#and ex boyfriend WAS engaged a year or so ago but she broke it off 👀👀👀 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunlightmurdock · 10 days

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AETERNA | One

PROLOGUE | MASTERLIST

SYNOPSIS: TROUBLE COMES TO TOWN.

WARNINGS: smoking; the fic takes place in the 70s and so 70s era things will happen; smoking weed; mentions of sw as a joke; this fic has mature themes and is intended for adults, minors pls dni. spooky stuff. word count: 6312.

The summer in Atwood, Georgia, began as all summers in Atwood always had. Slow. Creeping in through the remaining breezes, blooms and spring showers. Fitting itself into the days so unsuspectingly. It never feels like it’s really summer until the sweat is already beading down your back and the girls’ skirts are an inch shorter than they were a year before.

There’s a spot around the back of Creekside Pines Retirement Village, covered by the shade of those namesake pines, where the girls who work there go to smoke. The Pines has been around longer than any of the residents currently in it; the Church started it decades ago and they made sure to keep it going.

Tucked under the shade of those thick, green pine trees, the branches provide a respite from the approaching early summer sun and also from your dirtbag boss, Conrad Wheelan.

Olive and you, you and Olive. Since Conrad hired you last September, the two of you have become quite the dynamic duo. Candy-striped partners in crime, experts at avoiding old guy sponge bath time. Smokers of cheap, gas station cigarettes. Gossipers of a truly impressive standard.

You’re sitting on opposite sides of the brick walls that bracket the stairs to the back door, your foot beside her hip and hers beside yours, your knees bent and a Marlboro between your index and middle.

“But anyway, I think she’s just jealous. He broke up with her for a reason.” Her face is veiled for a moment by tendrils of swirling cigarette smoke before the midday sun beams once again on her freckled face. She’s talking about a boy she has been fooling around with. He’s older, and he called off his engagement two months ago.

His ex really has it out for Olive. She’s a pretty little nurse at the local hospital. Her daddy went after the poor guy with a gun when the engagement broke. The ex went after Olive in the middle of Herb’s Wholefoods, shoved her right into the display of tinned peaches. But hey, your Mom got six dented tins for the price of one. Silver linings and all that jazz.

Your break was over twenty minutes ago, but the AC is broken and you’ve spent the morning choking on the smell of Eau de Old Lady — the smell of magnolias in bloom and Marlboros on fire are a much welcome change in pace.

Besides, your best friend is in crisis. She’s got a bruise the size of a not-tinned, regular ol’ peach in the middle of her back, a shattered ego, and apparently a new step-kid on the way.

“So, what’s he going to do about it?” You ask her, your face towards the sun, cigarette ash on the wall beside you.

“The baby? — I don’t know. She didn’t even want the kid until he told her he was leaving, now she’s suddenly Mother Theresa.” Olive says with a wistful sigh. Her older boyfriend got that girl in trouble and ran for the hills, but apparently he treats Olive like a princess. Your mother says she’s trouble, but you like her.

Girls like Olive will always pick the wrong kind of man. It’s that kind of No Man’s Land where human nature and fate come to make out — and that’s not Olive’s fault — she’s just at their will; like a puppet. Or a hamster on a wheel.

“You know, I think you’d make a pretty boss step-mommy.” You tell her, cocking your head the way that you do when you know you’re dancing right along her nerve endings. A smile creeps across your coral- glossed lips, revealing the coral-glossed ring they have left around the butt of the cigarette.

“Oh, bite me. You know I’d rather swap places with Hughie Marshall than get stuck raising her kid.” Olive scoffs out, flicking at the cigarette with a red painted nail and bending her bruised knees. That’s quite a thing to say around here.

You didn’t know Hughie, before. Not really. His dad was the principal of your high school, but you knew him after Hughie was already back.

Apparently before his accident, Hughie was a real stud. All-American with dark hair and a bright future. Then he stepped on a landmine in Cambodia; he wasn’t even supposed to be there by the official military statement. But he was.

He doesn’t leave the house anymore. His brain’s all mashed together and he’s got a metal plate in the left side of his head. One arm and no right foot, but worse than that — no jaw. Folks say it was taken clean off in the blast. They sent him out to California for a whole bunch of surgeries, but he still looks like a guy who has been pieced back together.

But Olive’s only kidding about wanting to be in his place. No one wants to be in Hughie’s place, especially not Hughie.

Her joke isn’t the kind of thing that needs to be laughed at, your polite exhale of amusement mixes with the soft rustle of leaves, a fleeting moment of rebellion against Dictator Wheelan and his reign of terror. Each smoky exhale carries whispers of things that would make your mothers shiver, but such is the way for two girls on the cusp of freedom.

In this hidden sanctuary, on the cusp of the woods, the two of you are a united front against the elderly residents of The Pines. Rather than the bell that signaled the end of your freedom in your school days, nowadays it’s the sound of heavy leather shoes on the linoleum that signal the end of your stolen respite.

“Shit.”

“Shit.” The two of you agree, stubbing out your cigarettes and leaping up from the walls, throwing the butts into the mess of fallen foliage at the side of the building.

And at once, Conrad swings open the fire escape door and finds the two of you standing there in your candy-striped aprons, white stockings and pristinely white shoes. Like butter wouldn’t fucking melt.

He’s a towering man, maybe six foot five in his prime, but he hunches a bit from his constant slouching at his desk. He was a red- head once, but now his hair has thinned to the point of scarcity, and he’s usually got a razor rash on his neck from shaving a bit too hastily in the mornings. He knows damn well that the two of you were out here slacking.

“Ladies,” He tries, his smile tight-lipped and half frozen, like a salesman who couldn’t quite make himself look human enough to get the job. “If you wouldn’t mind, Mr. Halbert and Mrs. Knight could use some help in the dining room.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Wheelan.” Olive hits him back with a smile that comes much more naturally, and a cool shrug of her shoulders. She’s a real girl-next-door type. It’s why the wrong kind of guy likes her so much. You’re halfway certain that her killer smile and her long legs are the only reason that Conrad hasn’t fired her yet.

“Yes, sir.” You follow suit.

He allows the both of you to dip around him and just like that, you’re locked back in with the living dead. Old folks who seem just as confused as you about how they’re still hanging on. Oh, that’s mean, really — they aren’t so bad. They’re nice to you. You listen to them.

“I like it when you wear your hair like that,” Mrs. Knight tells you, sitting back uncomfortably. Her green eyes study you, her fingers curled around a shivering china teacup. “Much better than when it's down.”

You’ve learned by now that most of the compliments in this place come with a backhand. Your chin propped up on your palm, you answer her with an amused smile.

“Maybe you could do my hair like yours one day, June,” You suggest, stacking together the remnants of her lunch so that it’ll be easier to porter back to the kitchen. She used to own her own salon down on Mayfair Lane, your mother got her first haircut from June Knight. You shoot a look across the room at Arnie Knight, who is watching you care for his wife. “Teach me how to land a guy like Arnie.”

“Oh, honey — you know my Arnie’s one of a kind.” She giggles. Your mouth twists back into a grin. He sure is. He stormed the beaches in Normandy and still found it in himself to father seven kids once he made it back. In his day, Arnie sounds like he was a stud.

There aren’t too many studs left in Atwood these days. Those boys are either wandering hallowed halls, meat-heads that will be here forever or settled six feet under. Anyone more than four years older than you is either a war hero, or they’re like Hughie Marshall.

The ones that still wake up in Cole County aren’t the kind of boys you’ll be sharing your golden years with, anyway. No, you’ve got much bigger plans for your retirement.

Napa Valley, a sprawling house with burnt orange tile overlooking a vineyard withthat your silver-fox husband who tends to you while you enjoy the fruits of his labour and spend your afternoons tipsy, waiting for the party to start that evening. Far, far from the shade of the trees that line Marsh’s Creek, beside Creekside Pines Retirement Village.

That’s one day, though. For today, the excitement stretches as far as letting Billy Cline pick you up in his true blue 1965 Chevy short bed pickup. Just like most of the guys your age that are in this town, you’ve known Billy for a long time. Your mother still thinks of him as the sweet little boy with blonde curls and overalls.

He still wears overalls, but his blonde curls are now straighter, slicked back with a generous helping of pomade. He came right from work, the auto shop in town, to pick you up.

You change shamelessly in the passenger seat of his truck as he speeds along the old road out towards the Cole County airport, shoving your uniform into your bag and wriggling into the clothing you had smuggled past your mother.

“I’m not driving you home wearing that,” Billy chortles, eyes wide and already shaking his head as you pull the knitted halter neck over your chest, your lips pursed in concentration as you fasten the tie behind your neck. “I’ll stop at the Post Office and you can walk from there.”

Exhaling and kicking the bag into the footwell, you tug open the glovebox and start to root for the sunglasses you left in here last time.

“What? You don’t dig the orange?”

You know full well that Billy’s concerns about your outfit don’t start or end with the burnt orange color of your hot pants. He scoffs loudly beside you to agree as your fingers stumble across the little plastic baggie at the back of his glovebox.

“I don’t dig that your old man threatened to slash my tires last time he saw me rollin’ with you.”

That makes you laugh. You pluck the green from the glovebox and melt back into the blue suede seats Billy had spent all of last summer fixing up.

“Fred wouldn’t hurt you.” Your father talks a big talk sometimes, maybe that’s where you can get it from, but he likes Billy and he’s not the kind of father that spends his time worrying about which boy you’re messing around with. “Might trick you into doing some yard work for him, though.”

Straight, empty road for miles ahead, Bill turns his head and looks at the bag caught between your index and middle fingers, dangling toward him like the forbidden fruit itself.

“Great, so I’ll take you home high as a kite and dressed like a hooker and he’ll invite me to water his gardenias.” He hums, reaching out and snatching the bag from you. He still has every intention of lighting up, but he knows there’s a pothole about a mile ahead and the last time he let you roll up along this road wasn’t a pretty sight.

“Come on, Bill — now,” Your white canvas sneakers are still discarded in the footwell, you kick your bare feet up onto the dash. “That’s no way to talk to your best chance at ever getting laid, is it?”

There’s a fondness in the way he rolls those steely-blue eyes at you. There’s no real destination at the end of this long, empty stretch of road. There are one of four possible spots for the two of you to pick from.

Just far enough from Conrad Wheelan, and your father’s gardenias, and the Cole County sheriff's department for the two of you to crawl into the bed of the truck, light up and wait for time to pass.

It’s no way to spend summer, really. But this is the last May that your afternoons will look like this. Next May, you’ll be thinking about Olive and Billy from the Paramount Pictures backlot. Maybe Warner Brothers, you’re not in a position to be too picky.

As a kid, you had sworn that you would pack your things and head for the hills the day that you turned eighteen. Things hadn’t worked out quite that way, but now, you’ll be sitting in the Malibu sunshine before you turn twenty-three.

“Who the fuck is that?”

You drop the bag onto the bench and follow Billy’s eyes towards the rearviewrear view mirror, fully prepared to see your Uncle Paul’s police cruiser coming up behind you. Instead, you’re met with the picture of a very small heavy hauler. Cherry-red, coming over the hill like hell on wheels. It’s illegal to drive that fast, even out here. Especially in something that big.

The house that you pass on the left has two young kids who live there, and the Whistler family let those kids play in that unfenced yard all day long. A big, red truck coming along this country road that fast… bye, bye Whistler family.

“Fuckin’ maniacs.” Billy mutters, frowning and shaking his head. It almost makes you smile. William Cline, slipping back into the weepy little boy he had once been, a stickler for the rules back then. But you don’t have time to smile.

Your knees push up onto the suede, your palm flattening against the back window, sticking to the glass with a squeak as you slide it open. That cherry red truck is a lot clearer without the filter of dust and dirt between you, and a lot less small now that it’s getting closer.

“Probably late for a delivery or something. It’s gonna try to pass you.” You realise, resting your arms over the back of the bench. Billy almost forgets why that’s important as he glances across at the way those burnt orange shorts flex around your ass.

He swallows, checks the rear-view mirror and remembers the sharp bend coming up. There aren’t any signs and it kind of comes out of nowhere, and if this jerk tries to overtake him on it, his truck is going to wind up in a ditch.

He eases his foot onto the break and considers just stopping all together, biting the inside of his cheek. Out of towners. The truck grows bigger and bigger, the engine rumbling like a growl, until it’s close enough that you can see the man behind the wheel. His hair is longish and feathery, jet-black and his face is half covered by a pair of green lensed sunglasses.

By his side is a kid, already looking at you. She has long blonde hair tied back in two braids, and a strange look on her face. Like she is excited to see you. She sits forwards in her seat and cocks her head sharply to the side, her eyes tracking you as the truck whizzes by. The sharp motion makes you pull back swiftly from the window.

Her head twists to follow until she’s out of your view and you’re blinking at the painted trailer being hauled by the truck. Maverick’s Cabinet of Mysteries. A circus. Red and white stripes and a big, shining yellow font.

“Did you see that kid?” The words spill from your lips as you brace one hand against the dashboard, watching the rest of the truck whizzes by, trying to blink that awful, jerky, movement of her neck from your mind.

“What? — No, I saw that jackass almost take my side view mirror with him.” Billy huffs out angrily, putting his foot back on the gas the second that giant trailer is past him.

It’s not the only one. Right behind the first, is another truck that appears identical. You don’t get a look at the driver, just the red and white stripes and Maverick’s Cabinet of Mysteries in that shiny red and gold font.

“Who even goes to the frickin’ circus anymore?” Billy’s care for his truck spills out in bitterness as he steadies the wheel and watches the second truck be succeeded by a third. All three of them, red and gold and white death traps, growling as they speed along the road ahead of you.

The cold feeling from the first truck has passed by, now you’re at the mercy of the sun being at its highest point, casting out heat like a blanket, warming the cab of the truck like a greenhouse.

Twisting in your seat, your lips twitch as you find that the three cargo trucks aren’t unaccompanied. Behind them is a string of vehicles, lead by a pretty far-out Chevy camper with rad burnt orange racer stripes along the side.

You look back at Billy over your shoulder. “We could.”

It’s not like there is much else to do around this place. Beats the regular Friday tune of heading down to the Empire movie theatre by Lane Street and sipping at a sugary, fizzing coke while watching a Western.

As the camper draws closer, your gaze locks on to the two people sitting in the front. A dark haired woman, her lips red and round, sucking on a lollipop with her bare feet kicked up onto the dash. Her sunglasses hide her eyes, but you know she’s looking at you.

It’s almost at the speed limit, not quite at the same terrifying speed as the trucks ahead but still warranting a ticket. In the driver’s seat is a real stone fox, broad and tanned with sunkissed brown caramel-curls and a real Burt-Reynolds-in-100-Rifles kind of moustache.

They’re driving with the windows down, cooled by the breeze in their hair like they aren’t icy enough already. Her sunglasses are round and plastic-framed, with orange lenses. So cool— so California. And him too.

Even with his more standard gold-framed caravans, his barely buttoned blue short sleeve and the equally caramel coloured dusting of chest hair spilling out, he looks like a movie star.

You’re barely aware of Billy crushing your idea beside you. “Me? — Nah. Sorry, sister, no way — lame, lame, lame.”

Doesn’t matter, you’ll be going with or without him if Mr. Movie Star is going to be there.

His white camper with the orange stripes gets close enough for you to realise that it’s not just her looking at you, he is too. It’s a little narcissistic to assume that it’s for any reason other than the way you’re already staring at them, but the thought of the two of them liking what they see — thinking maybe you could look like them — makes your coral lips stretch.

Up close, you can hear the blaring sound of their radio. A guitar riff that you remember from somewhere deep in the back of your mind, something you know you’ve heard many times before but just can’t place.

You follow them, magnetized by the draw of their eyes, planting a palm right between Billy's greased overall thighs and leaning across the bench to keep staring through the rolled-down driver’s side window.

The raven-haired woman pushes the lollipop into the hollow of her cheek and tells him something. You can’t hear it over the sound of their radio blaring out. He responds with a just-can’t-help-it kind of grinning chuckle, turning his head to look across at you.

The door was open, and the wind appeared.

The candles blew, and then disappeared.

The curtains flew, and then he appeared.

Sayin’ “Don’t be afraid.”

On all fours, looking at him like he’s the new guy at the zoo.

Come on, baby (and she had no fear).

And she ran to him (then they started to fly).

They looked backward and said goodbye (she had become like they are).

Heat gathered across your skin, that knitted late summer sunset coloured halter stretched tight across your chest, scandalous by the standards of Atwood — downright foxy if you ventured further west.

Your hair has been freed from the tidy updo that Conrad Wheelan prefers it to be in while you’re working, but not quite tamed after that. Wild and free, as the wind whips through it.

As if to try to contain your grin, you sink your teeth into the coral of your bottom lip, beaming at him anyway. Then, you lift the hand that isn’t settled between Billy’s thighs, and wiggle your fingers at him in greeting.

“What the hell are you doin’? — I can’t even see the road!” Billy complains.

Mr. Movie Star couldn’t have heard him, but he shoots a look at the complaining driver anyway. Then, his attention is yours again. Still smiling that amused smile, he lifts a tanned arm from its perch against the open window ledge, and throws up a loose peace sign across the stretch of road between you. His passenger laughs around her lollipop.

”Sayin’ hello. It’s polite.” You tell him back.

Between his obnoxious music, the wind whipping between the cars, and the equally polite indoor voice you had spoken in, there’s no way that Mr. Movie Star could have possibly heard you. He laughs like he had.

With that, the camper passes by. It takes the song and the blaring guitar with it, the rhythmic picking carrying across the flat stretches of road. It’s got tinted windows all around the sides and back. A real pussy wagon, you bet. Mr. Movie Star has probably seen a lot of action in the back of that van. Queue the wistful sigh from you. If you could just stop from grinning.

“Get off. C’mon, put your seatbelt on or something.”

“He was really something, don’t ya think?” You say, still grinning dumbly as you retreat back to the designated passenger’s spot, tracking the camper along the old stretch of Airport Road.

“Yeah, yeah — mellow out before you ruin my seats.” Billy grumbles, frowning at his side-view mirror. Six more vehicles to go; none of them drive quite as wild as those first couple of big trucks.

“How long d’you think they’re in town for?” You prop one elbow against the side of the door and plant your chin atop your palm, staring after the camper as you kick your feet across Billy’s lap. “You think it’s like an all- summer deal or just a couple of weekends?”

Billy shoots a steely look across the cab.

Sure, he was kind of a weedy kid. Small for his age, with a mom who was rarely more than a stone’s throw away. He’s not bad looking. Stick thin with a long, straight nose but pretty blue eyes. There’s usually motor oil in his blonde hair these days.

Either way, he hadn’t always exactly been the pick of the litter but with the war and stuff, he’s not such a bad option these days.

And still, you’ve had him benched in the friend zone since freshman year. Both of you know that it’ll just take an especially dry season for you to finally do him, and you are good company, he likes having you around.

He doesn’t like the douchebag with the ‘stache moving in on the closest thing he has to a girlfriend.

