#baby's first poll and maybe i will now live my life by poll y/n?

[amberrockstar]

vote before you read my tale(s) of woe, please. then, if my tale has now changed your answer for the future, let me know in the tags.

please re-blog because i want to pretend this is scientific.

tale of woe...two, really:

for most my life, afab people did not hit on me. at all. because i'm afab and arguably female-presenting, i assumed this was because i did not read as queer. (non-queer amab people did hit on me, so even before i had self-esteem, there was proof it wasn't about me being hideous.)

started wearing an autistic pride pendant (the rainbow infinity sign one). since most people don't know that's what it is, they just read it as "this person is gay." now, non-queer amab people don't hit on me. i get a little flirtation from afab people (i guess i'm not queer cute...haha! that's a lie. i am queer and would hit this, so.) i assume this means i do now read as queer but specifically as strictly wlw?

in both those stories, there is at least one time where someone i liked told me (once they were totally unavailable) that they would have hit on me but didn't think i swung their way.

anyway, looking at possibly buying myself some pride presents and suddenly thinking way too hard about the impact of the colours on my dating life. totally normal over here.

[siriuslyshewrote]

Deep End

John Shelby x Reader

Set in Series Three, 1924. John is 29, and Reader is 28.

“I don’t want this to break you, but I’ve got no one else to talk to.”

The kitchen was silent, completely and utterly, the opposite of usual, when you would have five small children screaming and causing mischief. Your hands were wrapped around a cooling mug of coffee, a cigarette dangling from your lips, a plate of uneaten plain toast in front of you, from hours ago, made by Polly, before she took the kids to hers. You couldn’t have them here, not tonight, not after the bombshell Poll had dropped on you this morning.

Well, perhaps ‘bombshell’ was not the right word. You’d had an inkling for weeks, one that you pushed out of your mind, stomach bubbling with stress (or morning sickness, maybe). Because, of course, some part of you knew that you were pregnant - of course you did, hell, you’d already had five of them. This, however, would be the first pregnancy you had cried about ; really, truly, sadly, cried about, since you discovered about the existence of Katie, on your sixteenth birthday. Katie, however, had turned into a surprise you became ecstatic about.

You couldn’t see that happening, this time, though.

You twisted the wedding ring on your finger, the one that you had taken off several times this week, telling yourself it was just because of how swollen your fingers were. It wasn’t, deep down, you knew that. For the first time in twelve years of marriage, you were suddenly thinking of not being married at all. You and John had had some horrific arguments over the years, but somehow, it was the not arguing that made you contemplate leaving John. The traitorous thoughts had been whirling in your head for a while, making you cry yourself to sleep in the cold empty bed half the time - because John never came home before the early morning anymore.

It was the long nights, the worry and the crippling fear, that his work would result in a terrible ending - with either he, or one of your children dead. It hadn’t ever been something you had thought so in depth about before, as the children grew up without incident ( Katie being thirteen in a few weeks ), but with the knowledge of a new baby, came the anxieties you always had when pregnant, but this time ten-fold. Your brain had been haunted all day, with images of your newborn being targeted by one of the many enemies the Shelby’s had, or taken like Charlie had been. It occurred to you, how naive you had been before, to let the children roam the street, alone. You couldn’t help but -

The door opened, loudly, creaking hinges that John had promised to fix months ago. You jumped in fright, hand almost reaching towards the cool gun that lay on the counter top, before you heard the familiar sound of John kicking off his shoes in the hall, making more of the familiar scuff marks on the wallpaper you’d picked out yourself when John first showed you this house, when he put his hands over your eyes, guided you down the street carefully, Katie, a small toddler at the point, hanging off his back. When he’d laughed, as you opened your eyes, given you the cold keys, when you’d cried with hormonal joy, throwing your arms around him. When he still had the time to be around his family, when you felt more like a treasure than a burden.

“Hey.” His voice was hoarse, like he’d yelled a lot today, and preoccupied, like his mind wasn’t really in the room.

You didn’t look up, surprised he was home so early, just swirled the tea around in your cup, watching the pale liquid move back and forth in little waves. Usually, you’d get up and put the kettle on the stove to warm, or pour a drink of whiskey, depending on the hour, but your ankles were sore and you felt sick, and most of all, your emotions were churning.

“Hey.” You spoke quietly, running your nail through the grains in the wooden table, dented from years of raucous family dinners.

You heard the clinking of a glass, the slight strain to reach the tallest shelf, where the liquor was kept, far enough to evade the grabby hands of the mischievous younger children.

“Where’s the kids?”

“Polly said she’d have them tonight.” You couldn’t stand staying sat, staying still, so you went to the fridge, began to pull out food that you could cook for dinner.

He let out a humoured snort. “God help her. They’ll fuckin’ destroy her house like they ‘ave ours.”

“Or maybe that’s you when you’re pissed off your head.” You snapped.

“What’s up with you?” His voice was half confused, half irritated. “You’ve been in a foul mood all week.”

You snorted, pulling out a frying pan from the jumbled cupboard, one of Edwards stuffed teddies falling out along with it, god knows why.

“I’m surprised you’ve noticed.”

“Hey.” His voice was quiet, hand tugging on your wrist gently. “What is it?”

You pulled away from him, tugging at the material of your dress absently, not able to meet his eye.

“I need to tell you.. Well, I need to talk to you.”

He laughed, but it was anxious. “What is it then? Come out with it.”

“I’m pregnant.” It was blunt, not said with tears or smiles or laughs. Said with a sad voice and blank eyes, and a heavy heart.

His mouth lifted up at the corners in a wide smile. Every single one of the kids, John had been overjoyed with, and you knew this one was the same.

“That’s what you’ve been upset about, eh? That’s good, ain’t it?”

He almost moved to hug you, but you turned away, throwing some vegetables into the pan.

“No. No, it’s really not, John.” Your voice cracked.

“Y/N, you’re scaring me , now.. What’s up - I thought you’d be happy-“

“How can I be happy, John, eh? I’m fucking exhausted. I’m tired, of running after the kids all day and all night because heaven forbid Edward sleeps through the night. Or George wets the bed and wakes up the other lads. Or Elizabeth has a bad dream. And you know, they all want you, but you’re never fucking here, and so I get it. And I get hit with the ‘where’s daddy?’ Over and over and over. And I can’t fucking tell them because I don’t know myself, do I? Should I tell them their dads at some whore house, or in London, or at Uncle Tommy’s, or Pols? Cause I surely don’t fucking know.”

Your words jumbled together, talking so fast you barely said a word, desperate to get the words out, off your chest.

“Would you prefer me not to work then? For us to live in this shitty house for the rest of our lives, with the kids crowded into two bedrooms?”

“This shitty house was enough for you, once.”

“This family was enough for you once. But clearly we’re all a burden to you, eh?” He was angry, but his eyes flickered, as if dreading your response.

“Don’t you say that! Don’t you say my children are a burden to me, John Shelby!”

“So it’s just me that is, then! Have you finally decided I’m not good enough, then? God knows your fucking mother tried to tell you enough times-“

“When have I ever said you’re not enough!”

“It was only time before you got sick of this life wasn’t it? Before you wished you had your old life back with your big fancy country house and your parents posh bloody titles, and-“ John continued, lighting a cigar, his hands shaking.

“I’ve never missed that! This is the life I chose, okay! You know what I do miss, John? I miss the old you. The one who would bring flowers home, or dance in the kitchen with me while the baby’s bottle was warming up, or take us on day trips to the country. I miss the husband who was there for me. Who didn’t take the risks that put our whole fucking family in danger.”

John was silent for a few moments, as you breathed heavily, your eyes full of tears, and not from the cooking onions. You heard him get up from the chair behind you, and you turned, to see him hold out a hand.

“Can I have this dance, then?” He spoke quietly.

You sniffled, wiping your nose with your hand, like a child, but took his hand all the same. Because it was John, and you could never resist John. Because you loved him, because you were loyal to him, because you wanted so desperately to keep the family you adored.

Your chests were close together, his heart beat - faster than usual - pressed against your ear as you cried quietly into his striped shirt.

“I can’t keep doing this. I can’t.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I know.” He spoke, hands running through your tangled hair.

“I just miss you. I just want you home.”

“Please stay. I’ll make it work, okay? I’ll be home more, I’ll help with the kids more - I’ll make it work. I’ll make you happy again.”

You nodded your head. You weren’t sure if everything was going to work out, or if you would be having this conversation in a few weeks time with a different outcome. But for now, with the promises from John, and his strong heartbeat in your ear, you knew you would stay.

Because, whether it be for an hour or for a month or for the rest of time, you had your husband back, the same boy you’d known when you were sixteen, who’d promised you the world.

Permanent Tag List (comment to be added ✨)

@haphazardhufflepuff

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[alison-anonymous]

flawsome bandits pt. 1 ♡ sonic

Flawsome First Meetings

EARLY RELEASE!

Hello, my darlings and WELCOME to my second multi-part fanfic, Flawsome Bandits (a Sonic the Hedgehog Movie! x Reader). I have not yet finished the second chapter of this story yet, and I’m currently trying to prewrite these chapters so I can update them along the way, but I wanted to get the first one out to all of my patient darlings as soon as possible! Please let me know what you think, the love always encourages me to write more ;) Love you all, please enjoy!

Warnings: none

♡♡♡

If you've ever had amnesia, you'd know that things seem very quick.

Little flashbacks of what you're guessing to be your backstory come back in little spurts that never last long enough and are gone too soon. They leave huge, gaping holes in your background information from what your favorite color is to who your parents were. Try your story on for size.

You were Y/n Wachowski. A sassy, quick-witted teenage girl with a love for speed and a sharp tongue. Parents? Unknown. Distant relatives? Undiscovered. Hometown? Who the fuck knows. You were sent to live with the Wachowski's as your permanent foster parents after you were discovered wandering around the woods by a couple of hikers. They said that they found you wearing a ripped and dirty jumpsuit with pastel colors that looked like it was ten times smaller than your size. When they had tried to confront you, it was almost as if you couldn't hear them, your mouth open and unspeaking. Eyes wandering, glossy and unseeing. 

You couldn't remember much about your past. Most of the time it was like looking at a blank sheet of paper, ready to get into the printer but it's out of ink. After being diagnosed with a concussion and severe amnesia, you were seen as unfit to take care of yourself, so that was how you ended up with the Wachowskis. But just because you were lucky enough to have loving and patient foster parents didn't mean that you had an answer to every question they asked. You had no idea what your favorite color was, what you liked to do in your free time, or even if you were a night owl. 

It was like you didn't even remember who you were. Like you had just been born, only you weren't a baby and were instead a teenager. It got incredibly lonely being a child with no memories, and the kids at school found you very creepy. But it was okay. Tom and Maddie made sure to give you as much love as was humanly possible, and when the bullying at school got to the point where they would follow you home, they switched you to homeschooling. 

It appeared that you not only had no existing memories of your past, but you also had barely any idea how things on earth worked. Whenever someone mentioned examinations, vaccines, bucket lists, and even governmental agencies, you had no clue what they were talking about. 

Not everyone was as patient as Tom and Maddie were, unfortunately. Most people would assume that you were kidding when you asked them what a protractor was or why people ride animals. It all seemed so strange and new to you, like Tarzan when he was visiting the human world and not the ape land he was familiar with. But out of it all, there was one thing that you became absolutely fascinated with. 

Cars. 

The faster, the better. You seemed to have an unchecked need for speed that tickled at your mind every time you got behind the wheel. Whenever Tom allowed it, you'd take the truck or his old squad motorcycle out for a spin in the abandoned corn fields where you could do as many tricks as you wanted without putting anyone else in danger. One of your favorites was driving backwards. 

It's during one of those days where our story finally begins. The Montana sun was high up in the sky, beating down its scorching rays onto the untouched pavement. A flock of birds fled for the telephone polls in an attempt to escape from the ever increasing sound of revving coming from the abandoned corn field near Crazy Carl's traps for the supposed "Blue Devil." In the midst of the dead and crusty corn stalks, there sat a young girl on a very old squad motorcycle. Her hair fluttered gently in the slight breeze running through the air, a pair of sunglasses perched delicately atop her nose in the absence of a helmet. Before her stood a makeshift riser composed of some old wooden slabs she had "borrowed" from an old tree house a little ways south. A smirk played across her lips as she kicked up the bike's kickstand and revved the engine. 

"Alright, Y/n, if you make this jump, you'll be the most famous girl in Green Hills…" Her words got lost in the wind as she took a deep breath and began to ride towards the jump, her speed increasing with every passing second. The distance began to decrease, her growing closer and closer until an abnormal electric blue blur zipped past her. Startled, she swerved, momentarily losing control of her bike as she slowed to a stop, planting her boots firmly on the ground. Chest heaving, she flipped her sunglasses up onto her forehead and slipped off of the bike, looking around the empty field to see if she hit anything. 

What was that? She wondered. 

Unbeknownst to her, a couple feet away from her, hidden deep within some dehydrated bushes was a royal blue hedgehog. He had been on his way back to his cave after taking a turtle for a little joy ride down the interstate when he spotted his favorite human on earth, Star Chaser. She was the most amazing girl he had ever seen, and lived with Donut Lord and Pretzel Lady. He would make it a priority to hang out with her every time she was out practicing her racing tricks, a dopey grin spreading on his face every time he saw her ecstatic smile. She just never knew he was there. 

More than anything, he wished that he could get to hang out with her just once. Just for one day, spent full of speeding down the empty country roads and flying over makeshift jumps and laughing about the funny faces they made from the wind hitting their skin. But he knew better. He had to stay hidden, just like Longclaw said. Never stop running, and always stay hidden… alone. 

There was something about her that just drew him to her, something familiar. He watched with caution as Star Chaser searched the field a bit more, her footfalls making satisfying crunching sounds on the long gone plants. Her beautiful e/c eyes searched the grounds before her for whatever had interrupted her practice. Finally, after she was satisfied with not having hit anything, she got back onto the cycle, flipped her sunglasses back on, and zipped away, leaving a trail of smoky exhaust in her wake.

The blue hedgehog zoomed back to his cave himself, dodging trees and bushes with expertise. The whole time he ran, he couldn't prevent his mind from wondering what life might be like if he were somehow able to live alongside the humans. If he could have a conversation with Star Chaser that didn't exist in his imagination, to maybe even discover why she seemed so familiar. What would life be like if he didn't have to hide? 

♡♡♡

Just when things finally start getting familiar, the concept of moving decides to rear its ugly head in. Y/n had found out that her foster dad got a promotion, a job in another city with a higher ranking and a wider variety of donut holes to snack on. That meant that they were going to have to leave Green Hills. 

But, knowing her, she shoved the grief and frustration so far down inside her until it became nonexistent. Maddie had left on a trip to see her sister, leaving Y/n and Tom alone. They had had a freak power outage the night before, leaving Tom a bit on edge. His phone kept ringing off the hook as his coworker was just a bit dependent on him, and had no idea if he should just ignore the 911 phone calls or pick them up. 

“Remind me to drive by the library tomorrow,” Y/n set down her latest novel on the counter by the car keys. She watched as Tom stole a bit of frosting off of the cake and scrunched up her nose at the lack of sanitation. “I need to return this before we get fined.” 

Tom nodded just as his phone began ringing. He held up a finger to his daughter and leaned against the counter, lifting up the phone to his ear as he began to talk to his wife. Y/n turned to the fridge and was trying to decide whether or not she was hungry or just bored as she did her best to not listen to them talking about the move. Just as she was about to reach for the watermelon, a loud clattering noise came from outside. Tom and Y/n exchanged an alarmed glance and quickly shuffled over to the window, childishly trying to shove each other out of the way so they could get a good look. 

“Shit,” Y/n swore as she took in the knocked over trash bins sitting next to the garage.

“Watch your potty mouth,” Tom scolded, but a smile still stayed on his lips. “The racoons are back.” Y/n watched as he quickly turned towards one of the junk drawers and pulled out Maddie’s bear tranquilizer gun. She snorted. 

“You better not be using my tranquilizer gun,” she heard Maddie’s voice say over the speaker. “That’s for bears.”

“Good,” Tom grinned as he loaded up the machine. “Now I know it’ll work. Y/n, stay inside.” Y/n scoffed as he hung up the phone and opened up the back door. Yes, of course she was going to stay safely inside like a crappy sidekick and miss the potential action of scaring trash pandas half to death. Grabbing an extra flashlight, she raced out after her dad to see him pressed up against the side of the shed, holding the gun and flashlight near his face. He jumped once she saddled up next to him, putting her flashlight in front of her like her own makeshift gun.

“I thought I told you to stay inside,” He narrowed his brows. To his dismay, Y/n only shrugged.

“You did. I didn’t listen,” she grinned, making it obvious that he had no other choice than to let her stay. He sighed, but nevertheless nodded. On a quick countdown from three, the two burst into the shed, waving their flashlights around like mad men.

“Green Hills PD, put your paws up!” Tom hollered. Y/n slowly made her way out from behind him, flashing her light around the empty room until it finally came to a stop. Her eyes widened in shock and her jaw nearly dropped to the floor as she tried to make sense of what exactly she was looking at. An electric blue creature wearing white gloves and tennis shoes stood before them, holding what looked like a gold wedding ring between his forefinger and thumb. She couldn’t tell what was stranger: the fact that he existed or the fact that he seemed oddly familiar. The creature’s green eyes flashed from hers to her father’s before he let out a small, nervous chuckle. 

“Uhh, meow?” 

And then, Tom screamed. His fear and the sudden introduction of the loud noise caused Y/n to scream, too, which finally led to the little blue creature screaming. But the longer Y/n stared at it, the more she began to experience a slight hint of deja vu. She couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that she had seen this thing before. 

“Wait,” she whispered, barely loud enough for her dad to hear, but the blue creature’s ears perked up. He turned his attention back to her and the second they locked eyes, the same sense of familiarity began coursing through his veins. After all of those days spent watching her from afar, how did he never notice the e/c eyes? Where had he seen them before?

Unfortunately, Tom just had to go and ruin the moment by pulling the trigger on the tranq gun. 

“Dad, no!” Y/n cried, but it was already too late as the dart sank into the blue creature’s thigh. They could only watch as the animal looked down at the needle in his leg and slowly looked back up with a hurt glare.

“Ow,” he whined, his eyes already beginning to lose their concentration. Y/n was about to take a step towards the creature, but Tom wrapped his hand around her arm to stop her. The creature’s eyes floated over Tom’s shirt, zeroing in on the words that littered the old fabric. “San… Fran…sisco?” He muttered. The ring he had been holding on to loosely slipped from his fingers, and began rolling across the floor. As its velocity increased, it began expanding, deying all laws of logic as a portal overlooking the given city appeared. Y/n and Tom’s jaws dropped to the floor as they watched the creature stumble, dropping his little bag through the portal and collapsing onto the ground. Y/n’s heart ached for the poor thing as she fought to get out of her father’s grasp in order to help him. 

