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getitoutofmymindwrites · 2 months

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The crushing | joel miller x f!reader, 5.2k

Summary: This is the story of a man who had everything in the palm of his hand and traded it all for an empty space in the hollow of his heart. Or This story follows Joel, two to three years after he cheated on his wife.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, ANGST, cheater!Joel, Joel's POV, this is NOT “The Falling” from Joel's POV, brief mention of smut (p i v) but nothing too graphic (I think), self-loathing, depression, therapy, flashbacks and memories from the past, alcohol consumption, Tommy being a supportive brother (eventually), as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Ok, so, Joel gave me a whiplash on this one, he was either staring at me through the screen giving me nothing, or he was mumbling unintelligibly in my ear while I was trying to keep up with him. It started out as a final chapter, but I really think that this part should be Joel's POV and the next and -probably- final one should be the resolving, however that may come. I guess it can be read as a standalone, but if you're interested, it's a sequel to “The Falling”. I edited it seven thousand times because I kept adding things along the way, so I hope it all makes some sense and there are not too many mistakes.. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all! 🥰😘

P.S.: I just wanted to take a moment and let you know that I really appreciate everyone who has read, liked, commented, reblogged and asked about “The Falling”. I honestly didn't think a single soul would take the time to read that kind of story. It means more than you know and I didn’t take lightly how close to home this fic hit for some people; yet you’ve given it a chance, sharing some of your own experiences with me. I love you all, take care and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! 🥹🫂

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

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...need your reassurance...

...your only focus…

...for the foreseeable future...

He did make it his sole focus. Because of course, he closed the deal, even after he left that damn table like a madman. He still found a way to get what he wanted. That's the man he was. And he wasn't sure if he hated himself for it or not. But self-loathing was a daily occurrence now, so one more reason added to the list was nothing he couldn't handle.

For two years he would wake up every day, is it called waking up if he doesn’t sleep at all?, he would work his ass off, he would go home, he would sink into despair and then he would start all over again the next day. A vicious cycle consisting of 730 days in a row. The deafening silence within the walls of the house was excruciating, the loneliness was unbearable. Even the light penetrating through the windows seemed different than when you were there with him, a dullness surrounding every corner of the now barely lived in space.

You. He hadn’t seen your face in 730 days. He hadn’t smelled your scent or touched your soft skin. He barely listened to your voice anymore, any form of unavoidable communication, you preferred to be conducted by the lawyers, or via text messages, at the most. At the 731st one, he finally knew, something had to change. He couldn’t repeat another day, like all the others that came and went. He simply couldn’t.

Tommy suggested that therapy might help Joel, a few times, but he refused every one of them. Maria was keeping her distance, her place was delicate, being his brother’s wife but also his wife’s best friend. Surprisingly, she was the one who finally got through to him.

“Are you gonna stay a recluse for the rest of your miserable life, then?” Maria wonders, switching her gaze between Joel and the dining room. Everything was untouched, as you left them when you moved out, but the place felt empty, depressing, probably mirroring Joel’s existence.

Joel sighs, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m not a recluse..”, he snarls through his teeth, rolling his eyes at her. He was more than eager to be done with the dinner his sister-in-law insisted on having in his house and be left alone, in his natural state. Alone. Infuriating woman.

“What do you call that?”, Maria persists, goddamn lawyer to the bone.

“What?!” Joel spits back pissed off, looking at his brother next, for support.

“That!” she gestures around his body and his surroundings. “The way you go on for the past two years! Either get over it or do something about it!”, she doesn’t hold back, even when Tommy proposes a gentler approach. Yeah, look where it got you, is the paid answer, so Tommy steps back, shaking his head and raising his hands up in surrender.

“You’ve got him on a leash, hm?”, Joel jokes absentmindedly, “Can you breathe alright, Tommy boy?”, earning himself a hard glare from Maria.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..” Maria mutters, causing Tommy’s eyes to widen in horror.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, Joel retorts doing a double back at her.

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”, Maria throws her napkin on her plate and leaves the room. Joel remains silent, pondering the meaning of her words. It would be a long time before he understood what she meant.

Therapy was hard.

Therapy was hard because he had to do it for himself. He had to concentrate on himself. He thought, being the contractor that he was, that he would walk into the room, get the answers he needed and fix his marriage, just as he rearranged the bricks and the wood and the steel on the construction sites.

But this wasn’t about his marriage. His marriage and the way it crumbled down was the aftermath, he came to learn. It was the outcome of insecurities, selfishness, lack of communication, ungratefulness.

He got it all wrong. Everything. Every little thing. He had to rewire his brain and change every point of view he was holding onto. Honesty. Honesty was the key.

“Why didn’t you reach out to your wife after that night?”, his therapist insists.

“I respected her boundaries.”, Joel was quick to respond.

“And what were those?”

“She didn’t want to see me.”

“Did she say that?”

“No-, I mean-, the way she left that night, she didn’t say much in general. But she blocked my number, so.”, he shrugs in defence.

“So, how can you be so sure that she didn't want to see you? Even if you're right, it doesn't mean that she didn't expect a reaction from you, or that you weren't allowed to try, if that’s what you wanted.”

“Why would she? I upset her, she needed time to think, work things out.”, Joel explains.

The therapist swipes her fingers over her lips, contemplating her approach. “Joel, you walk into your bedroom, into what is supposed to be a safe place and you see your partner with another person in an intimate moment. How does that make you feel? Just say the first words that come to mind.”, his therapist changes the point of view.

Joel shudders just at the thought of it. You, naked, flushed, lips parted and swollen, skin sweaty, breaths short and pupils blown wide, coming for anyone other than him. It would utterly destroy him. “Furious, pissed, betrayed, heartbroken.. I think I would lose it, if I’m honest.” he admits instantly, in his haste to throw the abomination of this image from his thoughts.

“I see. But in her case, you think your wife was just upset?”

“No, of course not.” Joel slightly frowns, shaking his head.

“Do you think she felt all those feelings that you just described to me?”

“I believe so, yes.”, god this is so hard.

“You believe so?” the therapist pushes, again.

Joel’s nostrils flare from the sharp inhale, “I know so.”

“So, she wasn’t just upset.” the therapist concludes and Joel agrees without meeting her eyes, “No, she wasn’t.”

Over time, Joel came to realize that his choice of words was a subconscious attempt to diminish the seriousness of his actions.

“You said in a previous session that you gave space to your wife to work things out.”

“Yeah, it was only fair.”, Joel confirms.

“So, it was hard for you to give her that space?”

“Yes, of course, I missed her every day.”

“Was that a constant in your relationship?”, the therapist wonders.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“How did you work things out as a couple, before? I assume you had difficult times as partners, no?”

“Nothing major to be honest, my wife was a very calm and reasonable person. If anything occurred she would talk to me about it.”

“And how did you respond to that?”

“Uh, I was there to listen, we always found a solution together as a couple.”

“Hmhm, so, what changed this time?”

“What do you mean?” He knew exactly what she meant.

“Why didn’t you talk to her? Communicate with her? Maybe help her see your side of things, like you did before, find your way out of this together, as partners.” his therapist explains. “And even before the infidelity, did you let her know that something was bothering you, that you felt differently?”

"I didn't feel differently about my wife. My feelings for her never changed.", he immediately corrects her. "My love for her was never the problem," he confesses and it's the first time since his therapy began that he's shared something so personal, so private.

“But there was a problem, something was wrong if you felt the need to be intimate with another woman. So, why did you keep that from her?”

Joel opens his mouth already knowing he does not have an answer. Or that he doesn't want to give one. He shakes his head, raising his brows in a silent admission that he can’t answer that. Or he won't. His gaze is fixed on a loose thread on the fabric of the couch, his fingers keep picking on it.

“Joel?”

“I- I don’t know what you want me to say, I don’t know.” he keeps shaking his head. He can’t answer that. He won't.

He was so angry when he left the session that day. He was so angry at you. He was angry at your honesty, your clarity, your courage to have a mind of your own and to speak it freely, knowing full well that probably no one else shared the same opinions as you did. That's what he loved most about you, but now he hated it.

“Own it, Joel. Own what you have done. At least that way it will be worth something. Otherwise it was all for nothing.”

This was one of the last things you said to him on the phone, while he was trying to persuade you to change your mind about the divorce. You were always so brave about those matters. Matters of the heart, of integrity. He remembers you always talking about things that he found admirable but utopian. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

“I need to be able to sleep at night. I need to own my decisions; not because I’m always right, far from it, but at least I know I’m being honest with myself. And that matters.” he recalls one of your late-night talks.

You usually found it easier to share your most vulnerable thoughts once you were thoroughly fucked and satiated. When Joel held you in his arms, your breaths almost shared over the same pillow, your scents and your fluids mixed together.

“We’re all imperfect beings, flawed; we all feel embarrassed when we fuck up,” you continue, “it’s hard to admit our mistakes to others, I get that. But deep down we always know what we’re doing and why we’re doing it. Admitting it only helps us to be present in our lives.”

“Be present?”, Joel seems fascinated by the way your mind weaves your thoughts together into deeply rooted beliefs.

“Yes, my love, there's no greater freedom than to live your life truthfully.” you smile at him, softly. Your sleepy eyes roam his face affectionately. Your fingertips caress his jawline, your thumb pressing lightly against the bare patch of his beard. He can feel your devotion pouring from your fingers and sinking into his skin at that moment.

“That’s one of my greatest fears, you know. Living my life in ignorance, in a lie.”, you whisper your deepest insecurity against his soft lips. His hold on you tightens as he rolls you onto your back, nestling his hips between your welcoming thighs. You are safe in these arms. His arms. You surrender to him, body and soul. You can feel his growing erection pressing between your folds, already wet from your combined releases. He tenderly brushes his lips against yours and slowly licks his way into your parted mouth, as he intertwines his fingers with yours. He enters you in one fluid, slow thrust, his warm exhale cooling your wet lips. “Then let me give you something real.”

Thinking back to those moments, Joel couldn't reconcile himself to the fact that he was the one who had brought that fear of yours to life. What broke him was that it was not a lie. Your life together had not been a lie. He loved you. In fact, he was burning up for you. He was a man of control, but not with you. Never with you. You consumed his every thought; being around you for too long made his lungs constrict in pain, begging for a deep breath. Sometimes he was worried sick that if he completely let himself love you like he needed to, he would suffocate you. He loved you. And it killed him that his actions suggested otherwise.

But at some point he had to be honest with himself. He was just protecting his ego. He was trying to get the upper hand out of a shitty, compromising situation. He wasn't being thoughtful, he was being selfish. He was biding his time. He thought the longer he left ‘it’ untouched, the less it would hurt when the inevitable time of confrontation came. He was scared out of his mind that he would lose you forever. No second chances, no redemption, no reconciliation.

No lingering scent on his pillow as your hair pools there, under his chin, as you nestle your face between his neck and shoulder, breathing him in. No laughter through the enormous house, damn, why did he build it so big; you never clarified what the disbelief in your eyes meant when he said he built this house for you, while he pulls you up on your feet for a silly cowboy dance.

No more gentle touches, no more noses brushing together as a silent goodbye in the kitchen before you rush off to work. No more turning around just before you open the door to leave, running to him like a little girl, giving him quick, hungry pecks on the lips while he laughs on your mouth, squeezes your butt cheek and slaps it playfully to say goodbye. Later, baby, he would promise you, his teeth nipping at your earlobe and he could feel your skin crawling with anticipation.

No more I love yous, either breathed, either whispered, either panted, as he makes a home for himself inside your warmth.

When did he fuck you last? He used to have you every day. You craved it every day. You craved him. Why did he stop telling you he loved you every chance he got? When was the last time you said it?

A week before that fateful night, when you touched him longingly, aching for him to touch you back and he told you he had work to do, he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Why the hell did he say that? Why did he sit there and watch the light fading from your eyes? I love you, you said with a sigh against his temple and walked out of his office defeated. Why did you say that? Did you know? Did you suspect? Why didn’t you fight him? You should have said something, anything, pushed him, punched him in the chest, woken him up. Would he have woken up? Or did he need that to come to his senses? Does he have to fall? Does this falling ever stop? Does he have to let you go? Will you come back to him? Does he deserve you?

Days blurred seamlessly into one another. Joel drifted further and further away from everyone. The house haunted him, all the progress he was making within the therapy walls was dissipating once he stepped inside the cold space of his empty house. Leaving the confines of it was his first thought in the morning, while he hurriedly dressed to go to his office far earlier than necessary and his last when he closed his eyes, as he laid his weary limbs on the couch, chasing still your now long gone scent on its fabric, knowing another sleepless night was his only companion until the first rays of sunlight hit the floor-to-ceiling windows to announce the beginning of another day.

People at work tiptoed around him, not knowing how to act. It was as if he was there, but not really. He was focused solely on the Marks project, mechanically going through board meetings, paperwork and supervising the construction site. He. Just. Wasn’t. There.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

He simply stares at the text message for a good full minute, his thumbs hovering over the screen of his phone. This was one of the rare occasions you had initiated communication with him, always about the progress of the divorce.

No, no, I won’t, the little toddler in him screams, stamping his little feet on the ground.

The papers are not ready.

Joel texts back. He keeps it simple, frightened he might not get an answer back.

Joel, we both know they are. I don’t want any of your assets or your money; this is an easy signature, please.

An easy signature? You think he cares about the houses, or the cars, or the money?

You know I can’t accept that. The house is yours and so is a good part of the money.

The point was to share this house together, Joel, don’t you think us splitting up kind of defeats the purpose? And what on earth makes you think I would ever want to go back in there?

So, there’s nothing I can do to make this easier for you?

Easier? You think money or property can make up for what you’ve done?

Of course not, I wasn’t implying anything like that. Just wanna do something for you, anything.

Can you turn back time?

Of course, he can't. So, he doesn't know what to say to that. He just keeps staring at the screen, lost in thought. After 2 minutes another text follows.

You know I can’t..

Sign the papers. Please.

“Is there anything in particular you want to talk about today, or should I take the lead?”

“Actually I’ve been thinking a lot about that night.”, Joel suggests for the first time. He usually lets the therapist decide where to steer the conversation, then simply refuses to elaborate until he feels ready to talk.

“What about it?”, he shifts his gaze from the window to the direction of her voice.

“I should probably rephrase that. I’m always thinking about that night, repeating it in my head again and again and I’m troubled by something I realized.”

