. Harry however, couldn’t hear a thing with the blood pumping through his ears. If today was Wednesday, that meant yesterday was Tuesday, and he went and got trashed at a bar with his friends Tuesday night when— when he was supposed to be on a date with Y/N, when he was supposed to confess his intentions, when he was supposed to apologize for standing her up over and over, yet instead he went and did it again.

Now this, this was a mistake.

“…H. H. Harry? Are you there?” Mitch’s voice came back into focus and Harry shook his head. “I- fuck, I was supposed to take Y/N out last night.” Harry said, his voice trembling.

‘I’m sure she’ll forgive you, it’s just one night.” Mitch tried to make Harry feel better. He knew Y/N was a very forgiving person, she would get over this in no time.

“No, she won’t. I-I’ve stood her up for the past month and a half, Mitch.”

At these words, Mitch stands straight up making pained eye contact with Sarah in the kitchen who was overhearing most of this conversation with her eyes wide. She had no idea it was this bad. “Month and a half? I thought it was just that one time a few weeks ago, Harry what the hell is wrong with you?” Harry simply shook his head and didn’t reply. He had absolutely no idea how to make it up to her. “I-fuck, I don’t know Mitch!” Harry raised his voice. “I need to see her and apologize, now.” Harry said, standing up and rushing over to the front door and slipping on his shoes.

“This meeting is mandatory Harry, as much as I want you to see her too, she’d probably still asleep, and I don’t think this can be solved in under an hour.” Mitch said calmly, already knowing Harry was close to walking out his door. Harry stayed silent for a moment, weighing the options. Either go apologize to his girlfriend, or prioritize himself over her again.

“We can do it another day, I’m sorry, but I have to go see her, tell Jeff I feel sick.” And he walked out without another word.

。:°ஐ

The morning after Harry stood Y/N up again was brutal.

She stayed up all night, replaying moments with Harry in her head, analyzing if he wanted to be there with her, wondering if maybe he felt like he had to stay with her out of pity. It was torture, and the pain seemed to turn into numbness as time went by, and eventually the sun came up, and she stayed in bed, her motivation lost.

A loud crash and “Fuck!” woke her up, swollen eyes fluttering open to the invasive noise. Y/N furrowed her brows, her mind connecting everything that happened yesterday and unfortunately reminding her of the unbearable pain she went through the night before. A groan escaped her lips as she sat up and flung her legs out of her bed sheets that had been flung off the bed in the middle of the night. She began grumbling to herself as she made her way downstairs, ready to tell Harry off for making so much noise.

Her mouth stopped moving, and instead remained in limbo as her eyes met Harry’s. His mouth opened to speak, but his words were caught in his throat as he saw the state she was in. It was when her mouth pressed into a line that he could begin talking. “Y/N, baby, please I know you don’t wanna see me or talk t’me right now but I’m so fuckin’ sorry, love. So so sorry, it was an accident, I went t’ the studio to fix a few things then got hung up on the songs and by the time we went to celebrate I completely lost track of time, and I was too drunk to drive home so I crashed at Mitch’s.”

Her mouth fell open at his words. Everything was happening too fast. Hearing that he stood her up to drink at a fucking bar to celebrate himself, then coming home and accidentally knocking over a glass in their kitchen (which she put together was the crash earlier after seeing the shards of broken glass on the floor) frustrated her to no end. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him any longer, and Harry had stopped talking after realizing what he just admitted to her. Without another glance, instead of looking at Y/N’s tear stained face, all he saw was her back, walking up the stairs to their room.

“Fuck,” He said to himself before following her up the pink stairs. “Y/N, love wait-please, I’m so sorry, I just need to talk to you, I need to explain myself, please.” He begged as she shut their bedroom door in his face, his voice turning into a desperate whine at the end.

。:°ஐ

It’s been 3 days since then, and she hasn’t spoken to him. He would leave in the mornings, kissing her forehead and mumbling an “I love you” and telling her exactly what time he’d be home, before leaving and coming back on time to find an empty plate in the sink and her lying in their bed, whether it be reading, scrolling on her phone, or typing on her laptop. He would apologize many times, reaching his hand out for hers and she would simply situate herself in their bed and lay down, back turned to him.