Within seconds, the portal closed up, eliminating the slight wind that had appeared. “N-No…” The creature whimpered before finally passing out. A thick silence crossed over the three as Tom’s grip on Y/n’s arm loosened, both humans trying to figure out what the heck they just witnessed. 

“What the actual fuck?” Y/n breathed. 

“Language…” 

♡♡♡

“Yes. Let’s shoot the poor thing and then put him in a cage,” Y/n rolled her eyes sarcastically, watching as her father poked the blue creature resting inside of their dog’s old cage. She batted at his hand, and gave him a death glare, but he just sighed. 

“Come on, kid, what if he’s an alien?” Tom asked incredulously, turning back to the sleeping creature. He nudged its head with a metal spatula and sighed. 

“I don’t know…” Y/n sighed, resting her head on her knuckle. I mean, she had to admit he was kind of… cute. The nostalgia that he was causing was just an added complication. There was something about his entire being that seemed eerily familiar to her, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why. Tom slowly withdrew something that had fallen onto the padding; an electric blue quill. The two slowly leaned closer to inspect the object, noting the little blue bolts of electricity that whizzed across its surface. It absolutely fascinated Y/n, while Tom seemed a little more apprehensive. He turned away from the cage and set it down on the counter, running a hand over his face. 

“This is nuts,” he whispered. Y/n took the opportunity to get a little closer to the being, scanning his body with careful eyes. She debated reaching through the bars to touch him, but before she had a chance to, his eyes slowly popped open. Her eyes widened and she stayed perfectly still as he pushed himself up to a standing position and made his way to open the cage. Her breath catches in her throat as he finally looks up at her and gives her a small, sheepish smile, stumbling out onto the counter top. Even in the given circumstances, the only thing that the girl can think of is how absolutely adorable he is. 

...wait, what?

“Star Chaser?” Y/n quickly turned her attention back to the present and furrowed her brows in confusion. Who was Star Chaser? “Donut Lord?” The blue being slurred, holding on to the cage for support. Tom swiveled around at the sound and scoffed.

“So the Blue Devil can talk. You’re not here to abduct us are you?” 

“YOU abducted ME,” the Blue Devil replied defensively, pressing his hand against his chest. Y/n rolled her eyes and stepped between the two, looking the being in the eyes. 

“I am very sorry for that-”

“Why are you apologizing to it?!” Tom cried, running his hands through his hair incredulously. Y/n just rolled her eyes. 

“I told him to just leave you alone. But, if I may ask, who are you and why were you in our shed?” She finished. Tom facepalmed behind her while the Blue Devil did his best to concentrate his fatigue on the beautiful girl standing before him. Gosh, her eyes were pretty…

“I-I needed a safe place, and Donut Lord’s house was the only place I could think of, Star Chaser!” 

“Why does he keep calling me Donut Lord?” Tom asked warily, slowly reaching for the tranq gun. Y/n quickly shot him a glare and he let out an annoyed huff. Even though he was her foster father, they acted like siblings with good-hearted and frequent quarrels. 

“Because you talk to donuts,” the Blue Devil explained. “And then eat them when they get out of line.” Y/n snorted, trying her best to contain her laughter by pressing the back of her hand to her mouth. She didn’t notice the small smile that formed on the blue hedgehog’s face as Tom shrugged, nodding his head slightly. 

“Fair. Why is she Star Chaser?” The Blue Devil got a distant look on his face, a small, thoughtful smile still lingering on his lips.

“I’ve watched her race out in the fields. It’s amazing how fast she can go. Sometimes I wonder if she’s trying to chase the stars out of the sky…” A soft smile slowly formed on your lips at his words. No one had ever talked about you like that before. 

The distant look on his face was suddenly replaced by one with worry. His eyes began frantically glancing around the room, Y/n being able to practically see the alarms going off in his head. “Wait, where are my… Why am I still on earth? Oh no, I lost my rings!” 

“Rings?” Y/n furrowed her brows in confusion. Just then, a loud rumbling sound came from outside. It had such an impact that it shook the entire house, startling the chimes that Maddie had hung up above the sink. The three looked around in confusion.

“What’s happening? Is this your mothership?” Tom began panicking, walking briskly around the table towards the window. He jabbed an accusing finger at the nervous hedgehog. “I do NOT want my daughter getting probed.”

“Dad, stop,” Y/n sighed, following him towards the window. “You’re the one who abducted him. Can’t you be just a little bit sentimental?”

“Thanks,” the hedgehog muttered just loud enough for Y/n to hear. She stood next to her foster dad at the window and peered out the glass. A giant grey vehicle that had been passing stopped and began backing up towards their driveway.

“What the hell kind of make is that?” Y/n muttered. The Blue Devil was by their side in a second and was peering through the window too. Once he caught sight of the ginormous lab van, he let out a squeak and pulled the white curtains shut.

“They’re after me!”

“Who’s after you?” Y/n questioned in concern. She got pushed behind Tom as he stood protectively in front of her, eyeing the Blue Devil suspiciously.

“And what does that have to do with us?” 

“I don’t have time to explain, but you have to help me!” He pleaded. Y/n felt her heart sink for the creature, her instant gut feeling telling her that they had to help him. He was in danger, albeit he was apparently a runaway. Unfortunately, Tom had different ideas as he furiously shook his head.

“No, we don’t!”

“But Dad-”

“Y/n, enough,” Tom ended her protests sternly. He turned back to the blue hedgehog and furrowed his brows, wondering what reason he could possibly have that would need them to help him. “Why should we help you?”

“Well, my legs, which normally would be classified as legal weapons, feel like spaghetti. I need your help, please! It’s life or death.” The Blue Devil’s green eyes pleaded to Tom. Y/n slowly made her way out from behind her dad and glanced down at him. He knew exactly what to say in order to get Tom to help him, didn’t he? It was almost as if he had been there all of those times when Tom was wishing for someone to come to him in their time of need. His facade crumbled and he caved in almost instantly.

“Alright, fine. Y/n, take him up to the attic. I’ll take a look at what’s going on outside.” Tom ordered. Y/n nodded and motioned for the blue hedgehog to follow her. They quickly scampered towards the stairs, and as they began to walk quietly up the flights, Y/n noticed two things. One, Crazy Carl was right after all. The little “Blue Devil” was a lot larger than she had expected him to be, measuring up to be about half of her height. And two, the thing was having a horrific time walking. With a strangely racing heart, Y/n slowed down her pace and offered her hand to the being. He gave her a small smile and accepted it, wrapping his gloved hand around her own. 

“My actual name is Y/n, by the way,” she finally spoke in an attempt to break the hurried silence. “But I like Star Chaser better.” He smiled beside her, trying to figure out why the girl before him seemed so familiar.

“I just thought it suited you. My name’s Sonic. Sonic the Hedgehog.”

“I knew you weren’t an alien,” Y/n said as she let go of his hand to pull down the ladder. She picked the hedgehog up and set him down gently inside the attic. His name kept ringing throughout her head on an endless loop, like it was supposed to bring back some big part of her life, but it always came back empty. She gave him a small smile and was about to head back down when he stopped her.

“Wait,” his dreamy green eyes were full of concern as he looked straight into Y/n’s. “Be careful.” 

Y/n appreciated how genuinely concerned he was for her safety. It was a beautiful gulp of fresh air amidst all of the others who thought she was crazy or weird. At least his sincerity made the fact that he had been basically stalking her and her family for a while now a little bit less creepy. Y/n gave him a reassuring smile and closed the attic door, racing all the way back down to the main floor where she skidded to a halt by the door. 

There was Tom, with some very strange looking man sporting a signature Man with the Bowler Hat mustache standing in the Y/n slowly approached her dad and watched as the man turned his attention towards her.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you had a daughter,” the man smiled creepily, sending shivers down her spine. She scrunched her nose as Tom wrapped his arm around her shoulder protectively.

“I have a name,” she raised her brows skeptically. “Y/n.” 

At the sound of her name, the man got a shocked look on his face, his eyes widening to the size of saucers as he stared intensely at her. Tom and Y/n exchanged confused glances before the man quickly snapped back into reality. 

“Y/n…” he repeated. “Interesting. Anyways, where was I? Oh, yes,” he suddenly propelled himself towards Tom, becoming very uncomfortably close to his face. Y/n slowly sank into her father’s arm in order to back away from the strange man. “I was spitting out formulas while you were still spitting up formula.”

“I was breastfed, actually,” Tom responded, mildly weirded out. Y/n’s face contorted in disgust. What the hell was this conversation?

“Nice,” he nodded. “Rub that in my orphan face.”

“Okay,” Y/n spoke up, finally having enough as she pushed the two apart. “Listen, I have no idea who you are and why you are here, but I think you should be leaving.”

“Ooh, fiesty one,” the man nodded, narrowing his eyebrows at you to the point that the folds on his forehead nearly overlapped one another. “Doctor Robotnik, I-”

A sudden thump sounded from the kitchen, startling the man enough to make him shut up. Tom and Y/n froze, running through every possible excuse in their minds as to what that could have been that wasn’t Sonic. Y/n turned to Robotnik and offered him the best sheepish smile she could muster.

“Um… Racoons?”

Robotnik gave her a fake smile and shouldered his way into the house. Y/n and Tom scrambled to follow him, praying to god that their little blue friend wasn’t sitting on the kitchen counter. Thankfully, once they reached the kitchen, they were greeted with a friendly racoon, shoveling handfuls of celebratory cake into its mouth. Y/n breathed a small sigh of relief through her mouth.

“See? Racoons.” Tom spoke defiantly, placing his hands on his hips. Y/n began to search the room quietly for any sign of Sonic while Robotnik was preparing to leave. They had almost gotten him out the door when he stopped and backtracked. In confusion, Y/n and Tom followed his gaze and their hearts stopped.

He slowly held up the lone electric blue quill for all to see.

“Looks like I was right,” a shit-eating grin formed on his face. “Note the lack of surprise.” He pointed to his monotone expression and Y/n could already tell that she fucking hated him. She slowly began to back away from him when a floating egg shaped orb harnessing a bright red laser became very interested in Tom. Y/n’s heart raced, back growing tense as she began to hesitantly back away until Robotnik gave her a warning glare. 

She wasn’t going anywhere.

“So, let’s try this again. Where. Is. It?”

“Look, man, leave her out of this. We have no idea what ‘it’ is,” Tom exclaimed, beginning to hold his hands up in surrender. Robonik simply shook his head and pushed some buttons on the gloves that he was wearing. 

“I hate liars. You have five seconds to tell me where it is. Five… Four…” He began to count down, Y/n only being able to watch in horror as the white orb came ever closer to her father, the menacing light flashing. Daring someone to challenge it. Tom stared, his facade crumbling with every second that was counted down, trying desperately to find a way out. Things were looking to death when a sudden electric blue blur shot out from behind the counter and stood in front of Y/n, hands outspread in protection.

“Wait!” Sonic cried. “Don’t hurt them!”

Y/n looked down at the little hedgehog in shock, and was startled when Robotnik let out the most girlish scream anyone had ever heard come from the pipes of a man. Then Tom punched him in the face. 

“Yes, go Dad!” Y/n whooped as the Doctor crumpled onto the floor, unconscious. Their victory was short lived, however, as the second she finished talking, she was dragged behind the counter by Sonic to avoid getting hit in the face by a laser beam. The three watched in horror as the Wachowski’s custom designed kitchen became destroyed by the angry red bots, shooting around with no instructions as their master was now taking a nap on the floor. Before Y/n even had the chance to ask what they should do, they noticed that Sonic was already missing. Looking frantically around the room, Tom motioned up to one of the kitchen cupboards, and sure enough, there was Sonic preparing to jump onto one of the bots that was probably scanning for their heat signatures or something equally significant. The two shook their heads rapidly, but Sonic simply gave them one of the most adorable sassy nods Y/n had ever seen. He leapt onto the robot, trying desperately to smack it as it spun around like a horse without a head.

“This-was a… horrible idea!” Sonic screamed before he got flung off the robot, sailing through the air, and landing straight into Y/n’s arms. He offered her a sheepish smile, and Y/n rolled her eyes, a smile still playing across her lips. She set him down just in time to see her dad knock the bot out with a frying pan. It careened to a halt and collapsed onto the ground. 

“Alright,” Y/n nodded, kicking it once with the scuff of her shoe for good measure. “Shall we get out of here?”

“Yes, please.”

♡♡♡

The three runaways were able to pull out of the driveway just as a bunch of other Men in Black vans were pulling up to the house. Tom sat behind the wheel while Sonic sported a shotgun, and Y/n crouched in the middle of the backseat with no seatbelt. Because this was living on the dark side, and on the dark side, we don’t wear seatbelts.

“Okay, so now that we aren’t running from scary doctors, what the hell is going on here?” Y/n asked, leaning forward on the console and resting her head in her hand as she turned to Sonic. He leaned his head back against the seat and sighed.

“Well, I just might have been the reason for that big power explosion… and now people after me. To make things worse, I lost my rings to a place that I’ve only ever seen on your dad’s skin tight T-shirt, and I have to make it to the Mushroom Planet or else I’m putting everyone here in danger.” He finally took in a deep gulp of air after pulling out that whole explanation in one breath. Y/n furrowed her brows in concern.

“Mushroom Planet?” Tom asked, his lips pressing into a firm line. 

“You must have lost them in San Francisco,” Y/n said. Suddenly, Tom jerked the wheel to the right and pulled off to the side of the road, unlocking the doors in the process.

“Alright, get out.” Y/n and Sonic stared at him in confusion.

“I’m sorry, what?” Sonic narrowed his eyes slightly. Tom leaned forwards and opened the passenger side door for him, running a hand down his face.

“Look, this is the worst time for me to be getting into trouble with the law and my daughter doesn’t really need a track record. So, you can go off and have good luck with finding your weird little Mushroom Planet. I’ll hopefully wake up in a hospital room soon with a successful colonoscopy and a happy, totally sane teenage daughter, so goodbye.”

“What? Dad!” Y/n started to object, her blood boiling in irritation at his insensitivity. Sonic shook his head and gave her a half-hearted smile as he slipped out of the car. 

“It’s okay, Y/n. Goodbye, I guess…” But instead of leaving, he just stood there. Staring. Y/n turns to stare at her father too to double the effect. 

“Why aren’t you leaving?” He groaned in frustration.

“How the hell is he supposed to know where San Francisco is?” Y/n laughs, and Tom sighs in defeat, knowing that she’s right. He gives her a half-assed glare, but as usual she was refusing to back down. Sonic doesn’t notice the small smile forming on his own lips, his appreciation for this strangely familiar girl increasing with every second he spent with her.

“It’s West. Straight shot.” Tom finally tells him. Sonic nods.

“Okay. West. Cool. Cool, I’m totally cool with saying goodbye right now,” he exaggerates, swirling his gloved hands around with the hurt clearly evident on his face. 

“I’m not,” Y/n grumbles, pressing her cheek against the rough leather of the driver’s seat. Before anyone could say another word, Sonic shot off in the given direction faster than the speed of sound. Y/n’s jaw drops open along with Tom’s as they look down at the spot where he once was. 

“H-holy shit,” Y/n stuttered. 

“D-did he just-” Tom didn’t even get to finish the sentence before Sonic came back, only this time soaking wet. He was sporting a nice fish on his head and a bunch of seaweed hanging on to his quills, which accented his sarcastic expression perfectly. Y/n tried to stifle her laughter by pouting and turning to her father as he rolled his eyes.

“So, as I crashed into the cold, dark Pacific,” Sonic began, sending a wink in Y/n’s direction. “I noticed a couple things. A, I have no idea where I’m going. B, salt water stings. And C, I shouldn’t even be on this planet right now but I am. Why? Because you shot me.” Sonic’s eyes narrowed.

“I know,” Tom sighed, turning back to the road.

“You shot me!”

“Okay, you don’t need to rub it in,” he sniffed, glancing at Y/n out of the corner of his eye. “She was there too…”

“She didn’t shoot me,” Sonic stood up for her. Y/n gave him a kind smile as he began listing off characteristics on his gloved fingers. “I’m wet, I’m cold, there’s a fish on my head, and clearly I’m not going to be able to do this on my own!” Once he finished, Y/n slowly reached out to him and pushed the fish off his head, watching as it flopped about helplessly on the ground.

“You do owe it to him,” she subtly pressed, leaning back once again in her seat. Tom stayed silent for a moment, staring firmly at the little blue hedgehog for what seemed like forever. Finally he caved and started the ignition once again.

“Fine. Get in.”

“Really?” Sonic and Y/n chimed in hopeful unison. “You’re going to help me?” He shook out his fur at such a high speed that once he finished, it poofed out like a dramaticized afro. Y/n giggled in her seat, not being able to handle how cute it was. Butterflies began to wander around in her stomach.

“I guess it is sort of my fault,” Tom hesitantly admitted. 

“Actually, it’s entirely your fault,” Y/n teased. He gave her a playful shove, but snorted nonetheless. Sonic quickly climbed into the car and slammed the door shut behind him.

“Road trip!” He cheered, looking excitedly around the car. Y/n cheered along with him while still trying to shake the eerily feeling of familiarity. Tom shook his head, squeezing the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

“What the hell am I doing with my life?”

♡ a.a.

[loxbbg]

The Scarlett Hero

Chapter 0: Being a hero's child sucks

Masterlist

Disclamer: This was originally written for an OC but for tumblr I made it x reader

You always knew what you wanted since you were a child, your parents always told you that they left Japan after finding out mom was pregnant. They named you L/N F/N, but N/N for short and said it was special that you were special. You were their one and only. They only wanted one child because they liked the idea of ‘spoiling’ you. Your O bāchan wanted you to be a boy to carry on the family name, even after finding out when you were a girl she begged for your  parents to try for a boy but they never budged. Both your parents came from pro hero backgrounds from your great grandparents when quirks started appearing till now. They've  been heroes before heroes were a thing. Your mother was Terepashī and your  father was Terekanisu. Before you were born they moved to the U.S in Visalia California for you to live as a normal child, well as normal as a child with former hero parents who were also too rich for their own good can live. When you were born, you were their world. All they wanted was for you to be happy, well until you moved back to Japan. They missed the hero life. They loved being civilians but that eventually got bored, not wanting to do civilian work like in an office. So when their old job offered them their hero jobs and top spots as number 7 and 8 heros if they came back. They sold the house and packed up. You were 8 when you moved and your parents always talked about Japan. You went there to see your grandparents but never stayed long enough to really understand the culture. So after pulling up into a large driveway and a house bigger than where you used to live shocked.