His therapist nods to signal that she's listening.

“Why did she just leave? The more I think about it, the more it doesn’t make sense to me. She just left. No shouting, no breaking things, no attacking either me or-”, her. “Why she didn’t stay? Why she didn’t insist that I leave? She was just- so quiet.”

The therapist smiles in recognition of Joel's near breakthrough. They were beginning to get somewhere, his empathy nudging him under the surface.

“I'm really glad you mentioned that, Joel, so I'd like to take you back to that night and try to understand what might have been going through your wife's mind at that moment," she explains.

“So, she walks into the house, finds her safe space violated by her husband, and she chooses to handle the situation calmly and quietly-” Joel tries to stop her, but she already knows what he's going to ask. “I can't tell you why she chose that path, that's for her to answer, only she knows why.” His therapist continues, “She is making one request of you and one request only, can you tell me what it is?”

“She asked me to leave the house.”

“Hmhm.” the therapist looks at him expectantly.

“I just wanted to talk to her.”, Joel elaborates, “I thought that if I refused to leave, she would accept to listen to me.”

“So you forced your needs on her, while she was in a particularly fragile state of mind.”

“I should have made my intentions clearer, you mean?”

“I mean, that maybe you shouldn’t have had any expectations in the first place. Why do you think was so important to you, to explain yourself right at that moment?”

“Because I knew it was probably the last time I would see her for a while, I just wanted to ease her pain, why is that so wrong? Should I be indifferent? Would that be better?”

“Did it ever occur to you that you might be depriving her of her right to choose?” Come on, Joel, break some eggs.

Joel now begins to make connections. He rubs his hand over his face, the realization of what has really happened crushing him. “Oh, god, I-” He's been so selfish from the start. He hasn't shown you any respect, not even at this delicate moment. He didn't give you a choice as to whether you wanted to listen to him or not. He didn't even let you choose where you wanted to stay. He just made you leave the house. Did he make you believe he wanted you to leave? That he wanted her to stay? Because he didn’t. Fuck. “-I never thought about it like that.”

Fuck.

How could he be so blind? Why was he so blind?

His therapist insisted on it. Because no matter how much progress Joel made over the course of a year, he never revealed the true reason behind his infidelity.

“Joel, we’ve talked about a lot of things; you’ve tried really hard to make this all about your wife and about understanding what she was feeling and how your actions have affected her, but as I keep reminding you”, she smiles understandingly, “you’re the one in therapy, you need to heal your wounds before you even attempt to heal hers. And although it is in fact a really noble thought, this” she gestures between them, “can only work if you do it for yourself. I know it may sound selfish, but I promise you, it is not. It is the exact opposite.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”, his voice hoarse from sleep as he answers the door after the insistent knock at it. Tommy looks at him surprised once he opens it, “You’re sleeping, already?”. No, he wasn’t. He wouldn’t call it that. But when he goes almost a week without any proper rest, passing out is the right word for what he’s doing. “Yeah, I guess I dosed off..” Joel lies. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” Tommy responds as he squeezes himself through the door to enter the house. “Yeah, sure, come on in.”, Joel mutters under his breath. “You just saw me at work this morning, is everything all right?”

“I just came to check on you.” Tommy confesses uncomfortably.

“You could have called.”

“Would you have answered?” Tommy deadpans.

Touché.

“Tell Maria I’m fine, Tommy, no need to worry about me; go spend the night where it counts.”, Joel replies in an attempt to push him away, as he walks farther into the house, rounding the kitchen island.

“Hey, brother, I’m here, I am here for you.” Tommy’s eyes narrow in pain and concern as he stares at his sibling's back, following behind him.

Joel exhales hard through his nose, his grip tight as he grabs the edges of the counter, his head lowering between his shoulder blades.

“You shouldn’t, nobody should.” Joel sighs, rubbing the pads of his fingers across his forehead.

“Ok, that’s enough.” Tommy snaps at him. “Enough self-loathing, enough resignation. Enough. You’ve punished yourself enough.”

Joel laughs at that. “Is that right? Is it enough for you? What about her?” he asks, his head turned to the side, looking at his brother over his shoulder.

“What?” Tommy is genuinely confused.

Joel turns his back, resting his waist on the edge of the counter, now looking straight at Tommy. “I should have what? Just get on with my life? Let it all be water under the bridge? Disrespect her even more?”

“Jesus..” Tommy mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other resting on his hip, his eyes shut in frustration.

“Are you doing this for her? Does she even know that?”

“It doesn’t matter, Tommy!” Joel raises his voice, exasperated. “I’m not doing this for her, I’m not doing anything for her, apparently and that’s the problem.”, his voice breaks, the lump in his throat too big to push down. “She’s not here anymore, Tommy.” he’s standing fully on his feet now, pushing himself away from the counter, leaning slightly forward, like he’s trying to make his brother understand; his eyes are glazed, Tommy had never seen him so devastated before. “She’s gone. I’ve lost her.”, his palms clenched in fists in front of his chest, resisting the urge to wrap them around his shirt and rip it to shreds, as he wants to do with his heart.

“I thought therapy was working..” Tommy whispers, his eyes dropping to the floor beneath him.

“Oh, it’s working, all right!” Joel chuckles in irony, sniffing his nose. “I’m getting a front-row seat, witnessing what a piece of shit I am-”

“Hey!” Tommy tries to cut him off.

“-what on earth was she doing with me to begin with, is beyond me.”

“HEY!” Tommy's eyes bulge out of his sockets, angry at his brother's self-deprecating words. Joel bends his waist forward, puts his elbows on the island in front of him and lets his head sink in again.

“Ok.” Tommy breathes deeply to ground himself, his hands in a position of a prayer in front of his mouth, “Ok, we could both use a drink.” he realizes, as he moves to open the cupboard to grab two tumblers and the whiskey from the shelf with the drinks. “..or five.”

The two brothers drink their first round in silence, both calming their nerves down. Tommy refills their glasses without asking; he knows this is going to be a long night.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Tommy begins, pushing Joel’s drink back towards him. Joel wringles his brows in confusion, “What are you talking about? You’re always there for me.”

“No, I haven’t, not really.” Tommy admits, “I let Maria take over when all this happened and I’m sorry.”

“There was nothing you could do, Tommy, don’t sweat it.”

“Let me say this, please.” Tommy raises his hand, his palm facing his brother. “I was just- fuck, we all knew how much you loved her, how much you loved each other, so when it all went down, I just didn’t know how to deal with it. What to say to you, how to comfort you. I didn't know how to deal with you.”

“You blamed me.” Joel says matter-of-factly.

“No-”, Tommy weakly refuses but Joel shakes his head dismissively, interrupting him. “It’s ok, Tommy, you should.”

Tommy looks embarrassed, his cheeks slightly pinkish, not only from the whiskey. “It’s just that I- I couldn’t reconcile the image of the man you were with her, with.. you know..”, he stutters.

“..the image of a cheater. Say it.” Joel adds.

Tommy shakes his head, like he still can't believe what's happened. “Besides, while she was staying with us those first few weeks I saw how devastated she was, man- she was a shell of a woman, so I was confused, I didn’t know how-”

“Tommy. Tommy, it’s fine.” Joel feels his skin crawl visualizing you like that in his head, cutting his brother off once again; he deserves every ounce of mistrust and he knows it.

“No, it’s not.” Tommy insists. “Yes, you fucked up. Brother, you really did. You did a number on her-”, Joel’s body tenses instantly at his brother’s words, his jaw clenching as his eyes darken, moving down to his hands, his grip on the tumbler tightening, his knuckles turning white and Tommy stops abruptly, “shit, sorry, I didn’t mean-”, his face twitches with regret.

“It’s the truth. That’s exactly what I did.” Joel’s gaze seems detached as if he's somewhere else right now.

“What I meant to say, is that I should have been there for you in spite of what has happened. I can see you're suffering, it's taking its toll on you, it has been for some time now; tell me what I can do. How can I help you?” Tommy seems almost desperate, like he’s the one in need of redemption.

Your text flashes through his mind, can you turn back time?, making him smile bitterly.

“Can you turn back time?” Joel's repeating your question and as the words leave his mouth he can feel your presence next to him. That's the most he felt of you for the last three years. He's almost blissful.

“You know I can't.” Tommy sighs. Joel laughs earnestly, the irony of the moment too good not to appreciate.

“Joel, brother, please, just talk to me. Help me understand. You act like you’re the one who’s been cheated on. So, what happened? Why did you do it?” Tommy is pleading with him to give him anything.

Silence fills the room for much longer than either of them would like. Joel feels torn between telling his brother everything or keeping his mouth shut. He wants to tell him, he hasn’t told a soul, but he’s not sure he can get the words out. He’s not sure he can bear to hear the words coming out of his mouth. He’s not sure he can substantiate it, make it real. Because that’s how it feels. He talks about it and it becomes real.

But maybe this is the right thing to do. That’s what needs to be done. He needs to talk about it. He needs to tell the truth and admit the pain he’s caused. Make it real for you, too. Perhaps it is time for him to give you what is rightfully yours. Acknowledgment.

Joel’s made up his mind. He’s gonna talk to Tommy. He lifts his glass to down his drink for some liquid courage, freezing his hand in mid-air as the next words fall from his brother’s mouth. “First of all, who was it?”

“What?” Joel's eyes search Tommy’s through his glass for an explanation.

“Who did you do?”, Tommy clarifies.

Joel feels like he’s been struck by lightning. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Who did you fuck, Joel?”, Tommy begins to feel confused, are they not on the same page here?

“You don’t know?”, Joel can barely speak now, his voice low in shock.

“No one does, not even Maria; she never told anyone.”

You told nobody? Not even your best friend? Why on earth would you do that? Did you feel ashamed? Was it just too much to talk about?

But his brain takes pity on him, helping him for once to understand. He’s connecting the dots while your voice fills the corners of his mind through his memories. His head is swarming with images of you standing in that walk-in closet, remembering what you said the last time he saw you. You’re the one I married, not her. I expected better from you, Joel, not her.

You were right.

It didn’t matter who it was. That is why. He was the one making the choice. He was the one breaking his promises, breaking your trust, breaking your heart; breaking you. He was the one who should have known better. He was the one who should have been honest. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

He feels a fresh wave of pain scattering through his body. He welcomes it. Damn, he’s craving it. He’s glad you chose to withhold the identity of the woman. Not because somehow it’s making it easier for him to defend himself, on the contrary.

There’s no one else to blame. Nobody. Just him. All of the anger, the resentment, the disappointment, all of them on him. He embraces them all. Everything. He will take it all, swallow it down and let it rot inside of him.

Joel tells Tommy everything. Everything, but her name.

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Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre

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mcuamerica · 1 month

Text

The Shadowsinger: Two

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. loss of family, grieveing, heavy spoilers for ACOTAR series. If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Pairings: (Eventual) Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Rhys offers you the chance to stay in Velaris, you meet the Inner Circle.

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

My graphics are my own. If you wish to use them, please give credit!

Series Masterlist

Prologue - One

Rhysand didn’t bother with introducing you that day. Knowing you needed some time alone before introducing you to his family. Seeing them so happy together wasn’t something you needed. So he ushered you to a free room in the House of Wind. You spent the next week in there, not even having to leave your room as the House had sent food up to you. And the dishes were taken away when you were done.

When you finally decided to leave the room, you made your way to a balcony at the end of the hall. Even though your windows had been open, the light fall breeze soothing you, (and you had your own balcony of your own) you wanted to be outside. Not sequestered in a room anymore. Rhysand didn’t say if you could leave or not. You in no way thought you were a prisoner here, but you didn’t know if he wanted anyone to know about you. You were a Shadowsinger, and one that had killed and spied for Amarantha. From what you knew about the Court of Nightmares, it may be a bad idea to venture out by yourself.

But this wasn’t the Court of Nightmares. Rhys said it was Velaris. He took you to Velaris. And as you looked out from the balcony, you saw what it wasn’t. It wasn’t a city of nightmares. It was a city of dreams.

Your shadows alerted you of his presence before you heard him, too lost in the city that you looked out upon.

“I’m glad you’re out of your room.” He said, hands in his pockets.

You turned around, eyes wide when you saw the strong, large wings towering behind him. “You never said you had wings.” You mentioned.

“I didn’t want them getting ripped off.” He said and you swallowed. If only you had that luxury. These past 50 years would have been easier, you thought, if you could have hidden your wings.

“I knew you were Carynthian… I don’t know why I thought you didn’t have wings.” You said, a light chuckle falling from your lips.

“Because no one but my family and those at Windhaven have seen them.” He said and you nodded.

“Right…” you said and turned back to the view. “This isn’t the Court of Nightmares.” You finally said. "And it certainly isn't the mountain atop Hewn City..." You had seen it before, when Amarantha asked Rhys to show her it again. She had you come along. If you never had to go back there, you would be happy.

“This is the Court of Dreams.” He said and you looked at him as he strolled to your side, a soft smile coming to your lips.

“It’s beautiful.” You said.

“It is…” he said and looked at you. “Are you ready to meet my family?” He asked.

You took a deep breath, nodding your head. “Yeah, I think I am… I think I’m ready to meet the real Rhys, too.” You said and nudged his arm.

Most people feared him. Or hated him. But you knew that there was something more to him than the cold, frightening exterior. Maybe it was because you knew he was protecting this. Or maybe it was because he had never once harmed you while Under the Mountain. But you knew that he wasn’t the typical High Lord of the Night Court that people said he was. He helped you during the past 50 years, and you had a bond that not many people down there came out with. It certainly wasn't a mating bond, but you considered him your brother. Even if he didn't consider you his sister.

You made your way from the balcony to the dining room with him, trailing behind. Your shadows swirled around you, nerves twisting your gut. It shocked you when a couple shadows darted away from you down the stairs into the dining room, without you asking. Then again, you didn't always have the best control of your shadows. Sure, you were a decent spy for Amarantha, but that didn't mean you truly knew how to use them to your advantage.

You remembered what Rhys said while at the Mountain. You were going to meet another Shadowsinger.

You stopped at the last step, listening as your shadows returned. “Safe. It’s safe. Go. Meet him.” They whispered.

Rhys paused and nodded towards the dining room. “They might be a lot, but they won’t hurt you.” He said and you nodded. As if your shadows’ reassurance wasn’t enough.