Harry just couldn’t take it anymore.

It was when she had finally let him kiss her forehead goodnight that he decided to take his chance. “Y/N.” He spoke softly, with no response or anything to indicate she heard him. “Baby, can we please talk- or I’ll talk and you listen, I just- I really need to say some things.”

She was still faced away from him when he leaned against their headboard and he decided to keep going.

“I- um. I’m sure you know how sorry I am, but I really am- sorry I mean. Not just for tonight but for every other time I’ve stood you up. I’m so sorry for not showing you how much you matter to me, and how much the things you do matter to me.”

It was then that she slowly sat up next to him and looked at him, eyes begging him to continue. He blushed at her intense eye-contact that he had barely gotten over the past few days and took a breath, opting to look at his hands fidgeting in his lap.

“We’ve been together for 2 and almost a half years, which is the longest relationship I’ve been in, and it’s no excuse to treat you this way, but I had just been thinking about how things progress even further than now,” He coughs. “Which is marriage, and when I finally came home, all I wanted to do was ask you to marry me- I don’t- m’not proposing right now, I just- I got really scared because wanting to spend the rest of your life with someone is crazy to me,

I’ve never thought that way about anyone else until you, I didn’t even really want to get married before you, and I started to distance myself before I ended up telling you this, but obviously that blew up in my face.” He chuckled a bit, locking eyes with her unreadable ones for a moment and lifting a hand to run through his hair. “What I’m trying to say, is that I love you, so so much, and I plan on marrying you— obviously if you want to too, of course— and I’m so sorry for trying to make you think that I didn’t care about you anymore or love you any less, because it’s the complete opposite of that.”

His eyes were watery now, as he started down at his interlocked fingers, and his eyes widened when her hand was gently placed over his own. “Harry,” Y/N began. “Look at me, please.”

His head lifted to see her facing him, her brows knitted and a small smile on her face. “I forgive you, okay? I could tell you were kind of scared of commitment when we first started dating, and I wish I could say your reason for standing me up is surprising but it’s not.” They both chuckled a bit at this. “I- I’m still upset at you, I need you to know that, because 2 months of thinking the love of your life is avoiding you doesn’t feel all too great, so you suck for that,” she said, planting a quick kiss to his cheek which quickly turned pink. “But Harry, even if you asked me to marry you a year ago I would have said yes. I love you, so much, and I plan on spending the rest of my life with you as well. I’m sorry for giving you the silent treatment, it was… unnecessary and immature. So, thank you for apologizing. I love you.” She confessed again.

“S’okay, I deserved it, and I love you too. Maybe even more. So um, we’re okay?” Harry asked, a hopeful smile on his face.

She nodded with a smile and pulled him into a much needed hug and pulled away only for him to bring her into an even more needed kiss. “If you ever try to pull that shit again, I’m breaking up with you.” She laughed and he tackled her into the sheets hiding his face in her neck.

“Duly noted, love. Duly noted.”

#harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #Harry Styles #harry styles angst #im pretty proud of this one #if I do say so myself #harry styles fanfiction #its kinda short tho sorry

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angellissy · 3 years

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Hey :) I’ve never requested anything before so I’m sorry if i do it wrong hahah

But could I request something where instead of ward faking his death it’s rafe who has to do it and none of the pouges know about your relationship until it’s you crying in the dock instead of Sarah. And when you and the piggies go on the “rescue” mission to get Sarah off of the boat you see rafe and eventually end up staying with him and leaving your friends

I’m sorry if this is really long xx thank you for taking the time to read my request

R E A C H I N G F O R T H E S U R F A C E

SEASON TWO SPOILERS!

rafe Cameron x Reader

warnings: angst with a big a, canon rafe (maybe a bit softer), toxic relationship, rafe playing the victim card, death and talks of suicide.