“They might stop by The Pines — you know, like those folks from the fair did, that one time.” you’re really talking to yourself at this point.

Billy looks across, unimpressed as he’s overtaken by a 1959 Ford F-100, painted a faded shade of light green.

Three people are crammed into the cab, and as it slips in front of you, you find that the bed of the truck is also occupied.

Two girls and one hell of a guy. He’s sitting with his back to the cab, shirtless and golden all over with a cigarette dangling from his lips and a hand of cards held to his chest.

The two girls are wearing little tanks and coloured hot pants, conferring with each other while he watches, cool as ice.

He’s grinning, a smooth talker even when you can’t hear what he’s saying. It’s not money that he’s talking those poor girls out of either, that’s why one of them proudly has his t-shirt balled up in her lap.

“Mrs. Cavendish would have a cow if—“ your rambling trails and your smile spreads as Golden Boy looks up from his poker game and finds you watching. “Whoa. Where are they finding these dudes?”

“Probably jail,” Billy mumbles, begrudging the topless wonder in the back of the truck. “Or a register of some kind, if you catch my drift.”

Golden Boy’s lips stretch thin around his hand-rolled cigarette, his grin dimpling his cheeks. Totally jiving with the way you’re staring at him, stretching his already broad shoulders like a peacock would with its feathers.

He’s a sandy kind of blonde and maybe even more of a movie-star looker than his buddy had been.

He tips his chin and graces you with a nod of acknowledgement. Then, he looks down at the hand of cards and closes his lips around the cigarette, inhaling deeply.

With a cool shrug, he cocks an eyebrow and seems to dare his two lady companions to put their money where their mouths are.

Billy glances down at the bag of green still on the bench between the two of you, practically starting a mental countdown until the two of you are out by the Falls, high as kites. Far from tanned, muscled carnie folk.

The trucks and cars pass by and head for the horizon, and Billy’s blue Chevy hugs the curves of winding country roads all the way out past Route Thirteen. Past Airport Road, there’s no sign of your two new objects of affection — given the heat of the late afternoon, you’re starting to wonder if all of them were a mirage or something.

That’s what the boys who come back from war tell you they saw out there. Apparitions in the jungle, like ghosts, but nice. Tommy Holdman says he thought he had died out there, laying flat on his back after he lost his leg, and all he could see was miles and miles of coastline. A perfect, pretty beach. His own idea of heaven.

Yours, apparently, is something far different.

The Falls isn’t really a waterfall. It’s maybe a ten- foot slow incline in the river bend. It’s shitty enough to not draw too many visitors, unlike the much more popular swimming spot out where the old quarry is. That place would be packed on an afternoon like this.

Your spot is on the far end of the county, nestled a while back off the road but not too far into the woods. It’s a spot to cool off without having to commit to really swimming, and it’s the only spot you know where the fuzz wouldn’t come poking around at the smell of skunk.

No one comes out here, not even the cops.

The afternoon is all yours, right through into the evening. It didn’t take Billy long to get over his mood, he’s grinning when he drops you off, right by your front door.

There’s no way he would make you walk all the way from the Post Office, not really. Everyone’s heard those stories of girls going missing in small towns like this, and through all of her faults, Betty Cline had raised a pretty stand-up young man.

“See ya Tuesday, I’ll call you!” You wave to him as you jog up the front steps onto the porch of your parents’ home.

He waves back from the driver’s side of his truck, and drives home to his mother’s roast chicken the same way he always does. She still packs his lunches too.

Fred looks up from Hawaii Five-O, in all of its multicoloured, static-fuzz glory as the screen door rattles to an abrupt shut. He flinches as the heavier, wood front door slams behind it.

“Look at that, she is alive.” He calls from the living room, for your ears more than anyone else’s.

“Hi, Papa Bear. You worrying about me again?” You coo, kicking your shoes off by the door and strolling across the hardwood, bracing yourself on the doorframe as you swing widely into the parlour, where Fred sits in his recliner, staring at his prized possession — the color TV set he bought after the new year.

“Worryin’ about you is like worryin’ the fox might hurt itself on its way out of the coop.”

You don’t much mind the image of yourself, the sly fox, prowling around town and making all of those chicken-shit boys cry for help. Your mouth almost twitches at the thought as you plonk yourself down on the carpeted floor and turn your attention towards Steve McGarrett saving the day.

Clearly at some point after you have nestled onto the carpet with your back to him, Fred clocks the outfit you have wandered home in.

“Now, where’d the hell did you even buy somethin’ like that?” You can hear the wrinkled frown on his aging face. He’s only in his fifties now, but with deep wrinkles and freckles from years working outside.

“Church-sale, I think.” You answer back, wondering if your mother is still up. She goes to bed early on weeknights so that she can be up early for her work at the grocery store in the mornings.

Fred lost his sense of smell when he worked in the mines in his late teens — he couldn’t tell the difference if you smelled like Mary-Jane or magnolias.

“You were with that kid from the auto shop again?” Fred puffs on cigarettes like a chimney. It turns the white ceilings brown occasionally, but your Mom has always been ready with a tin of cloud-coloured paint to fix that.

“Uh-huh. You know Billy.”

“Yeah.” He decides. There are worse boys you could be running around with than that teary-eyed fella.

“Saw a bunch of vans out by Airport Road today. Setting up a circus somewhere near here.” You tell him absently, both of you watching the television set as you pick at the carpet.

“Heard somethin’ about that. Gus O’Malley’s renting his south pasture out for something like that, I think.”

“I was thinking I could maybe borrow the car Saturday. Take Georgie.”

Georgie is an accident; an anniversary celebration turned rambunctious fifth grader with a knack for messing with your stuff while you’re at work. But he’s a cute kid, you’ll give him that. The little booger is fun to be around sometimes.

With Georgie around, there’s something to do other than head out of town and drink or smoke or spend the money that’s supposed to get you to California. If you take Georgie, Fred usually sponsors the trip.

“This Saturday?”

“Yeah. Figured they’d be running by then.” You lean your palms back into the rug, worn velvet under them. It doesn’t bother you that Fred barely turns his head from the television — before that, it had been the sports highlights in the paper.

“If you’re going to get him all hopped up on sugar, do me a favor and drop him off at Grandma’s on the way back.” Fred chortles, mostly to himself, as he brings a half-warm Budweiser to his mouth.

You smile at that, remembering the days Fred threatened to do the same to you. You grab at the knee of his faded blue jeans to push yourself up from the ground.

“Thought I might drop him off by the interstate, set him free. Like God intended.” You tell the house, headed for the hallway with the end goal being your bedroom on the second floor of the humble blue craftsman.

“I-59, not I-75. Can’t have him finding his way home.” Fred calls as you take the first step out onto the stairs, your fingers trailing your work bag, discarded onto the chipped wooden post that ends the railing.

“Now where in God’s name did you find those shorts?” Oh, she’s awake. Your mother’s voice is behind you, and if you had to guess you would imagine that her head is poking around the doorway into the kitchen and gawking at your fashion choices. She is.

“You went out wearing those?”

You stand, frozen on the stairs for a second, stuck in a moment of consideration. Fred’s pretending not to hear all this, he prefers not to get involved. Joan’s not so forgiving.

Turning around will mean a certain lecture.

“Gotta be up early, I won’t wear ‘em again.” You decide, hastening up the stairs before she can call you on your lie. Your bare feet hit the landing and slip a bit on the loose runner your dad swears he’s going to remember to buy underlay for one of these days.

As you steady, the door to your right creeks open and Georgie stumbles out of his cowboy-covered bedroom, rubbing uncaringly at his eye socket.

“Hey.” He yawns, heading for the bathroom, his hand-me-down pyjamas hanging down over the tops of his feet as he shuffles for the bathroom.

“Hey. Wanna do something with me Saturday?” You ask him, already headed for your own room. He stops and turns his head, eyes no longer heavy with sleep but wide open with curiosity.

“Yeah. What?”

“It’s a surprise.” You decide, twisting the handle and letting the door creak open wide as muscle-memory guides your hand to the lightswitch and illuminates your bedroom. It’s not really a surprise, but he won’t go back to bed if you tell him now. “Night, Georgie.”

“Goodnight!” He calls back, closing the bathroom door almost all the way. The light bulb’s still out and he’s still scared of the dark.

You close your bedroom door, shutting all of them out and immediately reaching for the ties of your halter top. They fall loose and you shimmy out of the fabric, then the shorts.

Flowered paper on the walls, hardwood floors, this room is filled with the remnants of the little girl you once were in here. The shag rug and the Janis Joplin print above the bed are evidence of the newer, cooler woman who now occupies the space. The two of you coexist in this little space just fine most days.

Next comes the quest for a shirt to sleep in — sleeping in the nude doesn’t work when you have a Mom like Joan. She means well, you’re grateful for her. She’s the first person you’ll thank when you get your first award. Even though she still comes in without knocking.

Shirt acquired, you hear Georgie’s door click shut down the hallway as you scan the room for the book you discarded last night.

The window in your room faces miles of fields. In the far distance, you’ve never really noticed that you can see the O’Malley farm. Well, kind of. Ahead of that, there’s a small dusting of forest that hinders your view.

Your search for the book comes to a brief stop as you turn towards the open window and look out over the view. More specifically, of the red and white glint of weatherproof canvas that comes to a sharp point, dazzled with lightbulbs.

“Did you see what your daughter came home in?” Joan asks, shaking her head from her seat at the sewing machine. It whirs impolitely over the conversation, seeing blue thread through the hole in the knee of Georgie’s blue jeans.

“Sure did.” Fred drops his beer into the trash with a clang and rolls his shoulders back. He turns towards her, already expecting the worried frown he sees.

“People’ll talk.”

“Let ‘em,” Fred shrugs. He considers another Budweiser, but knows he’s got to be up early to get to the factory in the morning. “She’s a smart girl, she’s not out causing any trouble.”

Joan stops the machine and hums in consideration.

“Besides, I’m sure it’s a right of passage — wearing stuff that makes your folks’ blood pressure go crazy.”

She smiles, pushing up from the chair. Her socks pad across the green and yellow linoleum until she reaches her husband, her head tucking into the crook of his neck.

“You’re right. But I don’t like those shorts.” Joan decides as her husband takes her into his arms, smoky smelling and familiar.

Behind them, the morning’s paper sits discarded with only the sports section disrupted. Printed in an appropriately black ink, is the freckled face of Audrey Weiss. Her large-round glasses are still sitting on the bridge of her nose, her shoulders are angled and she’s beaming, looking front and centre. Above her portrait, the word MISSING is in the same shade of mourning-appropriate black ink.

That was a school photo. It’s old, her bangs have grown out already. Her round glasses are all torn up now, shattered and mangled — about 200 yards from her broken body, which is yet to be discovered in an empty stretch of red-dirt land off of a highway in southern Arizona.

NEXT CHAPTER

TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT

tags: tags: @sunflowercharlie13 @spinning-away @eloquentdreamer @a-reader-and-a-writer @breezyweazybeezy @mel119g @blaircharlotte @hersuitisbanana @aragorn-02 @one-sweet-gubler @chrysalismuh @xzyzycxdd @atarmychick007 @ximehs @ah9242 @gleefulleve @nnatel @topherwrites @princesskreator @seitmai @d0main-expansion @yepyeahuhhuh @cherrycola27 @ohtobeleah @roosterbruiser

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #jake seresin #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw au #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #Jake seresin x reader #Jake seresin x you #Jake seresin au

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equallyshaw · 1 year

Text

a blue moon w mat barzal.

insta edit.

Warnings: none !

Word Count: 1.8k+

Not the best, but wanted to get something out. A bit rusty, but hope you enjoy!

────────────

they met at a very grand and very chic new years party, at the plaza hotel in midtown manhattan 3 years ago. she had been swaying to the old 1950’s music, sipping sparingly on the very expensive $600 champagne. she watched as my older sister danced with her newly minted fiance at the time, as the two had just become engaged over the very snowy christmas eve. lucy had originally planned to bring her boyfriend of 6 years to the new years eve party, but he broke up with her a week before christmas day. out of the blue, very sudden, and gave her no clarity whatsoever.

☆

blue moon, you saw me standing alone

without a dream in my heart without a love of my own

☆

but there she was, watching the loved up couples dancing as time winded down to midnight. She peered over her shoulder, towards the balcony and sighed, before making her way over. her newly gifted jimmy choo heals clicked uncomfortably on the marble floor. she felt an instant sigh of relief as the brunette stepped foot outside to the 12-degree, cold. she walked up to the railing and looked out of busy, busy new york, taking in all the sights and sounds, and the stray snow coming down as well. she smiled down at her hand, twisting the glass ever so slightly. she then looked up and to her right, and saw him. a tall, dark haired, mysterious man who leaned against the railing, looking towards the city. smiling, picking up her glass and walkedon over. he heard the heels clicking on the concrete and looked up towards the girl. he was gorgeous. her breath halted ever so slightly, and blushed. “fancy some company?” grinning, sipping her champagne. He watched as she did so, him intoxicated by her sheer presence. he took in all 5’4 of her, black dress and her bruntte hair in perfect waves. “why are you all alone?” he questioned, “no girl like you- should ever be alone.” forward, which she loved. whe smiled, “i could say the same to you shakespeare…” and he looked down ever so quickly.

"my ex broke up with me a month ago…nobody to take to the party. You?” he said shrugging. “ny boyfriend broke up with me..last week.” she said and he then saluted his drink towards her. “i suggest, were gonna need more of that.” he grinned, before alerting a server that they needed two new glasses of champagne. she looked at him with curiosity, as he thanked the server. she took the new glass, clinking her’s with his and swallowed a fine amount.

☆

blue moon, you knew just what i was there for

you heard me saying a prayer for someone I really could care for

☆

the night sky dawned upon them as they spoke outside at the party. the two spoke of who they were, where they come from, their past relationships, and more. the two couldn’t believe how they were so alike, yet very different. two different worlds colliding, so very smoothly. lucy stood there in shock, as mat waited for a response. “so quickly? She questioned and he nodded. “you’d go into a relationship without somebody so quickly after 3 years of dating?” he laughed. the laugh sending electricity and heat up her body. She watched as it traveled throughout his body, seemingly normal. Though, he hadn’t had a good chuckle that good in awhile. “what about you, miss lucy?” he questioned, watching her tug his tux’s jacket closer to her. “I mean, maybe? It would have to be the right person and if it fell right. I want somebody that will be there high and low, and in between. Somebody who will say yes no matter what to my crazy idea or suggestion…” mat cut her off- “which would be?” he grinned. She blushed, “maybe getting joes pizza at 2 am or ice cream at malibu diner..the simple things.” she teased sipping more of her drink. “I wish for that person as well, to stand by me through all the ups and downs of hockey and the chaotic life it brings.” he added and she nodded, placing a hand on his arm. “i do too, mathew.” she smiled, before sliding the jacket off and placing it in his hands. The two’s hands grazed one another’s, and she moved them so slightly, they were nothing longer touching. he looked down at the jacket and back up at her, but she was already on her way back inside. “lucy!” though she slipped right inside as soon as he said her name. he hurried inside to find her, but was too late, the madness had begun as the clock struck 12.

☆

and then there suddenly appeared before me

the only one my arms could ever hold

☆

mat walked into the grand ballroom at the plaza, one year later for the annual new years ever party. he scanned the room for one girl, and one girl only. the girl that had stolen his heart in the 45 minutes he knew her. a girl he had yet to see at joes pizza at 2 am or the malibu diner. anders pulled him further into the room as he spotted him walk in. “come on the guys are waiting.” mat sighed as he walked over towards bo horvat, zach parise, mat martin and beau; who had snuck down for new years from vancouver. anders pushed a vintage, tulip glass. he looked down and realized, he hadn’t had any champagne since last new years. he took a gulp, before the spicy yet sweet sensation tingled his throat. “Im gonna go look at the buffet.” he said and the guys nodded going back to their conversation and food. mat sauntered over to the buffet picking up a small china plate, and digging into the salmon, veggies some lemon rice. mat was about to turn to grab a glass of water when he heard her laugh. he turned so quickly, he bumped into an older gentleman. “oh my god, im so sorry!” he exclaimed bending down to help clean up the ice that spilled from the drink. “Grandpa, are you ok?” he heard her angelic, soft voice. mat looked up from where now the waiter was telling him they had it. He nodded, standing back up. lucy inspected her grandfather, while a man beside her eyed mat. lucy looked past her grandpa, and had a moment of realization. “Mat?” she questioned, and mat ever the dumb-looking mat nodded. “how are you?” she questioned, reaching out to hug him like the two had known one another for years, they pulled apart and thats when he saw it. He saw the vintage, at least 200,000 dollar engagement ring. she saw him look down at it, and she slowly pulled her hand back behind her back, where it had been most of the night. “how are you? who are you here with?” she questioned, as her fiance fell into side with her. “im uh, ive been good! Im here with some of my teammates.” he explained while pointing to the other side of the room. “oh good! glad its more people this time.” she smiled, a soft smile. He nodded, “so are you two?” he questioned putting the clues together. “Yes! We got engaged in July, while we were vacationing in Italy at my family’s estate.” lorenzo explained. mat nodded trying to read the girl’s face, who was trying to look anywhere but his. “hun, may you get me a drink please?” she asked and lorenzo nodded, kissing her temple before walking off.

“Congrats by the way.” mat said, and she nodded. “Yeah…sorry to ambush you.” she said patting down her silver dress. mat shrugs, “i mean how else would i know?” he asked giving an uncomfortable laugh. “Not like it was in the papers or anything.” he stated jokingly, and then he saw her face. “yeah, my family is uh pretty wealthy and uh..yeah.” she said sheepishly and then lorenzo walked back up, with a cosmopolitan in his hand. “thankyou.” she said taking it from his hand and setting it on the table behind them. “i uh should probably be heading back to my friends, im sorry for for your drink sir.” he motioned towards her grandpa, and he waved him off. “im just glad i got another one for our sake.” he laughed, causing mat to laugh as well. lucy smirked, knowing that her grandpa hadn’t had a hearty laugh like that with lorenzo. mat walks away, and lorenzo is in distress.

mat watched from a far for about 45 minutes, a tense conversation between the fiances. he saw lorenzo walk out of the ballroom, and lucy towards the terrace. he followed her about 5 minutes after the door was closed behind her. he walked outside, and she turned around instantly. she had hoped he saw that she walked out. “lucy?” he questioned, pulling off his jacket like he had done last year and draped it over her shoulders, and he wrapped his arms from behind, pulling her into him. she smiled widely, “i had been waiting to..to be held by you once again.” she smiled up at him. he blushed, “you are the only one i want to hold.” he whispered in her ear, staring at the city in front of him.

