12 Works by PixelCube
Listing Works
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It wasn’t wind; Hank was absolutely certain of that. It felt like a solid mass drifted right against his arm and into the hallway behind him. For a moment, he played with the idea that he was just an old man and he was making it all up, but when the hairs on his arms stuck up again, he knew it wasn’t all in his head.
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Hank’s gun was in the car.
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The message was very delayed, which meant no presents for his friends, and no presents for himself.
“Let me make it up to you.”
“Just tell me what you want for Christmas. I can get you anything.”
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It’s been a long day at work, and now Connor is home.
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This time, Hank was calm. Informed. Prepared. He knew what to expect. The muffled crying and quivering gasps just wouldn't stop. It was another one of Connor's nightmares, and it was just as unrelenting as the last.
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Hank didn’t know how, but the tech goons at CyberLife managed to make Connor’s eyes appear as if they were always ready to spill over with tears. Always shimmering, always about to say ‘I’m sorry’, despite the owner of those eyes never actually doing anything wrong.
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Hank let himself drown.
What was the point of it all, anyway? The water was soothing, the light nearly nonexistent now, calming to the pounding inside his head. He could- he was- letting himself finally drown. Letting it all go. Finally. He was so tired. -
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The shirt was a bad substitute for Hank. It smelled like him, sure, but it didn’t feel like him one bit. Yet Connor clung to the limp and cold shirt anyways. He knew it was a risk, but Hank was a heavy sleeper.
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Connor’s fists were tightly clenched to the bedsheets. If Hank overdid it, they’d be torn in seconds. He was trying so hard to hold back, just for Connor’s sake. He deserved a good first time. He deserved everything in the world, and Hank would be eager to provide.
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Hank returns home from a stressful overtime shift, and has a quiet night with Connor and Sumo.
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Everyone Loves Professor Anderson by PixelCube
Fandoms: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
16 Jan 2021
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The clock ticked by too quickly.
Students shuffled in their seats. Backpacks were zipped up. Groups of friends congregated to chat before that final bell rung out.
Connor begged for that clock to never ring, for time to pause or even stop. Because from his desk, he had a beautiful view of Professor Anderson.