You took a deep breath as you walked towards the dining room. The glow of the faelight greeted you, and then you stood in front of the Inner Circle. In front of Rhy’s family.

A gorgeous female stood on the right, golden curled hair flowing down her back. An Illyrian male with long, black hair towered beside her. Next to him, was a small female who had glowing silver eyes and a skeptical look on her face. And finally, in the corner, in the shadows, was the other Shadowsinger, another Illyrian male with shorter black hair. But more gorgeous, beautiful than all the others combined. Including Rhys.

“(Y/N), this is my family. My Inner Circle. The Court of Dreams.” He said and smiled. “My third in command and my cousin, Morrigan,” he started and she tsked at him.

“Mor, call me Mor.” she said, a breathtaking smile on her face.

Rhys held back an eye roll as he moved on to the large Illyrian next to her. “Cassian, my brother and the commander of my armies.” The male gave a crooked smile, almost shrinking to make himself less… large. “Amren, my second in command.” He continued, the female narrowing her eyes before giving you a very, very subtle smile. “And my other brother and spymaster… the other Shadowsinger I mentioned, Azriel.”

Your shadows fluttered at his name, swirling around your arms and feet before going towards him. You silently pulled them back, not wanting for them to leave you just yet.

“Hi-“ you said and winced at the timidness of your voice. “Hi,” you said again, this time more firm. “I’m (Y/N)… Vash. But I don’t use my surname often.” You said.

“Vash… isn’t that the name of the prick in Valorworth?” Cassian asked and you went still, your shadows retreating more towards you.

“You- you know my father?” You asked and Cassian shut his mouth from a look from Rhys.

“It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N). We haven’t had any newcomers here in a long time. And none that were females.” Mor chimed in. You glanced over to Amren in response.

“I was here long before her, girl.” Amren said and you felt an unconscious shiver go down your spine.

“It’s nice to meet you all as well.” You said and cleared your through. “I uh… understand if you have questions.”

“Please, Rhys has told us just as much about you as he has about Feyre.” Cassian said and you shifted on my feet, glancing at Rhys. You supposed that made sense. Feyre did save everyone. Freed you to come back here. The tone in which Cassian said Feyre's name, however, seemed like there was more too it than just that.

“I suppose that’s good then,” I said.

“You took care of our brother when he needed it, that’s more than good.” The Shadowsinger, well, the other Shadowsinger, spoke.

As they swirled around you, your shadows gave away the fluster you felt from his words, under his gaze. You didn't know why you reacted that way, but you wouldn't question it.

“Brother?” You managed to ask and looked at Rhys.

“Not by blood, but by bond.” Rhys said and you nodded. “I know the feeling,” you said.

“Mor, though, is actually my cousin. Her father presides over the Court of Nightmares. After her, of course.” He said and smiled at Mor.

You relaxed a bit when Rhys told them to sit, and you tentatively took a seat next to him. You were a bit in shock that he didn’t sit at the head of the table. None of them did. It was set for 6, but had enough chairs for twelve.

You didn’t know where the girl that would tease and laugh with new people went. When you had met Sirona, even though you were hurt, you still brought light into your conversations. Into your life. Now, it was like the shadows that comforted you… devoured you. Like they were your master, not the other way around. It wasn’t so much on the outside, but on the inside. Where there was once a raging fire of happiness and hope, was now dimly lit embers struggling to stay ablaze.

The longer you spent around the Circle, the more you thought maybe one day you could rekindle that fire. Maybe you could be that bright, happy, hopeful female you were back in the village. Before Amarantha. Before you lost your family. You had a tugging feeling in your gut that the other Shadowsinger would help you get there.

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A/N: I hope you all enjoyed! These earlier chapters are shorter, around 1,000 - 1,5000 words. The later ones are about double that. I'm almost done writing the series and I'm very eager to get it out, so I'm going to start posting 3 chapters a week on Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday. Around 3PM CDT (Chicago). Let me know if you have suggestions or questions!

Tagging:

@cherry-cin @cleverzonkwombatsludge @nickishadowsinger139 @atomolvnar @complete-randomness-2 @lilah-asteria @tele86

#acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #the shadowsinger #katie writes #acotar spoilers #azriel x reader

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straykeedz · 7 months

Note

Mkay so I am adoring the virgin readerxSKZ... So might I ask for Binnie or Lixie next? Both are so sweet and caring and I know they'd be so cute and caring as well in their own ways. Love your writing and have been reading your fics every chance I get so thank you for making such quality reading material.

If you need some prompts I think Binnie would let them control everything. He knows he's strong and it can be intimidating sometimes "I want to see you have a good time, jagi".

I know Lixie would be all about focusing on them 1,000% and constant check ins. "You let me know if I can do anything different or better, I want to make you feel good, okay?"

Of course loving praise is a must in my opinion but please take it wherever you like! ❤️

first of all thank you so much for your sweet words, they warmed my heart 🩷. i’m very sorry it took me so long to write this, but with kinktober and uni i really didn’t have enough free time to sit on my desk and work on this…

however, i’m going through a writer’s block at the moment and i have to admit - working on this really helped me.

thank you again, hope you’ll like this one 🩷

changbin x virgin!afab reader

tw: mentions of foreplay; oral (f receiving) and fingering (f receiving); protected piv sex; mentions of blood (nothing too graphic); aftercare; ♡

smut below the cut, minors dni!

you’d definitely plan it beforehand, but it doesn’t make it any less spontaneous or romantic;

he’d be extremely nervous, so scared to do something wrong or to hurt you - he’d just be a nervous wreck, my poor binnie :( ;

it’d probably happen at his place, just hear me out;

he’d have everything planned: a date with you, maybe a romantic dinner at your favorite restaurant or something, a nice walk if you’re up for it and you’re not too tired, and then you’d go back to his place;

and i’m convinced, CONVINCED, he has something prepared in his bedroom;

maybe rose petals on his bed?? or scented candles?? or both, because he’s such a hopeless romantic??;

and he’d try to hide it as much as possible, but poor baby’s practically shaking and his heart is beating so fast in his chest and he genuinely thinks he’s about to pass out;

you’d have to reassure him that everything’s fine and that you want this, and you want it with him;

but he’d still be nervous nonetheless, especially because he’s scared he’s gonna hurt you;

he knows he can be intimidating with his muscles and his buff appearance, but he’s honestly a cutie pie - still, he’d let you take control;

just like chan, he’d ask you a hundred times if you’re ready, if you’re sure, tells you over and over again that it’s okay if you changed your mind and want to wait;

his mind goes blank when you tell him that you want him - no, you need him, and you’ve waited enough;

foreplay foreplay foreplay FOREPLAY!!!;

first he’d eat you out and then he’d stretch you out with his fingers because he knows he’s thick and it can hurt, especially the first time :( ;

and you’ve done foreplay before but NEVER like this;

he devours you and touches you with reverence, getting lost in the pretty sounds that leave your mouth, the soft whimpers that occasionally escape your throat;

“cum for me, jagi, i want to make you feel good. i want you to have a good time with me, jagi.”

kisses kisses kisses;

kisses everywhere - on your inner thighs as you come off your high, on your waist, then the valley of your breasts, your neck, your cheeks and finally on your lips;

and then he’d position himself on the bed, back against the headboard, hands on your waist as you position yourself on top of him;

he feels almost like it’s his first time;

he’s so nervous, eyes flicking between you and his lap, you’re just a few inches away from sitting on his erection, and when he lifts his eyes to look at you, you can see it - how much he’s scared to hurt you;

you’d cup his face in your hands and kiss him on his pouty lips;

“binnie, make love to me”;

and he nearly faints;

with shaky hands, he’d roll the condom onto his length and then he’d place his hands on your hips

he’d want you to take the lead because he’s so scared to hurt you or be too rough :( he wants it to be a great experience for you

his body freezes under yours when he feels you sink on him, his eyes on your face as he takes in every single expression you make;

of course it takes a while for you to take all of him, but once he’s finally fully inside of you, he instantly wraps his strong arms around your waist and lets you rest your head on his shoulder;

praise, praise, praise;

he’d compliment you SO MUCH, telling you how beautiful you are and how good you are to him, how well you’re taking him, how much he loves you :( ;

he’d gently help you move yourself on top of him, slowly, carefully, lifting your hips up and down steadily;

definitely makes you cum with his thumb on your clit!!! he wants you to have the BEST first time and to have a nice memory of it;

“let go for me, jagi. you’re safe, i’m right here, cum for me.” and then he feels you squeeze him even tighter and oh god;

cums right after you, gripping your hips as he empties himself inside the condom;

definitely feels guilty if he sees of blood on the condom and pouts;

100% helps you clean yourself up and wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of you, hugging you whenever he has a chance to, kissing your cheeks, your forehead, your lips

cuddles!!!;

in bed, after you’ve both changed into your pajamas, watching a movie or simply laying there in silence, in each other’s arms;

DEFINITELY the type to caress your cheeks and kiss your lips after you’ve fallen asleep, whispering soft words in your ear as he pulls you closer;

“i love you so much, jagiya… thank you for trusting me”;

it’s really hard for me not to get lost in my own thoughts when i write for changbin 🥲

-> reblog if you like my works; “it’s good for motivation” my man chris bang once said;

-> my inbox is always open for requests and hard thoughts! i already got some requests queued so it’ll take me a while but yeah, just click on the “💌” emoji on my profile and type away your requests/hard thoughts (or just thoughts!)

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chosowarmer · 4 months

Text

Choso x Tailor!Reader [18+]

transgender!man choso [non-op] ; transgender!male reader ; semi-public sex ; nipple play ; eating out ; fingering ; 3.7k wc

After getting lost in the boutique, Choso is a bit relieved when you come and introduce yourself as a guide of sorts for the place. After helping him pick out clothes and complimenting him, he can't help but wonder what the odd feeling in his chest was and why he wanted to meet you again so bad.

A/N: took a break from a nanami fic to write about choso !! i love him so bad

“Agh…. Yuji…”

Choso watched as Yuji waddled off with his friends, leaving his older brother behind. He had never been to this boutique before and it was pretty vast. Every aisle looked the same to him, and it felt impossible to navigate.

Still holding the shopping basket Yuji had handed him, Choso turned his attention back to the line of hung clothes in front of him. Maybe he could try to keep looking himself and by the time he was done, his little brother would be back to help him out.

With a huff, he sifted through the garments, thinking of which ones may be a good fit for him. Although, most of what he found didn’t appeal to him at all, and the ones that did weren’t even a proper size for him.

After pulling out another shirt with a weird graphic on it, he clicks his tongue, clearly annoyed. With his little brother still not back yet he takes to wandering the aisles, hoping to find his way out. Every sign seemed to only direct him towards another clothing section for him to explore which was mildly nice to pick out things he liked, he would’ve much preferred to be out of here already. After walking past the shoes department for what felt like the third time in a row and growing more frustrated, he jumped in surprise at hearing a sudden voice behind him.

“Hi there, sir, is there anything I can help you with today?”

You had been watching him walking back and forth, muttering something under his breath like he was lost or something. Most other days, you’d leave customers like that alone unless they came to bother you directly, but you were having a good day today and he was pretty cute; might as well get a chance away from folding clothes to talk to an attractive guy.

He eyed you wearily, holding the clothes in his arms closer to him. You tilted your head, a polite smile still on your face but now slightly confused from this guy’s silence. Maybe you should’ve kept to folding and putting clothes away and let him stay lost.

You’re ready to excuse yourself when he finally says something.

“Who are you?”

Ah? That’s what had him so quiet? You bite your tongue, still keeping to your polite mannerisms lest your boss reprimand you. You wave a hand in front of your name tag that sat right above the boutique’s logo in plain sight.

“Oh, I’m so sorry about that, sir, I should’ve introduced myself first,” Even if it was obvious you worked there, “I’m Y/n, I'm the tailor's apprentice here. I couldn’t help but notice you walking around, and thought to stop and ask if you needed any assistance.”

He squints at you, the mark across his face slightly creasing. It’d be more endearing if this conversation were going the way you had wanted it to.

“You were watching me?”

Okay, yeah, now you were really regretting not minding your own business.

“No, no, sir, I’m sorry if it seemed like that! As an employee here, I’m just trained to spot any lost customers and guide them. You are lost, aren’t you?”

Thankfully for you, this seems to alleviate some of the concerns he had about you as he nods, scratching his neck.

“Oh.. yeah. I think I am, I was trying to find the way out of here, but…”

He trails off, looking away, but you get what he means. The regular customers know their way around here, but for any newcomers, it’s pretty confusing. You haven’t seen anyone like him before, and it’s not like your co-workers have mentioned a guy like him coming in here. You flash a smile.

“Of course, sir, follow me.”

As he walks alongside you, you remember the clothes he’s holding in his arms. You weren’t sure if he had bought those yet, considering he was still lost all the way here, but it would be pretty ugly to assume he didn’t if he actually did…

“Oh, and did you need a bag for those, by the way, sir?”

You nod towards the garments in his hand, which makes him frown.

“Ah… mm… No, I should put these back.”

“Oh! Did you change your mind?”

He nods, giving a frustrated huff, “My brother was helping me look for new clothes, ‘n after he left, I tried to pick out new ones too, but I don’t think I like any of them.”

You should just walk him to the exit and send him on his way. Especially after the earlier awkward conversation. But…

You glance back at him; he was still pretty cute, and whatever hostility he had earlier seems to have gone away or at least faded. If you went about it right, maybe you could get his number out of this…

“Oh, well, if you’d like, I’d love to assist you in picking out new clothes, if you’re still interested in shopping here.”

He blinks before thinking it over, muttering to himself, “I do need some new clothes.”

“Hm?”

“Oh, I’d… find that helpful, thank you.”

“Of course.”

.♡.

“You think it’s nice?”

Having exited from the small dressing room, Choso examined himself in the mirror before turning to you for your opinion, seeing as you were an expert in clothing to him.

You had already helped him pick out some casual clothing to wear; a few plain shirts that hugged his torso, lightweight bottoms that shaped his legs. He really was a handsome man, you realize while fitting him; if you were a proper tailor, you would’ve loved to have him as a model.

He was pretty compliant with most of the clothes you chose for him, though for whatever reason, he continually doubted if he looked as good as you told him he did. You click your tongue walking up behind him, as you pat out wrinkles. You had him in a fine two-piece vest suit, similarly colored to the gi he had shown up in earlier.