“Mama where are we?���

“Were home darling.” She looked behind her car seat.

“What about home in Visalia?” You didn't fully understand what was happening until seeing people moving boxes that your parents packed back home.

“Remember honey when we said we were moving to Japan we’re staying here baby.” You began to cry.

“What about my friends.” The car stopped pulling up to the house.

“Well you'll make friends here. Come on baby you're a big girl you'll be okay and both your  O bāchans are closer so you can see them whenever.” My eyes cleared.

As time went by and your parents got more and more busy being heros, when they made a comeback everyone went crazy. Everyone was surprised after 8 years of being silent they've come back as a force to reckon with. With that force came more jobs and less time to be with their daughter leaving her with nanny after nanny and staying with her

O bāchan. When she  turned 9 her quirk finally appeared after years of worry maybe you were quirkless. It was your 9th birthday when you woke up to your parents not being home to wake you up. Your O bāchan had made you a cake and they celebrated but you really wanted your parents like how it used to be before they even moved.

When you parents came home they were tired but you just wanted to spend time with them. It had been a while since they even hugged you.

“Mama, Papa guess what today is!’ you said excitedly.

“Not now Hayami, we’re really tired.” Your dad said taking off his armor and dropping it on the floor.

“But Papa, today's special.” tears began to run down you cheeks

“Dear god F/N  we’re tired just leave us alone and bother your O bāchan.” Red hue had seeped from you eyes flowing out. Your hands clenched around themselves, you were angry but sad you just wanted them to notice you again to  be their world again.

“Aikia.” Your father Koto had tapped his wife on her side. Pointing towards their daughter only for them to be sent flying backwards by the ray of energy the child in front of them released.  

“I just wanted a hug, It's my birthday I just wanted you to be here, please what am I doing wrong!” She was surprised at what she did holding her hands back stepping back from in front of them.

Siri play Sora Ni Utaeba

“No baby, you're doing good just calm down.” They stood up moving forward towards their daughter realizing their daughter had finally developed her quirk. Something this strong in a child is phenomenal. Just from that blast they can see she has her father's quirk but ampules the amount of power that he had at that age with no training.

“D-did I hurt you?”She quivered not wanting to touch them, the red hue still flowing from her eyes. Her father grabbed a hold of her bringing her close to her father and mother.

“No honey you didn't hurt us.” He wiped tears away from her eyes, eventually going back to her normal green doe eyes.

“You got your quirk baby.” Her mom held her hand, gripping it and looking at her hands trying to see what her hands were even doing. Red was still glowing from her hands.

“Mama what is this. Is something wrong with me?” She knew what quirks were but her’s never looked like her parents. In America the kids' quirks resemble their parents more or less. Her parents don't  have any color coming from them.

“No honey it's okay I think you just need to be trained. What happened, I felt your power coming from it. How about you let your papa and I go get cleaned up and celebrate your special day and we talk about this tomorrow.” They picked up Y/N happy that she's gotten her quirk now she has a chance to be a hero.

Later that night after they put Y/N to sleep her parents and O bāchan had discussed what they were going to do that she's behind on training when they were her age they were training with pros.

“ What about her godfather. He’s training his own child to be number 1 and All might said he won't train a child no matter who they are.” They looked up at Koto as if he was crazy.

“Koto, Enji would never he's a godfather not a sensi. You know how he is with his own family no matter how hard he tries to hide it his children are separated from shoto.” Aika gave her husband a pinned look. She knows that's basically what his parents did to him but he had no issues with it.

“Hear me out Aika when my parents trained me when I got into U.A I was in 1A my mind was focused. I want the same for our daughter,  and her quirk is so much stronger than ours you felt it you know she is. If Enji trains her she can be the top 5 hell even number 1 if she works hard enough and surpasses his son somehow. She's already behind Akia, if he says yes I have no doubt our daughter would make us proud.” He stroked the doubt from his wifes face. Letting her know this might be better.

“Maybe this would be better for F/N. Akia when you were a child you didn't train as hard enough and you didn't even get in the agency you wanted because of your marks. Don't let your child suffer. You want her to be the best. Right?” Akia nodded. Remembering her past failures never wanting her child to be rejected and always being the top.

“I'll make the call then.” Koto steps into another room away from his wife and mother in law.

Koto made the call to Enji Todoroki, the number 2 pro hero Mimi's godfather. Since they were younger and freshly married  they had always talked about how powerful their children would be. Unlike Enji, Koto’s marriage wasn’t arranged he had known of his wife when he saw her at the sports festival their 3rd year, seeing her telekinesis at work he was entrances, he knew then that he wanted to be with her and didn't stop till she was his and that she was. It did cause him to drop in the hero polls because he focused on woahing the girl rather than his job but he loved her and that's what mattered to him then. It was full of love.

Enji knew to an extent that their child would be powerful and that if their children had worked together as partners in the hero world no one would be able to stop them. They would be the top heros. So after his long time U.A friend had offered the idea of training his child he took the opportunity never questioning. Him being able to have his song and goddaughter training side by side as partners. Helping her channel her power. This was an opportunity he was not going to waste.  Having two future pro heros train under him since childhood how could he ever.

The next day her parents took her to the Todoroki household . She tried playing with the children that were in the courtyard but her father had called her to his side putting her in front of him making her be face to face with a boy with half white half red hair.

“Y/N you know your godfather Enji.” she had met him a couple of times enough to know she's supposed to trust him enough that her parents let him stay in their house in America and even babysat her. Well as good as he did that due to him just telling her to stay in her room and only come out if she needed to. He wasn't the best but her parents trusted him.

“Yes, hello.” She looked up at him smiling, he did not return it.

“This is his son Shoto.” He smiled at her, hers only getting wider getting a warm greeting from someone else in the house.

“Since you've gotten your quirk your mother and I decided that your godfather should train you on how to use it.” She and Shoto were shocked. Him because he's going to have someone else to train with and not be alone with his father. She started to tear because her parents are going to leave her with someone she hardly even knew right after her birthday not even trying themselves but passing her off as someone else's problem.

“Why can't you or mama train me?” she asked, confused. She thought that now that she has the quirk that they would spend more time with her.

“You are so powerful we feel that Uncle could do better than us. He's number 2 after all he will be better than us. Just trust us okayY/N.” She didn't want to make them stand there anymore so she stopped asking questions and went along with it.

That afternoon her father had left her in the care of her godfather that she refers to either ‘uncle enji or uncle Todoroki’ not wanting her to call him godfather. That afternoon training had begun. Shoto had been training his whole life while this was your first day. Enji had made Shoto and you spar telling each of them don't stop till he said to. Shoto was going easy on you knowing that it was your first time but his father had stood in front of him demanding why would he do that,  screaming until he cried. Mimi had gone to Shoto’s to help him calm down, not wanting to see her new and only friend cry. Enji watched the scene disgusted that they wouldn't go full force. He walked out of the room demanding they straighten up before he gets back. Mimi had comforted Shoto enough that he stopped crying.

“Is he always like this?” Shoto nodded.

“He hits my mother and yells at the rest of us.” She was shocked she didn't know what to do. He explained to her everything that he even remembers in his 9 years of living.

“Please don't tell anyone you have to pinky promise.” He made her promise not to tell anyone. She had a faint idea that if she did say something maybe something worse would happen to him or even her. That day they had become the closest of friends.

“If we don't get up and start training before he comes back he's going to be even more angry.” Shoto had said, well more like a warning.

 By the time Enji had returned Y/N and Shoto were going at it as if they were pros. Even though she only had her power for a day she had learned to dodge attacks from him and when she got behind him she was able hit him with her quirk  sending him flying forward and when he sent his flames in her direction she engulfed them with her quirk sending them back to him. Enji had a smirk on his face when he saw them sparing without him actually training him standing there watching.

When her father had come to pick her up ,she had already eaten dinner with the Todorokis’ due to her parents having a job before picking her up. She was basically sleeping right next to Shoto with his head on top of hers. When her parents took her,  Shoto’s mom took him to bed hers taking her home tucking her in not knowing what she went through.

Taglist: @fukyouthink

[venusxxlangdon]

instruction manual

pairing: outpost!Michael x fem!reader

words: 7.2k

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, daddy kink

summary: before going on a business trip for the Cooperative Michael teaches you how to masturbate

gif credit: l-angdon (account diactivated)

The warmth of the crackle of lively flames, blazing cheerily in the marble fireplace, illuminated your silhouette that was curled beneath Michael’s feet, flashing red sparkles reflecting at your face nestled comfortably on his thighs.

 “What do you mean you don’t know how?”

The slow rumble of Langdon’s voice sounded comforting, his fingers were brushing lovingly through your hair. You let out a quiet purr, nuzzling into the fabric of his tight boxer briefs covering his semi-hard cock and sighed, scorching his crotch with your hot breath and instantly melting into his touch. It felt nice to sit like this, letting the enigma of a peaceful night wrap around you and Michael and your thoughts wander away in the vortex of sweet fantasy. Only the disturbing question that he had asked you shattered your peaceful bliss and made you shake your head in disapproval. No, he should not have ruined the moment like that.

 “Y/N?” He called your name, sounding sterner and more demanding this time.

 You lifted your head up from his lap and looked at him, meeting the intense stare of his azure eyes that were curiously studying your face. You could hedge and he would immediately know it, you could remain silent and he would use his powers to drag the confession out of your vulnerable mind. It was a zero-sum game for you, yet you still tried to pretend that you had no idea what he was talking about.

 “What?” You scoffed childishly and dropped your head back onto his lap, your bottom lip pushed forward in a pitiful pout.

 “I asked you a question.”

 He petted your cheek and then traced his fingers to your mouth, brushing the pad of his thumb over your puffy lips, urging you to speak up. He was used to your stubbornness and learned to resist it. You pressed a small kiss on his digit and raised your arms to wrap them around his waist, shifting closer and leaning into his warmth.

 “I don’t want to talk about it. Can you just read my thoughts?” you shrugged, scrunching up your nose and absentmindedly pressing your lips to the velvet skin of his lower abdomen just above the waistband of his briefs in an attempt to divert his attention to something more pleasurable than the discussion he had tried to initiate. You hoped that the tone of your voice would break through his perseverance, but none of the muscles of Michael’s face twitched at your words.

 Dressed in nothing but an aforementioned boxers and a burgundy shirt unbuttoned down his chest, he looked like an ancient God who had blessed the worldly life with his presence. His posture radiated confidence. Silky locks of his hair flowed freely down his shoulders, curling like golden snakes in the hollows of his carved collarbones. He slid his hands along your shoulders and then traced them back to cup your face, gently taking it from his lap.

 “No,” he mused and darted the tip of his tongue out to lick his bottom lip.  “Now when I know there’s a problem, we have to discuss it.”

 Mirth in his low, rich voice indicated that Michael was most certainly having fun and enjoying the way your rosy cheeks bloomed crimson, matching the color of the stones of his rings. You dropped your gaze low and pensively ran your fingers across his muscular thighs, brushing them against the porcelain skin that was contrasting with the fabric of his dress shirt, resembling the pomegranate seeds scattered in the snow. Goosebumps awoke his flesh, and you smirked when a new idea sparked up in your head. Maybe you could outsmart him. After all, two could play this game. Tracing your touch to the hem of his briefs, you drew the loose patterns on the noticeable bulge, and tilted your head to the side, looking at him sultrily.

 “How about I take care of your problem first, Michael?” You leaned forward, bringing your breasts up to nestle them against his parted thighs so he could have a full view of your cleavage. Having met no resistance, your palm confidently cupped his erection, your eyes fluttering excitedly at the delicious heaviness under your touch, familiar wetness instantly polling between your clasped thighs.

  He looked down at you with a triumphant smirk; a small pouting of his full lips, his narrowed eyes and a slight tilt of his head proved that he knew the game you were trying to pull off on him. Without taking his eyes off of your face, he took a fistful of your hair and guided your head up from his lap, torturously slowly bringing you closer to him. You gasped at the stinging sensation at the roots of your hair and bat your lashes at him, darting your gaze down to his lips that were dangerously close to you. You could taste the minty breath of his; your heart started beating like a caged bird in anticipation for a kiss, it was right there. All you needed to do was to reach forward and feel the softness of his touch...but the second you leaned for it, Michael maneuvered his lips to your ear, brushing the velvet of them against your cheek.

 “Nice try, baby,” he breathed out and rubbed the tip of his nose along your sharp jawline, trailing it behind your ear right where one of your most sensitive spots was located. A shiver ran down your spine when his hand possessively found its way to your left breast and gave your nips a harsh pinch between his thumb and index finger. He pulled you closer, his free hand snaking down your side to the curve of your ass, urging you to take a seat in his lap. You quickly straddled his thighs, pressing your breasts against his torso. Michael hummed against your skin and inhaled sharply, breathing in the intoxicating smell of your perfume and your own natural scent that reminded him of fresh apples and linen. “But I still need you to talk to me,” his voice, deep like midnight smog, was powerful enough to make you feel like your whole body was vibrating. You could barely able to focus on what he was saying, being too concentrated on the movements of his sinful lips and hands, exploring your body. “I won’t be with you for a week, and I want to make sure that you’ll take care of yourself properly.”

 “A week is not that long,” you murmured, gripping on his shoulders and digging your nails into the fabric of his shirt. The ache in the pit of your stomach ignited every sense, spreading in your lower abdomen like lava. He traced his fingers across your jawline, warm and soothing. Okay, letting him go for a week on a business trip might have actually been a torture. You did not know how you were going to handle being away from him for so long. You pursed your lips and wrapped your arms around his neck, lacing your fingers in his hair and enjoying the softness of it.

 “Y/N, please,” he whispered against your lips, almost kissing you. “Tell me why you can’t satisfy yourself,” you wondered if he was actually doing it for the sake of teasing you or really wanted the truth. You slid your left hand down his neck to the exposed collarbones, snaking it under the lapels of his shirt and dragging the smooth satin off of his shoulders.

 “Because my hands and fingers don’t feel as good as yours,” you confessed quietly, trailing your index finger across his chest and stopping at his nipple to circle the pink bud. You hummed and continued drawing random ornaments and patterns on his body without meeting his heavy gaze. Your small hand covered the spot where you knew his Antichrist heart was beating, and you lightly scratched his skin.

 “What had you been doing before you met me?” He asked and used his free hand to grind your hips down on his crotch, eliciting a low moan from you. You spread your thighs a bit wider, straddling his lap, so your clothed center was right above his cock. You could feel his length through the thin material of your panties and silk nightgown with the trim of delicate lace. You bit your lower lip and gave him one more experimental thrust, tasting the waters.

 “I’d been taking care of myself in the only way I knew how,” you said, dropped your hands from his shoulders on your thighs, rocking them back and forth, and slowly pulled your nightgown up to show him the wet patch spreading on your panties. Michael was watching your every move, and the moment he saw your arousal, he inhaled sharply, his cock twitching underneath you. His nostrils flared at the sweet scent of you.

 “And what was that?” His growled lowly, his vision clouding with lust.

 “Humping,” you breathed out and just to demonstrate what you had meant, you rolled your hips in figure eights, pressing down against his throbbing, tempting cock. You whined when his hands grabbed your ass and stopped your manipulations, firmly holding you in place and toying with the silk that was barely covering you. His fingers brushed against the string of your thong, caressing the crease between the two mounds teasingly, kissing them with the coolness of his rings, and then immediately traveling back to the small of your back as if the touch had been nothing but an accident.

 “Interesting,” he responded, stroking your back, soft fingertips running up and down your spine, “what did you play with?”

 You looked down, blushing even more, and nervously licked your lips.

 “Why do you need to know?” You groaned and arched your back at the feeling of his hands grasping your breasts and squeezing them in his palms, his thumbs running along the undersides of your titts to outline the beautiful shape.

 “Was it a pillow?” He demanded the answer and rolled your nipples between his fingers. “Did you grind your pretty little pussy on your pillow or a stuffie, imagining how nice it would feel to be split on a big, hard cock?”

 Michael’s words caught you off-guard, and your pussy throbbed at the filth that was dripping from his lips; the stain on your panties got darker as more juices flowed out of you. He ground you down once again just for the sake of hearing your moans and little mewls that were driving him wild. Bringing his hand between your legs, he gently rubbed your clit through the thin material of your undergarments, making you cling onto his shoulders firmly and let out an audible gasp.

 “Yes, I used a pillow,” you said breathlessly, dropping your head in the crook of his neck and bucking your hips forward into his welcoming touch, eager to get any sort of friction to ease the ache between your legs. Michael used the heel of his palm to press it against your swollen bundle of nerves and stroke your wet folds with his long, aristocratic fingers. His mouth, inches away from your ear, nipped at the sensitive skin of your jawline, perfect white teeth traveling higher to playfully bite on your earlobe. “It felt nice because it stimulated my clit, ah, so well,” you shut your eyes tightly, snaking in his arms.

 Michael circled your entrance with his index finger and without tugging your panties aside, pushed it inside, scooping some of your leaking arousal with the silky material. He smeared it all over your puffy folds, gently stroking his fingers up and down.

 “What about your fingers?” He wondered, seductively whispering in your ear. “How many did you manage to take? Tell me how they felt inside of you.”

 Oh God, he was really doing that. A broken cry escaped from your throat, as you blushed across your cheeks and neck, desperately not wanting to share any of that information with Michael. You just wished he took care of you in the way you never could do it yourself. He felt your desperation and thrived off of your neediness that he always ended up using against you. In a matter of seconds, Michael Langdon could turn you putty in his hands. You were his puppet that had been fucked into submission long ago. How could you resist such a beautiful man, who introduced you to the absolutely new world of sensations and showed you what your body was capable of? You sighed.

 “I don’t like fingering myself because it doesn’t feel nice,” you mumbled into his neck and turned your head to the side, resting it against his chest. His heart was beating just as fast as yours even though his facial reaction remained calm. “I tried to do it multiple times,” you hurried to elaborate, “but never felt anything besides some subtle sparks of pleasure when I did manage to find my g-spot...once.”

 For a long time you had been thinking that something must have been wrong with you because everybody seemed to get immense pleasure from stimulating their private parts, but the more you tried, the more frustrated you became. It had lasted until you met the first man who managed to lead you to an orgasm with his fingers and you realized that you were fine, just needed the right technique.

 Michael, however, was a whole new level. He showed you what your body was actually capable of, and really intense orgasms were only one of those amazing things. You just did not like the feeling of your own fingers in your pussy because the touch felt fake. You desperately needed a man to nourish you, stretch the tight heat out and take what was his; only then did it feel right.