☆

Iiheard somebody whisper please adore me

and when I looked the moon had turned to gold

☆

she turned around in his arms, looking up at him. “i’ve decided to leave a life i thought was meant for me, and what i wanted but…i dont want that mat. he was never the one, those 45 minutes were the best 45 minutes of my life mat. i havent been able to stop thinking about you since last year. and i dont want him, i want you mat. only you.” she confessed and he smiled, pulling her in as close as possible. “i wanted somebody to adore me…the way i adore them.” she whispered, and he nodded. he drawed her chin towards his, his cool hands sending waves of sensation down her spine, before he kissed the brunette. the rare full moon of new years eve, cascaded down upon them. no longer a ‘blue’ moon but a ‘gold’ one at that.

☆

the two start their first dance as partners, at the very place they met for the first time and three years after they first met. when the two were presented with picking the date, the two looked at one another and instantly knew when and where. and with a little help from her grandpa, the two were to wed on new years eve at one of the most sought-after hotel in nyc. and there plans for after midnight? a 45 minute walk to malibu diner for icecream and pie.

☆

hope you all enjoyed!! pls like and repost, itd mean a lot.

random tags: @matbaerzal @barzysunflower @barzal @rosesvioletshardy @canuckshuggy @bitchinbarzal @andreburakozy @jayda12

#mat barzal #mat barzal x oc #nhl #hockey #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #new York islanders #matt martin #anthony beauvillier #tyson jost #mat barzal imagine #equallyshaw masterlist

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imawkwardlysoc · 1 year

Text

i could be a better boyfriend than him

Song- Boyfriend by Dove Cameron

Pairing- Natasha Trace x fem!reader

Warning(s)- None

Wordcount- 525

A/N- Just a short one shot for all of y'all and I might make these a series. @phoenixssugarbaby you might like this.

I can’t believe that I’m actually doing this.

Just over six months ago I broke up with my boyfriend of over a year, and now I’m taking engagement photos with one of the most successful CEOs on the West Coast. Well, I’m not actually engaged, just faking it so she can keep her family’s business. The only reason I’m doing this is because I’m a petty person and would like to make my ex jealous. Is it healthy? Not really?

Smoothing my outfit in the mirror, I made some slight adjustments before I heard my phone ringing.

“Hello?” I answered.

“We’re waiting in front of your apartment,” she told me.

“I’ll be down in a few,” I told her.

Grabbing my things, I rushed out of my apartment and down the stairs where I saw the SUV waiting for me. Opening the door, I slid across the seat across from her.

Natasha Trace, the most successful CEOs in all of California. We randomly met at a bar and we just drunkenly spilled our life stories. A week after meeting, she came back to the bar and proposed this idea. After spending a few weeks contracting agreements and creating our story, we’re now taking engagement photos.

“You look nice,” she complimented me.

“Thanks,” I thanked her. “You look nice also.”

“You still want to do this?” She asked.

“For our own personal vengeance, yes,” I answered.

She nodded her head and we sat in the car in silence until we reached Balboa Park. getting out of the car, Natasha led me to where the photographer was. We did our introductions and the photographer told us what the plan was.

“Where’s your ring?” The CEO whispered in my ear as we got to our fist spot.

“Oh shit,” I reached into my bag and slid the ring on my finger.

Grabbing my hand, we went to the first spot and took photos.

Not going to lie, despite us not being a couple, the photographer was convinced we were one. Even from the poses and actions they told us, we were pretty natural with them. There wasn’t any awkward tension between us. Sometimes we would crack a laugh from a cheesy joke or one liner I would say.

“Why don’t the two of you kiss?” The photographer suggested.

“There’s no need for that,” I started to deny.

“No, it’s fine,” Natasha reassured them and placed a kiss on my cheek which made me blush a little.

“Let’s try a full on kiss,” the photographer clarified.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked Natasha.

“I’m sure if you’re sure,” she gently placed her hand on my cheek. “Do you trust me?”

“Well, I’ve only known you for almost two months,” I started to ramble but was cut off when Natasha placed her lips on mine.

As she kissed me slowly, her lips were nice and soft. They weren’t rough like my previous partner’s. I felt myself melt a little as she kissed me.

“So, am I better than your ex?” She smirked a little after we finished kissing.

“Way better,” I answered before kissing her again.

#natasha trace x reader #natasha phoenix trace x reader #pheonix x reader #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader #top gun au #top gun fic #top gun maverick fic #natasha trace #phoenix trace #top gun #top gun maverick

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allwaswell16 · 1 year

Note

Hi! I might have a weird rec request? Is there any larry fic in which Harry or Louis fake dates someone else to end up together? On the idea of “not even the gods above” (lovely fic)? Thanks!!

Hi, anon! I honestly didn't think there would be as many of these as there are so I was just going to find what I could, but then I ended up with ten of them. Whoops! (Also, I looked at all the fics with titles of Not Even the Gods Above and I couldn't find one where there's fake dating? So now I'm super curious which fic you mean...) Happy reading!

-Fake Dating Someone Else Fics-

When The Stars Come Out by BriaMaria / @briannamarguerite

Louis was about to reassure Harry further when Gemma bounded back over to him, slipping a hand around Louis' waist. Harry’s eyes followed the movement. And then that lip gnaw again. Christ. How was he supposed to survive this weekend?

He turned his attention to Gemma as her palm came to rest right above his heart. Laying it on a bit thick, dear. Or at least that’s what he hoped he’d conveyed with the simple tilt of an eyebrow.

In response, she went up on tiptoes and laid a noisy kiss on the hollow beneath his cheekbone. Louis didn’t take his eyes off Harry, who watched the scene play out with a blank expression. Once Gemma dropped back to the ground, Harry shifted away from them, his gaze dropping to his feet.

[Or the one where Louis pretends to be Gemma's boyfriend for her horrid cousin's wedding but fate is a nasty jerk and throws Harry in his way.]

Back From The Edge by sincewewereeighteen

“Guess my eyes are very blue.” “They are.” Harry agrees easily. “You’ve got beautiful eyes.” “You’re drunker than you think.” Louis snorts. “Why’s that?” “We’ve just met and you said I have beautiful eyes. Only people who are in love say that.” He points. “Maybe I am in love with you.” Harry points back, feeling very smart. Yep. Maybe he is drunker than he thought.

Or: the one in which Harry is a closeted actor who needs to do a PR stunt during his break, only he wasn't counting on falling for his beard's best friend. It gets messy.

Take Me Back to Where We Started by amory

Harry and Louis haven't spoken since they broke up four years ago. As boarding school sweethearts they once spent every waking moment together, but now they can hardly stand to be in the same room. When their five year class reunion comes around, both boys decide against their better judgement to return and (hopefully) have a good time.

The only problem is, they're both still hopelessly in love.

Starring Harry as the petty ex, Louis as the new James Bond, Niall as a boy genius and fake boyfriend extraordinaire, and Liam and Zayn as two friends just trying to make it out of this weekend alive.

Let Our Hearts Collide by crinkle-eyed-boo / @crinkle-eyed-boo

“Liam is in a coma.” “Yeah, we can see that,” the father says, throwing his hands in the air. “God, this is the most depressing Christmas ever,” the blonde sister mutters. “His vital signs are strong,” Dr. Higgins assures them. “Brain waves are good–” “Brain waves?” the mother wails, taking Liam’s hand in hers. “Oh my God!” “How did this happen?” the father demands. “Um, he was pushed from the platform at the subway station,” Harry pipes up. The entire family turns to look at him, confused. Harry shrinks back, wishing he could have just kept his big mouth shut. “Who’s this?” the father asks, pointing at him. “Um, I’m Harry–” he starts. “He’s Liam’s fiancé!” Jade adds helpfully from where she stands by the door. Every jaw in the room drops, including Harry’s. Oh, shit. Shit shit shit. What?

When Harry, a lonely transit worker, saves the life of the handsome commuter he's been secretly pining for, an innocent mistake results in Liam Payne's family believing that Harry is engaged to their son. In the Paynes, Harry finds the big family he's always longed for...and a love he never saw coming.

A While You Were Sleeping AU

All Hearts Come Home For Christmas by PinkSeelie

“Gemma, who the fuck is that?” Louis hisses as he watches her wave back with a big smile.

Her brows furrow for a second as she looks at Louis. “What? That’s my brother, you dork. Told you he’d pick us up, didn’t I?”

Well fuck. Apparently, Mr. Handsome over there is Gemma’s brother. And Louis is spending a week with him. Pretending to be his sister’s boyfriend. Shit.

(Basically: Gemma brings ‘her boyfriend’, Louis, home for Christmas and her brother is really hot.)

Harry, Did You Know (that your baby boy, is married to his best friend?) by tempolarriefics / @tempolarriefix

10 years ago, Louis and Zayn made a pact that if they weren't married by 30, they'd marry each other. So they do, as best mates do. Enter Harry Styles, who's new to town. He and Louis are immediately drawn to one another. Louis doesn't tell Harry about Zayn, because they're just friends (who are married.) Harry finds out on Christmas Day, Louis/Zayn's "anniversary".

aka a marriage pact AU with a twist

Feeling Hazy (In the Ballroom of my Mind) by dimpled_halo / @comebackassholes

The doors to the ballroom open and violin music fills Harry’s ears, his skin prickling as he tightens his hold on Liam’s arm. All eyes fall on him as he makes his grand entrance next to Lord Payne, Earl of Wolverhampton. According to the media, they’re the couple of the century, but little do they know they’re not really dating. Harry tugs on his collar, the tightness around his neck almost too much. He’ll never get used to being Prince of Cheshire. Not only are wearing his royal garments a pain in the arse, he also hates all of the attention it garners.

There’s only one person’s attention Harry really wants.

Being of the Jealous Kind by zita17 / @louisandtheaquarian

A-list actor Louis Tomlinson and his partner fashion photographer Harry Styles weather the storm that is Louis’ fake relationship with his costar in the lead up to this year’s Academy Awards.

Featuring a fluffy teenage meet-cute, an angsty wine drunk Harry melting down over pap pics, Louis habitually overusing the word “baby,” and cameos by a vintage Umbro sweatshirt, the peace ring, and one hell of a Larry hug.

Or the justice for To Be So Lonely fic. Based on the lyrics to TBSL and a prompt where “Louis has to fake date some celebrity, while his boyfriend Harry sits at home.”

candle wax and polaroids by orphan_account

"I could think of much worse ways, Harry. I look forward to meeting you when you aren't half naked," Louis teased, and Harry swore Louis glanced down at his bare chest.

Harry blushed, watching Louis shut the bathroom door behind him.

And that's how he met his sister's boyfriend.

or, gemma brings her "boyfriend," louis, home for thanksgiving.

Just To See That Smile by homosociallyyours / @homosociallyyours

It's Coming Out Week at university, and Harry's taken on a lot of responsibilities to make everything run smoothly. Finding his roommate's boyfriend attractive is making that a bit difficult, unfortunately. It might help if he realized that said boyfriend (Louis) is really just there to help said roommate (Liam) figure out if Liam's crush (Zayn) likes him back.

But that would make things too easy.

A fic where a hastily faked relationship and a lot of miscommunication almost ruins a perfectly good dance.

#ficrec #fakedating #fake dating someone else #ask #anon #ficask

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noodyl-blasstal · 1 year

Text

Sweet

TAZ Bingo for @taznovembercelebration

Taako [16:43]

Cha'boy's cha'boyfriend now. Don’t be weird about it.

Lucretia [14:56]

Hello Barry, if anyone says anything you think is unusual just be cool, Lucretia

Krav [13:11]

Hi Barry,

Just so you are aware, I have made a semi-public announcement that we’re dating. I’ll explain later.

Have a good day,

Kravitz.

Maggie [11:27]

Barry!!! I’m your boyfriend! But in a friend way. Just don’t tell anyone that. Don’t worry about it.

Barry stared at his phone for a full minute. He’d left them unattended for 8 hours, and he was now dating three of his friends? He wasn’t sure the university would give him a plus 3 to events. Barry flicked through the messages again, did he actually want to engage with this? Maybe if he ignored it, it would go away…

_____________________________

LuLu [17:19]

YOU’RE DATING BARRY??????????????????

[17:19]

BARRY I’VE BEEN IN LOVE WITH FOR FIVE YEARS, BARRY???

[17:20]

I know you said it would be easy to ask him out, but this is a sick way to prove your point.

[17:20]

What the actual fuck, Ko?

[17:20]

You’ve been dating 3 months??? And I had to hear it from Ren?

[17:21]

I thought we told each other everything.

Taako’s phone had been buzzing persistently, but he had been expecting a series of weird emojis from Krav, not this.

Obviously Taako was perfect. Obviously Taako never made any mistakes or missteps or did anything wrong. But this one time, just this one singular time, he might have very slightly fucked up.

Taako [17:23]

Pick up your phone, Lupita, Taako can explain.

“This had better be good.” Lup’s voice was verging on hysterical, and to be honest, fair.

“His ex is in town.”

“The bad ex?” Lup asked.

“The bad ex.” Taako nodded solemnly.

“And she was talking about how he was still single and no one else could ever want him…”

“Uh huh.” Lup said.

“…And she said she thought he’d be single forever because he was pathetic and unlovable.” Taako added.

Lup growled.

“Exactly! What else was I supposed to do?” Taako was fairly sure this was getting off the hook material. Everyone hated Lydia, they couldn’t be held responsible for their actions when she was involved.

“No, yeah, that’s totally fair.” Lup nodded, then grinned.

“Congratulations, I guess.” Said Lup, who sounded a lot less angry at Taako and a lot more angry at Lydia. Perfect.

“She’s unbelievable. He broke up with her!”

“Right?” Taako settled in, bitching about Lydia was one of his favourite sports.

“… and she wasn’t with anyone other than her dickhead brother either. It’s not like she’s come back with a fiance.”

_________________________________

“Thanks for meeting me Barry.” Kravitz passed Barry the cup of coffee he’d bought for him, paused awkwardly, then wrapped his arm round his waist and walked him to the outdoor table - may as well be seen together. Kravitz pulled Barry’s chair out for him and smiled fondly as he sat down.

Barry took a large swig of his coffee, and raised his eyebrows.

“This is lovely and all, Krav, but what’s going on?”

“Lydia’s in town.” Kravitz replied.

Barry winced.

“Oh.”

“She was being mean.”

“Well, that is on brand.” Barry replied, huffing a laugh.

“She was being mean about you.” Kravitz stressed, surely Barry would understand why he had to do this.

“That’s not new, bud. At least she wasn’t being mean to me, if anything, it’s an improvement.” Barry’s mouth quirked up at the edges, amused by his own joke. He wasn’t taking this seriously for some reason?

“She said she thought you were still single.” Surely he’d get it now.

“That no one would date you.”

“I am, and no one is dating me.” Barry replied, then muttered.

“No matter how much I wish they would.”

“Well, fun news.” Kravitz said, then added some jazz hands for showmanship.

Barry raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah, gonna need slightly more explanation than that, bud.”

“Look, she was being horrible, and I hate her, Barry. I hate her so much. She was mean to you, and she was mean to us, and then three years ago she fucked off and it was wonderful. I didn’t want her to think that you were pining for her or anything, so I said we were dating. We’ve been together for the last few months, by the way. You asked me out at the library. I cried because I was so happy.” Kravitz should probably stop speaking now. Barry’s face was doing a lot of things and not quite settling on an expression.

The spay of coffee was unexpected. To be fair, Kravitz should probably have waited until Barry had finished drinking to start the last ramble.

“Fuck, sorry bud!” Barry choked through his laughter.

“That’s just, huh. That’s, it’s really sweet of you.” He cough-laughed some more, and shoved some napkins at Kravitz.

“Unnecessary. But sweet.”

Kravitz mopped ineffectually at his suit. Thankfully the black hid stains well… not that anyone had to know that. Kravitz definitely wore black for goth purposes and not practicality.

“I had some weird texts from Magnus, Lucretia, and Taako too…” Barry trailed off.

“Oh gods.” He put his head in his hands and guaffed.

“She’s going to think we’re a polycule. This is brilliant.” He wheezed.

Kravitz offered his cup in cheers, Barry tapped his cardboard against it and took a much more successful sip. There we go. Kravitz had definitely made a good choice here.

#TAZ Nc #TAZ November Celebration #Sometimes you have a really stupid idea and you have to run with it #Platonic fake dating #There's no enemy like a friend's evil ex #No one gets to be mean to Barry and then come back and be more mean about Barry #Noodyl Writes #Taz Fic #Taz Balance #Barry Bluejeans

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hjellacott · 1 year

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Have I told you about my transman ex-boyfriend?

So a few years ago, I fell in love with (or so I thought) a woman. During the course of our relationship (on and off, often mere friendship, other times romantic/sexual), I began to notice he might not be a woman after all. I won't get into details as to what made me think so, but it had to do with things he said, feelings he had, and lifestyle decisions, amongst other reasons. Anyway. A few years after we first got together, during an off period of our relationship, in which we were still (and remain to this day) very close friends, he sought my help. He came out as he. Told me he was a transman. And suddenly, everything made sense.

I mean, I maintain that in my experience as a bisexual, I've never known someone, trans or not, who I couldn't tell their sex by their energy and their personality and other non-visual things. It happens to him as well, and like I mentioned in another post just now, it's something he's learned to accept and use to his advantage. He's got the female sensitivity, for example. The female understanding. And the knowledge you gain when for 20+ years you've done life as a woman. And when he dates women, they see and appreciate that. But at the same time, it made sense to me, right away, to see him as a man because in spite of the femaleness exuding from his pores, I suddenly looked back at our long relationship and saw many times in which he'd shown he felt at his best as a man, not as a woman.

I remember with certain heartbreak the first time he photoshoped himself with a beard and sent it to me asking "wouldn't I be so handsome?". The heartbreak comes from understanding the tremendous pain he was in. Because he was engaged to marry a lesbian who had no idea he saw himself as a trans man, and who really was NOT into men. Who told them, when he tentatively asked if she'd love him as a man that sure, she'd always love him, but wouldn't feel sexually attracted to him as a man. And he so desperately wanted to fully be a man, but he knew it'd cost the woman he loved. So he turned to me. And he asked me, would YOU find me sexually attractive as a man? (given I'm bisexual). You can imagine how bad I was feeling.

I had to really give this one a thought. I'd loved this person insanely for years. I'd been willing to sacrifice a lot for him. He'd been my first and wildest true love. And our continuous break-ups had really shattered my insides. But I had no wishes for him to keep hurting, and I knew he just needed someone to tell him he could still be attractive as a man. He'd been so successful living life as a woman, always getting a woman in bed with no effort, and sex was a huge part of his life, and he was very worried it'd all end. That no one would find him sexually attractive any more.

He never resented his fiancée. He understood she had no reason to find him attractive as a man, because he'd lived most of his life as a lesbian woman, and could easily put himself in her shoes. He knew that he'd probably be the same way if the situation was reversed and he told me so. And still expected me to answer him. To reassure him.

I broke it down in different questions. I said to him, would I love you? Well, your gender would not affect what I feel for you, but I can't love you any more, because that stopped a long time ago, because we had a relationship and it ended and you broke my heart. I can, however, love you as a friend, and that won't change.