“Absolutely,” you hold up an arm of his as you straighten out the fabric, “If you don’t mind me speaking plainly, I think you’re a fine man, I don’t see why you should doubt that, sir.”

“...Oh.. Really?”

You glance at his face in the mirror, noticing the pink tent on his cheeks. You smirk faintly, it was always so cute to watch the guys you dress crumple at your words. Typically, you weren’t that interested in them, but this guy…

“Positively. Your body alone is quite handsome, if I may. Strong shoulders, a muscular build, powerful arms, even your hands, may I?” You had taken the time to lightly hold each part of his figure to emphasize your point and now took his hand in your gloved ones as you carefully knead over the calloused palm. It wasn’t too rough like a laborer’s would be, but they did look as if they had seen their share of rugged work. Maybe he was a sorcerer?

“Though to be perfectly honest, I’m no professional tailor or anything, just an apprentice, so my word may not hold much in terms of proficiency,” you move to adjust his hair, letting it relax as you undo his ponytails, noting how his eyes blink away to avoid yours, “But I do hope you take my words as fact when I say, you are one beautiful man.”

You flash a formal grin at him in the mirror, fixing his collar before taking a step back from him. He let his arms fall back down to his sides, as he fiddles with the cuffs. The blush on his face and ears almost rivaled the eye shadow around his eyes, contrasting the aloof expression he usually sported.

“I see, thanks.”

You smile, patting his shoulder as you gesture for him to change back to his original clothes while you gather the new ones he plans on buying.

“It was lovely helping you today, sir, why don’t you change then I’ll help you upfront?”

.♡.

After you sent him off with his purchases, you honestly weren’t expecting to see him again, or at least, not the very next day.

Although, he wasn’t alone, being accompanied by a younger teen pointing at you.

“That’s who you wanted to see, Choso? That guy hanging clothes?”

“Mm, thank you, brother.”

“Yeah, well, I’m gonna be at the store next over, so you can meet me there when you’re done here.” The younger teen waves to you, before heading off and out the door. A sly smile grows on your face as the man from yesterday makes his way up to you, noticing he was wearing one of the casual shirts you had picked out for him.

Setting down the hanger in your hands, you give him your full attention, “It’s nice to see you again, sir. Is everything alright?”

He nods, his eyes on your hands before moving back up to you, “I was hoping to find some new clothes today.”

“Oh? You weren’t happy with yesterday’s purchase?” you tilt your head, a hidden smile in your voice.

“No, I was! I just… mm..” He pauses, trying to think of how to explain this. You decide to give him a break, smiling warmly at him as you pat his shoulder and gesture to the dressing room.

“I think I understand what you’re trying to say, sir. How about you head on over to the fitting room and I’ll be right with you, hm?”

A light red tint brushes his ears as he nods weakly before moving; you turn on your heel, already certain what you’d pick out.

.♡.

“It really is a pleasure to see you again - move your leg here - especially so soon.”

You had picked out a silky dress pants and shirt for him; a modest number of petite jewels adorning the legs and collar, laced sleeves, and an open chest window. It was a personal project you had been working on yourself with the extra fabric you’d get around the store, and it wasn’t nearly finished but it was satisfying to have someone model besides yourself.

On one knee, you knelt by his leg, carefully tailoring the pant leg to fit him. You hummed to yourself, pretending to not notice the choked gasps that left him every time you let a hold his leg or run your fingers along the fabric.

“As I’ve already said, this is just a pet project of mine, you won’t be buying it, but if you’re enjoying it, maybe I will see you again?” You glance up at him with a smile, playfully ignorant of your hand resting on his thigh just right below his groin.

Choso can’t even breathe as his eyes meet yours. He wasn’t exactly sure of what he wanted from you when he came back, he just knew he wanted to meet the charming tailor’s apprentice again. The words he spoke, the way his hands had glided across the cursed spirit’s body so gracefully; it made Choso’s head spin, feelings he had never felt before surfacing in his chest.

He imagined the many different ways the day would play out as he touched himself the night before. Letting his hand slowly float down his happy trail to his pussy, trying to replicate your mannerisms, but to no avail. Your refined voice playing in his head like an orgasmic melody, as his breath grew heavier and heavier, kneading his sensitive dick. Finally letting a finger slip in, curling up as he tries to take it as painstakingly slow as you probably would. But none of it is like you, he knows, even after getting himself to cum on his fingers, he still ached for your touch on his skin again.

He just had to see that enchanting man again.

But now that he was actually here again, with you touching him like this, speaking so softly, it was like you put a spell on him. He gulped, remembering you had asked him something, though not at all remembering what it specifically was.

“Choso-san?”

You tilt your head, trying to hold back a laugh though, letting a chuckle escape as you stifle it with your hand. While the dazed expression on his tinted face was endearing, you did actually want to hear him speak.

Rising to your feet, you gently tap his cheek, garnering a surprised “Ah!” out of him as he realizes how quiet he’s been.

“Sorry, what did you ask?”

“Oh, you forgot already?”

You hum, sounding like music in Choso’s ears, as you let your gloved hand slide down to his neck before resting on his exposed chest. You meet his eyes with a smirk.

“Do you need a reminder, sir?”

.♡.

You weren’t preparing for this exact scenario, but nonetheless, you were more than overjoyed for it to be the case. You silently thanked yourself for choosing to tailor him in the more prestigious dressing room the store had to offer, considering it was not only bigger but had a small table for laying down clothes, fabric, and other things.

Like cute, two-ponytailed guys.

Choso bit his knuckle, trying to stifle his heavy panting as you traced a finger along his Adam’s apple, feeling his pulse quicken with your touch. You lean down, pulling him in for a kiss, as you let your other hand rest just above his chest.

“Is this okay?” You inquire, pulling away from his neck, eliciting a whine from him as he nods up at you, guiding your hand onto his breast.

“Y/n…!”

With a soft smile, you indulge him, massaging and squeezing while still layering pecks and kisses along his collarbone. He moans in your ear, grabbing hold of your shirt when you let a thumb run over his nipple.

“I’m sure you’ve never had service like this before, hm? Never had someone kiss you like this, touch your chest like this?”

Choso shakes his head, grip tightening with a mewl as you move your head lower, biting his soft tissue before licking over the mark. You continue this seemingly endless loop of biting and licking over and over, before finally giving some attention to his hard nipples. Letting your tongue lap over the sensitive buds has Choso a mess. Tears prick in his eyes, as he moans your name, trying to squeeze his thighs together. You don’t let him, though, as you hold his legs open with your other hand, watching him whine pitifully as he rolled his hips from your touch.

“Aht, aht. I don’t see why you should be rushing, aren’t you enjoying this pace?” A smirk evident in your voice, and it drives Choso crazy. You were so charismatic but so infuriating with how lightly you touched him and how leisurely you went about with him. He rolled his hips again, both out of need and in hopes you’d finally touch him. Instead, you tut your tongue, strengthening your hold on his thigh.

“So impatient... Why don’t you go ahead and tell me exactly what it is you want?”

It feels like his brain’s been reduced to mush as you run your tongue over his nipple again, another whine leaving his lips. He could easily press his thighs together if he wanted, but the way you held his legs open and controlled his movements had his head spinning as he bit his lip. He couldn’t think straight at all as you tapped his thigh to bring him down to Earth.

Right, you asked him a question. A question he didn’t even remember hearing if he was honest. He moaned again, rocking his hips.

“Haah… Please… y/n…♡”

You let your hand slide down his thigh to the zipper on his crotch, pulling it down as you exposed his pussy to the air.

You bite your lip, feeling blood rise to your cheeks. “No underwear?” you murmur to yourself. Did he take it off after changing? Or maybe he didn’t wear any at all today? Was he hoping you’d fuck him? Just excited? Fuck, and he was already so wet, just look at him. All for you.

You jolt a bit as Choso pulls on your shirt, moaning your name in the lewdest tone, trying to get you closer to him, to touch him. You pull him in for a kiss, your hand behind his head as you keep him close, desperate to deepen it. Choso groans, returning the kiss as he parts his lips for you, wrapping his strong legs around you now that you were closer.

Inviting your tongue into his mouth, you trail your hand down his chest to his needy cunt, letting your thumb rub over the head of his stubby cock. He closes his eyes, moaning into the kiss as his legs press tighter around you. As his dick grows wetter in your hand, you pull from the kiss with a gasp before moving down to replace your hand with your mouth.

“Y- Ah! ❤︎ Puh-please, pleeease! Haah… hah♡!!”

He grinds on your face as you suck slowly, so frustratingly slow. He fucks himself senseless, with this being more than he could’ve imagined even if you were teasing him. His breathing grows heavier as you begin to suck faster and harder on his cock, increasing your pace with every lewd whine that leaves him. His hand grips the back of your head when you give his dick one last suck, seeing stars as he comes right into your mouth.

It was better than anything he could’ve imagined last night, you were taking such good care of him right now, all he could do was blubber his words, begging for more. The way you touched him, and spoke to him, it was like he was drunk off of you alone. You found it adorable; if only the two of you were at your studio, you would’ve loved to fuck him senseless with your strap, seeing him dazed out of his mind like this. No matter, there was always next time, but for now…

Not giving him a chance to recuperate, you move back up his body to suck on his sensitive nipple as you let a gloved hand slide over his wet cunt. He brings his knuckle back to his mouth to smother his lewd whines, but you pull it away with a tsk.

“Haah…haah.. I want to hear you… don’t even think of hiding that gorgeous voice.”

The tint on his face deepens as he nods, his cock twitching at your words. His noisy whines fill the dressing room as you return to sucking on his nipple, slipping a finger into his needy cunt. You curl your finger up, slowly fingering him as you feel for something. You smirk when Choso screams, throwing his head back as his thighs tremble around you, having found that sensitive bud.

He’s a babbling mess as he begs for you to add another finger to him, move faster, touch him there gain, anything! You oblige happily, curling another gloved finger into him as he soaks the fabric through. His eyes roll to the back of his head as you increase your pace, plunging your fingers in and out of him, nothing but the sound of squelching and his mewling in the room.

“Mm.. haah..! CUH-close, so hah… close…♡!”

His thighs tremble pathetically as he gasps when you remove your fingers from his pussy, ready to beg for them back before almost crying out in pleasure as you thrust your tongue deep into his cunt.

You drink him in, lapping up his sensitive cock before diving your tongue between his folds. His sensitive walls press around you as fuck him crazy with your mouth. As he presses your face deeper between his increasingly shaky legs, you know he’s close as you toy with his cock with your hand.

“Oh! ♡ Mm- Muh.. ah…!! ♡ Haah… M’ gonna…. y/n…! I… HAAH..♡♡.. AH ❤︎!!”

The stimulation is all too much for the poor spirit as he cums hard, his legs locking to keep you there as you continue to tongue-fuck him through his orgasm, eliciting more lewd whines and moans out of him from the overstimulation. Finally, his twitching legs relax as he pants, tears at the corners of his eyes. You pull yourself from his pussy, kissing his thighs. He moans softly as you run your hand over the hickeys on his breasts, kissing each one gently as you hold him. He sighs pleasurably as you peck each one, enjoying the feeling of your soft lips on his chest once again.

When you pull away, he’s still panting trying to catch his breath a bit as you kiss his cheek. You smile down at him, pulling off your stained glove as you speak, “And how do you feel, sir?”

He feels heat rise to the tips of his ears, suddenly feeling shy as he comes down from his high, “Good.. I.. It was exactly what I was wanting..”

“Oh?” You take your bare hand to cup his face, “Exactly what you wanted, you say? So I can guess you’re satisfied then?”

He’s blushing, he can feel it. He glances down at his decorated body, how you absolutely ravished him, how your fingers alone had him coming. But he also catches sight of the wet patch on your pants and gulps, feeling his cock twitch.

“I want that again. But I want to make you feel good, too.”

You raise an eyebrow; that was a first, usually the guys you played around with always left you high and dry, leaving without much of a thank you or anything. You tilt your head, smiling teasingly.

“Well, usually I like to be wined and dined before getting ate out, but I suppose if you insist…”

“I can do that! Where do you want to go?”

You almost laugh in surprise; you were only teasing, yet he was so serious about taking you out. It was… touching. And cute. So he wasn’t only just attractive, he was thoughtful too. You were going to love him.

You press a kiss onto his lips before pulling away before it got out of hand, “How about you go change, and I’ll have an answer when you’re out?”

He nods, heading for the small changing door, before stopping and turning to you, a light tint on his that accented his cute mark, “You can just say Choso. You don’t have to call me sir.”

The smile on your face beams, “Alright, Choso.”

#m! reader #male reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #choso smut #choso x reader #choso x male reader

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roses-for-rosalyn · 1 year

Text

The Old Church Parking Lot

Look, I had an idea for a fic and all the sudden it was 4:00 am. I promise one day I'll write a fic where reader isn't a goddamn pillow princess, but today is not that day. Enjoy my darlings.

word count: 3k

minors dni pretty please 🔞

content warnings: Dealer! Ellie, innocent reader, friends to lovers, drug use 🍃, kissing, teasing, oral (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), reader being a pillow princess

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“You’re joking.” Ellie raises her eyebrows at you like she actually expects you to take it back. “You have been on this earth for 19 years and you haven’t smoked weed?” You shake your head. “Ever?” You can’t help but laugh, her stunned expression doesn’t leave her face. She won’t take her eyes off you despite the fact that she’s literally driving.

“Eyes on the fucking road Els Jesus.” She nods and hesitantly turns back to look at the street. “I just never had the chance I guess.” You shrug your shoulders. “Grew up in a small town, not many friends. We mostly just got drunk. It was easier, and less illegal.” You have no idea why this information shocks Ellie to her core, but there’s something else there, an excitement maybe?

“We’re gonna fix that. Tonight. I’ll pick you up after work.” She was definitely excited and extremely eager. She pulls into your driveway and puts the car in park.

“Oh yeah? And where are you gonna get it from, not exactly like there’s a store we can stop at.”

Ellie looks straight ahead and tales a beat before she answers “I kind of…deal the stuff.” She still won’t look at you. “It’s a side gig type thing, helps me stay afloat.” You can’t say you're shocked. You haven’t known Ellie long, she was one of those friends that you kind of just started spending a shit ton of time with out of nowhere. She was still new to you even though it felt like you’d known her your whole life, you were still learning about each other slowly.