 When you discovered that grinding against the pillow killed two birds with one stone, you were over the moon: it felt nice, plus you did not have to touch yourself. All you had to do was to keep rutting your hips against the soft material that aligned perfectly with your clit, stimulating it with every sway of your hips. Varying the intensity of how hard you clenched your thighs, you could prolong your releases as well.

 A strangled yelp fell from your lips when Michael suddenly removed his fingers from your core and grabbed you by your chin. You looked at him with your big, glassy eyes, hoping that he would finish what he had started. The corners of his mouth twitched ironically, as he spoke.

 “I asked you how many fingers,” the little devils in his eyes danced in the icy fire of his stare.

 You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again.

 “Two at maximum,” your voice sounded flat, as you watched Michael arch his brows in disbelief. His gaze lingered over your lips pressed in a tight line, your perky breasts, and folded dress that was pooling helplessly around your narrow waist. He trapped his bottom lip between his teeth and with a look of concern on his face suspiciously narrowed his eyes at you. He did not say anything, and you caught yourself at the thought that you were not breathing all that time, patiently waiting for his response. Michael let his power wander around your mind, looking for the reaffirmation of your words.

 “Unbelievable,” he hummed and leaned back into the armchair, looking at you through the heavy leads, a lazy smirk painting his full, luscious lips. You frowned in confusion, still sitting before him with your breasts bare and hungry for his touch, in your soaked panties that clang to your glistening pussy.

 Michael tapped his fingers against his chiseled chin, slightly brushing them over his plump lips.

 “Take off your gown and sit in my lap with your back facing me,” he instructed.

 Your heartbeat was so loud that you were sure Michael could hear it too. However, you took no time in following his order. Cautiously, you slid off of his lap and stood up on your wobbly feet. Hooking the nightdress with your fingers, you dragged it down your legs, letting it fall on the thick carpet. Taking a step closer to Langdon, you turned around and gracefully sat atop of him, facing the fireplace. A surprised whimper left your lips when his arms suddenly snaked around your figure and pulled you flush against his torso. You looked over your shoulder, nearly bumping noses with him and smiled shyly.

 “Hi,” you whispered.

 Your breath hitched when Michael pressed his lips to your temple and whispered:

 “Place your feet on the armrests.”

 You closed your legs tightly and bent them, putting your feet carefully on the left armrest of the big leather armchair, but Michael shook his head in disapproval.

 “No, baby”, he smiled at your bluntness. “Each leg on either side.”

 Oh. You hooked your right arm around his neck for leverage and hesitantly spread your legs apart, placing your right foot beside Michael’s right hand. Having done the same thing with your left foot, you looked at him nervously, embarrassed with how exposed you were at that moment.

 “Good girl,” he praised, his hair cascaded down your shoulders like liquid gold. He shifted underneath you, adjusting himself comfortably, so his clothed cock nestled right against your ass. Cupping your breast in his right hand, he used his left one to trail it down your tense stomach, stroking your soft skin, and then further to the trim of your panties. He rolled your hard nipple between his fingers and attached his lips to your neck, sucking a dark bruise on the delicate flesh, claiming you as his. “Daddy’s gonna teach you how you should play with your pussy...” he whispered, humming against your skin.

 Your eyes widened in disbelief, and you felt the knot in your stomach tighten at his words.

 “...but first, show me how you usually touch yourself.” He cooed, and your insides fluttered. You looked up at him pleadingly and shook your head from side to side.

 “It’s pointless, I won’t do it right,” your free hand flew up to cup Michael’s cheek. “You’re the only one who makes me feel good,” you tried to sweet-talk him into doing it your way.

 Langdon continued caressing your breasts, moving from one nipple to another, massaging them and brushing his rings over the sensitive buds from time to time, spicing up the sensation. He reached the waistband of your panties, adorned with a little bow, and snapped the band against your stomach.

 “Let’s take these off, shall we?”

 He let you close your legs in order to discard the unnecessary fabric off your body, but he was quick to spread your thighs once again and place your feet in your previous position once you revealed yourself completely bare before him. You shivered at the warm air of the room lingering over your folds. Michael’s fingers danced across your pubic bone down to your labia and lazily stroke the velvet skin.

 “When I ask you to do something,” he said, his voice barely above the whisper, “I expect you to obey immediately.”

 You had no choice. Thinking what to start with, you hesitantly trailed your hand up to your breasts, covering Michael’s palm with it and gently squeezing your tit tighter.

 “Okay,” your voice sounded raspy, so you had to clear your throat before you continued. “I usually start with touching my neck because that’s where I like your kisses the most,” your cheeks bled bright red as you spoke. “Then I move to my breasts and tummy,” you said breathlessly, stroking your stomach, “imagining that it’s you who’s touching me...”

 Michael was silent, allowing you to take your time. Little did you know that he was also listening to your thoughts and body, tuning in to your every vibration.

 “When I touch my clit,” you reached for your clitoral hood, lightly stroking it. Langdon looked over your shoulder, watching you bring your thumb to rub the sensitive spot, his hair tickling your neck and shoulders. You threw your head back and sighed. Trying to stimulate the patch where you knew your clit should have been located, you felt incredibly stupid. “Fuck, Michael, I don’t feel anything. I can’t do this...please...”

 Langdon left a chaste kiss on your bare shoulder and chuckled softly. He slapped your hands away from your core and pinned them down to the leather seat on both sides of your thighs.

 “You are doing it all wrong, my love,” he tugged a piece of hair behind your ear, running his fingers through your locks. “We’ll start from the beginning.”

 His soothing voice enveloped you completely, dragging you deeper into obscure lust. Michael wrapped his hand around your throat, bringing your face closer to his lips.

 “It’s all about the setup. We need to get you all nice and wet first,” he mewled as if you had not been already dripping down your own thighs, “and for that, we should find your erogenous zones. One is behind your ear,” Michael’s lips started peppering your skin with kisses, trailing down the nape of your neck and to your sharp shoulders.

  You melted into his touch, feeling every inch of your body relaxing at his caresses.

  “Second is the inner sides of your thighs,” his fingers followed the curves of your body, and he laughed softly at your thought “what about my breasts?” He was quick to elaborate. “Yes, they are sensitive too,” you blushed, realizing that he was tracking your mind. “But not as this area,” he petted the patch of skin on the inner side of your thigh, not far from your pussy, and your body immediately responded.

 “That’s exactly what I mean” He brought his digits down to your folds and scooped some of your arousal, smearing it between the tips, your mouth falling open at how wet you were. “I haven’t even touched you properly, but you are already dripping with your nectar.”

 “It’s because I love you,” you murmured, closing your eyes blissfully, “and it’s your hands that are touching me. I don’t feel the same thing when I’m alone.”

 He stroked your cheek lovingly, brushing a messy strand of your hair off your forehead. His left palm rested on your lower abdomen while the other cupped your pussy, slightly lifting your hips up.

 “And here we need to do all the work,” he moved his hand a bit lower, nestling the heel of his palm against your center, gently pushing on it. A wet, quaking sound accompanied his movement, making you squirm.

 “When you are on your own, I want to think of me in detail,” he instructed. “Imagine my hands all over your naked body, my lips worshiping every inch of your beautiful flesh. How I fill you up with my cum and then let you ride my face to clean up the mess you’ve made,” your eyes rolled back into your head at the imagery. “Would you like that?” He bounced you on his hip, waiting for your response. “Would you like to be my cum-filled slut, angel?”

You cried out and the affirmations of subtle ”yes, yes, please, yes” poured out of your mouth, causing a shit-eating smug paint across Michael’s ripe lips. 

He continued.

 “Where do you think Daddy would kiss you first?”

 You bit your lower lip, arching your hips forward, making him tighten his grip.

 “My lips,” you whispered and the next second his mouth was locked with yours in a passionate kiss, warm lips gliding against yours in perfect, synchronized rhythm. His tongue swept along your bottom lip, urging you to let him inside, and you opened your mouth, welcoming him. You moaned into a kiss, threading your fingers into his locks, messing them and tugging on honey strands, wanting to ruin his always perfectly styled mane. His lips, ripe as the sweetest peach, tasted heavenly, and you could not get enough of him, falling apart in his arms. He made you felt so weak, so insignificant; the crashing wave of the lustful tsunami knocked the air out of your lungs, making Michael your only source of oxygen.

 “So sweet,” he praised, parting away from you. The expression of pure bliss contoured your face. Langdon smiled when you took a steel grip on his shoulder, trying to pull him back into another kiss. He sucked on your bottom lip, eliciting a small squeak from you. Your chest was rising and falling heavily, pupils were blown wide. “Are you with me, little one?” He smirked, petting your cheek with his thumb. You tilted your head and closed your eyes, loving every second of his touch, and opened your mouth slightly, trying to suck on his digit.

 “Y/N?” He circled your spit-slick lips with the pad of his finger, and you rolled your eyes in annoyance.

“Yes, Daddy,” you responded, pressing your forehead to his. “Please, fuck me. I want you so badly, it...it hurts…”

 You did not care if you looked pathetic at that moment. The only thought drumming in your head was about him. Him touching you, ravishing you, owning you. Every inch of your body was swallowed in a burning hyena of embodying lust. You rutted your hips against him, desperately trying to get attention from your lover.

 “Stop it immediately,” he said in a stern voice, wrapping his hand around your throat to keep you in place. You let out a fitful gasp and dropped your hands, resting them on your thighs obediently. “I won’t fuck you until you learn your lesson.” His heart fluttered at the pout contouring your lips, but he made sure that you did not see the trace of weakness in his eyes.

 “Okay,” you inhaled sharply.

 His face softened at your compliance, and he used the back of his hand to trace a soft line from your kneecap to your inner thigh, caressing your soft skin.

 “Remember what Daddy has taught you?” He said, voice low and seductive. “Patience is a virtue, my love, and you will be rewarded for it. All I want to do is to show you how good you can make yourself feel. There’s no need to argue with me, okay baby? I’m not an enemy.”

 You gave him a nod, suddenly realizing how stupid your impatience had been.

 “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you mewled, laying your palms on his stomach, “I promise to behave.”

 He lifted your chin up and kissed you deeply, bestowing you with his affection. While his lips caressed you, Michael snaked his hand down your body to your pussy, stopping by the leaking center.

 “Good,” he noted and looked down at your core, your gaze immediately following his stare. “I want you to listen not only to my voice but to your body. Watch its every response and how it varies from where I touch you.”

 Langdon stroke your pussy from your hole to your clit, lubricating his fingers with your juices. He waited for another reassuring nod and then continued:

 “Let’s find your little clit once and for all,” you blushed at his words feeling embarrassed by the fact that you had not had your body figured out. However, Michael looked so confident and you knew that you were safe in his arms. He got you and you could be yourself with him. You watched him part your labia and outstretch the little patch of skin, exposing the sensitive area. You expected Michael to press right on the spot, but instead, he used the V of his index and middle fingers to stroke your folds, lightly pressing on them. Weirdly, it did feel nice. You hanged around his neck tightly, focusing on the built-up pleasure in your tummy. 

 “Don’t you ever go to directly rubbing your clit,” he said, watching you shiver, “the body of it projects upwards into your pelvis and attaches to your pubic bone. It’s as sensitive as your sweet bud, so we aren’t gonna ignore it,” Michael continued, working his fingers with gentle stimulation over your pubic bone, his light taps sending sparks of subtle pleasure down your spine. His fingertips moved at a snail's pace from the base of your vagina to your clit. It was enough to get you all worked up for him. “How does it feel, baby?”

 “N-nice,” you whispered and closed her eyes when he nuzzled into the crook of your neck to kiss you there. “It feels really nice, Daddy.”

 “Once you’ve played with the outside of your kitty, you can focus on your clit,” he noted, bringing his thumb to a swollen, more visible bean. He rubbed it in tight circles, causing you to jump in his arms. Michael squeezed your side, holding you in place. “Oh my love,” he breathed out, showering your trembling shoulders with kisses, “I have so much to teach you.”

 You were ready for him to do it, to become your guide.

 “I can’t believe you’ve been thinking that you aren’t sensitive, look at you,” he gasped, rubbing your arousal between his thumb and index fingers. You tried to suppress an obscene moan but it fell from your lips anyway, as you tried to shift forward in order to get closer to Michael’s fingers and accidentally brushed your naked bum against his cock. “So wet for me.”

 He had started with just feather-light touches on your clit and then intensified his manipulations, rubbing tight, rapid circles. His thumb ran from left to right, up and down, trying different directions, varying the amount of stimulation he was putting.

 “It tickles,” you said, tightening your grip around his neck. Whimpering like a little slut, you spread your legs wider, grinding on Michael’s fingers, instinctively wanting to feel them inside of you. “Daddy, I need more, please…”

 “So eager,” he tsked and much to your dismay removed his fingers from your aching clit. You sobbed brokenly and looked at him with so much desperation in your eyes that Michael growled. “Open your mouth and suck on your fingers,” he ordered.

 You obeyed, bringing two shaky fingers to your lips and swiping your tongue over them. When you started sucking on the velvet pads, you made sure to look Langdon in the eye and hollow your cheeks as much as you could, hoping that it would awake the most vivid memories of you giving him head in his mind. He traced the stones of his rings over your prominent cheekbones.

 “Just like that,” he brushed the strand of your hair behind your ear and left his hand on your cheek, “pretty little slut, show Daddy how you would suck his cock,” you moaned at his words, bobbing your head up and down while coating your fingers with the right amount of saliva. You could feel Michael’s clothed cock laying heavily underneath your pussy and it only added to the overall excitement.

 “Now let me see what you have learned so far,” he raised his chin a bit higher, giving you a stern look. You took your wet fingers out of your mouth with a sloppy “pop” and placed them on your clit. Trying to mimic Michael’s movements, you rubbed yourself in a steady rhythm, feeling the familiar sensation in your abdomen. You whimpered and looked at the blonde man in awe. You finally felt it. A hint of his best, a bit pretentious, smile was ghosting over his lips. Desire pooled in his eyes at the sight of you following his orders.

 “I-...I can feel it,” you whispered, sliding your fingers up and down just like he had done it. Pleasure rippled within you in electric impulses. “Michael, oh my God…” 

“Add one finger,” he said, voice low and raspy. Langdon was on the verge of exploding. It took him all his might and self-control to remain seated instead of flipping you over and fuck you into oblivion. Your parted pink lips, big eyes opened wide in awe from the new feeling you had discovered, silky hair tossed devilishly — you looked so beautiful, he gritted his teeth and brought his hand to his crotch. Palming himself through his pants, he watched you snaking your palm to your pussy and slowly inserting your index finger inside. It penetrated your heat with no resistance.

 “What do I do next?” You wondered, moving your index hesitantly, exploring yourself. The tight walls wrapped securely around the finger, vibrating as you tried to stretch them out.

 “I want you to feel yourself,” he groaned, “because that’s what daddy experiences when he penetrates your cunt. Always so tight for my fat cock,” Michael  leaned closer to whisper, “every damn time I feel like I’m fucking a virgin,” his tongue licked a wet stripe from your earlobe to your jaw, and you choked on your own moan. Michael smirked.

 “Only for you,” you murmured.

 Langdon tilted your head and arched his eyebrow at you.

 “Hmmm? What was that?”

 You licked your dry lips, still pumping your finger in and out of your core, and repeated:

 “This pussy is yours. Warm and tight only for you.”

 At that moment Michael saw red before his eyes. He took a hold of the armrest beside his left hand and dug his nails into the expensive material so harshly that he left the crescent marks on it.

 “Another finger,” he instructed, and you shook your head.

 “I don’t really think I can,” You sobbed but still tried to follow his command. Awkwardly, you brushed your middle finger over your folds and tried to add it to your already penetrated index finger.

 You only ended up scratching yourself. Looking at Michael with glassy eyes, you begged:

 “It won’t fit in,” your heart shattered at your incompetence. You wanted to be good for him so badly that the fact that you could not do what you had been told frustrated you to death. Whining pathetically, you tried one more time but got too scared, thinking that you could hurt yourself. The pleasure started to subside, and you sobbed like a little girl, desperately wanting to feel the nice sensation again. You rubbed your clit in fast circles, hoping that the new technique would make you wetter and hence looser.

 Michael was watching you with amusement. He flipped your hair over your left shoulder and rested his chin on your right shoulder in order to get a proper look at your finger pumping in and out of your pussy.

 “Come on, doll,” he urged you, “you want to make your Daddy proud, don’t you? Now be a good girl and add one more finger, I know you can do it. I won’t repeat myself again.”

 You sighed and lolled your head back, pressing your forehead to his smooth cheek.

 “I’m trying,” tears welled up in your Bambi eyes, “but see? It’s not working,” and to demonstrate what you had meant, you shoved two fingers inside of you, but only one managed to slip into your clenched hole. You felt frustration rising within you. Shifting in his lap, you tried to change the angle. “I told you that I could not do it,” you started to get angry. With yourself. With Michael for making you look like a fool. A brat within you wanted to confront him. “Fucking help me.”

 Langdon rolled his eyes at you. He brought three fingers to your pouty face.

 “How many fingers do you see?” He asked, and your gaze fell on his slender digits. The blood-red rubies and a jet black onyx of his stones blinked mischievously in the dim light of the room. Fire was dancing in the fine cut.

 “Three,” you answered, barely moving your lips.

 “This is the girth of my cock, Y/N,” Michael stated, and your insides quivered at the mentioning of his manhood. “And as far as I remember, you have no problem with taking it,” hues of baby pink painted your cheeks at his words as you remembered how good it had felt to bounce on his erect length.

 You nodded in agreement.

 “So don’t tell me that you can’t take just two of your little fingers.”

 It was pointless to argue. Trying not to look at him, you took a deep breath and started with one finger. It was welcomed with ease, just like it had been several minutes ago. Looking up at the ceiling, you shook your head, brushing the wet hair off your shoulders, and made another attempt to add a second finger. You wish you could disappear. A new tantrum swirled within you, ready to spill out. Michael sensed it too. He clicked his tongue in disapproval. 

 “Daddy, I’m sorry…” you wept, feeling extremely small and vulnerable.

 “Silly girl,” Michael huffed. He wrapped his left arm around your waist, chaining you possessively in order to give you the sense of security and remind you that he was still with you. He slightly bounced you on his thigh, making you shift a bit closer, and used his free hand to part your folds.

 Your mouth fell open as he slowly sank three of his frail digits shaped by prominent phalange bones into your cunt. He went as deep as he could till his rings nestled comfortably around your center. You let out a spasmodic moan and if it had not been for his strong arm holding you, your entire body would have collapsed in his lap.