Would I find you sexually attractive? Well. If you have a female physical body as you have had, of course, because that never stopped. Although I no longer am as into you now as I was when I loved you, but that's not affected by you being trans. And if you have a full physical transition, perhaps I'll still consider you very attractive, because I'm bi. I've no way to know for sure until it happens, but there's a good chance. But while you're transitioning, while you're in the middle... Perhaps I won't find you attractive, because I'm not pansexual. Because my libido does require certain physical characteristics for me to be into that, and if you're neither here not there, I can't promise you'll turn me on in the slightest.

But here's a thing, I added. I will always find you beautiful. You can't ask me if I'll love you or if I'd sleep with you, because we're exes, and is not appropriate. And the answer is very likely to become no either way, if we're not talking about a completely hypothetical situation, based on the fact that we're no longer together and I don't want us to be together again (regardless of whether you're trans or not). But I will always see the beauty in you. I will always value you. I will always appreciate you. I'll look at you and always see my best friend, who once meant everything to me, and who will forever remain a huge part of my life. And I believe your problem flirting after surgery will have more to do with your insecurity, than with anything else.

I told him, you've gotten used to being a very attractive woman, and to become a very attractive trans man, you'll need to work a bit. You'll need to get used to it. You'll need to find your confidence again. And until you do, I'll be happy to be your wingwoman. I'll go and tell the ladies about my incredibly kind, generous and loving trans man friend. Perhaps they won't be into you. Perhaps it won't even be related to you being trans. But I am sure there are millions of women out there who will be open to dating you. Perhaps they'll all be pansexual, or perhaps not. Doesn't matter. Because there's always someone for you out there. It has nothing to do with transphobia. It's all about knowing yourself and knowing when your body's suddenly gotten turned on by someone, or turned off... You might not be able to put a finger on what's done it, but something will do it.

I reminded my friend that no one could look into his gorgeous eyes and not want to at least have a drink with him. I reminded him that he's got a crazy attractive personality, and that that was the first thing that drew me to him, because back then, I wasn't accepting to the fact that I liked girls too. It took his wonderful personality to allow me to accept I was really into him as a woman. And I reminded him that he's always been fit, that girls dig fitness (many at least do), and that many girls dig scars as well, so they wouldn't mind about his surgical scars. And I reminded him that yes, he'd lose a fiancée, but he'd earn a best friend, because that woman loved him and would grieve their relationship and want him as a friend. I reminded him that the kids they had together would lose a second mum, but earn a second dad. That his mum would lose a daughter, and earn a son. And that regardless of the levels in which people were or weren't sexually attracted to him, those who loved him and cared about him would still do.

I'd love to tell you the story had a happy ending. Truth is, we haven't reached it yet. He's still struggling, still determined to have surgery, still dying to look in the mirror and see a beard, and short hair, and wear suits, and get rid of the breasts he hates. But I'm happy to say therapy is being insanely helpful. That he's happier. That he's hopeful. And that although he's still worried about how sexy he'll be... He at least knows he'll remain very much loved. And that he'll earn me as a wing woman and we'll laugh our arses off trying to get him a new girlfriend when the time is right. For now, he's still engaged. He's trying to figure out how to break his fiancée's heart, and how to be only her friend. He's still loving her, and she's still loving him. And for now, that's good enough. He understands no one should feel obligued to find him sexy as a trans man, that nobody owes him anything like that, and that lesbian women have every right to say no. And he understands that in a vast world, there is someone out there dying to meet him. And that when the match is right, things won't feel so tricky any more. And he's going to have a lot of help and support and love to help him get there.

#lgbt #trans man #transmasc #female to male #real story #real life #transgender

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soluoi · 2 years

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I would have expected more than 3 people

Lmao why? I believe in waiting till marriage and that sex is meant for the person you're going to spend the rest of your life with and not throw yourself at just anyone. I'm aware I broke that years ago but I still believe that. My first was with my ex boyfriend and we never had sex but we did other sexual things to each other. I was engaged my second time to my ex girlfriend and I thought "what the hay, we're getting married anyway" but she cheated on me so I called it off. My third was with a different ex girlfriend who I had a massive crush on and her best friend was like "Archie looks like he would be a good fucker and he ain't bad to look at" I was against it at first but then we did a FWB. I'm a sexual abuse survivor too, so I'm not going to sleep with just anyone. My body, my choice and I never will be with anybody who doesn't respect me as a person first.

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abeck3434 · 2 years

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Emerson’s heart races in her chest as she tries to work up the courage to walk through the double doors that hold the people she once loved most in the world.

Music loudly blares from behind her, and she tries to ignore the people who are walking around and throwing her weird glances. They’re most likely wondering why someone like her is standing in front of a door that holds the men whom own the club she is currently in, and who are widely known for selling drugs to people throughout the city.

Emerson Leer does not look like the type of person who would engage in such activities. She is a small, dainty young woman, who rests just at 5’2. She has long, golden hair, and has a face that embodies innocence. With her full, pouty lips, button nose, light green eyes that are always covered by thin, round glasses—she doesn’t look like the type of person who commonly enters a room that holds drug dealers.

Be that as it may, she insists upon being brave enough to go in there tonight. Despite how hard her hands are shaking, how fast her heart is thumping in her small chest, and how her breath quickens with every passing second as her anxiety increases.

She’s terrified.

Any normal person would be scared of entering the room, considering the four men within are well known, powerful figures in the city.

But Emerson Leer is not exactly a normal person.

She is afraid, yes. But not for reasons one may assume.

She’s scared because she knows the men within those doors. She knows them personally. Intimately.

After all, she did date them for almost a year.

All four of them were her first boyfriends. They taught her what a polyamorous relashinship was. They taught her everything, really.

Before them, she had never been kissed, never been touched, never been fucked. She was the type of girl to blush every time the word sex was mentioned. She still is, really. She didn’t know anything about DDLG, nor about dominant and submissive relationships. But they changed that. They changed everything.

For those wonderful eleven months that they were together, it was the happiest moments of Emerson's life. She loved them more than she loved herself. She would’ve done anything for them. As they would’ve her.

But alas, they broke up three months ago. For reasons that Emerson doesn’t want to begin thinking about.

Emerson slowly takes in a shaky breath. In six seconds, hold for four, out seven. She reaches into the pocket of her flowy, baby pink dress and grasps the crinkled money that her friend had given her.

Olive, Emerson’s friend. She is the reason why the shaky girl has to now see her ex’s after having not responded to their calls and texts for three months.

Olive has been Emerson’s friend for about three years now, the girls went to high school together and made sure to keep in touch once they graduated. And while Olive is a good friend, she does have a slight drug problem.

When Emerson started dating them, they cut Olive off from buying from them, solely because they didn’t approve of one of Emerson’s friends actively using drugs. They didn’t want Olive to influence Emerson, and while they knew Olive would more likely find somewhere else to get the drugs, they still wanted to discourage her.

Which it didn't, obviously, considering the predicament Emerson finds herself in.

Olive’s usual dealer is unavailable, so she begged Emerson to go to them and buy the drugs for her, because she knew Emerson could never say no to a friend in need, even if it was to support her nasty habits.

That’s how she came to be standing in front of the door that holds the men she hoped she would never have to see again. Even if she missed them terribly.

The girl pulls out the money Olive had given her and frowns as she sees the wrinkled, creased shape that the thin paper is in. She tries to smooth it out, but the money stays unneat and dirty. Emerson sighs and puts it back into her pocket, tightly shutting her eyes as a familiar feeling creeps up her neck.

Emerson has always liked her things a certain way. Her room, clean. Her bed, made. Her papers, unwrinkled and perfectly straight. Her undiagnosed OCD has only gotten worse as the years go by. If something isn’t perfectly to her liking, she might have a complete breakdown. The wadded up money currently in her pocket makes her feel tingly and dirty.

In six seconds, hold for four, out seven.

The girl reaches up her shaking hand and balls it up in a small fist. She only hesitates briefly before bringing her hand down and firmly knocking on the door, hoping it sounds as if she is much more confident than she currently is.

She winces as her knuckles feel a twinge of pain from the wooden door. She never liked being in unnecessary pain. Unless it was by their hand, of course.

“Come in.”

Lucifer. His strong, stern voice sounds through the door. It makes her momentarily freeze up and she has to quickly remind herself to open the door before they get impatient.

Her heart is in her throat as she pushes the door open and is greeted with the familiar presence of their private room where they hold their transactions within the club.

Her eyes land on the man sitting on one of the luxurious chairs sitting off to the side of the room. He’s looking down at his phone, with one arm slung over the back of the chair, and one of his ankles is propped up on his opposite knee.

The sight of him makes her heart ache. She remembers what it was like to be in their arms. With them, there was constant physical contact-she was rarely left untouched. And since they broke up, hardly anyone bothers to touch her at all. Her few friends aren’t the touchy-feely type, so she can’t help but miss the basic physical contact.

A quick glance around the room makes her let out a breath when she realizes the other three men are nowhere to be found. It’s just Lucifer.

And while she would much prefer it would be Sorin in the room, considering he always was the nicest, and less intimidating one of the group; but she’s still filled with relief to know she only has to speak to one of them.

When her eyes land back on him, she jumps slightly when she finds his gaze locked firmly on her. His intense eyes looking her over, yet not betraying any of his emotions.

She watches as his eyes track down her body, scanning over her body slowly.

Her wide eyes meet his again and neither of them say anything for a few moments.

She gulps. “H-Hi.”

She looks to the ground, not wanting to meet his eyes.

The action makes her remember all the times they scolded her for not looking at them when she spoke. It was one of the many rules they had established in their relationship.

“Emerson.” Her name coming from him makes a warm feeling well up in her chest. “What are you doing here?” His tone is cold, passive. The feeling of warmth is quickly replaced with hurt, even if she has no right to be hurt.

She brings her hands in front of her and begins nervously playing with her fingers. She softly clears her throat. “I’m h-here to, um, buy some stuff from y-you.”

She curses herself for stuttering. She glances up in time to see Lucifer raise his eyebrows. She thinks she sees a flicker of hurt flash across his face, but it happens too fast for her to be sure.

“Is that so?” He turns off his phone and slips it in his pocket. He gestures to the long couch that is next to the chair that he is residing in. “Sit down.”

Emerson feels her feet moving obediently before her mind processes what he really said. She reaches the couch and slowly sits down, feeling the cold leather bit into her legs, making her raise them a bit off the couch. Lucifer sees the action, but makes no comment. He must remember all the times she whined about the leather being too cold, and so she would always be on one of their laps whenever they were in here. Or she would be on her knees on the floor.

Her dress had ridden up, exposing her thighs a bit more than she would like. She reaches down and tries to tug the fabric further down her legs, wanting to cover as much exposed skin as possible. She feels Lucifer watching her every move, and she nibbles her bottom lip as she wishes she had worn something that covered more of her skin.

Lucifer leans back, moving his other arm to rest over the arm of the couch. He fixes her with his businesslike stare.

“What do you need?”

His voice sends shivers down her spine. On reflex, she starts squirming slightly. She doesn’t like how he’s talking to her as if she is just one of his clients. She didn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t this.

In all honesty, a small part of her thought they would refuse to sell to her, considering they were always so adamant about not wanting her to try drugs. And if she did want to try them, they insisted she would try them with them, so they would know she was being safe.

“An o-ounce of majana.” Her voice is quiet, almost down to a whisper. It displays how nervous she really is.

Lucifer makes a humming noise. “Since when do you use drugs?”

Emersons heartbeat quickens. She tries to shrug her shoulders nonchalantly. “I tried it recently a-and liked it, t-that’s all.”

She hopes she sounds more believable than she actually is.

Lucifer cocks his head to the side. “Really.”

He doesn’t say it as a question, or even as if he’s surprised. He says it in a monotone voice.

She looks at her lap as she makes a sound of agreement, trying to seem casual.

She hears Lucifer sigh deeply. “Answer me properly, Emerson.”

His stern voice makes a familiar fluttery sensation enter her stomach. She squeezes her legs together, trying to discreetly relieve tension.

She shyly raises her eyes, looking at him nervously. “Y-Yeah. Really.”

She doesn’t sound confident at all. She sounds like a frightened little girl who knows she’s going to get in trouble.

Not to mention that she doesn’t even sound believable. She always was a horrible liar, especially with them. Another one of their rules was no lying. And considering she was always their good girl, she never really got to practice lying to them.

Neither Emerson nor Lucifer have time to say anything else, because the double doors leading to this room suddenly swing open and three familiar faces enter the room.

No, no, no. She chants in her head. Sinking back into the cold leather as her terrified doe-like eyes fall onto the three other men.

They don’t seem to see her at first, but when they do, they stop walking and openly stare. She looks back to them, a terrified expression on her face. Sorin is the first to react, his eye brows furrow slightly as he steps forward, a hopeful expression on his face.

He opens his mouth to say something, but Lucifer quickly cuts him off, “Emerson has come to buy some weed.”

All three of the men’s expressions change, Sorin looks at her blankly. While Ellias and Denzel both narrow their eyes at her, visibly annoyed.

After multiple more moments of silence, Lucifer speaks again, “She’s taken it up as a hobby, apparently.”

Emerson’s cheeks flush, and she looks down in embarrassment. The way Lucifer spoke had a condescending, judgemental tone to it. It makes her heart twist in an uncomfortable way. Him and Denzel were always the meanest of the group, but they were still always nice to the young girl, even before they started dating.

She looks back down to her lap, not wanting to see their expressions.

Denzel is the first to move, he casually goes over to the chair opposite from Lucifer, which is also on the other side of the couch that Emerson is currently at. So she’s sat directly in the middle of Lucifer and Denzel.

Ellias and Sorin soon follow, but both of them choose to sit on the couch, both sitting on either side of her. Ellias sits on the side closest to Denzel, and Sorin sits on the side near Lucifer. Their presence is making her feel crowded and even more intimidated than she previously was.

No one says anything for quite a while longer. And she glances up through her glasses to see Ellias and Denzel looking her over, scanning over her body like how Lucifer was when she first entered the room. Her face warms at the feeling of their heated stares on her body.

Ellias eyes go to hers, making her heart stammer in her chest. He is the next to speak. “And why have you decided that using drugs shall be your next hobby?” His voice is almost scary, and it seems like there is a blatant threat behind his words.

Her eyes fall on his hands. One of his hands is resting on his thigh, and pretty silver rings decorate his fingers as he rhythmically taps his pointer finger against his leg in annoyance.

She crosses her ankles together, wanting a reason to keep her legs tightly close together. She shrugs again and looks down, letting her hair fall down in front of her face.

She sees Ellias’s hand twitch in his lap before he makes a tight fist and sighs deeply. He’s likely refraining from forcing the girl's head up to face him and making her give him an actual response.

Sorin speaks up next, confusion and slight hurt evident in his tone. “You never showed interest in anything like this before, why now?” His attempt at getting a response from the girl is in vain. She didn’t think ahead on what to say if they questioned her, and she doesn’t want to make up a lie on the spot.

She chooses to ignore Sorin, despite the feeling in her chest that protests, and tells her it will only hurt him more.

She looks to Lucifer, finally willingly maintaining eye contact with him for the first time since she entered the room. “C-Can I just get it and leave, please?”

Denzel interrupts before Lucifer has time to respond, his deep voice making her skin tingle and face flush. “Answer him.”

Emerson feels her hands start to shake more violently as she tries to keep herself composed. She fights with herself as she does her best to resist obeying him.

Her soft voice shakes and she speaks. “It’s none of y-your business.” She directly addresses Lucifer again, “Can we just f-finish this up?”

She has to stop herself from saying please at the end. But if she continues to act as if they have a right to boss her around and command her to say and do things, then there’s no way she will get through this night.

Lucifer slowly sighs and takes his time before responding. He glances over her shoulder, likely looking at Denzel.

“Fine.” He proceeds to pull out his phone and shoot a quick text. To whom Emerson assumes is Lorance, the man who is in charge of bringing all of the merchandise from the basement up to this room. Lucifer slips his phone back into his pocket.

Emerson takes the time to reach into her dress pocket and pull out the dirty, wrinkled bill, before holding it out to Lucifer.

She watches as Lucifer’s eyes go down to the money and stay there for a few seconds before they go back to hers, and a somewhat amused, pleased expression finds its way across his face.

Emerson licks her dry lips, her arm growing tired as she feels more foolish by the minute, with her arm held out to him, holding the folded up money.

She feels the rest of the guy’s eyes on her, and then she hears Ellias let out a humorless laugh from behind her. She looks over to him and sees a small smirk playing on his lips as he relaxes comfortably against the couch.

She looks around, confused at the sudden change of emotion in the room.

Her confusion is ignored as both Lucifer and Ellias continue looking at her slightly smugly, and as if they know something that she does not.

She looks to Sorin, feeling anxiety growing under skin. He always was the softest one in the group. She hopes she can still rely on him to tell her what's going on.

He meets her eyes with pursed lips and disapproval swirling in his eyes.

Her panic grows. Despite not being with them anymore, she hates disappointing them. Especially Sorin. Whenever she upsets him, she really knows she’s done something wrong.

“The weed isn’t for you, is it?” Sorin’s eyes search hers as he speaks.

Her lips part and she finally lowers her tired arm to rest on her bare knee. She thought she was being somewhat believable.

“I- what? O-Of course it’s f-for me. Who e-else would it be for?”

Ellias lets out another chuckle, only succeeding in scaring her more.

She looks back over to him, and is slightly startled to see he’s much closer to her than he was a few minutes ago. He reaches over and plucks the money out of her hand. His warm fingers brush over her bare knee and she sucks in a breath, jolting slightly at the tingles his touch leaves behind.

He holds it up to her eye level. “You really don’t think much of us, do you?”

Her nose wrinkles in confusion, and she brings a trembling hand up to her face to push her glasses further up on her nose.

She whispers, for once not stuttering, “I don’t know what you mean.”

Lucifer sighs for what seems like the hundredth time tonight. “I take it back, you’re not leaving here unless you answer some of our questions.”

While Emerson knows that when he says leaving here he means leaving here with the weed. But a small part of her can’t help but wonder if they really won’t let her leave at all until she speaks with them.

Lucifer continues, “So, Emerson.” He looks at her, his eyes seeming to be more dangerous than they were five minutes ago. “Tell us, exactly, how you found yourself buying weed on a Friday evening.”

The girl gulps as she reminds herself why she's here in the first place. Doing it for Olive.

“Oh, y-you know. I-I’ve just changed. I’ve b-been trying new things.”

Goodness, she’s a horrible liar.

Ellias rolls his eyes, annoyance covering his pretty face. “Changed, have you? So you’re not an innocent little princess anymore?”

The tightness in her chest only increases. Ellias’s nickname for her was always Princess. Saying no to his question is like saying she is no longer his anymore. Which she’s technically not, but it still hurts.

Her voice waivers, “N-Nope.”

Denzel speaks next, and he almost sounds as if he is mocking her, “What other new things have you tried?”

She clears her throat. “S-Stuff.”

Ellias flexes his hand. If she dared act like this when they were still together, she would’ve immediately gotten a punishment. She wonders how far she can push them.