“Ok that’s…incredibly convenient, but where do we go?” You were both home from college for the summer, hence living with your parents. Ellie turns to face you, she brings her hand up to her mouth and starts biting her nail in concentration. It was an incredibly cute little habit, you could see her brain working to find a solution.

“We’ll sit in the old church parking lot, I can drive us home after.”

“Works for me.” You shrug. “See you later I guess.” You smile at Ellie and she has this devilish smirk on her face like she knows something you don’t.

“God I can’t wait.” Her voice was breathy and low, something you hadn’t heard before, but it was incredibly…attractive. You go to open the car door and step out onto your driveway.

“See ya.”

“Bye.” You shut the door and head inside, having no idea what you have just agreed to.

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You have tried on your entire closet at this point. You usually weren’t like this with Ellie, normally you couldn’t care less what you looked like, but something felt different between you two lately. The type of different where you felt like you needed to look good when you saw her. You’re not gonna dwell on it though, that would just make everything worse.

You finally settle on just an old, cropped graphic tee and jeans. It’s something you wore all the time, unfortunately your whole wardrobe was strewn about your floor, so this was the best option.

Jesus why were you nervous? Probably because you were about to do drugs for the first time. Definitely no other reason.

You pass the time by doing your makeup. It always helps you relax, makes you feel good inside and out. Before you knew it Ellie was texting you she was on her way. She pulls into the driveway, her headlights lighting up your living room. You begin the trek out your front door to her car. It feels like it takes forever, you go through each motion as if you're moving through water. You finally get to her small car and open the passenger door.

“Hey princess.” Ellie is smiling ear to ear, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen her this elated.

“Hey.” You can’t help but laugh at her exaggerated expression.

“You ready? You excited?” She’s still smiling, she looks fucking adorable, it’s ridiculous.

“Definitely not as excited as you clearly are.” You can’t help but be a little nervous trying something new, but you were trying it with someone you trusted.

“We’re gonna have fun. Promise.” With that she turns up the music and pulls out of your driveway.

On the way to the parking lot you and Ellie belt out 90s hits at the top of your lungs. The windows are down, the wind blowing on your face and through your hair. It almost completely gets rid of any nerves you had. You look over at Ellie, watching her exaggerated expressions and hand movements. She acts out the words in the song like she’s performing. You can’t help but smile at her ridiculousness.

You pull into the parking lot and Ellie turns the radio down. Her arm reaches over your lap to the glove box. Her arm faintly brushes your thighs as she opens it. She pulls out a little baggie with what you would assume are blunts in it.

“These are pre-rolls. Normally you would have someone else test them out first. This shit could easily be laced with fentanyl, which can kill you. You don’t know where it comes from, you never touch it first.” She looks at you with a serious expression on her face. “Got it?” You nod vigorously, she is obviously in her element here, trying to teach you everything she knows to keep you safe. “Words princess, that’s the most important thing I’ll teach you tonight.”

“Yup, got it.” Why is this so incredibly hot? The way she wants to make sure you’re safe, she’s acting like a stern teacher and it's severely throwing you off.

She smiles and then continues “But, since you’re getting it from me, and I know where this has been and where it’s from, we’re safe.” You smile and nod, appreciating the reassurance. She takes the preroll from the baggie and grabs a lighter from the console.

“So you’ve never smoked anything before?” You shake your head “Ok so I’m gonna light this end,” She taps the tapered end of the roll, “You’re going to put your lips around it like a straw and inhale once to get it into your mouth, and then a second time to get it to your lungs.”

“That made absolutely zero sense to me.” Ellie laughs, shaking her head.

“You want me to go first, so you can watch?” Oh god yes.

“Yeah, that might make it easier.” Ellie nods and brings the preroll to her lips. She lights it with her green gas station lighter and you watch her inhale as she puts the lighter back down. She exhales a cloud of smoke towards you and you are immediately turned on. Why did she have to make exhaling seductive?

“Your turn.” She hands you the roll and you take it between two fingers. You bring it to your lips like Ellie said. Inhale once, twice. Fuck.

You immediately feel the smoke tickle your lungs and throat. You cough out the smoke rather than elegantly exhaling as Ellie did. God, it fucking burns.

“Try to breathe through your nose babe, here I brought a water bottle for ya.” You immediately grab the water bottle, trading Ellie for the blunt, you eagerly gulp it down. The water sort of soothes the burn, your violent coughing turning into heavy breathing.

“You didn’t warn me I’d have a fucking asthma attack.” You cough again while Ellie giggles at your pain.

“I forgot. But I knew you wouldn’t die, plus the surprise on your face was kind of funny.” She takes another hit and passes it back to you. You try again, but a smaller breath this time. It doesn’t burn as much this time.

“I also forgot to mention, like how this shit makes you feel. It’s different for everyone really.” You pass the preroll back to Ellie. “Mostly it just makes you relax, but some people get talkative, some get sleepy, and most people get incredibly hungry.” She pauses like she’s thinking of saying something but is holding back.

“What?” Ellie shakers her head.

“Nothing… I didn’t even know if I wanted to bring it up, but like it also can make everything feel incredibly good.”

“What do you mean?” This seems like it’s going in a direction you and Ellie have never really gone before. Ellie would talk about her sexual ventures with other women on occasion, but you never really discussed anything in detail about yourselves. It’s not like you would have much to add with the sex stories anyways, you just listened to Ellie and nodded. You definitely did not have the experience she had.

“Like it makes people touching you feel 100 times better.” She sighs and laughs “It basically makes most people horny.” She looks at you with a kind of sheepish look. You wouldn’t expect someone with as much experience as her being shy talking about this stuff. Was she… Blushing? It was hard to tell in the dark, you could have definitely imagined it.

You start to feel a smile tug at your lips and a warmth slowly floods your body. “I think...it’s hitting.” You giggle at literally nothing, which makes Ellie giggle. “Feels really good.” You breathe out. You caress your own arm, testing Ellie’s knowledge. “Woah.”

“What?” Ellie’s smiling at you, she decided she likes how you act high. It’s probably one of the more adorable things she’s ever seen.

“Touching does feel weird.” You continue to caress your own arm, you can feel the warmth of your own hands grazing across the small hairs of your forearm and it tickles.

“It’s usually other people touching you that feels weird, but whatever works for you over there.” You look at her and back at your arm.

“You touch me then.” You reach your arm out, eagerly inviting Ellie to come closer.

“I can’t.” She looks down, taking the last hit from the blunt. She won’t meet your eyes.

“Why?”

“If I start touching you I can’t guarantee I can stop.” She stops herself abruptly like the sentence was forced out of her. She puts out the blunt before finally looking up at you, her confession lingering in the air between you. She’s searching your eyes for any disgust or rejection. She finds none.

“I wouldn’t mind.” Ellie just looks at you, eyes wide with disbelief. You’re suddenly aware of how desperately your body is craving her touch. Your entire body ignites with a type of electricity, it courses through you causing your skin to become tingly.

Using your sudden desperation as a sort of courage you climb over to straddle Ellie’s lap. You hold onto her shoulders to steady yourself and Ellie backs the seat as far away from the steering wheel as she can. She keeps looking at you with those wide eyes. She moves her hands to cup your face gently, like she’s convinced you'll disappear. She keeps searching your eyes, looking for any hint of hesitation and all she finds is pure hunger.

She kisses you, her lips are so soft and warm you immediately relax. You move your hands from her shoulders and thread them into her hair and she kisses you harder. She uses her tongue to open up your mouth and you groan at the sensation. She moves her hands down under the hem of your shirt. She grabs your breasts and starts roughly massaging the soft skin. She pulls down one of the cups of your bra and starts teasing your nipple. She pinches it between her fingers and you moan into her mouth at the feeling. She stops the kiss to pull your shirt over your head and immediately continues as she throws your shirt into the passenger's seat. She moves her mouth down and encloses it around your nipple, you gasp at the feeling of her warm tongue sucking and circling your sensitive bud. The ache between your legs has become more noticeable, it’s demanding attention. You start grinding a bit on Ellies lap. The seam of your jeans is barely teasing your clit through your underwear. It was heavenly, but not enough.

Ellie is trying to devour you. She moves her mouth from your breasts to your neck. Exploring with gentle kisses until she finds just the right spot. She nips and sucks until you're squirming on her lap uncontrollably.

“Back seat.” She breathes out. You nod vigorously and climb off her lap and awkwardly maneuver your way to the back seat. You lean up against the car door while Ellie adjusts her seat again to make room. It gives you a moment to breathe before she moves to straddle your waist and continues where she left off. She kisses between your breasts down your stomach, gently making a trail down your body with her lips. She’s so gentle and slow, the feeling of her soft lips on your body is driving you insane.

She gets to the hem of your jeans and unbuttons them. This is where you start to realize you’re entering uncharted territory. You’re trying not to panic, but suddenly a breathy “Ellie,” Escapes from your swollen lips. She immediately pauses and looks up at you. She sees the slight nervousness in your expression and immediately understands.

“No one’s ever-” You don’t even know how to finish that sentence without embarrassing yourself.

“I know,” Her face softens “We’ll go nice and slow, tell me when I need to stop okay?”

“Okay.” You nod and Ellie continues unbuttoning your jeans. Nervous butterflies invade your stomach, despite your altered state. Ellie pulls the jeans off and throws them on the floor. She then takes off her flannel leaving her in a black tank top. Her biceps and veins are enhanced by the moonlight, You can see her muscles flex and move as she does. She moves down kissing along the hem of your panties before placing a kiss on your clit. The sight of her head between your thighs is enough to push the ache in your cunt to an unbearable level. She teases you over the fabric, rubbing her fingers up and down your slit slowly. She brushes her finger over your clit repeatedly and a desperate whine escapes from your mouth.

“I know princess, just a little longer.” Ellie is savoring you like you’re the last thing she’ll ever see. She places light kisses on your inner thighs as she continues to tease you.

Finally she moves your panties to the side. She runs a finger from your entrance to your clit collecting the wetness that pooled between your legs. You can’t help but whimper, your clit feels ten times more sensitive than usual. Every time Ellie is near it the feeling reverberates through your entire body. She blows out a breath on your cunt and the feeling is heavenly.

“Doing ok, pretty girl?” She looks up from between your legs and you have to resist squeezing them together at the sound of her voice. It was low and raspy, and every word sounded like honey.

“Yes.” You nod, your eyes squeeze shut in frustration.

“Look at me.” Her voice was lower, demanding. “I’m gonna make you feel good, I promise.” And with that she lowers her mouth onto your bare cunt. She laps at your clit lightly, she moves her tongue in circles around it, continuing her teasing. She licks from your entrance up to your sensitive bud and begins sucking on it. Your hips immediately buck up towards Ellie’s mouth at the foreign feeling. You are moaning loudly and uncontrollably, you had no idea anything could ever feel this way. It’s almost too much.

Ellie moves her finger to circle your wet hole, once you relax a little she starts to slowly push her finger into you. She makes sure to be slow and careful.

“Ellie.” You whine out once curls her finger and hits just the right spot inside you. She continues sucking on your clit and slowly curling her finger inside of you.

“God you're so tight, you gotta relax for me princess.” You try to focus on relaxing around her finger, once you do Ellie adds a second finger. Your cunt swallows it greedily and you whimper at the pressure of two of her slender fingers inside of you. She sucks at your clit even harder and you gasp out “Ellie please ‘s too much.”

Ellie pauses for a moment “I know baby, you just have to breathe for me. Here, hold onto me.” She places one of your hands on her arm which is wrapped around your thigh. You do what she says and relax under her. You try to let your body melt into her. “That’s it, you’re doing so well for me.”

She starts sucking lightly on your clit again. You impulsively use your other had to grab at her hair at the feeling. The pleasure in your stomach is starting to come to a high point, you’ve never felt this before. It was all consuming. Ellie is making little groaning sounds which vibrate through your body. You can feel her start fucking you harder, her fingers hitting that spongey spot inside of you at every thrust. Your back starts to arch while the pressure in your belly grows. Nothing has ever felt like this, it's building to a point so intense you almost start to worry.

“Els, what-” You barely get your question out before blinding pleasure takes over your body. You moan out Ellie's name loudly over and over as she continues to fuck you. It moves in waves, crashing through you causing you to buck your hip into Ellie's mouth and fingers over and over. You whimper and whine each time her fingers move in and out of you. She fucks you through the whole thing until you start squirming away.

She pulls her fingers out of you and sucks them clean. You stare in disbelief, you didn’t even know someone could do that. Your arousal was covering her lips and chin, glistening. She crawls on top of you to kiss you and you can taste yourself on her tongue. If your limbs weren’t jelly that alone would be enough to make you want to do all of that again.

“I am so glad you chose to get high with me, you have no idea.” Ellie’s smile is contagious. It has just registered you’ve never seen it like this, laying below her, it felt right.

“Yea let’s do that again sometime soon.” You both laugh a little. Ellie lays her head on your chest and sighs.

“Very soon.”

#ellie x reader #ellie tlou #ellie williams #the last of us #the last of us 2 #the last of us ellie #modern au #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #dealer!ellie #dealer!ellie smut

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honeesucker · 7 months

Text

Seven -

Pairing: ProHero!DynaMight | Katsuki Bakugo x Puppygirl!Reader

Word count: 6,645

Series Content Warnings: Little bit of a slow start... Graphic Depictions of Past Abuse & Trauma Response | Profuse Usage of Pet Names / All-around Softness | Bakugo Experienced Work-Related Trauma (causing near deafness, being put on leave from the agency, PTSD) | Eventual smut™ (will be tagged in individual chapters - to include but not limited to KiriBaku, HybridxHybrid, Hybrid heat trope, sex toy usage).

Chapter Content Warnings: Bakugo x reader sex, gentle dirty talk / reassurance, aftercare and softness, mental spiral / more reassurance.

*Not proofread.

Previous | Next

“Okay Pup, you have me...” Bakugo muttered softly, a bit nervous as to what he’s just gotten himself into.

Bakugo swallowed hard, his whole body on edge as he acquiesces to your pleading. He vowed during the whole process of getting you home that he would do anything and everything in his power to make sure you were cared for, and if caring for you in your moment of need meant giving you his cock then by All Might he was gonna fuckin’ do it.

“Tell me what you need, Pup, use your words...” Bakugo murmured in a soft, alluring baritone that rumbled through your body and sent shivers up and down your spine.

“N-Need... need...” you stuttered over your words a bit, your mind hazy from your panic and from the boiling desire churning in your body.