 “See?” He said in a singsong tone, “It was not that difficult, was it?” Michael did not even care if you answered. You were too far gone. He scissored his fingers inside of you, pushing on the velvet walls. “I can hear how fucking wet you are.”

 A sloppy sound that was produced by his manipulations ranged in your ears. You could feel him so deep, it was doubtful that you could ever reach those spots by yourself.

 “Ngghh,” you whined incoherently as he crooked his fingers and moved them closer to your entrance.

 “All three are effortlessly inside,” triumph was transparent in his voice, “and you know why, little one? Daddy isn’t afraid to ruin your pussy while you are being too cautious, my love.”

 “Ahh, Michael!” You clang onto his arm for leverage, feeling that your tense legs were about to give up. Every muscle was burning from how spread out you were. Arching your back against his chest, you rolled your hips down, skewering yourself onto his digits.

 “And here it is,” he smirked, his fingers suddenly brushing against the spongey, strawberry-like spot at the top of your pussy. You had to bite on your lower lip to suppress a loud scream, “your sweet spot…”

 Your body felt as if it was on fire. Pressed against his chest, you felt him everywhere: his hair caressing your bare shoulders, his scent filling your nostrils, his low, alluring voice coating your senses like honey. Everything felt too good to be true.

 “Please, do that again,” you whispered, eyes wide open and shocked.

 Michael hummed. Instead of obeying your plea, he pulled his fingers out and took your hand in his. He dragged it back to your pussy and folded your fingers into a fist, leavening just an index out. You frowned, trying to understand what he was up to.

 “Gotta help Daddy,” he whispered in your ear, guiding your palm to your sex. You shot him a worried look but did not say a word. With a squelching sound, he managed to penetrate both of the fingers, yours and his, into your pussy.

 “There you go,” he said slowly, tasting every word on the tip of his tongue. Sweat beaded heavily on your forehead and temples as you felt every inch of your velvet guts. Breathing heavily, you concentrated on what you were experiencing at the moment, listening attentively to your body. Running the tip of your tongue over you chapped bottom lip, you leaned back against Michael's chest and closed your eyes.

 “This feels good too, Daddy,” you sighed, “not as good as your cock though, but still nice.”

 Michael chuckled, his warm breath brushing over your flushed cheek.

 “I know, baby,” you focused on the way he moved his fingers, trying to memorize the technique. Making “a come hither” motion against the top of your core, Langdon used his thumb to press on your clit, multitasking. “But it's better than nothing when Daddy’s away, right?” He varied his rhythm, trying to find the right one for you.

 “Gonna miss you so much,” you moaned, swaying your hips lazily. You moved your finger with his in unison, enjoying the feeling of the delicious stretch.

 “I know, kitty,” he pressed right on that magic spot, making you see white flashes before your eyes. “But Daddy will take care of you as soon as he’s back, alright?”  You squeezed your eyes tightly, being too overwhelmed with the pressure in your tummy. “I’ll fill you up so nicely, pound all your princess holes.”

 “Oh, please,” you howled and dropped your hand because you could not hold yourself back anymore. Your palm was covered in mix of saliva and your juices, but you did not care when you cupped Michael’s face in your wet hand and kissed him hard, painting his perfect cheek with your arousal.

 “Make me cum, please, make me cum,” you chanted the pleas like a mantra against his lips, your hips bucking towards his stomach, brushing against his cock each time.

 “Baby, slow down,” he lifted you by your chin, forcing to look up at him. You could not see straight, being too caught up in the overflowing pleasure. Tears spilled from the corners of your eyes.

 “Daddy, just take me,” you sobbed, Michael’s words about “pounding all your holes” drumming in the ballroom of your subconsciousness were the only thing you could think of.

 He swept his thumb across your bottom lip as if it could help to bring your attention back to him, but by the way you trembled in his arms and the incoherent rambling of your thoughts, he understood that you were too far gone in your subspace. You could not handle the tension, and your left foot slid off the armrest, accidentally kicking Michael’s thigh. You tried to put it back in place, but Langdon took his fingers out of you and used the same hand to get a grip on your calf and help you close your legs.

 “Lay down on your tummy, sweetheart.”

 Hallelujah.

You had stolen a quick kiss from him before happily getting down on your knees and then sprawling out on a thick carpet, facing the fireplace. The position you truly belonged in. You looked over your shoulder to watch Michael stand up from his seat and hook his thumbs over the waistband of boxers. He slid them down his long legs, and your mouth instantly salivated at the sight of his cock, slightly arched upward with bright pink, glistening tip. He wrapped his palm around it, smearing the pearls of precum and running his thumb along the slit teasingly.

 “Daddy,” you whimpered, resting your head on your outstretched arm and looking at him dreamily. Having made sure that his eyes were on you, you parted your legs invitingly and lifted your hips a little, giving him a full view of your pulsing pussy.

 An animalistic grow that rolled off of his lips gave birth to multiple butterflies inside of you, ready to tear you apart. Michael gracefully fell to his knees, straddling your waist.

 “You know what, pet,” he said, hovering over your back and placing his shaft between your ass cheeks. You froze in anticipation, fingers tugging on the faux fur of the carpet you were lying on. The vulgar wetness of his own arousal mixed with your fluids felt extremely erotic on your skin.

 “What?” You wondered, and the next sound that fell from your lips was an audible gasp because Michael took a fistful of your hair and tugged roughly, bringing your head up from the floor and forcing you to arch your back at the impossible sharp angle.

 “The first thing I’m gonna teach you when I’m back,” you shivered at the feeling of the head of his cock right at your entrance, pushing slowly inside, “is a fucking self-control,” and without a warning, he bucked his hips forward, feeling you up in one swift motion, so his balls slapped against your ass. The thrust was so hard that your body shifted a bit along the carpet and a loud scream rippled through you as you tried to adjust to his impressive size.

 You clearly had a lot to learn from Michael Langdon.

Taglist: @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @divinelangdon @ccodyfern @sammythankyou @babypinkstyles94 @kaigitana @ms-mead @sebastianshoe @langdonsdemon @iloveziggystardust @chaoticevillangdon @sojournmichael @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @theghostoflangdon @americanhorrorstudies @bbyduncan @nightsblackroses @langdvnshepherd @ccodyferns @isoldedax @coloursunlimited @micheallangdons @omgsuperstarg @1-800-bitchcraft @wroteclassicaly @ticklish-leafy-plant

[loverholland]

where she went.

pairing: peter parker x reader word: 5.5k summary:  They kissed and it felt magical, but he knew this wasn’t going to last. The butterflies in his stomach were going to disappear at some point because she would leave him. i am very aware that this is from a different account. loverholland is now dead and this is my new account. welcome.

February 2021

Peter didn’t think he would be in Chicago at the time he was. Posters of her face were plastered everywhere with the big bold words ‘SEE Y/N Y/L/N PERFORM FRIDAY THRU SUNDAY AT THE PALACE THEATRE. BEGINS AT FIVE PM.’ Peter looked at it, mind memorizing the way she looked in the picture. It didn’t look like she went through the traumatic accident that she had, especially at such a young age. Peter didn’t know where she went; all he knew was that she disappeared after finishing high school. She dropped her whole life back home in New York to moved away to pursue a new life in Chicago. She wanted to forget everything that happened. Forget her whole family perishing in front of her forget her out of body experience and forget Peter… She wanted to forget and forgetting meant forgetting him as well.

Peter felt a rush go through him, trying to decide if he should go to the concert or not, cancel the press conference he had scheduled with Tony Stark. Maybe it would be the best so he could see her once again. His hand shook as he looked at the poster, God he must look weird. It was his mind versus his heart. Does he talk about the things that happened to him during the big fight he was in or does he go back and see his high school sweetheart?

Peter touched his phone, finger touch immediately recognizing his fingerprint. It laid in his hands as his thumb pressed through different apps before touching the messaging one. His breath caught in his throat as he began to type. He deleted each once until he said screw it and typed out two simple sentences.

Tony Stark: Won’t make it to the press conference. Sorry.

Sent. Peter sighed and nodded to himself before putting his phone in his jean pocket and shoving his phone into his jacket. He walked down the street, remembering the time as he walked to his hotel room.

Peter thought about messaging her, asking her how she had been, but if she wanted to talk to him, she would’ve. He knows she would have, and by her not doing so, meant she didn’t want to talk to him. Peter wondered where she went in life, how she warmed up to college and how she had coped. Physical therapy was hell for her and he knew that, just by looking at her around school. She didn’t ever tell him that, but the way her face would scrunch up in pain every so often showed how much pain she was actually in.

After the accident, they ended things. She insisted that she just needed space to mourn and having people huddled around her, babying her, wasn’t going to work for her. He agreed and they promised to stay friends. They did, for a while. She began pushing more people away as things began to get tougher, she was seen less at school or in the music room, and she wasn’t participating in class like she normally did. Even though she wasn’t seen, she still graduated with a 4.15 GPA and was still valedictorian. She gave a speech and played a song, got her diploma and took some pictures before leaving. That was the last time he saw her, or anyone at school saw her.

Peter spent his time waiting to leave. He messed with his suit, watched TV, called Aunt May, texted Ned, and much more. He didn’t know what to do or how to pass the time while waiting to see the girl who left him.

Peter had fallen asleep at some point, waking up to an alarm playing in his ear. He groaned and turned over to turn it off, noticing the time.

4:30 PM.

Peter slowly got out of the bed, rubbing his eyes while walking to the mirror to look at himself. He looked like a mess. Peter decided to let his hair be its natural self so he wouldn’t take more time then need. He put on a pair of slacks, a nice light blue button down and a suit jacket that Tony had given him. Peter left and quickly walked down the street to the theatre. He bought his ticket and walked in to find his seat.

He looked at the stage, memorizing the lighting pattern and the sound of a cello playing in the background. The lights dimmed and she came out. She had the cello in her hand as well as the bow under her nimble fingers. She was clawed in a light blue knee-length dress that had small straps on her shoulders. Her hair was cut shorter than he remembered. He barely remembered her cutting her hair all throughout the years of going to school together. She had a long, ugly looking scar, up her right leg and he could see her walking in a small limp. How long has she had a limp? He wondered, but he didn’t know if he would ever get a chance to talk to her about anything.

She took a deep breath and positioned her fingers positioned on the D string. He didn’t know the chords, but he remembered her teaching him the strings when they were dating. She played beautifully and when it was over, she smiled and moved a stray hair behind her ear. She gave everyone a few moments to calm down before playing another song, and then the same thing happened again. Begin, finish, smile, pause, begin, and repeat.

When she finished, she stood and held the cello in her left hand and the bow in her right. Peter stood as well, clapping quickly as he looked at her. He felt his heart collapse when they made eye contact. He didn’t know if she knew that it was him or if she just looked out into the crowd and just made eye contact with someone. She still had a beautiful smile. She left the stage after bowing, walking to the back of the stage.

Peter took a deep breath and began walking towards the bathroom. He took his phone from his trouser pocket and looked over everything that was being said. Tony had texted him a few times, so did Aunt May and Ned. Peter noticed a few Twitter notifications and a few Instagram direct messages that he needed to check.

He was stopped as a hand came down on his shoulder. Peter quickly turned and looked at the person who had touched him. It was a man who was about his height. He had blonde hair and freckles all over his face. His eyes were like Peters. The man stuck his hand out.

“Peter Parker?” He asked. Peter nodded and took the man’s hand before speaking.

“Who’s asking?” He questioned and the man chuckled, shaking his hand.

“Josh,” he stated and Peter nodded. “Y/N wants to see you if you don’t mind.” He huffed out and Peter’s eyebrows knitted. So, she did see him. Peter turned his head and looked at the line in front of him and then back at Josh. Peter debated in his head for a few moments. Should he see her? What would he say? What would shesay?

Peter nodded and followed the grinning man. He led him backstage and towards a dressing room. Peter looked around him and noticed what everything looked like. There were polls and rope and different instruments were just standing in different areas. Josh stopped in front of a door that had her name on it before knocking twice. Peter took a deep breath as he watched the door slowly open. If he wasn’t scared before, he sure as hell was now. Peter began to play with the sleeves of his suit jacket and as soon as he saw her, everything fell into slow motion. It was like someone turned the dial down so he could take in the beauty she held.

Her hair was defiantly shorter than before, everyone would know that. She was now dressed in a pair of sweats that hid the scar and a jumper from their high school. It still had the same toothpaste stain from before. She ran a hand through the short locks of her hair and smiled, thanking the man.

“Peter,” Y/N smiled softly and opened her arms and walked towards him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and his went around her waist. She smelled the exact same as she did in high school. It was like vanilla and sugar cookies.

“Hey,” Peter whispered into her hair. They spent time like that, he felt as if it was too long, but he didn’t mind. Peter was the first to pull back and he took in her face. She had a healthy glow, despite the scars littering her face. He also noticed that her eyes had stayed the same vibrant color they were, even in the hospital they never dulled. “How are you?” Peter asked suddenly. Y/N shrugged and took his hand into hers to drag them into her dressing room.

“See you later, Josh. Come by in the morning? I need help finishing packing.” she smiled and Josh nodded. Why was she packing? The door closed and she turned to look at him. “I’m good,” she smiled. “How are you?”

“Okay, I guess.” He muttered the last part and she nodded. There was an awkward pause between them all. She sat down and looked at him, taking him in before looking at her lap. He was dressed nice and his hair was cut shorter than she remembered, but his curls were still on display. His eyes were the same chocolate brown as before and he spotted freckles all on his cheeks and nose.

“I read about what you did with the Avenge- they’re not the Avengers anymore.” She whispered and shook her head slightly before going on. “You’re really brave, Pete.” The nickname made Peter’s heart stop and his head shot up quickly. She read about the war? He didn’t quite know why he was surprised. Of course, she did. She loved history and this was just another war for her to learn about.

Peter didn’t respond quickly, just looked at her until he looked away. “Thanks,” he muttered and ran his hands over his suit pants. “It’s still haunting, but I’ve slowly have learned to live with it.” He nodded to herself and she nodded. He knew that she understood, even if it wasn’t in the same way.

“I bet,” she whispered and looked away from him. Peter wanted to tell her what he went through, what it was like to be in space and he wanted to ask her if she knew he disappeared. He doubted it since, well, no one really knew. They just knew that he was missing and nothing else.

Another silence overtook them until his stomach rumbled from hunger. It made Y/N laugh and for some reason, it made him feel some sort of happiness.

“When was the last time you ate?” She asked and Peter thought about it. Maybe, lunch? He wasn’t too sure if he even ate today.

“I don’t remember,” he muttered and her eyebrow rose. She lifted herself off the couch in the room, grabbing her purse off of the vanity behind him.

“Then I’m taking you out to eat,” she smiled. Peter began to protest, explaining that he didn’t have money on him. She didn’t care though, she wanted to treat him tonight since it would most likely be the last time they see each other; unless fate were to bring them together once again.

Y/N picked up her phone from the side table and stuffed it in the pocket of her sweats before grabbing cash and a pair of keys from her purse. She didn’t bring anything, which surprised him. She used to carry glasses around everywhere she went and she always had painkillers and different things to check her health, but he assumed she didn’t need them anymore.

“How has it been since being back?” She asked suddenly once they were outside the theatre and into the cold night air. She looked over at him as she walked the two of them down the street. Peter shrugged and kept his eyes straight ahead.

“Uh, fine.” He muttered under his breath as he looked over at her. She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow at him. It wasn’t fine and somehow she knew. Peter looked away and at the other people that filled the streets.

“I mean, I’m in therapy now and I feel frightened at all time because I’m afraid I’m going to die again. Thanos isn’t really…” he paused and did a hand motion as he sighed. “He’s not really gone. He’ll come back at some point and I pray that it’s a time where I’m not here anymore.” He explained and Y/N nodded, stuffing her hands into the hoodie pockets.

They walked in silence until they stopped in front of a little diner. It looked old but there were some new elements to it. Y/N pushed open the door and walked in. She hollered out a ‘hello’ before sitting at a booth. Peter sat opposite of her. She smiled and laid her chin on her hand. She was content, Peter knew that. She was content with being with him again, happy even.

“Chicago is so much different than Brooklyn.” She stated suddenly. “The people are different and the way they teach and just… everything is so different, you know? It’s nice.” She explained. Her eyes glanced over at the lady walking over to them. “It’s nice to not be in a place where my whole life was ripped from me.” She whispered and smiled at the lady.

He thought he was her life, but he wasn’t. Her family was, of course. He’s not surprised but he thought he was at least a little bit of her life.

“How are you guys?” She asked and Y/N gave her a cheeky grin. “Are you two on a date? Should I get you the special?” She asked in a whisper and a wink. Y/N shook her head and looked over at Peter.

“Just two friends catching up, Gretchen.” She said the name like they were best friends. Peter looked between the two and took in the way they were conversing. He also managed to take in the way Gretchen looked. She was dark skinned and tall and a little chubby, her hair was curly and a dark black with purple dotting the ends.

Gretchen and Y/N laughed at something before she spoke. “Well, you two look in love.” She smiled before taking out a pen and notepad from her apron pocket. “So, what can I start you off with?” She asked and before Peter could ask for a menu, Y/N began ordering.

“Uh, water and a number 5 with large fries,” Y/N smiled up at Gretchen. Peter shrugged and looked over at the board over the bar. Peter wasn’t sure what he wanted so he said the same thing, just without fries. Gretchen smiled and walked off, leaving the two to themselves.

“Are you going to college?” Y/N asked and sat her chin on her hand. Peter pursed his lips and opened his mouth, releasing an ‘um,’ while trying to think.

“Yeah,” he nodded suddenly, looking at her. “Tony is helping pay for me to go to MIT,” Peter explained and Y/N smiled.

“That’s great!” She spoke.

This felt good. This conversation and the way they were sitting and catching up… it felt good and he missed it. He missed her. It wasn’t a secret since most people know he had missed her, the only thing was, he didn’t know if she missed him. Peter had thought of a question to ask over the silence, but when his mouth opened and the words started to stumble out, Gretchen was there with their drinks. Y/N smiled at her and smiled, taking the straw and putting it inside the glass before looking over at him again.

“Have you ever been to Chicago? Other than today?” She asked and Peter shook his head, sipping at the water. Y/N smirked softly before speaking. “Well, you have a lot of sightseeing to do then.” Peter knitted his eyebrows and spoke up quickly.

“Sightseeing? Isn’t it like, 8 PM?” he asked and Y/N raised her eyebrow, lips wrapped around the straw. He knew that even if it was midnight she would show him around the whole damn city until he was ready to go back to his hotel and pass out, and even then, she would find something to show him.