“Yeah?” Denzel drones on, “Have you fucked anyone else?”

She can’t help the small, surprised squeak that escapes her. Her stomach automatically clenches, making her face become a lovely shade of pink.

She sees Sorin’s head snap over to Denzel, and she can imagine the glare he’s giving him.

Emerson wants to tell him it’s none of his business, but that feels like it’s the same thing as her saying yes. And she doesn’t want to hurt them anymore than she already has.

“N-No.”

Silence meets her. And her eyes automatically go back to her lap.

“Why not?” Lucifer’s voice sounds relieved, and genuinely curious.

She decides to give them a truthful answer for the first time tonight, “I-I don’t want to. And I d-don’t trust anyone else.”

She cringes as soon as the word else leaves her lips. She feels like that word is implying that she still trusts them. Which she does, but only to an extent.

Denzel doesn’t speak again after that, he seems to have gotten the answers he wanted.

No one says anything for a few more moments, but then Ellias holds up the wrinkled money again. “Tell us again, who was the weed for?”

A flicker of doubt goes off in her chest. Why do they keep asking her that? “M-Me.”

Ellias finally loses his composure, “Stop it,” He harshly snaps, moving closer to her and reaching his hand up, as if to gasp her face in his big hand.

“Stop being such a fucking brat and tell us the truth.”

Emerson quickly backs away from him.

She bumps into Sorin, and is grateful when he lays a protective hand on her waist and pulls her backwards into him.

The contact makes her skin feel tingly and heart rate picks up.

Elllias is not so easily deterred. He moves so his leg is pushed against hers, and his calloused hand finds her delicate throat. “Lie one more fucking time. I dare you.”

She has to refrain from whimpering at the feeling of his dominating hands on her skin. His grip is tight, but it’s only pushing on the sides of her throat, so it’s not cutting off her airways. She leans all the way back and is now pushed right up against Sorin’s warm chest.

She can’t help herself when she whispers out a quiet, “M’sorry.” The submissive in her just wants to obey them and give them what they want.

Lucifer’s voice interrupts them, “Ellias.” There’s a hint of a warning behind it. They all know that the threat behind Ellias’s words is very real.

Ellias roughly sighs. “Stop lying to us. Just tell us who you’re buying it for.”

She sniffles, trying to pull herself together. “H-How do you even k-know it’s not for me?” She mumbles quietly, averting her eyes from Ellias’s.

Sorin gently rubs her waist as he speaks softly in her ear. “Because you’re always so particular about your things. You hate when any type of paper isn’t completely straight. Including money. You would never pay for something with such an unkept bill.”

She blinks in surprise and her mouth parts. She should’ve known that they wouldn’t let something like that go by them. They know her too well for that.

She squirms slightly in her seat. She suddenly feels overstimulated with the way both the men are touching her.

“O-Olive.” She answers, “I w-was getting it for Olive.”

Ellias runs his thumb back and forth along her throat, making her jump and try to back away from his hands. “Good girl.”

Oh. Her chest suddenly feels lighter as she suddenly feels better than she did before.

She has always loved praise. And when it came from them, it felt like she was on cloud nine. Since they’ve been apart, she’s especially missed it.

His thumb continues moving along her neck, and Sorins hand is massaging her waist. It suddenly begins to feel like too much after going months without hardly any physical contact.

A noise escapes her. “C-Can you p-please let go of me?”

Ellias and Sorin must take her words as a form of rejection, because hurt dances across Ellias’s face as he quickly releases her and moves back. Sorin also hastily shifts away from her.

She quickly tries to explain herself, “W-Wait, I’m sorry, I just-”

Ellias cuts her off, looking to the front of the room. “It’s okay, Emerson. You do not have to explain yourself.”

Panic blooms across her chest. “No, it’s just, w-well, I haven’t been, um, t-touched, a-a-lot and so. . .” She trails off, not really knowing what to say.

Sorin, like usual, comes to her rescue. “So you’re sensitive?” He prompts, and Emerson immediately nods her head, yes. “That’s okay, Sweetheart.”

She sees a small smirk dance across Denzel’s face when Sorin says the word sensitive.

Her face burns when he catches her eyes and looks at her somewhat suggestively.

“Sensitive, Emerson?” Denzel drawls, “Has the little baby missed being fucked?”

She looks down, thankful for her long hair when it covers most of her red face. Ugh, why does he keep bringing that up.

She squirms in her seat, suddenly the leather feels too hot, rather than too cold.

Truthfully, Emerson has been sensitive in the aspect of basic physical touch, as well as . . . her lower parts.

When she was with them, they were constantly touching her cunt and making her come. She was basically having at least a couple orgasms a day. But since they broke up? Nothing.

Not that she hasn’t tried to pleasure herself. Because she has. But she just can’t make herself reach a climax. Before them, she didn’t even really know what an orgasm was. So she didn’t know how to touch herself. And with them, she still never had to touch herself because they would do it for her. So when she’s tried it since they’ve broken up, it just doesn’t feel the same as when they touched her.

So yes, she actually has missed being fucked. She’s missed it terribly.

Lucifer clears his throat, breaking her out of her thoughts. “He asked you a question, Emerson.”

Her eyes snapped up to his. He stares at her, daring her to answer.

She wonders, what do they want her to say? Do they want her to say yes? And if that’s what she says, what will they do?

She looks over to Sorin in hopes that he will intervene and help her out. But he merely looks to her, waiting for her answer.

Denzel must deem she is taking too long to respond, because he pushes himself up from the chair he was sitting at and slowly walks over to her.

The flustered girl looks at him with wide-eyes as he stands in front of her and leans down, propping his hand up on either side of her head at the top of the couch. His minty breath fans across her face.

“Hm?”

She opens her mouth, but then closes it and gulps, not really knowing what to say.

She squirms, feeling Denzel’s overwhelming presence crowding her.

“I- It’s none of-of your b-buiness.” Her tone becomes pleading. “C-Can I p-please just get the s-stuff for Olive and l-leave? Please?”

Ellias is suddenly beside her, gently moving her hair behind her and brushing his fingers over her neck. “You can leave anytime you want.”

She whines, “T-That’s not fair. I need to g-get the stuff for O-Olive.”

She sees Ellias shrug out of the corner of her eye. “Not our problem.”

The girl whimpers as Ellias’s hand grips her hair and tugs her head back, forcing her to look at Denzel.

Denzel watches her, still waiting for an answer.

“Da- Denzel.” She whines, hoping for him to let it go.

Sorin surprises her by placing a hand on her exposed thigh. She hadn’t realized her dress had ridden up.

She shuts her eyes, loving the feeling of Sorin’s hand stroking her silky skin.

“Emerson,” Sorin murmurs into her ear, placing a gentle kiss on the side of her neck. There’s a hint of a warning in his tone, reminding her she needs to answer Denzel’s question.

She huffs, “Y-Yes, okay? I missed it. I really missed it.” She sniffles, “C-Can I go now?”

“Just a few more questions, little one.” Denzel replies.

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” Ellias asks, still gripping her hair in his fist.

Emerson furrows her eyebrows. “Y-Yes?” She’s not entirely sure what he means.

“He means,” Lucifer says from the chair he’s still sitting at, “Have you been having an adequate amount of orgasms every day?”

Emerson’s mind fails her as her head goes empty for a few moments.

“O-Oh.” Is the best response she can come up with.

But that doesn’t seem to please Ellias.

“Oh? What do you mean, oh?” He tugs her hair, forcing her to turn and look into his narrowed eyes.

“Oh, um, you know. I-I just, uh . . .”

She trails off, not knowing what to say.

“Have you not been pleasuring yourself?” Sorin’s concerned voice comes from her other side, worried as ever.

Her ears go pink. “I-I just don’t really, um, know how.” She bites her lip. “I-It doesn’t really feel g-good when I do it.”

Silence greets her. She can’t tell what they’re thinking, and she doesn’t know if she even wants to know.

“You haven’t had an orgasm for three months?” Ellias exclaims.

She tries to defend herself, “W-Well I’ve tried, I j-just don’t think I’m really doing i-it right.”

From the corner of her eye, she sees Lucifer pinch the bridge of his nose. “Jesus christ.”

Sorin’s hand suddenly starts stroking further up on her thigh, causing her dress to bunch up.

Before any of them can say anything else, she whispers out, “Please can I j-just go?”

Not that she really wants to leave, but she does want to get out of here before they can continue questioning her.

Ellias tugs her hair. “What’s the hurry, Sweetheart? Don’t you wanna show us how wet you are?”

Sorin's hand now massages the inside of her thigh. She shuts her eyes as her legs automatically part to give him easier access.

“No,” She whines, “M’not wet. I’m not.”

Denzel brings one of his hands to softly caress her face. Her eyes flutter open at the intimate touch. “Are you lying, baby?”

She doesn’t respond, just continues to stare at him with her lips parted.

“Because if we find out you’re lying,” He continues, leaning in closer, “You’re going to be in very much trouble.”

Sorin's hand finally reaches her panties, his big thumb brushes right up against her clit.

She jolts forward and grips his wrist in one of her hands. “W-Wait.”

“Yes?” Denzel prompts, raising his eyebrows at her. She blushes, “I am wet.” She refrains from bucking into Sorin’s hand. “Like r-really wet.”

She hopes by coming clean to them now, she doesn’t get in trouble later.

A smirk dances at the edge of Denzel’s lips. “That so?” Denzel glances over to Sorin, and that must be some kind of signal because seconds later, Sorin’s pointer finger slips past her panties and makes a small swipe up her folds.

She gasps and moves her hips forward, trying to grind her cunt on his hand. But the contact is immediately taken away when Sorin moves his hand out from under her dress and he holds up his wet finger for his friends to see.

She lets out a small, “Oh,” As she sees her wetness glistening from his finger.

Ellias chuckles in her ear. “Look at how needy you are, baby.”

Sorin brings his hand forward and rests his finger against her lips.

He watches as his girl opens her mouth and gently sucks his finger.

He inhales sharply, feeling his cock harden at the feeling of her lips around his finger.

Denzel brings both of his hands down to her waist, he rests them there as he waits for her to finish sucking on Sorin’s finger.

When she’s finished he finally just plucks her up off the couch, making her squeak in surprise, “Denzel!”

He pays her no mind as she squirms around in his hold.

He easily overpowers her as he mandahnles her, forcing her to sit on his lap as he sits in the chair that he was previously in.

He stops her squirming by gripping her waist, holding her hips down against him, He reaches around with his other hand and grabs her throat, pinning her to his chest.

“Now, Sweetheart,” He breathes into her ear, “You’ve been acting like a disrespectful little brat ever since you’ve got here, so I think it’s about time we put some manners back into our girl, yeah?”

Her little eyes go wide as her glasses slip further down her nose.

“You have two options,” He continues, “You can either put on a little show for us, or you can have a spanking. What will it be?”

Her breath gets lodged in her throat. “I- W-What? Please, I w-wasn’t-”

Denzel cuts her off, gripping her throat more tightly in his palm. “Shut up. Choose, or we will choose for you.”

Her heart is pounding almost painfully in her chest. Denzel can probably feel her erratic pulse under his hand.

She brings her hand up and adjusts her glasses, then brings it down to rest on Denzel's wrist, trying to tug his hand away from her neck.

“W-What type of show?” She softly says, wanting to know what, exactly she would be getting into.

She sees Ellias cross his arms over his broad chest and lean back into the couch. “You’ll have to wait and find out.”

She huffs. “T-That’s not fair.”

Ellias’s jaw clenches, and Lucifer’s eyes flare as he addresses her, “You want to talk about fair? What’s not fair is you coming in here looking like that, asking us for fucking drugs after spending three fucking months of ignoring out calls and texts.” He seethes, his fist clenching the arm of the chair in anger. “Then you have the fucking audacity to act like a disrespecful little brat the entire time, breaking who knows how many rules.” He lets out a breath, leaning back into the chair with his gaze still filming locked on hers. “I think you deserve a much harsher punishment than what Denzel has offered. In fact, I would say it would be fair for you to get a spanking, as well as put on a little show for us. It’s the least you deserve after how you’ve acted.”

She can just sit there, trembling in Denzel's arms, staring at Lucifer.

She can’t even defend herself, because everything he said was true. She has been ignoring their calls and texts, and she should’ve known coming here tonight was a bad idea.

“I-I’m sorry.” She whispers, “I didn’t want t-to ignore you, b-but with how t-thing ended, I-I thought . . .” She trails off, her bottom lip trembling slightly.

Lucifer sighs. “If you wouldn’t have acted like a little brat and just picked up the goddamn phone, you would’ve realized we didn’t even want things to end.”

Her breath leaves her. Does that mean that they want to get back together?

“I’m sorry,” She repeats softly.

Denzel stokes his pointer finger along her neck. “Show us how sorry you are by taking your punishment like a good girl, yeah?”

She slowly nods her head, prepared for whatever he decides to do to her.

“Words, Emerson.”

Her tummy begins to feel fluttery. “Y-Yes.”

Denzel’s husky voice sounds right above her ear, “Yes, what?

Her face goes pink. “Yes, Daddy.” She whispers.

He hums from above her, “Good baby.”

His grip on her neck loosens as he brings his hands up to gently move her glasses off of her face. He takes them off, folding them and setting them down on the coffee table next to them. Then he moves his hands to her waist, lifting her up and lays over his knee, with her bottom sticking out. He moves his leg so his thigh is resting over the back of her legs, effectively pinning her in place. She blushes at the demeaning position, feeling her dress ride up on her thighs, showing the men in the room the bottom of her lacy white panties.

Denzel's hand lightly traces the backs of her thigh. His fingers brush her exposed skin directly under her dress.

He lays his other hand on her lower back, making her spine arch and push her ass further out.

“You sure you’re okay with this, Emerson?”

Her small hands clutch his leg, glad that she has something to hold onto. “Yes, Daddy.”

His hand on her thighs finally slips under her dress, caressing her bottom. She holds her breath as he flips up her dress, fully exposing her bottom.

“Tell me your safewords.”

She shudders at the feeling of his hand gently massaging her backside. “R-Red, green, and yellow, Daddy.”

His hand finds its way in between her thighs, and he nudges her legs apart a little, allowing them to see her panty-coverd cunt.

“How many do you think you should get, Sweetheart?”

She thinks for a moment, then turns her head to look at Lucifer in question.

A satisfied smirk plays at the edge of his lips. “Twenty-six.” He states, making her wince slightly. She probably shouldn’t have let him pick for her, he is the most sadistic one in the group. But she does want to make it up to him, so by suffering through the punishment she should be back into his good-graces. “Then you’ll come over to me and I’ll make you feel good, yeah?” He says, calming her down slightly knowing he’ll care for her after this.

“O-Okay.” She agrees, nervously. She’s at least glad that he picked a good number; twenty-six is thirteen plus thirteen, and her favorite number is thirteen, so at least that worked out.

She gets no warning before the first smack comes down on her. She lets out a surprised cry at the force of it and she grabs Denzel’s leg harder in her little hands.

Smack, smack, smack.

Denzel rains down hits one after another in quick succession, making tears spark her eyes at the impact.

All the while, she can’t help but feel the familiar wetness trickle into her undies. She only hopes the guys can’t see the wet spot forming in her panties.

Smack.

About halfway through, Denzel pauses and rubs her now bright-red ass cheeks. “Give me a color, baby.”

A tear finally slips down her cheek. “G-Green, Daddy.”

He only waits a few more moments before continuing to smack her.

After only a few more hits, the tear begins to flow freely as she buries her face into Denzel’s leg as she tries to muffle her cries.

Smack. At the twentieth hit, Denzel begins praising her, knowing she needs some support to get through it. “You’re taking it so well, baby, I’m proud of you.”

Smack. “You know how much I missed this, baby?”

Smack. “You know how much I missed you?”

She can only sob in response, despite how her heart warms at the proclamation.

Smack. “Did you really think tonight would end any other way than this?”

Smack. “You come in here, looking fuckable in your little dress.”

Smack. “There’s no scenario where you would leave her without getting your cute little ass beaten. You know that now, huh?”

Smack. The last one is the hardest, it nearly breaks her. She hiccups as her face is now wet with tears. Denzel immediately lifts her up onto his knee, and moves her so her bright red bottom isn’t touching the fabric of his jeans.

He takes her into his arms, hugging her and stroking her hair, muttering praise into her ear. “My perfect baby. You’re such a good girl, you did so well.”

She grips onto him tightly, crying out, “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m s-so sorry,” She continues apologizing, knowing she was getting punished in the first place for being a brat.

Denzel reassures her that everything is okay.

She doesn’t notice Lucifer getting up from his chair and walking over to the cabinet in the back of the room. He comes back holding a tub of cream for her bottom.

He walks over to her and lays a gentle hand on her back, not wanting to startle her.

She lifts her head from Denzel's chest and turns to look at him through tear filled eyes.

“Luci,” She whines, using her old nickname for him. She throws herself at him, and he quickly catches her and lifts her up onto his hip before she calls fall. She winces

“I-I’m sorry Luci, I didn’t mean to be a brat. M’sorry.” She cries, wanting him to forgive her.

He rubs her back as he sits down in his chair, laying her over his knee like she just was with Denzel.

She hadn’t realized that he had got cream to put on her bottom, so she immediately thinks she’s going to get spanked again. She bursts into tears, squirming around in his lap, not wanting to be spanked anymore but knowing she would try to get through it to make Lucifer happy with her.

Lucifer quickly realized what this probably looks like to her. “Hey, hey, no.” He says gently, rubbing his hand comfortingly along his back. “You’re done, baby, you’re not gonna get spanked anymore. I’ve just gotta put cream on your pretty ass to make you feel better, okay, Doll?”

She calms down at his words and the feeling of his hand soothingly rubbing her back.

She sniffles, “O-Okay.”

She contemplates using his proper title, but she’s not sure if he wants her to.

Lucifer quickly puts some cream and rubs it on her bottom, making her moan at the blissful feeling of the coldness on her burning skin.

Once he’s done, he keeps her over his knee as his hand creeps between her inner thighs. “Think you can keep going, Doll?”

She shudders, remembering his promise about making her feel good. “Yes,” She whispers, and refrains from spreading her legs for him.

He clicks his tongue. “Is that how you address me?”

His hand is now grazing the edge of her panties. “No, Master. I’m sorry.” She whines, finally pushing her hips up to try and get him to touch her.

He finally grants her wishes when his finger softly brushes over her panties, touching her clit through the fabric.

She lets out a breathy moan as her head drops forward and she buries her face in his leg.

He starts slowly rubbing her sweet spot, enjoying the noises that come out of the little thing below him.

“She soaked?” Ellias’s voice is rough, it comes out strained.

Lucifer slips a finger through the slide of her panties and without warning, plunges one of his big fingers in her cunt. It slides in easily, but she loudly gasps and flinches forward at the contact.

“Drenched.” Lucifer replies, condescending amusement evident in his tone.

She moans loudly as Lucifer's long finger hits her sweet spot, making her see stars. He moves his hand so he can drum his thumb along her bare clit.