“C’mon Pup, it’s okay to ask for whatever you need, okay? Use your words...” Bakugo urges you on gently.

“Need to feel full here...” you press your hand down to your pelvis, just above your mound. “W-Wanna feel you here... f-feel... safe with you... need you.” You keep uttering little half-thoughts, mumbling through them as you try to find the right words to express the hazy hurricane of primal feelings and emotions raging inside of you.

“What happened with TetsuTetsu, Pup?” Bakugo took a chance on asking, since you two were sharing a soft moment together – he saw you chew on your lower lip nervously.

“Reminded me of the bad house... t-the... the way they would let the others use me... f-felt unsafe, only thought of you... didn’t want TetsuTetsu even though I said it was okay...” you replied sheepishly, a blush on your cheeks from the embarrassment of having changed your mind in the moment.

“Pup, we can’t control what triggers our bad memories and it’s okay to change our minds... even in the middle of something okay? So, if you really want to do this with me, I need you to understand it’s okay to change your mind and stop, okay?” Bakugo murmured in such a stern, but soft tone that it made you melt against him, just the tip of your tail tapping as you nodded up at him.

“Okay,” you looked up into his eyes, you could see his nervousness, feel the chemical change in his body as it mixed with his own arousal... your nose sniffing all over him as you pressed your face into his chest. “You too,” you finally muttered softly, “you can change your mind and stop.” Bakugo froze against you, taken back by your thoughtfulness for him, too, and he just patted your head.

“Gotta admit m’a little nervous Pup, but I want to help you in any way... and it’s just my luck you’re such a cutie, too, huh?” He joked a little, and you smiled up at him as your tail thumped happily against the ground in a rhythmic beat. Your nuzzling of his chest turned into a flurry of sniffs as his hormones changed the more you pressed against him, and soon you were licking any little pieces of exposed skin. His neck, his bicep, the little bit of his stomach where his shirt rode up... and soon enough you found yourself pressing your nose against the crotch of his joggers, pressing down as you felt the soft but firm length of his cock beneath, a musky and intoxicating scent wafting off of him in waves now as you licked his pants over his crotch.

“Wanna taste,” you said softly, and Bakugo froze for a moment before he shifted his hips, his thumbs hooked beneath the waistband of his joggers as he slid them off himself, and having not worn underwear you were face to face with his thick length. It was large even without being fully hard, a pinkish shade of tan just like his skin, with a bulging vein running along the side and underside, leading up to a fat tip that was red and glistening with precum. You couldn’t help the way you licked your lips, between your ability to smell his arousal and seeing the way his body was ready, it drove you into overdrive as you leaned forward and licked a long stripe up the underside of his cock, and swirled around the tip to gather up the salty pre, your tail thumping rapidly behind you as Bakugo carded his fingers gently through your hair, giving a gentle but encouraging tug each time you lapped at his cock.

“Pup, have you ever done this before?” Bakugo groaned softly, a gentle tug on your hair to stop your incessant slurping at his oversensitive cock.

“Licked? Yeah I’ve done it lots of times,” you smiled brightly, unaware of his true meaning.

“N-No Pup, not licking... uh... sucking a cock, like humans do.” He groaned again, unable to hold you back as you continued to lick at the tip of his cock each time a pearly bead of precum dribbled out of the weeping tip.

“Oh... uhm, no.” You answered simply, pulling back enough just to see Bakugo with a furious red blush flushed from his neck to the tips of his ears.

“M’gonna guide you through it Pup, you wanna try?” Bakugo asked, curious to see how quickly you’d pick it up.

“Okay!” You sat up, kneeling before him as your tail swished behind you happily, ready to be instructed.

“What you were doing was good, Pup, real good...” Bakugo breathed softly as he relished in the memory of your tongue. “But sometimes it feels good to take it a little further, ready?”

You nodded, eager and waiting.

Bakugo smiled as he stood up above you from his position on the floor, with a little leaning up you were at perfect eye level with his cock. “Open up, Pup...” Bakugo said softly as he watched you open your mouth as if waiting for a treat, your tongue lolling out and your eyes looking so pretty as you waited excitedly for his next move. Bakugo slipped his cockhead onto your tongue, pushing forward as he thrusted slowly along the wet muscle until he was pushing more and more of himself into the waiting depths of your mouth. “No biting, okay Pup? Biting doesn’t always feel good when doing this...” Bakugo warned gently and you nodded once as your mouth widened around his cock as he thrust inside, your tongue running along the underside of his throbbing cock as it wriggled the more of him filled your mouth. “Good job, Pup, s-so good...” He moaned softly as he pushed the rest of him to the back of your throat without so much as a moment of resistance until little choked sounds filled his ears, your body lurching a bit with each gag. Bakugo pulled back to give you a moment to breathe again as he pushed in again, watching as little rivulets of drool slipped from the corners of your mouth as you kept your pretty, watery eyes up on him, a few stray tears slipping from the corner of your eyes at this new sensation that left you breathless.

Soon enough in time with Bakugo’s slow, careful thrusts you began to move on your own, enjoying the groans that left his mouth as you slurped and sucked on him with equal fervor... Bakugo’s moaning coming in time with each quick snap of his hips until he gripped the back of your hair, pulling you off of him with a sloppy pop! as he slowly caught his breath, bringing himself down as he receded from the edge of climax.

“F-Fuck, Pup... get on the bed.” Bakugo growled out gently, and with a shudder down your spine you complied, scrambling to get on top of the bed as Bakugo came up between your legs, sticky, sweet slick coating your thighs and pussy as your need only grew. Soon enough his head was dipping down to trail soft kisses on the inside of each of your thighs, his tongue lapping up the sweet nectar that coated your thighs until he reached the apex of your thighs. His tongue flat against your pussy as he licked up all the excess and you writhed above him, your hands coming down to push the back of his head further against you... until Bakugo pulled away. “Tsk, tsk Pup... don’t be greedy... I'll make you feel good, okay?” You just whimpered and nodded, your hands still on his head but no longer pressing on him. Bakugo continued his slow ministrations, his large fingers coming up to spread apart your labia as she delved in, his tongue slipping between your slippery folds before entering your pussy, tongue-fucking you as your hips pushed back, his nose pressing into your needy clit as you tried to gyrate your hips for more friction.

Bakugo licked another long stripe up your pussy as he clamped his lips down over your clit, starting to suck in a rhythmic motion that had you screaming out, arching up off the bed as he alternated between sucking and licking your clit until you were holding his head down, and your hips were bucking up to meet his tongue as you creamed all over him, a groan leaving Bakugo as he lapped up your juices. “What a good girl, Pup... my good girl.” He purred softly as he slowly pulled himself up the bed to lay down next to you, who was still left quivering and heated.

“W-Want... more...” you uttered quietly with a whimper.

“More?” Bakugo questioned with a knowing look. “My greedy little Pup wants more, huh? You wanna come bounce on my cock Pup?” Bakugo offered with a smirk, but it fell into a mask of surprise when you nodded, crawling over his body until your dripping pussy was poised over his weeping cockhead. “Go slow, Pup, slow...” Bakugo helped to guide you down onto him, the burning stretch scratching an itch deep within you as your walls stretched to accommodate him until your hips were flush with his as you bottomed out on him. Bakugo got a cruel smile on his face as he teased you by rolling his hips up into yours, causing you to fall forward on his chest with a cry... he continued to thrust his cock up into you as you babbled and moaned, your tongue lolling out of your mouth as a fucked-out look crossed your face.

“Y-Yes yes... breed, breed....” you were mumbling incoherent sentences, but the words Bakugo could make out made his cock twitch deep in your pussy as he continued to pound into you relentlessly.

“F-Fuck okay Pup, get ready to be bred then... gonna flood your pussy!” Bakugo groaned out as his hips stuttered after a series of hard, skin-slapping thrusts. He soon clamped his large hands down on the plush of your hips as he bucked up into you one more time, his cock jumping as he flooded your pussy, hot sticky cum spraying against your cervix as rope after rope of release filled you up... you panted, laying down on his chest as the fiery ache inside of you soon quelled with your own blinding climax, your instincts calming down after getting what you truly needed... what you truly desired... to be claimed.

Bakugo slowly pulled his softening cock from your pussy with a groan, your whimper a sweet treat for his ears as she coos softly at you. “Shh, Pup, it’s okay... gonna clean you up, okay?” Bakugo mutters softly as he feels his cum and yours dribble out of your pussy and onto his lower stomach... You were left panting and sleepy, your hormones dying down as your heat subsided... your eyes closing slowly as Bakugo came back with a warm, wet cloth... running it between your legs, and another softly over your limbs until you were clean and cozy against him... he threw the cloths in the dirty clothes hamper and snuggled up with you in bed, stroking your back softly as he hummed a gentle tune to you. “What a good girl, Pup... my good girl...” he muttered softly, holding you for as long as you needed. You sleepily nosed against his neck, your tiny fangs gripping onto his skin as you nibbled the delicate skin. Bakugo continued to rub your back until your movements stopped, and you fell asleep against him, tucked beneath his arm into his side, falling asleep peacefully.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

A few hours had passed as you two fell asleep snuggled up against each other, your eyes trailing up to Bakugo’s sleeping face as you admired how soft he looked when he wasn’t all scowls and hard lines. Suddenly as you were memorizing the soft features of his sleeping face a carmine eye peeked open to look down at you. “Pup?”

You jumped, hiding in the crook of his arm, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment at being caught staring, as you nuzzled up against his side.

“Hey now,” Bakugo murmurs with sleep in his voice. “How you feelin’ Pup, doing okay?” Bakugo asked, jostling you a bit as he made you stare up at him.

“F-Feel good... t-thank you for helping me...” you say softly as your cheeks burn with a soft blush. Bakugo places the back of his hand against your forehead as she grunts softly, nodding and apparently satisfied with your current temperature, not running as hot as your heat had you yesterday though a simmering desire still laid beneath your skin. Bakugo moved until you were laying on his chest, your head on his soft pecs and your legs straight between his as he essentially draped your body over him like a throw blanket. He pets your head, scratching softly between your ears, carding his fingers softly through your hair, and down your neck and back, and bringing them back up again to your scalp... he was surprised by a sudden noise.

A soft little rumble in your chest, almost like a purring cat as you nuzzled against him, a contented look on your face, your eyes closed in comfort as you melted against him. You both fell asleep for a couple more hours until the midday sun was pouring in high through the curtains, warming your faces.

“C’mon, Pup... gotta get up and eat something,” Bakugo muttered, gently shaking your shoulder before cupping your cheek and patting it, too, to ensure you wake up. “Up, up.”

Bakugo pulled your floppy, sleepy body up with him... your whiny little groans sending a flutter of butterflies in his stomach as he smiled down at you, an arch in his brow as he watched the little tantrum you threw being forced to wake up. He held you under one of his arms as he walked into the bathroom, setting you down on the cool tile countertop, palming away the sleep from your eyes as he washed his face, brushed his teeth; he also took a washcloth to your face gently, brushed your teeth for you and had to spit in the sink... and then he got dressed in new clothes for the day – almost like a casual uniform for him: a pair of black joggers and a tight black compression shirt clinging tightly to his taut muscled body.

He cradled you in his arms again after he picked you up from the bathroom counter, heading into your bedroom as he set you down on your bed, looking through your closet for something clean to wear. “Wha’dya wanna wear today Pup?” Bakugo asked casually.

Your soft voice came from your bed, mumbled and sleepy. “Something soft and comfy.”

“Soft and comfy, got it.” Bakugo mused softly to himself, humming as he rummaged through your closet. He settled on a baggy long-sleeved shirt and some soft joggers that matched his – he noticed you seemed to be more comfortable with clothes that allowed you more room... he helped you up, your body still naked from your previous night’s ordeal... he slipped the shirt over your arms, and helped you into your joggers... given your size difference it almost mimicked a father dressing his daughter in similar clothes – it made him chuckle to himself as you flopped back onto the bed. “Wow, it really took it out of you, huh Pup?” Bakugo mumbled, sitting down on your bed to pet behind your ears gently.

“Feel heavy,” you answered curling up on his lap as you sighed softly.

"S'probably just fatigue after your body was flushed with hormones, Pup, gonna be okay, yeah?" Bakugo mumbled against your hair as he kissed you softly. You just nodded as you kept your eyes shut, falling back asleep in his arms as he napped above you, his large body curled around you in your bed as you two shared another soft, sleepy moment.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

A couple more hours had passed where you two slept, until Bakugo woke. He was careful when getting up, ensuring not to move you too much as he tucked you in, standing up from your bed and tangle of limbs as he slipped quietly from your bedroom closing the door with a soft click behind him.

He wasn't upset with the lazy day, though he often found comfort in his day to day routine of getting up, coffee, food; cleaning and pacing, scrolling through his phone while the TV plays comfortingly in the background; shower, dinner, cleanup and then sleep.

It was a comforting routine that helped to keep his mind off the fact the ringing in his ears was still sounding out louder than any other noise; the white noise of the world around him faded, the voices of people a mere murmur in a sea of the ear-splitting shrill sirens in his head. His fingers still played an invisible piano against surfaces; his knee, the counter, the air, his palm... his heart a hammering beat of anxiety that waxed and waned for no apparent reason. Today seemed to be one of the better days - the ringing in his ears was a quiet hum, and the anxiety that usually surged and grappled in his chest was a soft squeezing compared to the usual tidal wave of panic... and Bakugo had you to thank for that. Taking care of you gave him a purpose, something else to focus on beside doing everything to not focus on himself. He slowly picked up on some chores he had ignored the last week - dishes, wiping down surfaces, and just picking up the new general mess that cluttered the apartment - he didn't mind though, it showed how lived-in his normally minimalistic space was... and that made his heart swell with an untouchable feeling, something like love... but more.

A few more hours had passed with Bakugo completing some routine paperwork on his laptop, glasses on the bridge of his nose as he focused on the words on his screen when he heard the soft sound of your door opening, and the gentle padding of your socked feet across the floor as he looked up to see your sleepy, smiling face approaching. Bakugo leaned back from his computer, his legs spread open as he held his arms out to you which you took as an invitation to climb up into his lap, his strong arms wrapped around you. "Hey there, sleepyhead... you feelin' better now?" Bakugo murmured as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

You nodded slowly, "had a strange dream, but feel lots better now."