a/n: I feel like it is of importance that I tell you all that I have done everything in my power not to romanticize the rafe cameron character and if I have then please kindly let me know because sometimes it can be hard. However I still need to say that I am writing through the eyes of the “reader” who very much still cares for this boy, which also means that the way the reader deals with things might not have been your way. If any more warnings should be included in the beginning, feel free to let me know. I hope you enjoy this fic which I am actually very proud of. A big thanks to @snkkat who is my proof reading buddy. Also thanks for sending in the request, I LOVED writing it! <3

They say that when you die your life flashes before your eyes, but how about when you watch someone else die? For as you watched him die, the life and moments the two of you had shared flashed before your eyes like a string of reminders of a life and love lost. It felt as if there was no air for you to breathe, you weren’t even sure how long it had been since you managed to take a full breath. Your mind was running in circles, trying to grasp what had just occurred, replaying the scene over and over again until you were not even sure what reality you were in. With a hammering heart and a split soul, you were kneeling on the dock, just minutes after watching your first love take his own life. You could not even remember how you had gotten out here in the first place, you just wished that you would have stayed behind as all your friends rushed toward a disaster in waiting. Perhaps that would have spared you some of the heartbreak, spared you from hearing him scream that he loved you one last time, spared you from seeing his boat go up in flames. But no, you were sure that for as long as you lived, you would see that blazing inferno whenever you closed your eyes.

There were arms around you, an attempt to soothe your shaking body, it only made you feel more trapped in a memory you would never escape. Those arms lifted you up and suddenly you were walking, mixed in all the anger and sadness there was a surprise that your body was even able to function. It felt as if you were outside of your body watching everything occur, you watched as Kiara and JJ helped you sit down on a sofa and as they draped a blanket over your shoulders. You watched it unfold, but you couldn’t feel it and there was no way that you would be able to respond to their worried questions. Instead, you were stuck in a mind that replayed everything Rafe had ever said or done to you as if that somehow could manifest him back to life. That stuck-up boy with the golden hair had been your first boyfriend, complicated as the relationship may have been, it had been the first time you ever experienced something close to love. Just days ago you had stood before him, tears in your eyes and heart in your throat as you called the relationship off. For a very long time, he had not been the boy you fell for, but rather a ghost of who he once was. Where he had once been sweet and tender with you, there had only been cold stares and words sharp enough to cut through ice. You were not oblivious to the fact that he struggled with issues you could never comprehend, but you refused to be an accomplice in his undoing. Time after time you had tried to be the person he could cling to when the world sat heavily upon his shoulders, but you soon realized that love and affection could not solve all problems. Oh, and you had loved him so much that you would have done anything for him to smile at you the way he had when he uttered those big three words for the first time. He had watched you with eyes that held so much adoration that you thought that they would never dim, that they would shine brighter for each time his eyes found yours. But eventually, they had dulled, and so you had realized that you would not sacrifice yourself no matter how much you cared for him. It did not matter that you had called things off with him or that you had decided to leave him in order to save yourself, for the knowledge that he was actually gone made it feel like someone was clawing at your heart and trying to rip it apart. It felt like no time in the world would be able to heal the pain in your chest or dry the tears falling from your eyes.

Time was indeed a funny thing, how seconds turned into minutes and how then those minutes became hours. Hours that you spent reminiscing over a life you thought you had given up before it was lost forever. You clung to the memories of him as if they were the lifebuoy keeping an anchor from pulling you down in a sea made up of your own sorrow. You knew that you were staying in your own made-up memories of a relationship with more bad times than good, but a part of you felt that you could not grieve the person he had become. For he had been vile and horrid, and if you acknowledged that, you would feel guilty for the sadness overwhelming you. So yes, you stayed in your made-up reality and wept for the boy that could have been. As hours turned into days, your friends made every effort to comfort you and try to get you out of the room that had become your place of mourning. Their tries aggravated you, for they did not understand the feelings rushing through your body at such speed it made you lightheaded. Each one of them had hated Rafe Cameron with at least one bone in their body and you knew how some of them had looked the day he died as if they were content that he was finally gone. Relieved that he could no longer plague them with taunts and threats that might have become reality was it not for his passing. You might have understood this, had it not been for the grief and guilt plaguing every bone in your body.