“And?” She asked once her lips were free. “There’s no better time to sightsee than at night,” she leaned back and smiled. “Anyway, it’ll be less crowded and we’ll be able to see things better. Plus, it’s much prettier at night.” She hummed in a matter of fact. Peter nodded, looking down at his lap. He wished he would’ve just came in a pair of jeans and a regular shirt because now, he’s dressed in some fancy getup while she’s comfy.

Gretchen came out soon after, each handheld their plates before putting them in front of each other. Peter smiled and thanked her before looking at Y/N who also thanked her. Peter watched as Y/N took the ketchup bottle and put the ketchup over to the side before dipping a few fries before eating them. Peter did the same and began eating. They ate in silence, making small talk and giggling at something they did.

About halfway through, Y/N’s phone buzzed and Peter couldn’t help but glance at the home screen. It was a picture of her and her family in an old Polaroid. He remembered the picture because it was one he took of them at a cookout. Peter didn’t voice anything, even when he noticed the contact that was texting her.

Y/N snatched up her phone and quickly typed a response before locking it and setting it down. She didn’t say anything; she just continued eating so that’s what he did. He didn’t talk and just continued eating.

Gretchen came out a little bit later, picking up the trash. “Would you two like dessert?” She asked and Peter shook his head and Y/N followed his lead.

“I think we’re good, Gretch.” She smiled and Gretchen nodded and dug in her apron pocket and grabbing the check before sitting it down. Gretchen smiled and walked off. Y/N dug in her pocket and grabbed out cash, looking at the check and then putting cash inside with a little extra. Y/N began scooting out of the booth and stretched her arms before putting her hand out for Peter to take.

“Bye, Gretch!” She yelled after Peter took her hand. She led them outside, smiling at the wind that hit them. Peter hated the cold and this was making him wish he would’ve just gone to the interview, but he wasn’t going to complain and make her think he didn’t want to see her, because he did. He really did want to see her, he just wished it was daytime so it was a bit warmer.

Their fingers were interlocked as they walked the dark streets of Chicago. The streetlamps and small shops were lighting their path. Peter listened to everything she said, smiling softly as she explained all of her favorite spots. He found out where her favorite ice cream shop was and her favorite bakery as well as her favorite park and library.

They began walking over a bridge overlooking the city and the pale lights illuminated the water. It was beautiful. Peter felt Y/N’s hand slip from his and he looked over at her, watching as she pushed both hands inside her hoodie. This moment right here, he would remember forever. He wished he had a camera to remember it, but his memories would do. Your hair was blowing in the wind, but she looked content with the whole thing. So when the question he’s been dying to ask popped into his head, he didn’t want to ruin it. He didn’t want to take her away from being happy and turn it on him, but deep down he knew that once they part ways again, she won’t talk to him.

“Can I-uh, ask you a question?” Peter asked suddenly, eyeing her expression. Y/N looked over at him and nodded with a smile, giving him the go ahead. He didn’t know how to word it, does he just come out and say “hey, you left me all alone after high school with no word but I saw you were texting Ned so was I just a bad boyfriend or something?” or does he sugar coat it.

“I was wondering,” he paused and turned his attention to the water, wanting to avoid making eye contact. Her attention didn’t falter from him though; she kept looking at him, waiting for the question. “Why did you leave suddenly? You left after high school and you pushed me away and didn’t talk to me. I didn’t even know you were down here until today, Y/N. Why would you push me away but still talk to my best friend?” He asked, the words coming out in a jumble. Y/N’s eyebrows knitted, the question taking her off guard. She scoffed softly and looked in front of her.

“I lost my whole family, Peter. You were an Avenger and needed your own time to figure yourself out. If you were in my position you would’ve done the same thing.” She shook her head and glanced at her feet. “I left to get away. I wasn’t going to stay there and remember my family’s death.” It was harsh and Peter looked at her finally.

“I would’ve done the same thing; I would’ve tried to work it out,” Peter whispered. Y/N’s head whipped around and she looked at him, eyes narrowed.

“You would’ve tried to work out a high school romance even when your whole family died, Peter? You would much rather work out something that doesn’t matter at the end instead of trying to forget all of the pain you feel? I wanted out of there, so I got out. I didn’t want to hurt myself anymore so as soon as my doctor told me to leave, I left. I didn’t want to turn back. I didn’t want to remember, Peter. You remind me of my family. You remind me of everything I had before and then it was ripped away.” She cried out, hands coming out of her hoodie to pull at her hair.

“Just because I’m a memory means you have to forget me?” He asked and she scoffed, ready to walk away. “I’ve lost so many people, Y/N and yet I didn’t cut anyone off because they were a memory.”

“You didn’t lose your whole family in one day, Peter! You’re too young to remember your parent’s death and you lost your uncle. I’m so sorry for that, Peter, and you know I am, but I don’t know if you could even imagine watching your little brother die or your mother and father all in the same night. You have Aunt May, I have no one.” She whispered the end, stuffing her hands back in the pockets. She turned on her heel, walking off.

“You had me,” Peter said, making Y/N stop in her tracks. She turned her head, looking over her shoulder. Peter knew he fucked up, knew the three words made her tick. She did have him though. She had him there the whole way, but she didn’t want him.

“It was a one-way street, Peter! I had you, yeah, sure, but you had a shell of me! You didn’t have me, you had a fucking shell and you can stand out here and tell me how you could’ve helped me, but you couldn’t. I was never myself. I haven’t been myself since, so stand here and feel pity that you and I didn’t work out. I don’t care.” While she spoke, she was drawn closer to him. Her eyes were throwing daggers at him, but he could see the tears that welled up in her eyes. He sat his hand on her arm, opening his mouth to apologize, but she stopped him. “And yeah, I’ve been talking to Ned. He told me you were here.” She muttered, ready to knock off his hand.

She looked up at him, eyes noticing the way sadness was built up inside him. She shook her head, laughing to herself. “Bye, Peter.” She muttered under her breath, shrugging his hand off of her before walking off. Peter stared at where she stood for a moment, before turning around and running towards her, yelling her name. She turned around and looked at him, Peter was thankful for that in many ways.

He sprinted to her, huffing for a moment before grabbing her face in his hands. They just argued and he was going to do this? He was going to allow himself to fall in love wither her again. He looked at her, eyes taking in the way she looked. A few tears had slipped from her eyes and she went to wipe them away, but Peter beat her to it. She was still angry, he knew that, but he didn’t want to leave it like the last time.

Without thinking, Peter leaned in, pressing his lips to hers. It was a short kiss, but it wasn’t quick. They kissed and it felt magical, but he knew this wasn’t going to last. The butterflies in his stomach were going to disappear at some point because she would leave him. She would go back to ignoring him and reading articles about him but never saying anything. Peter tilted his head a bit, deepening the kiss, but Y/N pulled away. They shared a silence and they only looked at one another before she spoke up.

“Do-Do you want to come back to my place?” She asked and Peter nodded. Y/N took his hand and led them down the dark street, past everything she had shown him before turning on a random street and towards a neighborhood. The homes were beautiful and he wondered how she lived in such a beautiful neighborhood as a college student.

Y/N stood in front of a gate, pressing in a few numbers before pushing the gate open and walking through it. She shut it quickly before walking them to the front door; unlocking it and pushing the door open for them to enter. Peter watched as she took off her shoes and took everything out of her pockets before closing the door. He followed her lead, taking off her shoes and sat his phone on the table. He followed her into the living room. She flipped on a switch and he noticed that it was sleek, modern with white and grays. She had a few colorful pillows and lampshades, but everything else was white and grey.

It was completely different from her home growing up. Everything was colorful and there was children’s artwork hanging up and they had pictures of family everywhere. Here felt different. Y/N had pictures of her family hanging up everywhere. On the wall in front of him, picture frames held pictures of her happiest times and she had her acceptance letter hanging up too. Peter noticed that she had a few photos of him and her, as well as her and Ned. They made a smile grow on his face.

“You still have this?” He asked when his eyes took in a picture of him and her with her family and Aunt May. It was at a basketball game; her parents had bought them all tickets and took them. It was a good day and Peter remembered how excited he was.

“Yeah,” she whispered, looking at it. “It was one of mom’s favorite pictures. She had it in her wallet.” She quickly looked away, going towards the kitchen. Peter followed her after looking at the picture for a bit. He walked into the kitchen and watched her pull out a few glasses and filling them with water. Peter took one from her and then followed her into the living room.

They didn’t speak until she turned to look at him. She put the cup on the table and sat her hands on her lap. Peter wanted to say something, an apology for earlier, but he didn’t. He just looked right back at her.

The gears in her brain were running quickly until she grabbed his face and kissed him again. It was rough and quick, something he wasn’t even sure was happening. Her hands were on his face and the hand that was holding the cup reached to set it beside hers before moving to her waist.

It didn’t take long for the kiss to deepen and for her to get in his lap. When he parted from the kiss and pressed his lips down her neck, he heard a soft moan leave her lips and he looked up at her, hands never leaving her hips.

“Are you sure?” He asked. “Are you absolutely positive you want to do this?” He wanted to make sure, so when she nodded, he continued. Ridding her of the hoodie she was in and looking over her exposed torso. The scars were evident and he kissed every single one of them, dragging his lips over hers.

Peter woke up to the smell of coffee, eyes trying to adjust to the bright light the shone through the window. He stretched out his arms and groaned before swinging his feet out of the bed he was in. He didn’t quite know where he was, but the memories from the night before ran through his mind. He smiled softly and shook his head. He put on the boxers that were sitting neatly on the chair at her desk. He didn’t bother putting on anything else, just going downstairs to be met with the person he wished to wake up to every day.

He walked into the kitchen and caught a glimpse at Y/N. She wore a large t-shirt and a pair of short shorts. He missed this. He missed her. He cleared her throat, frightening her for a split moment before she turned around. She looked at him, smiling softly before turning back and grabbing a coffee cup, handing it over to him. He took it willingly before sipping it. It was exactly how he liked it.

“You can eat whatever you want, I don’t really eat breakfast.” She hummed and sipped the hot liquid from her own mug. Peter nodded and sat on the edge of the table. He looked at her as she did her thing. “Also, your phone has been going off, you might want to check it.” She muttered and turned her back to him, turning on the faucet water and beginning to wash some dishes she must’ve left out.

Peter hummed and went into the entrance, taking his phone. It must’ve been dinging or something for her to know it was going off. He read the texts. Many of them from Tony, telling him that they had to leave by 10 AM, and it being 9:30 AM he knew Tony would be mad at him. He also noticed texts from both Ned and Aunt May.

Peter huffed out a sigh, walking up the steps to the bedroom he once walked out of and putting on the clothes that were hanging from the chair. He put the clothes on before walking downstairs and putting the mug back in the sink. He smiled at her when she turned towards him.

“What’s up?” She asked and Peter’s lips pursed. He felt terrible for leaving her so suddenly and without warning, but he smiled and broke the news to her.

“I have to go. Tony and I need to get to New York today.” He explained and her eyebrow raised before she nodded.

“Understandable,” she hummed and smiled. “I’ll call and Uber.” And she did. She walked out and found her phone before calling and Uber. When she walked back in, Peter smiled at her. They sat in silence, she sipped on her drink and he played with loose threads. When her phone dinged, signaling that the Uber was there. She got up and silently showed him the way out. She opened the door and leaned against it.

“The gate will open automatically.” She told him, giving a small smile. Peter returned it, starting to walk down the steps before she stopped him. “Text me the next time you’re in Chicago.” She smiled and looked at him. Peter nodded, smiling back.

“Will do,” he replied and continued on his way. Before he got to the car, he looked back and watched her enter the house again. He entered the car and gave the nice man the directions before finding her number and texting it. He was thankful he hadn’t deleted it.

Y/N Y/L/N: Don’t be a stranger, my phones always on.

And with that, he turned his phone off and closed his eyes, reminiscing in the memories swimming in his mind.

[bangtanoneshotsx]

Unwanted Surprise pt 2-Jungkook

pt 1 Poll for pt 3

“How can you be so stupid Jungkook?” Yoongi growled, looking at the embarrassed younger. Jungkook stood with his head down, standing slightly behind him in the same stance, was you, his hand holding yours.

“Yoongi.” Namjoon sighed. The elder rapper had already grumbled when he was told to come out of his studio to have a meeting. The news of Jungkook’s new addition to his family didn’t help Yoongi’s mood.

“What? He’s been incredibly stupid. He should know the consequences. How this will affect all of our careers, not just his. Have you thought about that Jungkook?” Jungkook gave a small nod before whispering,

“I have.” Yoongi scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“And yet, you still went and did it.”

“Do you think I wanted this to happen?!” Jungkook suddenly raised his voice. The words he spoke making you give a small whimper. Taehyung noticed and placed a small smile on his face.

“Well I think it’s great news. Congratulations guys!” He managed to say in an excited tone, avoiding the glares of the eldest rapper. You gave a grateful smile from behind Jungkook, muttering a ‘thanks’.

“How can you be happy for them? They’re clearly not ready for this. Does no one agree with me?” Yoongi asked, looking around at the six boys, who didn’t dare look him in the eye. “What about you Jungkook? Are you ready for this?” Jungkook gave a sigh, tightening his grip on your hand.

“I wasn’t at first. Trust me, my first instinct was to run, I’m young, too young to consider having a child. But it’s already happening, I already have one. I can’t abandon them. I want children with Y/N, it may not be happening in the way I always thought it would, but I wouldn’t change it hyung. Please believe me when I say I thought about the options, but the only one that felt right was having this child. They’re my blood, I can’t throw that away.” Yoongi sighed, before muttering to himself.

“Have you spoken to BigHit yet?” Jin calmly spoke. He was the only one you couldn’t read. Yoongi was obviously angry, frustrated at Jungkook and the situation he had put you and the band in. Whilst Hoseok, Taehyung and Jimin seemed excited about the new addition to the family. Namjoon had stayed neutral, acting as the leader and as a close friend. Although he was excited, and happy for you both, he knew the troubles that would appear. Jin however, didn’t say much, not letting either Jungkook or you know what he was thinking. Whether that was a good idea or not, you didn’t know.

You gave a nod, speaking up for the first time.

“Not yet, they want all of us there I think, we’ve just had our first appointment.”

“Did you hear the heartbeat?” Taehyung asked excitedly, a grin on his face. You smiled while nodding, placing a hand on your now small but visible bump. You gave a small smile at the memory of the first scan.

~~~~~~~~~

You gave a giggle as you watched Jungkook’s leg bounce up and down, while he looked around the cold, clinical room. You lay on the bed in the doctors room, while he sat on the blue plastic chair beside you.

“Nervous?” Jungkook looked up at you, giving a sheepish smile.

“Maybe.” Before you could respond the door opened. Jungkook quickly pulled his mask back up. BigHit hadn’t made a statement, so for privacy Jungkook was made to wear a mask to hide his identity.

“Miss Y/L/N?” The doctor spoke, looking up from his clipboard. Jungkook gave a shaky breath as you confirmed what the doctor was reading.

“This will be cold.” The doctor informed you before placing a gel on your stomach. Jungkook’s breath hitched as a fuzzy black and white picture showed up on the screen to your right. After a few more seconds the doctor found what he was looking for.

“If you look just now, you’ll see your baby.” Emotion overcame the two of you as a small barely recognisable shape could be seen. You gave a grin, tears welling up in your eyes as you looked over at Jungkook, who’s eyes never left the screen, his mouth open slightly in awe. The doctor gave a smile at Jungkook’s reaction and wonder.

“Do you want to hear the heartbeat?” He asked softly to Jungkook. Jungkook nodded eagerly. Unknowingly he held his breath as the doctor pressed a few buttons, until a thumping sound filled the room. Looking back to Jungkook you saw as he finally breathed out, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Is that...” He softly asked. The doctor gave a nod of confirmation, giving a slight chuckle at Jungkook’s reaction. The doctor excused herself, going to get some paperwork you needed to fill in. The silence in the room was quickly broken by Jungkook’s soft whimper.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how I could ever consider leaving you both. Seeing them there makes me realise how much I would be leaving behind. I hope you forgive me, I hope we can move on. I love you, I love this child, I want to be in their life.” He spoke through tears, his voice more high pitched than usual. You signaled for him to come closer to you. Slowly, he made his way to you, fully expecting rejection.

“Jungkook, you’re here now, that’s what matters. You were scared, we both were. Hell, we still are scared, but you said it yourself, we’ll figure this out together. I promise you, I’m not holding your reaction against you, yes it hurt like hell when you ran out the room, but you’re proving yourself just now. Those tears you're shedding just now proves how invested you already are. How in love you are just now. You don’t need to do anything else but what you’re doing.” Jungkook gave a grateful grin before placing his lips on yours.

“Thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Such idiots.” Yoongi grumbled from his place at the table. Jungkook rolled his eyes, as his grip on your hand got tighter. You watched out of the corner of your eye as Jin quietly scolded the rapper, only getting a roll of the eyes in return. Finally, the door to the meeting room opened. Namjoon entered, followed by one of BTS’ managers. You couldn’t read Namjoon’s face as he took a seat next to Hoseok. Eventually he looked in your direction, sending a small smile in your direction. Was that good? Is everything okay? You sighed, knowing that would be the only clue you got from Namjoon. You turned to face the manager as he cleared his throat, placing a pile of paper in front of him.

“We’re here to talk about Jungkook and Y/N and what has happened recently.” Instinctively, Jungkook placed a hand on your small bump protectively. The manager turned to face Jungkook, seeing the scowl on his face masking his worry.

“There’s nothing to worry about Jungkook. We respect your decision to keep it, and we’ll do everything to help you. We just need to discuss the options of telling your fans, and living arrangements. Now this doesn’t have to all be done today, but we need to at least think about telling your fans, and how you want to announce it.”

“This is crazy.” Yoongi interrupted. “You do realise most of them won’t be happy.” The manager gave a gentle smile, used to Yoongi’s blunt words.

“Yoongi, I know your concerns but please we need to respect Y/N and Jungkook, and the little family they’re creating.” Yoongi gave a sigh, before grumbling,

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

~~~~~~~~

The words you last spoke to Jungkook echoed in your mind as you stared at the door. The label ‘Genius Lab’ showing you were at the right studio.

“I’ll be fine.” You reassured Jungkook. “It’s just Yoongi. He may not like to know this, but he’s not that scary.”

You doubted your last sentence to Jungkook as your heart pounded, as you tried to gather courage to ring the doorbell. Jungkook had posted a video, explaining you and your situation, he wanted to create something personal, something that had meaning so the fans could understand more. You hadn’t read the comments or any of the news articles that would inevitably come out of it. You were too scared to. Jungkook had spoken to the fans, now it was your turn to talk to the stubborn rapper.