"Strange dream, wanna talk about it, Pup?" Bakugo asked, leaning back to look down at you. You just shrugged and shook your head.

"I can't remember much of it, it was about the bad house... but normally when I have those dreams I wake up scared." You paused slightly, "I wasn't scared this time."

"Well that's good isn't it Pup?" Bakugo smiled down at you, a twinkle of something in his eyes. "I usually wake up scared, too... but I haven't since you came home with me."

"We're helping each other feel safe." You murmured softly with a yawn as Bakugo placed a hand on your head, ruffling your hair.

"Yeah, Pup," Bakugo said softly. "We're helping each other feel safe."

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Another two weeks have passed uneventfully, with you and Bakugo falling into your own routines mixed consisting of lounging and relaxing, playing, Bakugo's light duty at-home Pro Hero work, and chores. Today was a relaxing day with you curled up on the ground in front of the couch watching some cooking competition show, and Bakugo wrapping up some reports, dealing with his publicist, and sorting through the hordes of emails he gets, when one in particular caught his attention.

Musutafu City Court Clerk’s Office <[email protected]> To: Bakugo, Katsuki <[email protected]> Friday, Dec 11 at 11:29 AM To Whom it may Concern: As per current Musutafu City Reporting Law AB-1903.1-.3 I am informing the current listed owner of government hybrid asset X-3371390 henceforth listed as "Puppy" that the release of [NAME REDACTED], the defendant in case Musutafu City vs. [NAME REDACTED] regarding the underground hybrid fighting ring where asset "Puppy" was rescued is pending a probationary hearing for early release as laid out in the original case. Per the Musutafu City Reporting Law AB-1903.1-.3 this notice is being sent 30 days prior to the probationary hearing to give the victims involved time to file an appeal and/or appear at the probationary hearing to appeal the defendant's consideration of release. You may call the City Court Clerk's office at [X-XXX-XXX-XXXX] between the hours of 8:00 A.M. to 5:00 P.M. for further inquiry and information regarding the necessary next steps in this procedure. Thank you, Jin Watari Musutafu City Court Clerk

Bakugo sat in a cold sweat, staring at his laptop screen in abject horror. The piece of shit that held you captive, among other hybrids, and used you as bait in a fighting ring had a probationary hearing for good behavior? Bakugo let out a snort, an indignant, derisive noise as he glared at his laptop, shutting it with a harsh force that made you jump and look up at him with a questioning look, your ears flopping back as you tilted your head up and back at him.

"You smell upset," you say simply with a frown on your face.

"I-I... I am a bit upset, but it's nothing that can't be dealt with Pup..." Bakugo sighed, running a hand roughly down his face. "I gotta call Red, you gonna be good here on your own for a bit?"

You nod with a smile, turning your attention back to the cooking competition show as your fluffy tail swished back and forth lazily with each exciting twist or suspenseful moment in the show. Bakugo smiled down at you and walked into his office, pulling his cell out of his pocket and pressing send call on the familiar contact, it didn't take longer than two rings for Kirishima to pick up.

"Yo, Bakugo, what's happening?" Kirishima's cheerful baritone rang out on the other end of the phone. Bakugo gripped the phone tightly as he sucked in a slow, shaky breath.

"Eijiro, I need your help with something," Bakugo uttered in a controlled tone. "I, uh... got an email from the City Court Clerk's office, something about an appeal, and a probationary hearing for good behavior for the scum that had Pup before she was rescued... I... I don't know what to do." Bakugo

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the call before Kirishima's soft voice came out. "Give me a sec to drop TetsuTetsu off with my neighbor, I'll be over in ten."

The call hung up, but Bakugo wasn't offended, he appreciated Kirishima's urgency with this because the sooner he gathered as much information about what was happening, the sooner they could act. At the end of the day, though, he knew an appeal or an appearance at the hearing meant you have to come face to face with the piece of shit that caused your pain, your trauma... the reason you woke up scared, crying and thrashing in bed. Luckily your night terrors have calmed down since you came home with Bakugo, but he also knew healing wasn't linear and you could backslide at any moment if something triggered you.

It was on the eleventh minute exactly that Bakugo could hear the familiar beep at his front door as Kirishima punched in the keycode numbers and entered. "Yo, Bakugo I'm here!" He greeted into the apartment, and soon both Bakugo and Kirishima heard the soft padding of socked feet before you came skidding into view around Bakugo and ran toward the entryway.

"Red!" You chirped happily as you jumped up into his arms, with Kirishima snuggling you back in a one-armed hold, hoisting you up on his hip like a mother with a toddler.

"Hey there, Puppy-Puppy!" Kirishima grinned his sharp tooth smile, wide and inviting as he beamed down at you. "Missed ya, little one."

"Missed you too! Feels like it's been forever..." you deflated a little and he laughed, ruffling your hair.

"Yeah, sorry Puppy life has been a little busy lately. I'll come over for a movie night sometime soon, yeah? Now where's the grump?" Kirishima set you down on the ground as you ran back to the living room, hearing the commercials end as your cooking show came back on, your ears and tails perked up in excitement.

"Right here, ya big red idiot." Bakugo grumbled from around the corner leading into the kitchen, a familiar blur of blonde hair and sharp crimson eyes leaning past the threshold to glare up at Kirishima. "And I'm not grumpy." He snapped and Kirishima just laughed, walking toward where Bakugo stood, accepting the beer from a tanned outstretched hand with a cheeky grin and a bump into the blonde's shoulder.

"Sure you aren't, buddy," Kirishima quipped playfully. "Now what about this email, can you show me?" He asked softly, his voice dropping a few octaves as he peeked back to see you busy with the excitement of your show.

Bakugo and Kirishima walked to the living room where you were fixated upon the TV, both large men sitting down on the couch as Bakugo leaned forward to snap his laptop up from the coffee table. He opened it, the screen illuminating back onto the email page Bakugo had slammed his laptop shut on as Kirishima took the laptop, eyes scanning the words over and over carefully, a slight frown forming on his face.

"I'm familiar with this law, a few of the hybrids I've volunteered with had to go to the probationary hearings to give their side of things, along with an appeal letter to the Judge it usually helps keep the abuser in for their full sentence," Kirishima muttered softly, only for Bakugo to hear. "I'd say it's worth a shot talking with Puppy about it, get a feel for how she feels about this."

Bakugo sighed and nodded, looking down at the happy, relaxed sight of you looking up at the TV with rapt attention. "Hey, Pup... c'mere for a minute yeah?" Bakugo uttered softly.

You stood up, bouncing over with jubilant steps as you seated yourself in his lap, looking up at him with a curious tilt of your head, your ears flopping over to one side cutely. "Yeah?"

"Red and I have something to talk to you about," he paused, "and it isn't an easy thing... are you okay with talking about something uncomfortable right now?"

You took a moment to think, muttering 'uncomfortable?' under your breath before you looked between the men and nodded. "Y-Yeah, sure... okay."

"So Puppy," Kirishima started, "there's a law in place to protect victims of bad situations, to keep them informed when something happens regarding their original case, and the people involved." Kirishima didn't quite know how to continue, Bakugo interjected with his blunt, stern tone.

"Pup, that piece of garbage from... the bad house..." he paused for a second, feeling sparks popping off in his clenched hands, trying to keep his uncontrollable reaction from singing your clothes or you. "I was sent an email today from the city court clerk's office that he is getting a probationary hearing in a month to possibly be let out early for good behavior," he growled out with a roll of his eyes, Kirishima took over.

"You, as someone involved in the case regarding him, can write an appeal letter and appear at the hearing to let the Judge hear your side, Puppy, and it can help keep him in jail for his full sentence, do you understand?" He looked to you for confirmation, but all he saw was wide, terrified eyes and a pallid tone overtaking your skin like you were gonna be sick.

"I-I... H-He... he's g-getting out?" You stuttered softly, one hand gripping onto Bakugo's thigh tightly, fisted in his joggers.

"Not exactly, it's a probationary hearing..." Kirishima continued as Bakugo calmed himself down and held you for comfort, his large arms protective around your body. "So that means even if you didn't appeal or show up, the Judge could still decide he isn't fit for early release, but when people do appeal, or show up and provide a statement... well, the Judge usually takes that into consideration more - and given how severe his crime was, Puppy, I'd say it has a good chance of working. You have a lot of power against him..." Kirishima trailed off, finding it hard to look into your terrified eyes and not feel sympathy. No amount of therapy, healing rehabilitation and medication could ever take away the memories burned into your mind, the trauma your body remembers like a poltergeist, spring-loaded and ready to shatter everything.

"I... have power over him?" You whispered softly, as Bakugo's grip on you tightened.

Kirishima nodded. "Yes, Puppy," he said with a stern certainty in his tone. "Your truth, your presence at his hearing, you giving a statement... they are all blows to his credibility, no amount of good behavior can make up for all the bad he did - and it's good to remind those in charge, like the Judge, of that... I'd say it would help a lot in keeping him in for his full prison sentence." Kirishima reached out to touch your cheek, his hand cupping your face as his thumb gently traced the apple of your cheek.

"Only if you want to, Pup," Bakugo uttered finally, his voice tight and low. "We can write an appeal letter, we can show up at the hearing, or not... only if you want to, no one is here to force you - and there's no guarantee it would work, either." Bakugo sighed, taking in a long breath, "Red is right, it can help to remind them of all the bad he did, but there's always the possibility of it not working out, too... so you need to consider all the options and make a decision Pup, because this is your decision - I can't make it for you." Bakugo's leg was bouncing anxiously, and your body along with it as you leaned in and nosed at his neck. You pressed your nose against his pulse point, inhaling the anxious pheromones there and keeping pressure on it until his leg slowly calmed down, and his arms loosened a bit around you, though he still held you tight.

"I... I would like to go to the hearing, a-and make an appeal." You finally said after moments of long, pregnant silence. Your words caused both men to exhale, two sets of eyes on you as you looked down at your fidgeting hands in your lap. "I... If I can do anything good, it would be keeping him locked up away from other people... s-so no one else has to go through what I did."

"Okay, Pup, we'll do whatever you want." Bakugo muttered softly, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to your temple.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

A month isn't so long at all but is equally an eternity when you're waiting for time to pass with bated breath. You had worked with Bakugo and Kirishima both on writing your appeal letter, detailing the horrific things that happened to you while appealing to the better nature of the overseeing Judge deciding the fate of everyone at the hearing - deciding the fate of you. Kirishima, with his extensive experience with the probationary hearings he's dealt with during his time volunteering at the facility, was able to help prepare you for the best and worst case scenario; best case the Judge takes your appeal into consideration and keeps that scumbag in for the full term of his prison sentence... worst case is he's still released on his recent good behavior, and perceived rehabilitation and he is set free early.

Kirishima suggested you start seeing Hana again, at least bi-weekly to prepare you for the difficulty of this inevitability. You've already had one session where you talked about the repercussions of seeing him in person again, being strong enough to read your appeal in front of a Judge and others, and your next sessions will be discussing the implications of his possible release and what that could mean for your mental wellbeing, and physical safety. Hana already discussed the necessary actions during the proceedings with Bakugo to get a formal restraining order against him should he be released.

After a long wait that passed in the blink of an eye, you were standing hand in hand with Kirishima, and Bakugo at your back, pressing his body gently against you like a shield. "You sure about this, Pup?" He asked softly and you nodded after a long pause.

"Y-Yes, m'sure." You took a deep breath in, your heart hammering in your chest as you squeezed Kirishima's hand. "I... I think I need to do this." You whispered softly under your breath, almost inaudible but Kirishima caught it, squeezing your hand back reassuringly.

"C'mon, Puppy, we'll be right there with you, but the hearing is about to start." Kirishima urged softly, pulling you along as he stepped forward through the double-doors. The room was bright and clean, with rows of seating, two long tables up front, and a scaled-down Judge's chair... it appeared like a courtroom only compact. It sort of put you at ease, noticing his seat was empty... Bakugo and Kirishima leading you to the prosecution's side where they sat on either side of you, your body tucked between the large men, dwarfed by their muscular statures.

You felt safe.

Soon enough a myriad of people started filing into the small room, lawyers, the Judge and soon the door opened, and you didn't have to turn around to know who it was. You could feel his eyes on the back of your head, your hair standing on end as a shiver ran down your spine. Kirishima resting a large hand on your thigh as your body started trembling. Bakugo had to keep his fists tight, as he recognized your reaction and heard the door open, sparks popping off in his palms.

You knew.

He knew.

He had to keep his quirk controlled, but he wanted to blast this scumbag so far down into the earth his body would burn and melt at the core. But Bakugo recognized you needed him calm, more than you needed him to be angry for you.

The familiar scent that was burned into your senses for so long passed by in a soft breeze of air. Your nose burning at the musky familiarity as you huffed softly, a low little growl rumbling in your chest as you finally found the strength to look up. There he was, the man of your nightmares - he was thinner, though still looked leanly muscled enough to take you down if he chose to. His regular black slicked-back hair was trimmed and cropped close to his head, but his eyes... those eyes that used to stare deep into yours as the most heinous things happen, they were still the same cold, grey hues. You jumped in your seat when the corner of his lip quirked up just a centimeter... Bakugo didn't miss it either, and he nearly jumped up out of his seat to pummel the bastard.

The room was quieted down at the Judge entered, and everyone took their seats and got settled. It all happened in a blur; prosecution lawyers going over previous testimony as reasons why he should not be released, his lawyer stating his sparkling prison record, aced hybrid sensitivity courses, good behavior, and in-prison volunteer work. They made him out to be a saint and not a man who drugged hybrids to keep them in constant rut to ensure bloodier fights, to use tiny hybrids as bait in those fights and further abuse that was almost unspeakable, even in a courtroom. It was your turn to stand on shaky legs holding a neatly typed letter with trembling hands... up in front of a room full of strangers... strangers, except three people. Two who loved you, one who looked at you like the dirt beneath his fingernails, indifferent, disgusted... but there was something more in his smile. Something that made you tremble despite all the counselling you had received for this very day.

The next hour flew by in a blur of tears, a haze of emotion and one dizzying spiral of fear.

You read your appeal letter.

The Judge consulted with all the information presented today.

The Judge released the prisoner from his sentence, agreeing to supervised probation for the remainder of his full prison term.

He was free.

They let him go free.

Your vision blurred as you slumped against Kirishima, Bakugo crowding closer to keep you shielded from those cold grey eyes now glimmering with mirth.