As days turned into weeks, you eventually came to appreciate their efforts to help you. It was like your vision was starting to clear and you could finally start trying to live your life again, and the first step to doing that was always to surround yourself with people that made you roar with laughter. Their ventures to try and find the Cross of Santo Domingo, were helpful, to say the least. Those adventures were as distracting as they were terrifying since the outcome was never given. Your mixed friend group of pogues and kooks had actually found that damn cross as well. Who would have thought that a bunch of high school kids would be able to find a historic relic? The answer would have been no one, and that is why you don’t underestimate kids with no limits. The cross had been in your grasp until a greedy and manipulative Ward Cameron came along and grabbed it. Ever since that particular happening, things started going south fast and it all ended up with Sarah being kidnapped by her own guardians. It also ended up with the rest of you stowed away like cargo on the ship she was on. While John B and Pope carried out their plan to find Sarah and the famous cross, you, JJ, and Kie sweated from every pore as you waited to hear from them. You had zoned out, staring mindlessly into one of the walls of the container, in the background you could hear your two friends talk about their dreams for the future. Something about going on several surfing trips at various destinations with each other, and that part made your heart ache. Sure, after everything he had done, a future with Rafe had not been one of your dreams. Still, as you listened to your friends talk, you could only remember a time where he had been everything you wanted in life. You pressed your palms upon your face as if you somehow could force every memory of him to remain in that little part of your brain where you were hoping they would become forgotten. A loud clank dragged you out of your thoughts and you looked up just in time to see Pope and John B climb in through that small window opening, followed by a woman you had never ever seen. Shortly after that, problems started to arise and soon all of you were scrambling out of the container in hopes of not being detected by the workers on the boat. They were in obvious search of all of you, which made you sweat even more than you had done inside the container. All of you received different plans on how to tackle the situation, yours was to act as a lookout for John B as he searched for Sarah.

You followed him down to what you could only assume was the boiler room since steam was thick in the air and you took your place by the door as he ventured further down. His desperate cries for Sarah echoed through the room and you dearly wished for a response to be heard, but there was nothing except the sound of his shoes against the floor. Thump, thump, thump and then utter silence until John B utters a name that made it feel as if the floor was pulled away from under your feet.

“Rafe.”

One of your hands finds the doorframe, a poor attempt to steady yourself as you try to figure out if this is a trick played by your grieving mind. You take a few breaths and as the silence is once again interrupted by two raised voices, you follow John B’s path down into the room. The heart in your chest is beating so hard that it feels like you are going to throw up, and it only gets worse the nearer you come. At first, you only see your friend, but then you look past him

and

your

heart

stops.

Rafe Cameron had died in front of your very eyes, so either the gods were playing a nasty cruel joke or you had lost the battle with your mind. You shut your eyes just to open them again, and no matter how many times you did it, he still remained. What happened next was a bit peculiar to you, for weeks you had drowned in grief where sadness was the constant emotion, but as you looked him in the eye and saw that he was very much alive, rage and anger crushed into you with the force of a thousand waves. You stepped toward him, only for an arm to shoot out to stop you, and John B added to his gesture by saying “Don’t”. Laughter bubbled in your throat, for who was he to tell you what you could or could not say to your “dead” ex-boyfriend who seemed to never stop causing you grief.

“Find Sarah.” John B hesitated for a few moments before following your unspoken order to leave you and Rafe alone. It wasn’t surprising considering that his worry for Sarah would always overpower anything else. Once again you looked into Rafe’s blue eyes, remembering a time when you used to stare in them for so long you would see specks of green and grey. Had you searched for those colors now, you would probably have found them. However, you were trying to decipher whatever feeling that was shining in them, was it anger? No, his other features were too soft for that and the hand holding his weapon had gone slack as he watched you. Maybe it was relief? No that was not it either, for why would he be relieved to see you? You were not the one who had died and left the other behind. You stepped even closer to him, the simmering anger inside of your veins made your hands shake and he looked at them briefly as if he wanted to take them in his. Your hands clenched into fists and you watched as his shoulders dropped the tiniest bit, and suddenly you knew exactly what was shining in his eyes.