You took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. After a few seconds that seemed like hours, Yoongi finally opened the door. Headphones were around his neck, his hair was messy, signaling he had slept in his studio, he wore the same clothes from the meeting yesterday, only they were now more crumpled. Raising an eyebrow, he looked at you expectedly.

“Can we talk?” You softly asked. He gave a short nod before walking back in to sit on the big black chair. Taking a seat on the couch at the back, you watched as he quickly saved something before turning to face you.

“I know you have some reservations about what Jungkook and I are doing but we’ve decided what’s best for us, and we understand you may not like it, but we would still like you to be there. Trust me, both of us know the circumstances aren’t ideal, but Jungkook and I are so happy at the moment. We’re still scared, and we have to grow up fast, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. So Yoongi, would you at least be an uncle to our child?” You softly asked, tears threatening to spill over, as you watched the blank face of the rapper. He finally decided to talk, his voice rough as he spoke explaining his feelings.

“I was mainly worried about Jungkook’s reputation, and the fans reaction. You two aren’t married, and they didn’t even know Jungkook was dating. I wasn’t sure if they might feel betrayed. You and Jungkook are both young. I can’t imagine Jin being a father just now, let alone our maknae, but knowing Jungkook he’ll make a great father. So...” At the threat of embarrassment of rejection you avoided the gaze of the rapper, instead you looked behind him, at his computer.

“Oh my God.” You interrupted.

“What?” Yoongi asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I can’t believe you have that.” You exclaimed.

“What are you on about?” You gave a grin as you reread the file name. ‘Baby presents for Jungkook and Y/N.’

“Baby presents? You really do care.” You murmured. Yoongi grumbled as heat rushed to his cheeks.

“It’s not what you think.” He muttered, now he was the one avoiding your gaze.

“Then what is it Yoongi?” Yoongi sighed, realising he had been found out.

“I truly was against your and Jungkook’s decision at the start. But then Jungkook came rushing into the dorms, your first ultrasound picture in his hand. Although you could barely make out anything, he was so happy. The grin never left his face as he talked about the heartbeat, and how he couldn’t believe he had done that. I couldn’t hate his decision then, not when it made him so happy. I’m still worried for you both, that won’t go away. But what you and Jungkook are doing is wonderful, and I fully stand behind you both as you start your life as parents.” You gave a grateful smile, wiping away the few tears that had escaped.

“Thank you Yoongi. You’re support means everything to me and Jungkook.” Yoongi gave a small nod, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to hide his shyness.

“Now, what presents were you thinking of?”

[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

Meaning of Life - Harry Styles Mini Series - Part 1

*Sequel to I Want To Write You A Song <– Link to Masterlist

Part 26 <– Link to final part 

“Y/N, nice to meet you,” a frazzled woman said as you walked into a warehouse studio. 

“Thanks,” you said as you quickly followed behind her. 

Ever since you had been on tour with Harry, your life changed drastically. As more and more videos of your set made it onto the internet, you made more fans, who were practically begging for your album to be released. And with every hype of the album, came the requests for interviews and offers to be in magazines as the new IT girl in the pop industry, which is where you were today. 

Rolling Stone had offered you the cover of their newest edition as a well as a full-length interview and photo spread. At first, you were very reluctant to do it, but you wanted your album to do well when it came out and you knew this was one way to go about it. 

The tour had finished up prior to the holidays and the end of the year. You had spent the holidays with Harry and his family and while he was taking a bit of a break from work after the new year, you were quickly jumping into it. You and the label had decided on a March release, so you were getting on board for the promo train.

You were backstage getting your hair and makeup done when you started to feel nervous about what you were doing. This would be your first photo shoot and interview in your professional career and it was with Rolling Stone, one of the biggest and well-known music magazines out there. And it was like you just had a small feature, but the fucking cover. 

Most debut artists never get that. 

It was times like this when you started wondering if all the adoration and acknowledgment came from the fact that A) you were touring with Harry or B) because you were with Harry, but all it took to reassure you was Harry bringing up the fact that you had all of this before you even met him. You were a hit songwriter, one of the best of your generation, it’s just no one knew it. 

And now that they do, you’re seeing it first hand now. 

When they finished up your hair and makeup you looked in the mirror with a bit of wide eyes. It wasn’t that you didn’t recognize yourself it was that you didn’t know you could look like that. They didn’t overdo your makeup or make you look like someone you weren’t, it’s just they made you look like how you always wanted to see yourself, but never could. 

“Do you like it?” The makeup artist, Rally asked. 

“I-I love it,” you smiled. “You did a great job.” 

“Well, it helps when I’ve got a good canvas to start with him,” he smiled. 

You blushed a little before heading to the wardrobe. You picked out a few outfits with the stylist and got dressed in the first outfit before making your way to the set. You said hello to everyone and the photographer and creative director went over everything with you and you went over to take your place. 

You closed your eyes trying to block your nerves out and just focus on the task at hand so that you’d get good pictures. They turned on a fan and turned on these huge lights. 

“Okay, Y/N are you ready?” They asked. 

“I’m ready,” you smiled. 

**

After what felt like sixteen hours of taking pictures, changing clothes, getting touch ups etc, you were finally on your way home. When you got in the car, you looked at your phone and saw a missed call from Harry. 

You started the car and hit his number as you started driving home. 

“Hey, baby,” Harry smiled. 

“Hey,” you smiled. 

“How did today go?” He asked. 

“It went… great I think,” you said. “I’m exhausted though. Between the photoshoot and the interview, I just want to eat some dinner and go to bed.” 

“Great! I’m at your place now with just that,” he smirked. 

“Wait? What?” You laughed. 

“I texted Marie to see how much longer you had at the shoot, and when she said about fifteen minutes, I got some dinner and headed to your place. I used my key!” He smirked with a bit of pride. 

You laughed. “You’re just happy about that fucking key aren’t you.” 

“Well, yeah. The fact that I have a key to my Girlfriend’s place and you have one to mine is one step closer to us eventually moving in together,” he said. 

‘True,” You giggled. “Anyway, I’m about ten minutes away.”

“Okay, I’ll see you soon, baby,” he said. 

**

When you got to your place, as soon as you walked inside, you smelled the food. You put your things by the door and went into the kitchen where Harry was pouring some wine. 

You smiled walking over and wrapping your arms around him. He smiled and pressed his lips to yours as he kissed you. 

“I missed you,” he smiled. 

“I missed you, too,” you laughed. “This looks amazing. Thank you.” 

“Well, I figured you were going to be exhausted, so I thought I’d at least make sure you’re fed well,” he laughed. 

“How did I get so lucky in the boyfriend department?” You giggled. 

“Hm, good question,” he smirked. 

You rolled your eyes. “Let’s enjoy this in the living room,” you said. 

He nodded and you each grabbed your food before heading in there. 

“So, did you enjoy today?” He asked. 

“I did. More than I thought I would, to be honest,” you said. 

He smiled. “Do you have any more coming up?” 

“Technically, yes,” you said. “I’ll be having one for my album cover next week. I still don’t really know what I’m going to do with that or even what my album is going to be called. I have a concept… which brought on two possible names, but I’m not sure.” 

“Ooh tell me,” he said. 

You look over at him and laughed. 

“What? If you tell me, I can help you decide,” he said. ‘Or at least give you my thoughts on them.” 

You sighed nodding. “Okay, so I’ve been thinking for a while, but since for the majority of my musical career so far, I’ve been writing for other people, and this is the first album that is my own, all of the songs are super personal for me, you know? And so I started thinking of ways to some that up and I came up with No Filter or Naked,” you blushed. 

Harry looked over at you. “If you go with the latter, does that mean you’re going to be naked on your album cover?” He smirked. 

“What? No,” you groaned. “Well, maybe not actually, but maybe the appearance of it… I don’t know. I’ve never done this shit before. The writing and producing part, I’ve got under control I can do that in my sleep, and I’ve sort of got the performing thing down a bit, but all this other shit I’m fucking clueless.”

“No one is expecting you to know how to do everything,” he said. 

“It feels like it though,” you sighed. 

“I know it’s stressful, but this is your album, so you get to do what you want,” he said. “You’ve never really had that freedom before with your other songs.” 

“That’s true,” you nodded. “So, what do you think of the album titles?” 

“I think they’re  definitely eye-catching,” he said. “But why is it that you chose those?” 

“Well, the No-Filter one is sort of a social media thing. Most everyone takes a photo and puts a filter on it now, so when someone actually posts a “genuine” photo with no touching up or filter on it, they #NoFilter on the photo. And that’s kinda why I thought of that as a title because this album is me, it’s genuine, I didn’t hold anything back, what you’re seeing and hearing is me, not someone else, etc,” you said. 

“That’s a good explanation,” he nodded. “What about Naked?” He smirked. 

“That kinda goes with the more vulnerable side, I guess,” you said. “For most people, when they’re naked, they feel vulnerable, like they’re letting everything out in the open, they’re not holding anything back, etc, so that’s kinda like what I’m doing with the album too. To me, both titles could work, but I don’t know which one to go with.” 

“They’re both great ideas,” he said. “And you’re right they both make sense and work with what you’re trying to go for, but the decision is ultimately yours. Whichever one you feel makes more sense to you and which one you’ll be able to live with seeing for the rest of your life.” 

“Thanks for putting it like that,” you groaned. “Now, there’s even more pressure.”

“Sorry,” he laughed. “You still have time, so don’t worry about it right now. Come here,” he smiled opening his arms. 

You laughed putting your empty plate down on the coffee table and moving over into his arms. He wrapped his arms around you and kissed your head. 

“I love you,” you smiled leaning against him. 

“I love you too,” he whispered. “And if I haven’t told you lately, I’m really proud of you.” 

“Thank you,” you smiled. “I’m proud of me too.” 

Harry smiled rubbing your back as he turned on a movie and the two of you had a quiet evening the rest of the night. 

**

Poll! Chose which Album title, #NoFilter or Naked for the story!! :) 

[chezzkaa]

Cinders - Chapter 28/36

All Chapters

SUMMARY: Gareth knows and he’s covering his tracks, destroying all of the crews efforts. It’s time to know how to kill this son of a bitch, once and for all.

WC: 2141

Check out the Results of the Halloween Cinders Special Poll

Michael’s statement barely has time to register before your already moving, yanking your thick heeled boots onto your feet and collecting your blade, slinging its holster around your hip. Michael keeps talking, sensing your urgency while the three of you exit the apartment and work your way quickly through the hallways. “Geoff’s called everyone back in,” he informs you while Gavin trails close behind, your pace quickening as you all head towards the heist room; the coolness radiating off the concrete and seeping into your bare shoulders, “it’s not looking good.” “What does ‘not looking good’ mean?” you demand while powering on, legs and arms pumping as the men behind you try to maintain your speed, “it means everyone we were watching is dead except for one. Trevor and Matt have been locked out and denied access by advanced software and Ryan and Jeremy have already been called in for immediate interrogation.” Now you’re running, powerless to stop your legs from pushing you forward, the two men now panting behind you. Michael snags at your fingers between pained breaths, forcing you to stop and turn to him despite your desperation to keep moving, “We’ll go and get Ray.” You nod at Michael’s words, trying to break free and continue towards the heist room and the promise of answers, but the man’s face twists, “they brought that Garry fuck in.”

“Get Ray” is all you manage, giving his hand a harsh squeeze before tugging away and finishing the rest of your journey in silence, skidding through the kitchen and living quarters before rounding on the desired door. You burst into the heist room breathless and without a second thought, ignoring the gazes that fall on you to approach Jack, her eyes deeply concerned while she mutters on the phone. She doesn’t offer to a smile, instead ordering you to take seat by motioning to an empty chair beside her. Restless you can’t bring yourself to take it, instead pacing back and forth in front of the rest of the crew who watch you anxiously. Michael and Gavin enter the room moments later with Ray, your partner immediately making his way to your side. “Sah, dude?” he jokes weakly, trying to lift the heaviness he could feel draping itself across your shoulders, “what’d I miss?” You begin to explain but fall silence as Jack tosses her phone onto the table, head in her hands and breathing deeply to calm herself.

Finally she lifts her head and faces the group, impatiently pushing away her flaming hair to address the crowd of nervous onlookers. “Gareth knows,” she states into the surprised and concerned murmur of gasps, Lindsay’s eyes widening in panic while Michael reaches instinctively for her hand, “and he’s panicking.” Jack takes another deep, rattling breath, obviously shaken by the ordeal. “Trevor and Matt managed to alert us of his plans before he killed off the first two men we had eyes on,” she continues, “so we managed to extract Gary before he was taken out too. So,” she claps her hands together and turns to you with pleading eyes, “tell me the source came through and we can actually trust him.”

You rack your brain and try to dig up the important information you had managed to compile from Jon’s text journals, feeling your body burning beneath the flames curling up around your ankles. “I’ve been combing through the information since we got back,” you start, directing your words to the fiery red head in front of you, “but there’s a lot of it, Jack. There’s no way I’m going to be able to get through it all in a day.” “Well you’re just going to have to go back to the source and extract what you need,” she orders curtly, but Ray pipes in with concern and disapproval, “I don’t like the word ‘extract’, sounds kinda violent.” “It’s supposed to be violent,” she growls at him, “we need to know how the fuck to kill this bastard. So you’re going to go back there and beat the living shit out of him until he gives you an answer!” Her fist comes down hard on the table, the crew flinching away while her words sink in. “Oh hell no,” denies Ray, face twisted in disgust, the thought pressing against the morals he’d worked so hard to fashion. Jack however cares little for his moral compass, her eyes smouldering angrily “what did you say?”

“No,” you reply defiantly as her hand raises to rub her face, her patients wearing thin. She knew better than to get into an argument with you, but time was running out. “Look, Y/N,” she says in a strained voice, trying to reason with you as quickly as possible, “we don’t have time to play the hero here. Our method is guaranteed to get the most accurate information in the shortest space of time.” “Actually, that’s not true,” cuts in Ray, his body language defensive as his arms cross over his chest. You admire his bravery in the face of the vicious woman in front of him, her eyes giving away the fact she was struggling to remain in her spot and not launch across the table at him. “Yeah,” he continues while pulling out his phone and lighting up the screen, “it’s like, a fact that torture doesn’t work cus people just tell you what you want to hear to get away from the absolute agony you’re causing them. I know, weird right? Probably best to just call him.” He presses a few buttons while Jack fumes, tossing you his phone before she can begin hurling insults and orders at him.

Staring down at the screen you see Jon’s name flashing, the soft dials leisurely ringing as you press the phone to your ear, holding your breath; “Ray?” Jon’s voice is strained and raspy from the days he’d spent awake, confusion clear within his tone. “Nah man, it’s me.” Jack continues to stare daggers into your back while you turn away to watch Gavin shuffle uncomfortably until meg walks through the door, his face painfully relieved as he hugs her close, “we’ve got a problem.” Jon clears his throat, the sound of fabric scratching against the receiver as he repositions and you silently curse for interrupting what might have been the first time he’d slept in a week. “What’s up?” “Gareth knows” you reply, ignoring Jack’s loud protests as she tries to snatch the phone away, Ray shoving his body between the two of you with his hands up in a warning; face a dramatic grimace. “He’s started cutting ties,” you continue, moving away from your friends and snatching a pen from Jack’s floral front pocket before crawling to sit in the centre of the table with a note pad, “we’ve managed to get a guy out that’ll be able to give us the information we need, but after that we’re fucked.” You hear him pacing back and forth while he listens, and you can almost see the nervous hand shifting through his hair. You put him on speaker and place the phone on your knee, waiting quietly only to hear your heart thumping audible against your ribs, lungs constricting as Jack falls defeated into a seat. “You need to know how to kill him,” he finally concludes with a deep sigh, his voice muffled as he speaks through his fingers. “Y/N, I don’t know if the theory works. It’s just a concept, I haven’t tested it and no one has been able to confirm or deny.” “It’s better than the fuck all that we’ve got now,” you state, feeling his nervousness seeping through the phone and sending a chill through your body. “It’s not even a complete idea yet,” he insists, but your tapping the pen impatiently, “Will it at least slow him down?” “That I can guarantee,” he confirms while your attention flicks to Ray, locking eyes with him as he nods, “it’s the best we’ve got.”

“Okay,” Jon finally says in a shaky voice, “I’m going to have to come and meet you.” “I’ll message you our address,” you start only to be cut off by an infuriated Jack now rising from her seat and pointing an accusatory finger in your direction. This time its Michael and Gavin that rush to your aid, restraining the woman from either side as she spits angrily, disbelieving that you would give away the crew’s location to an outsider. You can hear Michael trying to calm her down, explaining with your blessing that Jon was one of the most trusted men they would ever encounter. Speaking louder you try to get what basic information you can, tossing your own phone to Ray so that he can type in the address and send it through to Jon, “what can you tell me about the process now?”

The sound of Jon exiting his home is accompanied with the static sound of billowing wind, a light beep informing you that he was struggling into his car. “The Egyptians were on the right track,” he states over the engine purring to life, “but it involves a lot more than just removing the organs.” “Okay,” you encourage whilst jotting down his words, refusing to meet Jack’s eyes as she reacts to Gavin’s attempts to calm her down, “can’t I just look it up in one of your books?” “You could,” Jon admits, “but maybe I want to see my baby sister.” “You know you’re on speaker, right?” “Ooh,” his joke falters while you try to ignore the shock on the rest of the crew, Trevor and Matt sharing a look before behind to their computers. “Hey!” you snarl at them, snapping your fingers to get their attention while you scowl, “don’t you fucking dare start researching him.” They try to complain but Ray just shakes his head at them, and eventually they back down.

“So what is it that you need to show me, that I can’t just find in the book?” “I need to bring you the materials,” he states, a car horn blaring loudly as he swerves, his angry cursing muffled by the sound of the car accelerating. “So basically the Egyptians used to remove specific organs during the mummification process and put them into canoptic jars,” he tells you while you frantically scrawl across the pad in your lap, “It was suppose to ready the body so that the spirit could return to it. But they got it backwards, more importantly the removal – from what I was able to find out – of certain organs and limbs, as well as the severing of specific neural pathways in the brain will hinder the regeneration process.” “That’s fucking gross” complains Ray, a look of disgust crossing his face while Jon laughs. “I know, it’s going to get messy, too. The whole point is to separate the main elements used within the process, like the brain functionality, larger limbs, and organs needed to maintain life before destroying them. Hope is that with the immortal link won’t work once it’s been sufficiently severed.” “Oh, this is gonna be so bad,” you groan, stomach flipping uncomfortably as you finish your notes and slide the pad across to Jack, of who has seemingly calmed down, “so what are you bringing?” “The jars and the butchers chart.”