“Master,” She wails.

“That feel good, Pet?” He says, stuffing another finger into her sopping cunt. “You like Master’s fingers in you?” She loudly cries out in response. “Of course you do,” He scoffed, moving his finger faster. “You’re such a desperate little slut, aren’t you? Always so needy for us.”

She moans her agreement to his dirty words. “I don’t know how the fuck you lasted three months without orgasms. I would’ve thought you would come back to our door within the first few weeks, begging us to give you greedy cunt attention.”

His words seem to move her along quickly, the pleasure overwhelming her.

“M-Master,” She cries, “C-Can I come? Oh p-please, can I come?”

He chuckles darkly, “There’s my polite little whore. Knew we could fuck some manners back into you.”

“Please.” She whimpers, feeling herself balanced right on the edge. It takes everything in her not to come before he gives her permission.

“Oh, I suppose you did take your punishment rather well.” He says, not slowing down the movement of his hand even though he knows how close she is. “Do you promise to continue being a good girl for us? No ignoring us when we try to talk to you?”

“I promise! Oh please. I promise, Master.”

He slowly sighs, making a show to take his time to think it over. “Well then, yes, Pet, you can come.”

And she does. Her mouth opens, yet no sound escapes her as she finally lets her climax take over. Lucifer chooses the moment to shove another finger into her cunt, pushing himself in deep and curling his fingers against that sensitive spot. His thumb rubs tighter, faster circles against her clit as she cries out and convulses on his hand.

“That’s it, come on Master’s hand.” He purrs from above her. “Such a pretty little doll you are for me.”

She can only lay there over his lap, shaking, with her mouth open and eyes closed.

She faintly hears Ellias let out a sting of curse words before he finally can’t stand it anymore and he stands up, striding over to them and picking her up. Startled, her eyes fly open as she sees Ellias in front of her, bringing her back over to the couch. He sits down and forces her down with him. Her back is to him, and she’s stradling one of his thighs with her hand on his knee in front of her to support her.

She blushes as she feels Ellias’s hand come up and wipe up some of the droll that was sticking to her bottom lip.

He moves his hands down to her waist and he grips her, slowly starting to move her hips back and forth along her thigh.

“You’re going to sit here,” He tells her, “And you’re going to hump my thigh while all of us watch. You’re going to make yourself come. Got that?”

Her small chest moves up and down in quick spurts. “I- W-What? B-But I-”

He cuts her off, putting more pressure on her hips, making her sensitive pussy rub harshly along the length of his jeans. “Got that?”

She whimpers, leaning her head back to rest against his shoulder. “Yes, Sir.”

He makes a sound of approval before letting go of her waist, spreading his arms over the back of the couch.

She awkwardly grips onto his knee as she slowly starts to move her sensitive cunt back and forth over his leg.

The position she is in makes it hard for her to keep a steady pace. She doesn’t really have anything to hold onto to help keep her balance. It would be easier if she were facing him so she could grip his shoulders.

Nonetheless, she tries her best to keep going and make herself come for them. Her clit is crushed against his leg, providing wonderful stimulation-despite how sensitive her pussy is from just cumming.

She must look like quite the sight, humping Ellias’s thigh like a dog. Her dress is bunched up at her waist, showing the entirety of her lower half. Her panties are pushed aside so he cunt isn’t covered by the pretty lace. Her eyes are hazily closed while she concentrates on her movements. Her mouth is open and a little bit of drool escapes her lips. All the while four men, who are fully clothed, watch her every move.

She really tries her best, but she doesn’t think she can come like this. She needs someone's help. “Ellie,” She whimpers pitifully, “Ellie, please. C-Can you help me? I-I don’t think I can-Oh.” She cuts herself off when Ellias hands are suddenly back on her hips, gripping her love handles perfectly while he uses the perfect amount of speed and pressure to move her along his thigh.

He laughs mockingly in her ear, “Can’t do it yourself? Useless whore, need me to do it for you?”

She moans, feeling wetness coat his jeans. “You’re so fucking desperate. You should see yourself right now. Riding my thigh like a goddamn puppy.”

She whines, liking the reference. “Yeah, Princess? You like that?” She tries to nod her head. “Such a precious little girl. Getting her dom to make her feel good.”

Her pussy practically feels like it’s being rubbed raw against the rough material of his pants. But the pain seems to make the entire feeling somewhat better.

“You missed this, baby?” He breathes directly into her ear, quickening his movement with his hands.

“Y-Yes, Sir.” She replies, her voice coming out small and timid.

“I bet you did.” He says. “You miss being treated like a common fucking whore by your superiors? You miss us throwing you around and using you like you're just our little toy?”

Her orgasm is right there. She can feel it.

She wants to ask him if she can come, but she doesn’t want to interrupt him.

“I d-did. I did, Sir.”

He laughs darkly as he starts sucking on the soft skin right below her ear.

“You gonna come, Princess?”

His hot breath on her neck nearly sends her over the edge.

“C-Can I, Sir? Pretty please?”

He places one final kiss on the side of her neck. “With those manners? How could I say no?”

That’s all the permission she needs. She moans out as she comes all over his thigh. Her body feels shaky and disoriented by the end of it. She tries to move her puffy cunt away from his leg, but only succeeds in moving a few inches up before her exhaustion gives in and she collapses against him again.

Ellias laughs as he lifts her weak body up and gently sets her on the other side of him, so now she’s in between him and Sorin again.

She winces at the feeling of the cold leather biting into her skin.

His hand gets tangled in her hair as he gently pets her, letting her come down from her high. “You okay, Princess?”

She tries to control her breathing as she opens her mouth, “Yes, S-Sir.”

She stares off into space, trying to calm down. Her glasses are suddenly placed over her eyes, and she blinks as she can see things a little more clearly now. “T-Thank you.” She murmurs, not forgetting her manners.

Sorin is suddenly in front of her. She looks into his eyes as he leans in close to her and he gently cups her jaw in his big palm. Her eyes flutter close when his lips meet hers. The kiss is gentle and slow, exactly what she needs right now.

She whimpers into the kiss, not realizing how much she missed this until right now.

When Sorin finally pulls away, his eyes stay locked on hers. “Think you can go one more time, baby?”

Her mouth stays parted as she watches him move off the couch, slowly sinking to his knees before her. He nudges her legs apart and he grabs them, moving them over his shoulders so he has easier access. His hand comes up and softly brushes over the hem of her dress that has come back down over her thighs. He looks at her expectantly.

“W-What about you guys?” She whispers, knowing that if she comes even one more time, there’s no way she will have enough energy to get them off.

Sorin brushes this off. “Don’t worry about us, sweet thing. This has been what we’ve been fantasizing about for the past three months. We just wanna make our girl feel good.”

Her insides melt at his words. She nods her head yes, giving him the approval he was looking for.

And because it’s Sorin, he doesn’t make her answer verbally before he dives in, ripping her sodden panties off her legs before grabbing her hips and pulling them forward to meet his awaiting mouth.

She bucks in his arms at the feeling of his hot mouth against her swollen pussy.

His tongue glides over her folds, gathering her juices into his mouth before he plunges his tongue in and out of her hole. He moans at the taste of the young girl's juices.

“God, baby. You’re fucking dripping for Daddy.” He murmurs against her, the vibrations from her voice making her clit twitch.

He wastes no time in sucking her clit into his mouth, running his tongue over it making her scream out and buck into his face. Her hand reaches down and finds his hair, tugging it and only succeeding in making him groan into her soft cunt.

His grip on her hips tightens in an attempt to push her ruther into his mouth. She’s pretty sure she’ll have bruises on them tomorrow from all the rough treatment they’ve suffered.

He growls into her cunt, “You taste so fucking good, baby.”

She yelps as his tongue repeatedly abuses her sensitive little pearl.

“Oh god.” She moans.

He chuckles into her cunt, “I thought my name was Daddy, baby?”

His comment grants a small laugh from Ellias, and it makes her whine louder in desperation.

He stops torturing her little clit for a moment to go back down into her hole. His tongue brushes along her walls, making her grip on his hair tighten at the blissful feeling.

“You taste so fucking good, sweetheart. I never want to stop,” He groans into her cunt, going back to scooping juices out of her pussy with his tongue.

His nose rubs up against her clit while his tongue prods her sore hole.

“You gonna come, baby? You gonna come for Daddy?”

She stammers out, “Y-Yes, Daddy. Oh my.” Her voice trembles as she feels overwhelmed by sensations.

She comes undone on his tongue moments later. Her hips gently rock against his face, seeking out as much pleasure as she can. He continues pleasuring her through it, not slowing down at all. He groans at the flood of juices that enter her cunt. He happily laps them up, not wanting to miss anything. The orgasm rips through her and leaves her feeling so, so tired. She slumps against the couch, letting her arms fall from Sorin’s head as the little energy she once had is now gone.

When her orgasm subsides and Sorin doesn’t pull away from her cunt, an quiet whine escapes her as she slowly moves her head back and forth, wanting to protest but not having the energy to.

“Daddy,” She whispers, blinking her eyes open as she tries her best to remain conscious.

She feels so exhausted. Like her body has been awake for days at a time and is craving sleep. Yet Sorin still doesn’t let up. She brings her shaking hands to his head and tries to push his head back. “Dada-” She gets cut off when he moves his hands from her hip and grabs her hands and pins them down to the couch on either side of her.

Suddenly it’s too much, and for the second time tonight, she bursts into tears. They’re silent this time, but they run down her flushed cheeks, slipping into her open mouth.

Sorin doesn’t seem to want to take pity on her, but for once, Ellias does.

He reaches over and prys Sorin’s hand away from one of her wrists. Then he reaches over her and loops an arm around her stomach, yanking her away from Sorin.

“Sorin.” Lucifer says from his seat.

That seems to break him out of his trance because he finally looks up, seeming somewhat annoyed at being interrupted.

The look in his eyes is almost feral, and it makes Emerson whimper and bring her legs together, squeezing them.

Sorin licks his lips, his eyes practically rolling to the back of his head at the taste.

“Fuck, Darling,” His eyes fall back down to her legs, and he brings his hands down, forcefully spreading her legs. He doesn’t touch her, he just stares at her pussy as it drools onto the couch.

He brings his hand to her thigh, rubbing the inside of it, right by her cunt. “You’re little pussy is so red, baby. It’s so pretty.”

She just whimpers, shutting her eyes again as Sorin continues to examine her.

“Daddy,” She whispers, wanting his comfort.

Sorin looks up, taking in her tears. He smirks slightly as he realizes the distress he put the little baby in. He stands up, shoving Ellias aside as he loops his arms around her back and picks her up. He sits down on the couch, bringing her to lay over him.

She wraps her arms around his neck as tears continue to stream down her face.

Sorin presses gentle kisses to the top of her head, back to his usual, caring self. “You did so good, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

She suddenly feels a hand on her back as Denzel kneels down behind her. He leans forward and presses a kiss to the back of her neck. “Emerson, drink this.”

She turns her head slightly and looks through dazed eyes to see Denzel holding a glass of water out to her.

Luckily, she doesn’t have to worry about holding the glass and risk dropping it, because Denzel brings it to her, and she parts her lips so he can put the straw into her mouth.

He watches her through a hooded expression. “Fuck, baby. You should see yourself right now.” He brings a hand to her face, gently brushing away some stray tears. “Fucked-out expression, even if we didn’t even fuck you,” He laughs darkly, “You’re our innocent little baby, huh? You’re so easy to break.”

She makes a noise of agreement. He smirks, “All dumbed-out, aren’t you?” He coos as he brings his hand up to wipe away some of her tears. “Our dumb little baby.”

Emerson whines as her eyes find Lucifers. She blinks at him as she continues greedily drinking the cold water. All the while he watches her, as observant as even. She looks at him, waiting for his compliments.

A smirk finds its way onto his face; as if he knows what she’s doing.

Thankfully, he obliges her, “You’re such a pretty baby, sweetheart. And don’t worry; I know how much your greedy little cunt loves our cocks, so we’ll fuck you stupid tomarrow, yeah?”

Her stomach flutters in anticipation. He sees her excited expression and smiles softly, Emerson feels herself slowly drifting off in Sorin’s arms.

Sorin tightens his arms around her back. “Go to sleep, Emerson. We’ve got you.”

A few minutes later, Emerson falls asleep, happy knowing she’s back in the arms of the four men that she loves most in the world.

4 notes · View notes

coloradohq · 10 months

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+3 connections have been added

FLORENCIA PERREIRA (CAMILA MENDES) is looking for their OLDER BROTHER. they’d like the faceclaim to possibly be someone along the lines of ANY MALE FC 31-37 (i tried looking for fully brazilian male fcs with resources but i struggled, so i am totally okay with a half/adopted brother situation if that’s easier !), but you must reach out to PETALSFM to find out more! (+ florencia and her brother are incredibly close. she’s always looked up to him, and he’s always looked out for her. when flo was seventeen, their brother decided to move to denver and take them with him for their senior year. in my head he’s a lawyer but he could also be an ex lawyer doing something different now. i’m open to anything !)

FLORENCIA PERREIRA (CAMILA MENDES) is looking for their EX BEST FRIEND. they’d like the faceclaim to possibly be someone along the lines of ANYA TAYLOR-JOY, GERALDINE VISWANATHAN, SAMANTHA LOGAN, or any female fc between 26-29, but you must reach out to PETALSFM to find out more! (+ florencia and this muse’s friendship blossomed quickly while studying at stanford. the two of them were attached at the hip, almost never seen apart. one night, they kissed, realizing there was something more than friendship between them. however, this muse being an out and proud wlw and florencia being stuck in the closet did not make a good combo. their friendship quickly fell apart, neither side trying that hard to pick up the pieces. we can def discuss more !)

MILAN EDWARDS (LAURA HARRIER) is looking for their EX BOYFRIEND. they’d like the faceclaim to possibly be someone along the lines of ANY MALE FC 33-36, but you must reach out to PETALSFM to find out more! (+ they dated for three years while milly lived in sacramento, milly being 20-23 during their relationship. 10 years ago his sister got engaged, and milly started hinting that she wanted to get married too. not because she felt they were ready, but because she felt she needed to live off of other people’s timelines. this, evidently, broke their relationship. we can discuss their relationship post-breakup. he moved to denver sometime after their breakup, and about a year ago milly reached out and asked if he thought this town was big enough for the two of them. there’s a lot we can discuss !)

#oc rp #city rp #town rp #appless rp #mumu rp #wanted.

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insomniumstella · 2 years

Text

traitor

bucky x reader

summary: when Bucky, y/n’s ex-boyfriend of 3 years, suddenly proposes to his new girlfriend of just a few months, y/n has no choice, but to abandon her mature ways and release the anger she’s been holding on to.

warnings: 18 & up only, unspecified age gap (reader is in their 20s), choking, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, edging, overstimulation, reader has fire powers she uses on Bucky (skin marking/scars)

word count: 2,979

author’s note: thank you to the scumbag that is my ex-boyfriend for the inspiration. with all my heart and love, i hope your new girl (or shall I say fiancée) treats you the way you treated me :) also, i don’t believe Bucky would ever act like this, but for the sake of turning my unexplainable rage into something other than a petty act of revenge, this fic needed to be written. if you ever felt as used i did after a relationship, i’m so sorry love. this goes out to all of beautiful babes who got their hearts broken, much love to y’all. part two — bitter end

All it took was a single picture of his new girl, laying on the same blanket she used to lay on, proudly showing off the engagement ring Bucky got her. It was the last drop in the bucket. If time travel was possible, she, without a doubt, would go back and slap Bucky across the face. She wouldn’t latch onto him, holding the man as tight as possible, because, in her heart, she knew it was the last time she’ll ever get to do that. No, if time travel was possible, she would have been as immature and emotional as she wanted because Bucky didn’t deserve her maturity and composure. Still, even during their breakup, he had such a hold on her, y/n didn’t want to appear crazy or loud as if her response to his actions was unreasonable and petty.

They started dating just a few months after Steve brought Bucky to the compound. She was quite new there too, with each day bringing the pair closer together. His smile and charming demeanor could have made any girl fall in love. The nicer he was, the more y/n’s walls crumbled until no fear of vulnerability was left. As with any relationship, it had its ups and downs. 3 years of it. Some days, y/n would be on top of the world, and the other, well, the other days, she’d be at the very bottom. Bucky had managed to, simultaneously, raise the bar for other men that may come after while also throwing it into the deepest parts of hell. Bucky was a strange man. Every time she thought she had him figured out, he’d do something so unexpected she’d end up at square zero.

She’ll show him petty. Hell, she’ll show him crazy.

Never once did she lose the idea of Bucky Barnes being a good man. Not even when they broke up just a few months ago. Except, the stories she reminisced about started seeming inconsistent. Buried lies started to rise. The man she used to know started acting different. Cold and distant, as if they didn’t ever meet at all. The past 3 years of memories vanished away without a trace. Her desire to play nice disappeared too and all it took was a single picture.

Sam spent an entire week with y/n when Bucky broke her heart because she couldn’t sleep. His face was stuck in her mind like a parasite. His words froze her bones. But then she was right where she was before him. Her appetite returned first, and then her smile followed. Until this stupid picture of the much older girl, one hand covering her face, Bucky holding the other hand, the one with the ring, appeared. She could tell he was on top of her, taking the photo from the same position y/n used to end up in all the time. Oh, Bucky thought y/n was too young and unstable for him before? This new y/n he brought out was about to do much, much worse things than he could ever imagine. The nice girl he once knew was dead.

Bucky had promised y/n they would stay friends, but when she went up to his room for closure, his stuff was gone, and the room was empty. He moved out less than 24 hours after they broke. She briefly remembers crying again because the window was open and even his perfumed no longer lingered in the air. It took a lot to convince Steve into giving up Bucky’s new location. His answer only fuelled her anger further. Of course, Bucky Barnes fucking cheated on her. She was too blind to see it before. Why else would he move into another building? Under different circumstances, her hands would shake as she’d walk into his room. Perhaps, she’d even worry if his new girlfriend was there, but not today.

Besides the shorter hair, Bucky looked the same way he always looked after a workout. Shirtless, with muscles glistening from a thin layer of sweat. Once upon a time, that was quite a sight for y/n.

“Came to say congratulations?”

A harsh slap across his face followed the sentence.

“Getting engaged is your idea of focusing on work?”

Another slap followed her question. She was about to slap him again, but Bucky swiftly caught her arm.

“Stop. Why are you here?”

“Why am I here?” She abruptly removed her arm from his hold. “4 months haven’t passed since our breakup. What the fuck, James?” A third slap landed on Bucky’s face. “What the fuck?” She spoke again when he didn’t answer. “Was I good enough to fuck, but not good enough to keep?” Tears prickled her eyes, but she wiped them away before they could escape. “Why did you leave me? What the fuck did I do?”

Looking down at his toes, Bucky sighed.