Love, and sadness. Your heart started to speed up again, and you knew that once you opened your mouth, the anger and grief that had become part of you, would tumble out in words that you would never be able to take back. But he had done something much worse, so he would listen, you would make sure of it. Your lips parted slightly and he must have seen it for his words came first.

“I- fuck I am sorry okay? But I had to do it, you wouldn’t understand but I had to do it, it was the best for everyone.” As he says this you can’t help the sound that slips through your lips, it was supposed to be a laugh but it sounds more like a sob. His eyes flicker between you and everything else in the room as if there was anything in here that could save him for this conversation. You move your hands toward your chest and his eyes watch as you press them hard against your chest, against the heart that won’t stop breaking.

“Best for everyone?” Your voice is the combination of a whisper and a ragged breath “Did you have my best interest in mind when you let me believe you had blown yourself up?” He winces and makes an attempt to say something but you hold up a hand to stop him. “Did it ever occur to you how your little stunt would affect the one person who still, despite everything, loved you?” This time, your voice has started to rise towards something like a scream, and how could you not scream when there is so much sadness inside of you that it felt like just looking at him would turn your body into a pool of water.

“You broke up with me, so don’t start acting like a victim where you aren’t one.” His features are starting to morph into those he carries when anger overcomes him, but you will not back away from this. Your hands are in your hair, pulling at it as if that would help you make sense of this situation. “You broke my heart long before I broke yours.” You can’t help the way your voice breaks or the tears that start falling from your eyes.“You needed and still need help and until you receive that help, you are prone to hurt anyone in your vicinity.” Now it is his turn to drag his hands through his hair and his breaths come faster and faster until you realize that he is starting to hyperventilate. He sinks to the floor and you follow, not sure how to help when it feels like his state is mirroring your own. With cautious movements, you place your hands on his shoulders, and the shaking of his body sends trembles throughout yours. For a while nothing happens, you just sit there with your hands on his body and watch him fall apart. Perhaps you should have been glad that he was suffering, after everything he had done to you he deserved it. But you couldn’t feel anything other than anguish and as a sob escaped his body every restraint you had kept on yourself broke and you hugged him towards your chest. You could never save him, but he clung to you as if you had the power to undo every wrong he had ever done. After a while, he looks up at your tear-streaked face and one of his hands reaches up to cup it. You want to look away because you can see everything in those eyes of his, every regret and every wish he has ever had. His forehead leans towards you and you feel his hot breath against your skin. As you breathe in the scent of cologne and feel his skin against yours, you feel overwhelmed by the fact that he is actually here. You notice that his lips part and for a second you are scared that he is going to kiss you, but he must know that there is a limit to your patience with him so he just whispers words with the promise of what could have been. “I wanted to be good for you.” A small smile takes place on your lips and you close your eyes as you try to restrain the well of emotions inside of you. “I know Rafe, I know.” He breathes out a little, almost as if he is relieved that you are aware that he tried in a world and with a mind constantly working against him. You knew, but you also knew that there was someone else out there for you. Someone who would love you in a way that Rafe would never be able to, in a way that would not send the two of you to the bottom of the ocean. Whoever was out there would make you swim. For so long you had wanted to believe that Rafe was the one, despite all his flaws you would have given anything for him to be your future. It was a relief to know that you could and deserved to have more. But you also knew that you needed to do something before that could happen.

“I will stay-.” Before you could even finish your sentence he whipped his head up to look at you with such hope you never wanted to continue talking. You swallowed hard and forced yourself to go on. “I will stay with you just to make sure you receive the help you need.” His whole body deflated and you had to bite your lip in order not to cry again. Eventually, he nodded and you closed your eyes in relief. You knew that this had to be the right move, no one else would listen to him or make sure he got help, so you needed to be the one to did. Just enough so that you finally could start swimming towards the surface.

#rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron headcanon #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x oc #rafe cameron x you #drew starkey #outer banks x reader #outer banks #outer banks season 2 #outer banks imagine #obx #obx season 2 #obx spoilers #obx fanfiction

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