Jon’s words cut off quickly, a sharp inhale of breath causing the hairs on the back of your neck to rise. Suddenly the room is filled with the sound of metal screeching as something collides with his car, his yelling forcing you off the table and towards the door without question. “Jon, what’s going on?” you demand while making your way through the base, “Jon?” “A car crashed into me,” he groans, voice quickly growing frantic as he becomes aware of the situation unfolding around him, “They’re here. His men are here. Oh god I shouldn’t have threatened them through you on the news this morning. Oh fucking FUCK.” “I’m on my way, I’m coming to get you,” you’re sprinting past the empty rooms and charging at the door, pulling into the cool night air with panic rising in your chest as the door slams shut behind you. “I’m down the street by the fucking smoking car, don’t let them see you,” he snaps and you duck into cover, body screaming as Ray pushes through the door seconds later. You grab at his wrist and yank him down beside you, body shaking involuntarily as you listen to your panicking and vulnerable brother. “The notes and jars are under the passenger seat,” he continues, voice growing low as the sound of other people chuckling cut through the receiver. “Please don’t do anything stupid,” he orders before the line goes dead, leaving you listening to the screams tearing through the air only six buildings down.

[rosalietodd013]

Forever (Part 10): Good Enough

Summary: The reader gets help getting back to the person she once was and there is a family renunion on the horizon.

Warnings: Depression, Fear, not much else

Words: 3,992

Catch Up on the rest of the story: Part 1 HERE, Part 2 HERE, Part 3 HERE, Part 4 HERE, Part 5 HERE, Part 6 HERE, Part 7 HERE, Part 8 HERE, Part 9 HERE

A/N: So I think a week went by before I noticed that in the previous chapter I didn’t put up a deadline for the poll. I think my original thought process was a month to make sure everyone got their votes and opinions and questions in, but because I didn’t clarify and because I need some to get my head together with the next couple of chapters, I’m gonna say August 31 will be the final day to put in votes. I know that’s a long time to wait, especially without an update in so long, but I need to make sure everything is in order and that I meet my requirements for the rest of the story. As always, if you have comments, questions, concerns, or anything else, just let me know. Enjoy…

Song title: This chapter is based off the song Good Enough by Evanescence for reasons that are explained in the first chunk of this chapter and have been explained in some detail in previous chapters. You’ll understand when you start reading.

“How did you find me?” I ask though I knew he had been here for a while, and it’s kinda hard to believe that he is here.

He doesn’t do what I expected him to do. I expected him to start yelling at me about how stupid and dangerous what I did was. For him to scold me on how there were hunts that could have been solved and people who could have been saved with all the time it took him to look for me. Maybe throw something with the famous Winchester temper. But he doesn’t do any of that. What he does actually surprises the hell out of me.hunts that could have been solved and people who could have been saved with all the time it took him to look for me. Maybe throw something with the famous Winchester temper. But he doesn’t do any of that. What he does actually surprises the hell out of me.

“I missed you baby girl.” He says, pulling me into this bone crushing hug that feels so warm and emits more love than I have ever known him to show. It makes me realize just how much I’d missed him too.

“I missed you too Daddy,” I say with tears streaming steadily down my face.

Dad acts entirely out of character but at the same time just like himself the first little while that he’s here. He avidly checks to make sure I’m ok when he pulls away from our hug, patting me down and running a few subtle tests to make sure I’m not hurt or some monster. Classic Dad. He also does a minor sweep of the cabin to make sure the place I’ve been living in for the past nine months is safe.

I roll my eyes at that. Like I would have actually stayed here all this time if I knew it wasn’t safe. He taught me better than that. But he doesn’t act like it.

“Where’s Dean?” I move over to the couch as he glances at the sigils all over the kitchen and living room. “And you still haven’t told me how you found me.”

“When your brother and I realized you were gone, we thought that monster had taken you, so we finally tracked down the bastard and killed him. When we realized that he hadn’t taken you, we tried to track your phone, which the GPS was conveniently off for.” He shoots me a look that makes me avoid eye contact. “We got it turned back on though and found it two miles from Bobby’s place. He told us he’d only seen you for a second, weeks after you’d disappeared and had stolen one of his cars. After that, Dean and I split up so we could cover more ground. We knew there weren’t many people you trusted, so I called them all.”

By this time, Dad had come to sit on the loveseat across from me. Apparently satisfied with what he’d made of the sigils, he had grabbed a beer for him and a water for me from the fridge, taking a sip before continuing.

“I ran through the names relatively fast, none of them having heard of you, so I figured you wouldn’t have gone to anyone because you knew they’d tell me where you were. I was stumped for about a week, Dean not having heard from you either. Then it dawned on me. You just needed a stable place, not with people necessarily. So I checked my list of safe houses as far away from California as possible because you would want us to take a while checking the other states looking for you.Three of them were on the East Coast. One in Lincolnton, North Carolina, one in Dahlonega, Georgia, and this one. Didn’t think I knew about this place huh?”

I must have a shocked or confused look on my face due to his question. Yeah, I stole this address off his list to make sure he wouldn’t find me. So how did he?

“I remembered all the states and addresses Angelina gave me (Y/N), and I called her to confirm that this one existed. What you did was smart, but not clever enough. I’ll always find you (Y/N), you and your brothers. It’s my job to protect you all and keep you safe and together as a family. Even if you don’t want me to.”

The isolation I have had from most people, especially my father, must not have been the best for me because I can feel myself getting angrier and angrier at his words. Usually, I can handle most of the things my dad says because I am with him and hear it regularly, but not now. I’ve spent too much time away from him, and now it doesn’t take much to set me off.

What the hell was he even talking about?

“You wanna keep us safe and together? How well is that going for you right now Dad? Because in my opinion, you suck at it. When Sam left, Dean and I went to go make sure he was ok. You ran away to do God knows what God knows where for a whole night. And after that, for months you and Dean got your asses handed to you by literally every monster you faced and were too fucked up in the head with grief to realize that you hadn’t even finished entire hunts. You say you wanna keep us safe and together yet you denied me the chance at training, so I had to do it with Bobby, and you never went to try and remedy things with Sam. How does that keep us safe and together Dad?”

I’m standing over him, yelling because I haven't been this emotional in a while and need to vent.

“I made mistakes in the past (Y/N). Regretable ones. Letting your brother walk away was one and keeping you from the field was another. The time you, Dean, and I spent hunting as a family was a time I spent realizing just how much you needed this to heal and how great you were for the job, with or without the training from Bobby.” He says earnestly, not making a move to stand, knowing how on edge I am at this moment. Winchester temper, remember? Not always just a boy thing. “But I also realized just how lost you were getting in what we were doing and how much of yourself you were losing because of what happened. I started treating you like this was what you needed when it was really what I needed. But I wanna help you now–”

“Help me? How are you gonna help me? How Dad? Because you have no idea what I’m going through or how I feel right now. I keep beating myself up because I know I’m not him. I’m not strong enough or smart enough b-because I’m n-no-ot him.”

By this point, I’ve fallen to my knees in front of my father, bawling my eyes out at the admission and the fact that I’m tired of being angry and too ashamed to do anything about it.

“I’m sorry I’m not strong enough Daddy. I didn’t mean to disappoint you. I just w-wanted to be good enough. For you and Dean and I just–”

“You are (Y/N). You are not a disappointment, and neither of us is Sam or Dean. I can’t be disappointed in you if you managed to save mine and Dean’s asses time and time again or managed to lose me for nine months or stand up for your brother when I was being too much of a coward to tell him that I was proud of him.”

At this, my head shoots up from its place on his knee to stare at him shockingly through puffy red eyes.

“When I finally got over everything, I started driving by Stanford periodically to check up on him. I wanted to know that he was alright, but also to see him have the life that I always wanted for him. For all of you. I wish I could go back in time and take back what I said, but I don’t know if he would have changed his mind anyway. He was strong in his own way, and so are you. I’m not gonna leave you baby girl. I’m gonna help you get back on your feet like I should have back then.”

“But how?”

He smiles down at me and kisses my forehead.

“One step at a time.”

And he was right. It took me a while to get back to being a fraction of the girl I once was, with his help of course.

At first it was a real struggle to leave my room for breakfast because I was so mentally and emotionally drained.

“(Y/N), you have to eat something. You’ve lost too much weight as it is.” We’re sitting at the breakfast nook in the kitchen. Well I’m sitting. Dad is standing on the other side of the counter with a cup of coffee in his hand and a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast in front of him, same in front of me.

I have to have lost thirty pounds in these past few months up here by myself. I rarely found the urge to eat or drink anything; I didn’t have anyone to force me to until now.

“You don’t have to eat it all if you don’t want to. At least eat the toast and drink the orange juice.” He tells me almost pleadingly, and this is a side of my dad that no one has ever seen. Well I have on occasion, but my father has never been the type to beg for anything from anyone, so I feel a little worse for putting him in this position.

I take small bites of my toast until it’s gone and eat half a piece of bacon with even fewer eggs before picking up my glass of orange juice and heading to my room.

“(Y/N) ple–”

“I just want to get back in bed.” I say without turning around. The little bit that I ate will likely do me good later on, but at the moment my stomach is churning in the worst way.

Dad doesn’t try to stop me as I go, but I can feel his eyes boring into the back of my head, sadness and grief likely shining in his green eyes. This fact causes tears to well up in my eyes as I close my door, the sound echoing throughout the silent cabin.

Exercise helps, I know. It’s the getting out of bed to do anything that is the problem.

Dad is entirely understanding about this and doesn’t push me to do more than I can at the moment, which is still interesting to me. When I was younger, I used to watch him push Dean past his limits constantly and eventually Sam as well. It’s really weird to have him baby me when he hasn’t shown that he is capable of such a thing in the past.

If only he had been this understanding with Dean, always forcing him out of the motel room at the ass crack of dawn without so much as a cup of coffee to start his day. I know that he was training him to be able to protect not only Sam and I, but also himself, but he was a real hard-ass most of the time. Those that know him might have a hard time believing that John Winchester would coddle any of his children because they’re having a slight separation that kept them in bed for weeks at a time.

And they would be right not to believe it because he isn't doing that exactly. Coddling might be too strong a word. Aiding and comforting might work better. At least out loud. He’s encouraging me closer and closer to the door and the outside world, till eventually, I get there.

And I can say that being outside again feels amazing.

For the first few days, we just sit on the porch and listen to nature. The wind blows steadily most of the time, causing my greasy (H/C) hair to blow all over the place. Dad does his best to keep it down but doesn’t succeed, which causes me to laugh.

He laughs too and tells me how happy he is that I’m opening back up, and that makes me smile up at the sky because that makes me happy too.

Over the next few weeks, I attempt to get back in the swing of things. The two of us go running every morning and talk about anything and everything. Dad calls Dean periodically to let him know that I’m ok and to give him his own hunts.

At first, I know that Dean should be aware of where I am and what I’ve been doing because he probably wants to see me for himself, but then I realize that I’m not ready to face him yet and Dad sees this. So he just gives his eldest son periodic updates on my progress and assigns him his own hunts.

One day just after Dad hangs up with Dean, I ask him a question that has been plaguing me for a while.

“So how did you manage to part ways with your beloved Impala?”

He laughs at my question. “ I was wondering how long it would take you to ask.” He looks at his truck out the wall of windows just beyond the kitchen and living room. “Like I said before, Dean and I parted ways to cover more ground in order to find you. He wasn’t taking the bus, and I needed to know he had a reliable ride, so I gave him the Impala and bought myself the truck. I was planning on giving her to him for his twenty-fifth anyway. He just has to take care of her.”

“You know he will. His ‘Baby’ means too much to him. You know he’s been lusting after her since he was like nine. Even I could see that, and I was a three year old. You and Bobby drilled the love of cars into him early. What’d you expect?”

“If only that could’ve worked with you and Sammy–”

I see that he realized his mistake when my brother’s name passes his lips. He learned pretty early on not to mention Sam while we were here –the first time I said his name for Dad to hear since he left was the day he got here, and that was an accident –even before I left. He knows what happened isn’t something I’m just gonna let go anytime soon. The only way that’s gonna happen is if I confront him, and we both know that’s not gonna happen. Ever.

“It’s fine Dad. I know.” I try to ease his worry as he gazes at me apologetically. I just want to move on now. “So you said you found a hunt before Dean called? What’s that about?”

Dad stays with me until I’m able to work and function well enough by his standards on my own – not exactly where I was before but damn near it. We train, go over lore, he took me on a few hunts in the state, and sometimes we just talk. He arrived on a hot and sweaty summer day in July, and he leaves on a cold, frigid day in October, and I really don’t want him to go.

“Do you have to go? Why can’t I come?” I ask as he loads his bags into his truck and turns to face me.

“Because there is a hunt in Texas that Caleb has called me to help him on.”

“Well, I can go with you. Help ou–”

“No,” He says sharply in that ‘not up for discussion’ tone of voice that causes me to shut my mouth instantly. “I need for you to meet up with Dean in a few weeks and who knows how long this hunt is gonna take.”

At the mention of Dean’s name, I look at my father pleadingly, not ready to face my brother yet, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“It’s not up for discussion (Y/N). You still need someone with you, not that I don’t think you can handle yourself, but you and your brother should be together. And besides, he needs help.” He places a hand on my shoulder when my facial expression doesn’t change. “Look, you two have to make amends and work together which is why I’m giving you a few weeks to get yourself together and prepare yourself.”

He pulls me into a hug, and I crush him to myself, desperately not wanting him to go.

“Please don’t leave me,” I say into his chest, my voice wavering slightly.

He kisses my forehead and pulls me back far enough for me to look into his eyes.

“You’ll see me again soon. Talk to your brother (Y/N), it’ll be good for you both. He hasn’t been doing very well in your absence, so he needs this. You don’t have to do it for yourself. Do it for him, and maybe sometime along the way you will find closure too.”

Dad’s right. I need to talk to Dean, but I also need to figure out what I’m gonna say. I ask Dad, but he just kissed my forehead once more and got into his truck with a smile, calling, “You’ll figure it out baby girl.”

So helpful Dad.

That was two weeks ago. I haven’t heard from him since then except for a letter that tells me to head to some town in California. Jeranimo? Jericho? Something like that, but I still don’t move to leave.

I know that Dean will likely be there – Dad said that I would have to meet up with him in the coming weeks, but I didn’t think it would be so soon – and I don’t know what I’m gonna say to him. I should apologize for everything I said the last time I saw him on top of leaving without a trace, but I want him to also. Knowing Dean, he’ll be too proud to do that though. Both of us were in the wrong, and we need to move on, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to.

I love my brother to death and would do anything for him, same vice versa, but I don’t know how this is going to affect our relationship on top of me leaving. Dad was cool with everything that happened between us, but I feel like he’s obligated to forgive me for that because I’m his daughter. Dean, on the other hand, doesn’t have that same obligation.

All these thoughts are running through my mind as I drive the two days to Jericho in the newer version of the Jeep Cherokee that I borrowed from the garage. The whole ride, the butterflies in my stomach, get more and more agitated as I dread the thought that my eldest brother might hate me.

When I arrive in town, I soon come to realize that the case has already been solved. I ask around about strange occurrences and new comers, and I overhear a couple cops talking about how a pair of brothers who had escaped police custody, and me being the nosy Winchester that I am, listen a little closer. Discreetly.

Apparently, two men went missing from town not too long ago who had been arrested for impersonating federal agents and harassing one of the locals. At first, I want to believe that it’s a coincidence, but then one of the officers mentions the name ‘Winchester.'

Well shit.

Wait, does this mean that Dean went to get Sam from Stanford since Dad and I were MIA? I mean it could be Dad and Dean working together, but they don’t look that similar in age. Not at all actually. Plus Dad would have told me in the letter if he would have been in Jericho when I got here, and I haven't seen any signs of him at all since I’ve been here.

Does that mean that Sam’s hunting again? How long have they been doing that together? Why would Dean do that to him? Why the hell would he even agree?

There are so many thoughts and questions running through my head at the moment that it’s making me dizzy. I rest my head against the steering wheel of the Jeep and trying to catch my breath from the sudden dizzy spell.

“Breathe (Y/N),” I tell myself. “Dean wouldn’t do that to him and he sure as hell wouldn’t agree.” Would he?

Dad said that Dean’s been different since I left. What if he was so lonely and scared that he got Sam from school after Dad left too. But what I can’t seem to wrap my head around is why Sam would leave his perfect life with his perfect girl for this? One stupid hunt or God knows how many more. It just doesn’t make sense.

I need to know what’s going on and why even if that means that I have to do something I never imagined myself doing.

So I’m back on the road two hours later to a place I hoped to never see again.

Stanford University. If it really was a one-time thing, then that’s where they’re headed.

I’m immediately drawn to the building that’s surrounded by fire trucks and police cars when I arrive. Apparently, there was a fire in one of the buildings recently. Like the firehoses are still getting the last of it put out recent.

I roll my window down and ask one of the bystanders what happened.

“One of the student’s apartments caught fire, but the police don’t know how. She apparently didn’t make it out.” The girl seems genuinely distraught by the news. “She was so nice.”

“You know who it was?” I ask, perking up a bit more at the hint of new information.

“Yeah she was in my Lit 104 class. Her poor boyfriend came home after being out on some trip all weekend with his brother I think he said, and arrived just when the fire started. Police ruled him out as a suspect because some of the neighbors saw them leave and go back in right as the fire started. His girlfriend’s name was Jessica Moore, by the way.”

As she speaks, the information sounds too familiar, and when she says Jessica’s name, an intense feeling of grief washes over me. After that, I pretty much zone the girl out.

Jessica was dead? And Sam found her just before their apartment caught fire. That sounds eerily familiar.

At that moment, I see the Impala drive by, Dean in the driver’s seat and Sam likely the dark silhouette next to him in the passenger’s seat with grief just as likely etched onto his face in the shadow of night.

I don’t hesitate as I follow the boys down the road.

They stop at a motel that looks eerily like the one Dean, Dad, and I stayed in the last time I was here. They get out of the car and go into one of the rooms, but I sit there for a while. I’m thinking about everything that could happen if I go up and knock on that door. All of the thoughts end in me either kicked out or someone bleeding badly. Eventually, I clear my mind of those pessimistic thoughts, or at least push them as far back in my mind as they will go which isn’t far but is out of the forefront of my mind, and muster up the courage to get out of the Jeep and walk up to the door I saw them go into not ten minutes ago, knocking on the door firmly.

Not fifteen seconds later, the door swings open revealing my eldest brother with a gun pointed in my face, but I don’t flinch.

“Hi, Dean.”

Part 11

Tags: @sharethelovebeauty , @pretty-fortune

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