“You told me you loved me, remember? A few days before you broke my heart?” She took a step closer and grabbed his chin to make Bucky look up. “It was Steve’s birthday, and we were all dressed up. You couldn’t keep your hands off of me that night. Kept whispering sweet nothings into my ear.” Neither dared to break their eye contact. “Later that night, when I was sucking your dick, you couldn’t stop telling me how much you fucking loved me, or have you forgotten?”

“Loved. I loved you. Not anymore.”

“Don’t you fucking try me, I swear, Barnes.” She hit him in the chest, then hit him in the chest again. “What happened on that mission in Moscow?”

Bucky took a few steps forward. She had to walk backward to avoid him until her back hit the wall, and y/n was trapped between his body and the cement. “I already told you. Nothing happened.”

“A new girl-“ she had to quickly correct herself, “fiancée doesn’t seem like nothing. I gave you everything I had. I gave you everything of me there was. Why was I good enough to fuck, but not good enough to get married to? Why?!” She couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, but hitting Bucky was a bit of relief. “What happened in Moscow?”

Taking the last step left between them, he pinned her hands above her head. “I cheated. Is that what you want to hear?” He tilted his head to the left. “You already know that I cheated. Why the fuck are you here? For me to break your heart further?” A single tear rolled down his face. “I cheated with my new fiancée. It doesn’t matter that you gave me everything of you there is.”

The day after the mission in Moscow, a couple of hours after he cheated, Bucky had already made up his mind to leave y/n. Mila, the girl he was partnered up with, was everything others told him a wife should be. She was of appropriate age, calm and collected, opposed to y/n, who was too often too reckless, when out on the field. Mila was someone Bucky wouldn’t have to worry or fight about because people had mistaken them for a couple many times before. As bad as it sounds, Mila was also mentally stable. Her past was picture perfect, while y/n came from a messed-up background. Mila was easy to have, while y/n was hard to love.

Leaning in so close their lips were almost brushing, “Loving you was too hard,” Bucky whispered.

She wasn’t sure what came upon her in that moment, but she was losing Bucky either way, so without thinking, y/n kissed him. Every ounce of hurt and anger she had, y/n put into the kiss. Except Bucky stood frozen in place, his lips still. His hand let go of her arms, letting them fall to her sides. Bucky could taste y/n’s tears on his lips when she pulled away. Squeezing her lips into a tight line, y/n sneaked out from her place between Bucky and the wall. If she was too hard to love, this wasn’t a fight worth fighting.

She was almost at the door when he grabbed her left arm, spinning the girl around, and placed his lips on hers. His kiss was too familiar as if he never left at all. As if Mila wasn’t in the picture now. God, please forgive me, y/n thought as Bucky placed a hand on the back of her neck, he was mine first.

Pulling away, she pushed Bucky in the bed’s direction, each step bringing him closer to the edge until he was falling on the same blanket they used to cuddle under. For a moment, y/n considered leaving, but perhaps this was the closure she needed. Even if leaving after the sex was going to break her heart into a million pieces again.

She removed his shorts and then underwear with trembling arms. There he was; the love of her life, naked, ready for her to use him as she pleases. Use him in the same way he used her. “Move back.”

Bucky followed her words without question, scooting until his back rested against the headboard. Her sweater was the first to go. It used to be Bucky’s before he gifted it to y/n because she couldn’t sleep when he was away on missions. Hooking her thumbs on both of her shorts and her thong waistbands, y/n swiftly pulled them down. He took a deep breath once all of her clothes hit the floor. She didn’t move at first, playing with her tits for a while, eyes locked on Bucky. His face was painted with a hunger only she could provoke. Bucky hated the way his body reacted to y/n because he was engaged to someone else; his dick, however, knew who it belonged to, hardening as soon as she placed the first kiss on his thigh. Kiss after kiss, she reached his shaft, softly holding his dick in her hand while leaving light pecks on his lower abdomen. “Tell me you love me.” She said and swirled her tongue around his tip. “Say that I’m the only one you want.” The sentence was followed by y/n taking his full length into her mouth. The taste of him was enough to silence her consciousness.

“I can’t lie.” Bucky moaned out when she bobbed her head on his dick a few times. “I can’t.”

“Sure you can.” She was sucking Bucky’s dick the way he liked, the way only she knew how. A groan left Bucky’s lips when y/n licked a vein on the underside of his length. A second groan came out after she started swirling her tongue around his pink tip again. A bit of pre-cum leaked out, and y/n snickered at how quickly she was able to get him to the edge. “Tell me you love me.” A moment later, she was on her knees, heels digging into her ass as she locked eyes with Bucky. He knew he couldn’t express the frustration that overtook his body when y/n left him on the edge. For that, he’d have to deserve y/n’s lips on him in the first place.

“No.”

“No?”

She wrapped her lips around his dick again, one hand pushed against the mattress to support herself, the other on his lower abdomen. Bobbing her head up and down, cheeks hollow, y/n moved her hand down to his pelvic region, right above the shaft. Bucky felt the burning sensation as soon as his orgasm washed over. Except, he couldn’t focus much on it, as y/n kept sucking him until he was so sensitive he kept trying to pull away. Swirling her tongue around him one last time, y/n pulled back, crawling across his body to sit on Bucky’s face. Bucky loved when y/n sat on his face. “Tell me you love me.” She repeated, one hand in his hair, the other gripping the headboard. “Spell it ou-“ a moan left her lips as soon as Bucky’s tongue made contact with her clit. He didn’t spell out I love you, but he did spell out no. Grinding against his face, y/n tightened her hold on his hair. A little pain was good. He should feel as much pain as she did. The sentence he was spelling out she could only make out after the third letter. I am sorry. Sweet pressure started building up by the letter m, and by the letter y, she was cumming on Bucky’s face for the first time since Steve’s birthday.

Softly pushing y/n off of himself until she was laying on her back, trying to catch her breath, Bucky got on top of the girl. Looking down at his lower abdomen, Bucky noticed two red letters burned into his skin; y/n’s initials. Chuckling, out of anger or amusement, he wasn’t sure, he gave y/n a moment before his lips found their way to her own. Their kisses were always nothing short of pure passion, tongues dancing together, hands roaming around every inch of each other’s skin. The girl could taste herself on his tongue. Bucky broke the kiss only to latch onto her neck, leaving a few small, purple marks in his path before sucking on one of her nipples. He twirled his tongue around the sensitive bud and chuckled again when y/n arched her back off of the bed.

“I’m sure Mila won’t appreciate your name burned into my skin.” He said, pulling away and focusing on her other nipple. The burn was sure to leave a permanent scar of y/n's initials.

His words, however, burned y/n more than her powers could ever burn him. Locking her eyes on his, she wrapped her hand around Bucky’s neck, “Why?” y/n tightened her grip, though she was sure Bucky found her attempt at choking him funny. “Is that a turn-off for the little-“ she moaned out when Bucky slid two fingers into her, his thumb pressing against her sensitive clit. A moment to collect her composure was needed, as Bucky started moving them in such a way that they hit her pleasure spot every time, “bitch?”

“Don’t call her such names.” Bucky answered after a few minutes. She was a sweating, moaning mess; Bucky managed to get a second orgasm out of y/n. Removing his fingers, Bucky made a show of licking each one, until they were fully clean of y/n’s wetness. “She’s nice.”

“I was nice.” She propped herself on her elbows. “I was pretty.” She kissed his jaw, faces barely apart. “I was yours, too. Wasn’t I? Or am I just a distant memory you want to forget?” She fell back on the bed, her head hitting the pillows.

Bucky’s sigh turned into a groan the second he entered her. The stinging burn of Bucky entering her was a welcome feeling, but with the last remaining strength that she had, y/n stopped herself from letting out a moan. “You’re not a distant memory.” He answered and thrusted into her. “You’ll never be.” The thrusts quickened.

She could feel Bucky deep in her guts and the moan she was holding escaped when he pushed on her lower stomach, magnifying each sensation. “That’s b-“ Bucky’s dick hit her g-spot as he wrapped his metal hand around her neck, “-ullshit.”

“I love you.” His words were a distant sound in her pleasure clouded mind. “I,” he said, pulling out and bottoming out again, “love you.” Perhaps this was one of his many twisted lies. The hand around her neck, pushing on the places he knew were most comfortable for the girl, the dick deep inside her, each thrust hitting that sweet spot over and over. They never slowed down either as his head found its way to the crook of her neck. His hot breath against her skin, as if he never left. “You’re my good girl. You always will be.”

You’re my good girl, lies, you always will be, bullshit.

Pulling out of her, Bucky swiftly moved them, so he could be behind her. Arching her ass high up in the air, y/n stuffed her face into the pillow. “Liar.” She wanted to say more, much more, but his dick kept her deliciously full and deliciously on the edge. Bucky’s thrusts got sloppy, so she knew he was close too. Without a warning, he wrapped his flesh hand around her neck and pulled y/n up. The metal hand he placed on her stomach, half to keep y/n in place, half to feel himself inside her. “Cum on my dick pretty girl, you deserve it.”

And so she did, letting Bucky take the two of them over the edge and into a place of blissful pleasure; his moans the most beautiful sound to her ears. He didn’t let her fall back onto the sheets when she finally rode out her orgasm. Instead, Bucky held her. Perhaps, he knew this was the last time he’ll get to hold her. Perhaps, he missed her too much to let go. “I love you.” He repeated and placed a soft kiss in the crook of her neck. She didn’t answer. In fact, she didn’t talk when he carried her to the bath or when he washed her body clean of his touch. Bucky assured y/n she could stay in his room as his fiancée was away on a mission. He made the bed before they got in because y/n liked to fall asleep in a freshly done bed.

The first and only thing she said to Bucky after his words of I love you was “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. Sleep well, doll.” He replied, clinging to y/n as tightly as she was clinging on to Bucky the night he broke her heart. Except this time, she was the one who left, and when Bucky went up to her room for closure the next morning, all of y/n’s stuff was gone. With the open window, even her perfume no longer lingered around.

#bucky x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky x you #Bucky angst #bucky x reader angst #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 2 years

Text

Prince "F*cking" Charming

Summary: Finding out your ex boyfriend of 9 years was engaged and expecting not even a year after you broke up shouldn’t make you feel this… bad. When your friends take you out for a Girls night, Galentine’s, the night before Valentine’s after swearing off men for good, of course you ran into the one man that made you believe that maybe there’s a Prince Charming for everyone out there.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x fem. Reader

Wordcount: 2.1k

Warnings: fluff, alcohol, flirting, a kiss or two

A/N: I know it's sisters before misters, but if the sisters want you to meet Marcus Pike, then you do it lmao. Another plotbunny from yesterday's yearning session with @sizzlingcloudmentality

The last thing you wanted to do today was going out.

Generally you were a pretty happy person? Okay the question mark was there sometimes, but yeah. You were happy.

As happy as a woman in her mid thirties could be who was pressured from all sides when she will finally settle down, find a man and have some babies.

Family really was annoying sometimes.

It was not for your lack of trying though.

When you met your ex 9 years ago you really thought that it would be him you would end up with. You’ve had it all. The love, the job, the house. You were happy. In love.

Yet it never seemed to… progress. There were discussions about getting married and having children, but it never happened.

So last year, after a long talk you decided it was better to break up. There were no hard feelings. At least not until yesterday when a mutual friend asked you if you had heard about the engagement and the baby on the way from your ex and his new girlfriend apparently.

“Twins. They are having twins! Can you believe that?”

You couldn’t.

So you wanted to spend the day of pink hearts, flowers and overpriced candy, Valentine’s day, pretending to work from home in your sweatpants while wallowing in self pity for a day. You deserved that... But Valentine’s Day was tomorrow and your friend had texted you to “dress up, we’re talking you out for Galentine’s day” two hours ago.

You thought about ignoring it for a moment, but you knew they would show up here anyway.

So you sat on your couch, dressed and dolled up, because why the hell not, and waited for them to pick you up.

That was three hours ago. By now you were two drinks deep and didn’t care about the world.

“Who needs men, when we have each other?” your friend exclaimed and you chuckled before you got up.

“I’m getting another round. Be right back you sluts,” you grinned which earned you a slap to your ass. Drunk girls really were a menace sometimes. Grabbing your purse you made your way to the bar, leaning with both arms over the counter as you waited for the barkeeper to look your way. Someone bumped into you and you looked over your shoulder briefly to make out if the person was okay when you were met with warm brown eyes.

When you would explain this moment years later you always said it felt like time stopped as you looked up at him, like a part of you knew that this was the man that finally would give you everything you ever dreamed of.

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” he asked and you blinked once before you nodded, blaming your temporary speechlessness on the alcohol.

“Yeah… Yeah I’m okay. Thank you,” you finally said and he drew out a relieved breath. He came to stand next to you at the counter, which gave you time to take him in. He was wearing a brown suit, a blue dress shirt beneath, the tie he was wearing loosened around his neck.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked and you felt your cheeks growing warm when he noticed you checking him out.

“I actually wanted to order another round for our table…” you gestured behind you and he turned his head, all of your friends waving eagerly. You rolled your eyes and he chuckled as he looked back at you.

“Maybe you can stay for one drink? With me?” he tried and you smiled up at him, as you put one hand on his upper arm, fighting the urge to squeeze.

“I…” you turned your head to look at the table your friends were sitting at, giving you thumbs up.

“It’s girls night. And I kind of swore off men last night, so I really shouldn’t be drinking anything with one,” you explained and he sighed.

“Just my luck the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on swore off men before running into me,” he mused and you felt yourself grin up shyly at him.

“I bet you say that to all the girls…” you teased and he shook his head.

“Only the ones who keep talking to me after I run into them,” he winked and you laughed.

“But do not let me interrupt your girls' night. But maybe, once you decide to give mankind another chance, you could call me first?” he asked hopefully, giving you what could only be described as puppy eyes.

“Maybe… I could make an exception…”

“Marcus. Marcus Pike,” he said and you smiled, already pulling out your phone as you introduced yourself.

You handed him your phone where he saved his number.

With drinks and the biggest fucking smile on your face you made your way back to the table were expectant looks welcomed you.

“What?” you snapped.

“What are you doing here? I swear I could see your hearteyes for Prince fucking Charming all the way over here!” your friend asked and you bit your lip as you sat down, your head turning to catch Marcus eyes. He was still standing at the counter, a beer in front of him.

“It’s girls night….” you tried but they weren’t having it.

“The way the man looked after you as you left him, was straight out of a rom com.”

“He did?” you asked and they nodded.

“Totally checked your ass out, babe. If you don’t go over there, I will.”

“Over my dead body,” you glared and she grinned.

“Then get over there. Just make sure you keep the drinks coming.”

An hour later you were sitting in a booth with Marcus and he was asking you about your life. And maybe the last glass of wine hadn’t been the best idea, because you kept imagining all kinds of things Marcus could do with his hand to you besides holding yours, like he had been for the last 12 minutes.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, coming closer and his scent came to your nose. He smelled like cotton and lemon and… something manly that made you positively dizzy.

“I’m thinking the last glass of wine wasn’t the best idea. I can feel my brain trying to get words out that are definitely not appropriate in the presence of a handsome FBI agent,” you said sheepishly. And if the words were a little slurred, it was the wine’s fault.

“Now you got me intrigued,” he grinned, his dimple showing and you wanted to just lean over and…

“WE’RE GOING HOME!” a very loud voice let you jump in your seat, Marcus hand coming to rest on your upper thigh soothingly as the two of you looked at your very drunk friends.

“I think I should call it a night too. Not that I want to but I have to at least pretend to work in the morning….”

“Let me take you home?” Marcus asked and you narrowed your eyes. He chuckled.

“Not like that. I just wanna make sure you,” he turned his head, “and your friends get home safe.”

“You don’t have to, Marcus…” you said and he shook his head.

“I want to.”

“Okay,” you smiled.

You were sitting in the passenger's seat of Marcus' car, your three intoxicated friends on the backseat. Even in their drunk state they had been hesitant to just jump into the car of a man they had never met before, but Marcus flashed his badge and a smile and now they wouldn’t shut up about how aliens must be real.

Because Marcus must know something about aliens, he was working for the FBI after all.

“Nothing? Really Mr. Sexy Agent man?” your friend pouted.

“Sorry. My security clearance isn’t high enough for Area 51,” he chuckled as he drove through the dark streets of the city.

You on the other hand were distracted by his jacket that he offered you after getting out of the bar. It smelled like him and if he noticed that you hadn’t been freezing at all, he didn’t say a word.

When you risked a glance to look at him, you found him smiling at you, as he drove your friends securely to their apartments before you were alone with him as he drove towards your place.

Fresh air after two cocktails and two glasses of wine made you dizzy, and you were suddenly very thankful for Prince Marcus Charming driving you home in his white Audi.

“If I would trust myself to not try to get into your pants I would invite you up. But then we would kiss and make out and maybe you would do something with those biiig hands of yours…” oh no the word vomit started and you couldn’t stop it. “And then you would stay and, you know I have nothing at my place to eat for breakfast. I forgot to get food. And I can’t invite anyone over without the offer of food,” you said with a dreamy smile as he parked the car in front of your building. He was grinning at you as he killed the engine.

“As much as I would like to see your cute tipsy ass try to get into my pants, we should postpone that for when you’re sober,” he said, squeezing your hand.

“You think I’m cute?” you asked.

He just laughed before he got out of his car, walking over to open the passengers door and help you out.

“But I wouldn’t complain about you showing up for breakfast tomorrow. I have the feeling I will be miserable,” you groaned, taking his hand as he walked you over to your door.

“Maybe I’ll just do that,” he said warmly as he stopped, the light outside your building illuminating his soft features like a halo. He was so damn handsome.

“Good night, sweetheart,” he whispered and leant down to softly kiss your forehead.

“Good night Marcus.”

Groaning, you sat in front of your laptop. It was 9:30 in the morning and by some miracle you managed to log into your company network, letting the emails load while you inhaled your first cup of coffee.

You thought your head would hurt more this morning, tipsy you did a good job of taking some painkillers and drinking a bottle of water before bed. As the emails kept loading you walked over to your bedroom, grabbing a blanket. You were cold and hungry but at least you managed to shower before you clocked in.

Your thoughts kept returning to one certain FBI Agent throughout the morning. For a small moment you thought you imagined him but then you found his number in your phone. You wanted to write to him. You wanted to see him.

Your doorbell rang and you frowned, walking over to check who it was.

“Hello?”

“Uhm… It’s Marcus? With breakfast?” a voice answered you were so surprised you let your phone fall out of your hands.

“Oh.. Okay. Wow. Yes. Come up. Apartment 2C,” you said and buzzed him in. Looking around yourself you were glad you had spent the whole saturday cleaning your apartment. You ran to the bathroom, checking your appearance and got out of your robe and into some yoga pants and a cosy sweater, before you heard a knock on your door.

Taking a deep breath as you walked to your door, trying to calm your fast beating heart before you opened the door.

He was… still so damn handsome, today wearing jeans, a sweater and a leather jacket that made him even more sexy.

“I was joking last night,” you said with a small smile.

“I don’t joke when it comes to breakfast. I have pancakes.”

“I love you,” you sighed, your eyes widening when you noticed what you said. He chuckled as you stepped to the side while you bumped your head against the door as he walked in.

He followed you to your kitchen, taking everything out he had brought from a diner while you made him some fresh coffee. You watched him as he set the food on the plates you had taken out of the cabinets. He looked over his shoulder, feeling your eyes on him. When he finished he turned around fully, taking a step towards you so you had to tilt your head up to look into his eyes.

“I did mean that it would be hard to keep my hands to myself when you were in my apartment,” you whispered and he smiled.

“Maybe today I don’t want you to keep your hands to yourself,” he said, and you sucked your bottom lip in. His hand came up, his thumb running over your lip, to release it from between your teeth.

“Please kiss me, Marcus,” you sighed.

And then he did.

And it was the first of many Valentine’s days you would spend with Marcus Pike.

#my fic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x female reader #Pedro Pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction

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i-cant-sing · 3 years

Note

I know requests are closed so this isn’t a request I just had an idea based off an ask you got about hawks and the Todoroki clan. What if the reader escaped from yandere Todoroki clan (Dabi scared the reader/took it too far with the threats, or because endeavor and the brothers had a fight and the reader got scared)and they ran into hawks, crying and panicked thinking that he would help. But hawks recognizes them from the pictures in endeavors desk and offers them a lift to somewhere safe. Only for hawks to fly the reader back to the Todoroki estate where the whole family is waiting for them.

The reader feels hurt and betrayed and everyone is angry, but hawks being hawks tries to diffuse the situation by saying,”stop scaring the poor kid. They came to me scared out of their mind, but being the outstanding godfather that I am, I made sure to bring them back safely.” (Or something like that)

And endeavor just accepts that hawks claimed himself as the readers godfather, and tells the reader to get inside and to clean up.

So now hawks takes it upon himself to hang around the estate more to fulfill his “godfather” duties, spoiling the reader as much as he can.

Yandere Godfather Hawks x Todoroki clan reader

I was going to write boyfriend Hawks, instead of Godfather Hawks but this was just too good. I kinda thought that the age gap between Hawks and reader would be too much so maybe Godfather would be a better role for him, but the chaos that would follow if they find him dating reader would be just *chef's kiss*. I think I just might write bf Hawks too. Let me know what you guys think.

Anyways, enjoy!

Check out my MASTERLIST here!

Yandere Hawks:

You didn't know how long you had been running for. You didn't know how far you had gotten away from their house. You didn't even know where you were going, to be honest. But you did know that you had to get away from there as far as you could.

Sure, you only had a few hours headstart. But for them, the most powerful family in Japan, this wasn’t enough time for you.

You had planned your escape with their schedule in mind.

Enji would come home from his office at 9pm; he used to return at 11, but ever since you were kidnapped adopted by them, he tries to come home early.

Natsuo had already visited you during the day. He habitually comes after his shift at the hospital. Once he would check you over for any injuries and be satisfied with your overall health, he would join you, Rei and Fuyumi for a quick lunch before leaving.

Usually, you would spend the day with Rei, Fuyumi and Shotou, then Enji would come by the time dinner was served. And once everyone went to sleep, Dabi would come to visit you around 2 am. He would tap on your window and disturb you from your sleep, but its not like you have any engagements in the morning anyways. Once you would let him in, he would talk to you and maybe watch a movie too. If he's pissed, he might "accidentally" leave a burn mark on your arm (and you've tried asking your family for help, but they wouldn't do anything. Natsuo would just bandage you up, while Shotou would comfort you. Besides, you've learned not to snitch on Dabi because he would even get angrier than before.)

That was your routine ever since they had took you, almost 7 months ago. Well, they had actually adopted you an year ago, and everything was going well. But then you started noticing their odd behaviour. You thought they were just being protective of you at first, but as time went on, their obsessive tendencies and no regard for your personal boundaries started weirding you out.

Then one day, they just stopped letting you out of the house. No matter how much you cried, begged or fought, they just wouldn't let you go outside, telling that you its for your own good.

At first, they would use cuffs to keep you bound since you fought so much. But then you started behaving, and they slowly started trusting you more and stopped putting on the restraints.

What they didn't know was that you were just biding your time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to escape. Like today.

Shotou had to go to his friend's house to work on a school project, so he wasn't able to join you at lunch today and would be coming home late.

After lunch, once Natsuo had left, you asked Fuyumi if she could go to the mall and buy you some books. You had been complaining to her about your boredom for quite sometime now, so she agreed and left to go shop for you.

So that only left you with Rei in the house. And while she had a weaker quirk than the rest of the family, your quirkless self was no match for her either.

But she was easier to fool. You told Rei that you were going to take a nap in your room and to call you when dinner was ready. Rei nodded before going to the kitchen to start preparing for dinner.

You went to your room and opened the window to get out. It used to be bolted shut but after months of working on it slowly but stealthily, you had managed to pop it open. It was 6, and you were sure Fuyumi and Shotou would be coming home by 7, so without having anytime to pack, you ran.

It was stupid. You should've at least gotten your coat and shoes on, but there was no guarantee a chance like this would appear again, so you left without them.

You kind of regret it now, as you winced in pain at all the rocks and twigs pressing into your bare feet. You shivered in the cold, which didn't bother you at first because of the adrenaline pumping through your veins, but now as you slid against a dumpster in an alley to give a break to your legs, you wished Rei could've given you some proper clothes, instead of the light, pastel pink dress. In her defence, the house was centrally heated during winters so you didn't really need warm clothes inside the house. But now, looking at the dark clouds forming in the sky, you wished she could've at least given you a sweater.

It had soon started raining, and the wind had picked up as well. Shivering, you decided to stay put by the dumpster and wait until it stopped. It would be easier for them to find you if you ran now because the streets will be empty because of the rain. And its not like you could go to a police station either. How will you explain to them that the no.1 hero had kidnapped you?

Sighing, you closed your eyes. You just have to vanish from their eyes until they give up on you, or at least find someone else to replace you.

Hawks was flying home when it had begun raining. Tutting, he flew back to the ground to walk his way home. It was dangerous to fly during the rain; his feathers would get heavy and weigh him down.

As he was walking, whistling to himself, he heard someone whimper in the alley to his left. He walked in the dark alley, bracing himself for any sudden movements. The little whimpers came from near the dumpster. The alley had no light, so he couldn't see much. He walked closer to the source of whimpers and he could make out a silhouette of a shivering girl, who was completely drenched. Her eyes were closed so she hadn't noticed Hawks yet.

He took a step closer. "Hey. You okay?" As soon Hawks voice reached her ears, she snapped her eyes open and backed away from him. Hawks backed up a bit, raising his hands in surrender. "Its okay. I'm a hero." He said, calmly.

Once she seemed recognise him, or at least realise he wasn't dangerous, she relaxed a bit. "What are you doing in the rain?"he asked. She paused for a bit, before replying in a tiny voice,"none of your business." Hawks smiled. "It kinda is. Now you can either tell me, or I can take you to the cops and you can tell them. What's it gonna be?"

Your breath hitched at his question. If he takes you to the cops, Enji will surely find you, and the punishment that will be waiting for you...you didn't even want to think about it. "I'm just...running." you mumbled, hoping he would leave you alone. "From who?" When you didn't reply, he sighed. "Okay. Can you tell me why you're running?"

You thought for a bit. Would he believe if you told him the truth? You knew he was close friends with Enji and you heard from Enji that he was very loyal to him, so you doubted that he would believe you if you told him the no. 1 hero had been holding you hostage for 7 months. But maybe he could help you. If you just tell him that someone's after you, then maybe he could drop you off somewhere safe?

Gulping, you answered. "I- I was kidnapped. And they've probably noticed that I'm missing now and- and I need to hide before they can find me. I can't, I can't go back there-" your voice broke down as you slowly started crying.

Hawks's eyes widened as he heard you confess. He hugged you, rubbing your back soothingly. "Shh, its okay. I'm here now. Tell me who it is." You shook your head no. "Don’t be afraid. I'll keep you safe. Just tell me who-" "No!"you cut him off, realising that you would be putting his life in danger if you told him the truth. The Todorokis have done it before, with your old family and friends; you have no doubt that they will do it again.

Hawks was taken aback by your outburst. Who were you so afraid of? Was it a crazy ex? Or a family member? Maybe you had gotten in trouble with the wrong crowd? Whoever it was, fear was evident in your voice. He had to help you.

"Okay. I'm sorry. How about we get out of the rain? Maybe to a cafe, where we can get a coffee to warm ourselves up?" He asked you again, trying to look at your face in the dark. You shook your head again, before speaking. "Could you- could you just get me out of this city? Or at least as far away from here as possible?"

Who were you so scared of that you wanted to leave the city? He could investigate that later, but first he needed to get you out of the rain.

He nodded. "Alright. It should stop raining anytime now, so I can't fly you out right now. How about we walk to my apartment and warm ourselves and then, I could take you anywhere you want?"

This was the best you were going to get. You know you need to leave the city right now, but he was your only chance of leaving. So you agreed. Hawks smiled at that. "Can you walk?"he asked you. You nodded, but as soon as you took a step, you yelped in pain, almost falling down. Thankfully, Hakws was near to catch you. He laughed. Noticing your chattering teeth, he gave you his jacket. "You're going to catch a cold." Once you had worn his big, warm jacket, he lifted you up into his arms and started walking out of the alley and towards his home.

As he got out of the alley, the street lights finally illuminated your face.

You looked familiar, like he'd seen you before, but he can't seem to remember where he saw you. His eyes scanned your face. Your brows were furrowed in worry, and you kept looking over his shoulder. You looked scared, almost like a child. Looking down, he noticed your pink dress was completely ruined. He moved his gaze to your feet. They were bleeding, due to the stones, twigs and broken glass that had pierced them. Your legs had tiny burns, some had faded, others looked still fresh.

Were you being abused? Is that why you're running? He wanted to ask you these questions but he knew he had to wait for you to open up.

"Thank you."your tiny voice brought him back to reality. Hawks gave his famous heroic smile. "No problem." You gave a tiny smile of your own. It was kind. "Why do you keep looking back?"he asked you. Your eyes widened slightly, looking like a kid who got caught stealing cookies. "Are you worried about them taking you away again?"he asked, not really sure who he was referring to. You started tearing up again. Your lips wobbled as you slowly nodded your head. He stopped walking, causing you to look up to him. "Its okay. I promise I'll never let anyone hurt you again. I promise." His voice held such sincerity, you started crying into his chest as you kept on thanking him.

Hawks meant every word. He's going to make sure nobody ever lays a finger on you. How could anyone harm such a sweet thing like you?

He rubbed your shoulder with one hand to calm you down. Once you had stopped crying, he spoke again. "Hey, look. It stopped raining." You looked up and he was right; the sky had cleared up. "Well, are you ready to fly?" You smiled slightly before nodding. He told you to hold on to him tightly, and you buried your face into his chest before he took off.

Once you guys were in the air, Hawks told you to open your eyes. You did and the view was breathtaking. Tall buildings and sky scrapers were all over the city, and tiny lights from cars and street lamps looked like stars. It looked like a scene from an anime. Really pretty.

"Wow."you finally said. Hawks chuckled at that. Your looked like you just saw Santa. So adorable.

"I'm glad you like it."he said, as he started flying towards his home. You smiled. "Hey! You never told me your name."he said, mocking fake surprise.

You giggled at that. "I'm Y/n."

And just like that, Hawks finally remembered where he had seen you.

A year ago Endeavour had asked him to find everything he can on this one particular girl. Hawks thought that maybe you were linked to some case, but your records were clean, so he thought that maybe Enji was just looking for someone for Shotou. Hawks thought it was weird when you suddenly disappeared from the public eye a month later. He tried to ask Enji about you but he would just brush him off, telling him he had mistook you for someone else. It was odd, but Hawks eventually let go of it.

Wait. Does that mean Enji had been hurting you? No, that can't be it. Enji had been working with him on a lot of missions abroad, and the burn marks on your legs were rather fresh.

"Whats wrong?"your soft voice brought him out of his thoughts. "Hmm? Oh nothing. Why do you ask?"Hawks faked a smile. You stared at him. Something was off. "Nothing. Its just you were lost in your thoughts, I guess."

Hawks laughed at that. "You’re really observant, aren't you?" Deciding to test out his theory, he continued. "Well, you're right. I was thinking about a work colleague. You might've heard of him. Endeavour, hm?"

At the sound of his name, you stiffened, confirming his suspicion. You were connected to him somehow. Hawks didn't know how, but he was going to figure it out. "Um, y-yeah. He's the no.1 h- hero, right?"the fear in your voice had returned, although you were trying hard to hide it.

Hawks nodded. "Yeah!" He had to find out how you were linked to Enji. Suddenly, he turned around and started flying back where you guys had started.

"W-what are you doing? Why are we going back?"you asked him. He looked down at you and replied, "we need to get bandages for your wounds. Otherwise your feet will get infected." You nodded. "Oh. Okay." With that you closed your eyes to prevent them from drying against the wind.

After maybe half an hour or so, you opened your eyes to look where you guys were flying to. You looked down and to your horror, saw a familiar house coming up. You looked at Hawks and he seemed to know what you were thinking. "We're going down there."he nodded his head towards the Todoroki estate. Your eyes grew wide, and your body started trembling. "No! No! We- we can't! We can't go there!" You started shaking your head. "And why not?"Hawks stopped flying towards the estate, simply flapping his wings to remain in the air. You just shook your head. "We can't. I can't. Just drop me off somewhere else. I'll be fine on my own." Hawks wanted to know the real reason. He frowned. "Tell me the truth right now or I'll take you down there this instant."

You gulped, his eyes were showing that he wasn't bluffing. Your eyes started to glisten with unshed tears as you finally told him the truth. You told him everything; about how Enji had kidnapped you, how he got rid of your real family, how he and Rei had tried to keep you a secret from everyone, how their kids found out about you but instead of helping you out, became attached to you just like their parents, about how the famous villian Dabi was Enji's son and how he would sometimes burn you. By the time you were done, tears were flowing down your cheeks as Hawks tried to process what you had just confessed to him.

"Do you trust me?"he suddenly asked you. You looked at him confused. "What?" He repeated again. "Do you trust me?" Did you? Honestly, not that much, but he was the only one who was going to help you so you slowly nodded. "Yes?" Not really sure of it yourself but Hawks accepted the answer anyways. "Good." As soon as he said that, he started flying again, towards the house. You started thrashing in his arms again. "No! You said you wouldn't take me back here! You said you wouldn't!"you were full on sobbing against him, trying to wring yourself free from his vice grip, but Hawks was neither listening nor relenting his tight hold on you.

You looked down and that's when you saw them. Enji, Rei, all of them, were standing in the garden looking at you and Hawks. Even Dabi was there. Rei must've panicked and called everyone. And from the look on his- everyone's face, you could tell you were in deep trouble.

You thrashed in Hawks arms, begging him to fly away, but he didn't listen to you at all.

Once you reached the ground, you didn't pull your head out of Hawk's chest. You don't want to see their rage or the punishments they have planned for you.

"Hey, Endeavour!" Hawks broke the silence first. "Mrs Todoroki. Kids." He nodded towards them. "Hawks. Who do you have there?"Enji asked, pretending as if he doesn't know you. Hawks laughed. "You don't have to pretend! I know everything." At this, Dabi activated his quirk, ready to cremate him but was stopped by Shotou.

Thinking that this was some sort of blackmail, Enji asked, "What do you want? Money?"

Hawks smirked. "Nope! Look, I know you kidnapped her and all but you are providing her a good life, right?" He paused to look at them. Everyone nodded. He continued. "And you're just keeping her home to protect her from harm?" Again, everyone nodded. "But she still managed to escape you all even though she's quirkless and you all are not."

"Get to the fucking point."Dabi said impatiently.

Hawks sighed. "Clearly, you need all the help you can get. You need me. I can help you help her keep safe and healthy!" He paused, before his eyes lit up. "I can't have my goddaughter getting hurt again." Everyone looked at him weirdly. Goddaughter?

"How about you hand her over and you'll still be able to fly." Dabi threatened, blue flames engulfing his hands. Hawks laughed again. He was right. It wasn't Enji who giving you those nasty burns, it was Dabi. "If something happens to me, I have enough evidence gathered against you" he pointed to Dabi, "and then cops will get involved and maybe take away Y/n away."

The threat of someone taking you away from them, made their heart drop. Rei, who had been previously sobbing, put a hand on Dabi's shoulder, telling him to calm down.

Hawks grinned at Enji, raising his eyebrows. "So what will it be, Endeavour?"

Enji understood the ultimatum Hawks was giving him. Either let him in the family or risk losing you to the authorities. And he knew Hawks wasn't one to make empty threats.

Enji's eyes snapped to you. You were trying to bury yourself into Hawks chest, trying to hide from them. He wasn't that mad at you for running, more worried if anything. Had his family really spooked you that much? He'll have to worry about that later. First he needs to get you back into his and Rei's arms.

Enji sighed, before nodding. "Fine. We'll do it your way."

Hawks beamed at that. "Great!" He was glad that Enji had accepted. "Now, you need to take Y/n in before she catches a cold; although I'm certain she already has. Oh and tend to her bloody feet too! Poor thing was just running around barefoot." He chuckled. Shotou moved forward to take you from Hawks but you clung tightly to Hawks shoulders.

"Please. Please. Just take me out of here. Please." You whispered to him, fresh tears pricking your eyes now.

You looked so scared. Your eyes were saucer wide, nose red from cold and cheeks flush. Fear. That was were you emitting. But the longer he looked at your face, he found something else too. Hope. Innocence. Naivety. And while fear was the predominant emotion, the latter were the ones that he wanted to protect. "Hawks." Enji's voice broke him out from his trance. Hawks smiled. Addressing you, he started rubbing soothing circles to your back. "Hey. Hey. Its okay, princess." You kept on crying, your eyes begging him to whisk you away anywhere but here. You looked so much like him when he was little. So afraid. "Listen, do you remember what I promised you?" You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. You're so endearing. "I promised you that I'll never let anyone hurt you again, didn't I?" You nodded slowly. "I intent on keep that promise, dove. Infact I'll talk to your dad tonight! But you need to go in and take warm bath. I don't want you getting sick, okay?"

You had seemed to calm down as you slowly nodded and let him hand you over to Shotou, who quickly ushered you in, with Natsuo, Rei and Fuyumi quickly following behind, leaving Hawks with Dabi and Enji.

"Lets go to your office, Endeavour! I have to go over some details as Y/n's new godfather." Enji nodded and went inside to go to his home office. Hawks was about to follow but was stopped by Dabi. "What game are you playing, you freak?"

Hawks chuckled, before swiftly pulling out a very sharp feather and pressing it against Dabi's jugular. "I'm just here to make sure that no one hurts Y/n again. And if I see another scorch mark on her, I'll find you and carve your skin into ribbons."

I will be accepting requests and asks for godfather hawks and Todoroki clan!

Oh and don't worry, I'm working on part 2 of rei hurting the reader. It'll be done soon! :)

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