You couldn't hear anyone around you, couldn't speak, couldn't move... could only hear again and again the Judge stating that the defendant was rehabilitated to sufficient standards that his release would only prove how well the prison system rehabilitated criminals, instead of further criminalizing them.

He was released as a PR statement on the prison system.

Bile surged in your stomach and crawled its way up your throat. You swallowed it down.

Tears blurred in your eyes; you palmed them away.

The courtroom cleared.

The silence descended on the three bodies remaining in the room.

Bakugo muttering threats under his breath as he gripped your thigh in a manner meant to be reassuring. Kirishima had an arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you close, whispering that this didn't change anything, you guys planned for this possibility - you were still safe, still loved, still different from the day he last knew you.

You weren't that weak hybrid anymore.

Weren't you?

Bakugo and Kirishima took you back to Bakugo's apartment, Bakugo racing to get on the phone with Hana to start the process of getting a restraining order filed, Kirishima led you to the couch and put on your favorite cooking competition show but your eyes remained fixed on the ground.

You felt like the same weak hybrid they found chained up in that tiny cage that day.

Nothing changed, you were the same. Over and over a cruel voice repeated in your head as anxiety surged in your body.

You felt weak, defeated.

A swirl of conflicting emotions took over like a hurricane inside of you until...

... until Bakugo came and sat down beside you, a strong arm drawing you in as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple, and uttered the simplest phrase that normally wouldn't get a reaction out of you, but when Bakugo said it, you believed it with your whole body.

"Everything is gonna be okay, Pup."

@winnieslut @ryantryan6969 @natsukicookies @littlnika @im-better-than-your-newborn @ssc7514 @romiinlove @theequeenofcurses @xbieditz @hypernovaxx @craxy-person @archer-fb @sadgyaltings @kllrkitty @meiimeiichuu @noxva08 @livyyz @misscaller06 @kiwibao @ewwitsbella @mrsyixingunicorn10 @simplesoup

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writeforfandoms · 1 year

Text

The Hanging Tree

Find my CoD masterlist

You've known Johnny for years, and for a long time you thought all the codes and prep you two went through was just to assuage his paranoia. Until he sends you a code and you have to get out fast.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader

Warnings: Graphic violence, mild panic attack, minor character death, blood, gunshots, threats of violence, threats of death, spy shit, angst, whump, feral Soap.

Word count: 5.1k

In all the years you'd known Johnny, you had gotten to know how he worked quite well. He was occasionally prone to over exaggerating, and sometimes was dramatic. But he had never been flippant about your safety. Never.

Which was why, when you got a text from him that said simply "hanging tree", you stopped breathing.

And then you bolted for your room.

For all his planning and paranoia, Johnny had never actually used any of your safety codes until now.

You stuffed some clothes and necessities in a bag, grabbing the bundle of cash you kept hidden. For Johnny to have used this sign was… bad. Bad enough that you knew you couldn't use any of your credit cards or anything.

Briefly, you cursed yourself for not taking him up on his offer of packing you a bug-out bag.

But you were still out the door in under twenty minutes, locking up behind you and starting to walk.

You and Johnny had gone over the route before, multiple times. A few times on foot, more often only verbally, until you could recite the way unaided.

You treated your memory now, reciting the directions to keep yourself calm as you left your home behind. For all you knew, you would never see it again.

A deep breath helped to calm you, a bit, and you took the first turn.

It wasn't late, fortunately, so you passed people as you walked. You smiled and nodded to those you knew, but didn't linger. It was best to move quick, but not so fast as to attract attention. You could practically hear Johnny reminding you of that.

You paid for a ticket in cash to your first stop, three towns over. From there, you'd go west a ways, then back north a bit. It was a roundabout route, but necessary.

Just in case anyone was trying to follow you.

The sun had set by the time you got onto the second bus, your breath fogging up the window ever so slightly as you leaned your temple against the cool glass. You almost felt like crying, or asking him if he was sure, or anything.

But his instructions had been very clear.

"If you ever get this signal from me, you leave. Immediately. Don't linger. You remember the route?"

You had rolled your eyes. "Of course I remember, Johnny. Do we need to go over it again?"

He'd laughed quietly, pressing an almost apologetic kiss to your forehead. "Nah, sorry, hen. I know you know. I just–"

"Fuss. You just fuss." But your smile was unmistakably fond as you gazed at him.

"Dinnae fuss," he grumbled. "Anyway. You get that signal, don't contact me. Right? This is important."

"Get out as fast as possible, follow the route, watch my six, don't contact you," you reiterated, almost flippant. Almost. "I know, Johnny. Is there… is there a reason you're doing this now?"

"No," he assured you. "No, just makin' sure, I promise you."

You had smiled then and let him distract you with kisses.

You breathed out hard, blinking back tears. No. You didn't have time for that. Safety first, then crying. Maybe.

The transition to the third bus was a long one - the busses didn't run as frequently this late. So you got to sit in the terminal and wait, backpack on your lap, playing on your phone (on airplane mode) to keep yourself busy.

Fortunately, from the looks you chanced around, you didn't recognize anyone. It didn't look like you'd been followed. That was something of a relief.

Finally, you boarded the last bus. Setting your backpack down on the floor in front of you, you stared down at your phone. The urge to text Johnny, to call him, to ask if he was alright and demand to know what was going on, was… it was hard. Your next inhale was a little shaky and you swallowed hard.

And stuffed your phone back in your pocket.

Johnny had been very clear, and the instructions were for your safety as well as his.

You couldn't contact him. You just had to get to safety and wait.

The last bus stopped, and you got off. It was the middle of the night now. The sky was clear and cold, stars twinkling down at you, the moon bright. You started walking, shivering a little, keeping a close eye on everything around you.

But nobody else got off the bus, and nobody followed you.

From here, it was a long walk to the cabin. Johnny insisted on that, said that a secluded place would be safer. In case he needed to patch himself up without nosey neighbors calling him in, or he needed to lay low.

The end result was that you were walking for a lot longer than you really wanted to. The chill wore off after a while, at least.

Nearly-numb fingers fumbled the cabin key out of your backpack, and you unlocked the door, flipping the lights on. The cabin was cozy, not large but well furnished, and always stocked with non-perishables. The door shut behind you with a soft click, and you locked it.

There was only one bedroom, and you claimed it as yours. Since Johnny had sent you all the way out here, he could take the couch if he got in while you were sleeping. You left your backpack next to the bed, stripped down enough to be comfortable, and collapsed.

The room was bright when you woke, and you groaned. For a moment you thought about pulling the pillow over your head and going back to sleep, but no. You needed to get up.

Groaning again, you dressed in clean clothes from your backpack and padded into the kitchen on bare feet. No sign of Johnny yet. No anybody at all, actually.

Sighing, you went through your options for breakfast, and settled on a protein bar. Not exciting, but it would do. At least he had tea here.

The day passed achingly slowly. Johnny had left plenty of books and board games in the cabin, even a TV and DVD player. But nothing held your attention for long, not with the low-level anxiety as your constant companion. You barely even felt hungry, picking through the available food with a choosiness entirely unlike you.

Not even a hot shower helped to quell the anxiety. Every minute without an update felt like an eternity stuck in purgatory.

The second day dragged just as slowly as the first. You left the TV on all day, playing movies without paying attention to them, just for the background noise. Just to have something outside your own head.

Because the possibilities running non-stop through your mind were terrifying, now.

You forced yourself to eat and keep hydrated. You cleaned. (You'd helped choose the cleaning products, you remembered a playful argument with Johnny over rags of all things, remembered whapping him in the chest with your chosen towel, remembered shrieking laughter as he chased you outside and tackled you down into the grass–)

One book caught your eye. One you'd thought you had lost years ago. Johnny had sworn up and down that he had no idea where it was.

Fucking liar. Your laugh cracked into a sob, and you pressed a hand to your mouth, suddenly terrified of making too much noise. But the tears didn't stop for a long time.

The third day felt a little… listless. Surely Johnny should have come by now, or sent one of his friends? Surely it wouldn't be so bad to turn your phone back on and check for any messages?

A knock on the door a couple hours before sunset startled you so badly you knocked over your water. You swore softly, gaze darting to the door.

Someone called your name from the other side of the door. Not Johnny. Someone with an English accent, smoother than you would have guessed of one of his teammates.

"Soap sent me," he called through the door. "I'm going to take you to him."

You dropped a towel silently on the spilled water, aching to open the door. But you didn't know any of his teammates, not really, and you couldn't confirm one way or the other. You needed something more.

"Ah, he said he'd get you ice cream?" The man sounded confused now, but still pleasant.

And you relaxed. That was the all clear. You practically bounded to the front door, yanking it open.

"Finally," you breathed, looking him over. Dark, nondescript clothes, dark hair, dark eyes. "Is he here?"

"Close," he answered, a little evasively. "I'm taking you to him."

"Let me just grab my–"

"Leave it."

You jerked a little, startled at his tone. He smiled apologetically.

"You'll be back here soon. Might as well leave it. We need to go now."

You hesitated. Something didn't feel right. But you'd been anxious for days - maybe that was still throwing you off? Or the lack of good sleep? He'd given you the all clear, it should be fine…

"Okay," you agreed softly, grabbing your shoes and shoving them on. The cabin door closed behind you and you started towards the car parked in front. Black sedan, tinted windows. "How far are we going?"

"Oh, not far at all." Something jabbed into your neck and you shrieked, trying to tear away. But he anticipated that, one arm winding tight around you as the needle left your skin. "You'll sleep right through it."

The world started to tip under you, at once too bright and blurring together. Your limbs felt thick and clumsy, uncoordinated.

The last thing you felt was leather under your cheek.

Throbbing in your temples woke you, insistent and annoying. You groaned softly, squeezing your eyes shut before opening them carefully. The sudden flood of light made you close them tight again with a whimper, pain radiating all the way to the base of your skull.

Trying to lift your arm to block the glare didn't work, and you panicked then, a little. You couldn't move either hand, or your legs. When you tried, something rough rubbed against your skin, quickly rubbing you raw. Your breathing sped up in your panic and you carefully opened your eyes, head tilted down to try to minimize the light.

You didn't recognize anything. You were tied to a chair, the rope tight enough to prevent you from moving much, but you could at least still feel all your fingers and toes. Quick looks around showed nothing but a bare wooden room with a spotlight set up directly across from you. The light was so bright it hurt your eyes, and you gave up trying to see anything directly around it.

You had no idea where you were. You were tied up snugly enough that you couldn't escape. And you were alone.

This time, there was nothing you could do to stop the panicked tears. Despite knowing it wouldn't help, you couldn't stop yourself from jerking at the ropes, trying desperately to find some weakness.

The click of a door opening may as well have been as loud as a gunshot. You stopped breathing, stopped moving, stopped everything. Footsteps approached you, smooth and even.

"Ah, you're finally awake. Just in time."

It was the man from the cabin, the one who'd given you the all clear. You sucked in a gasping breath, trying to form words.

"Best not. You're only here as incentive. I only need you alive, not unharmed."

You swallowed hard at that, at how casually he threatened you. Your mouth closed without a word.

"Good. Now, you just sit there and look alive." He chuckled a little at his own joke, stepping past you to fiddle with something just underneath the light. You couldn't see what it was - between the headache still incapacitating you and the man's bulk, you were useless.

You nearly started crying again but swallowed it back with enormous effort. You needed to be quiet. You needed to not give this man a reason to hurt you further. Johnny would figure this out, you had no doubt that he'd find you.

You needed to be alive for him to find.

The man moved behind the light again, and you winced at the brightness.

"Mr. MacTavish." His voice was lower now, drawling, insulting. "You have been making yourself quite a pest these last weeks, haven't you? You know more than you should. But you're not the only one."

Your eyes had finally adjusted enough to the light to see the little red light underneath. He was recording this. He was making a video to send to Johnny. You swallowed again, gripping the chair tight to hide your trembling.

"By now I'm sure you've noticed something is missing. Well, here she is. Still alive, as you can see. At least for now."

The click of the revolver was loud in the otherwise-silent room, and you squeezed your eyes shut. He was going to kill you. He was going to kill you and send the video to Johnny. Johnny would never survive that, he'd never get over it, this would destroy him–

"She is still alive by my grace, Mr. MacTavish." Something cool brushed the skin of your temple, making you flinch hard. But the gun didn't retreat, just shifted down to just under your ear at the hinge of your jaw. "Now, I propose a trade. If you cease your actions immediately, I will let her live. If, however, you continue on your current course…" The gun left your skin but a moment later there was a loud bang. You screamed, ducking your head down, unable to help yourself. Your ears rang with the shot, unbelievably loud in the enclosed space.

"Well, I think you get the picture. Decide quickly, Mr. MacTavish."

The man took a step away from you and you looked straight at the camera, eyes wide, heedless of the tears streaking down your cheeks.

"Johnny, don't–"

The pistol whipped across your temple. For a moment, you didn't feel anything. Then pain blindsided you, warm wetness flowing from your temple freely to mix with your tears. You choked on a gasp.

"Tick tock." The man sounded completely unbothered, steps just as smooth as ever. He must have turned off the video, because you heard rustling sounds, and a moment later he spoke again. "That was quite foolish of you. Let's hope, for your sake, that you remain quiet now. Or my patience may wear out." He walked across the room without turning off the light or unbinding you.

The click-shink of the door closing and locking sounded terribly final to you.

–

Soap felt like he was losing his mind. He'd sent the code to you three and a half days ago. It had taken a while for him to get to his selected agent to exfil you, making sure he knew the protocols you two had in place.

But the soldier had reported back that you were gone. The cabin had clearly been inhabited, your backpack was still in the bedroom.

But you were gone.

Soap knew you, knew you wouldn't take off without your things and without reason. Especially not since he'd been drilling the importance of your safety into you for years.

Something had happened. Someone had gotten to you first. Based on the lack of blood or visible signs of struggle, someone had gotten to you and given you the code.

This had been an inside job. Someone had known all of his contingencies and gotten to you. That narrowed the pool considerably.

But still not enough.

"Soap."

There had to be more he could do. He needed to be searching for you, he needed to make sure you were safe, he needed to–

"Johnny!"

He blinked when Ghost grabbed his shoulders, physically forcing him to stop. Soap took a deep breath, feeling like it was the first he'd taken in hours.

"Calm down. You're no good if you're panicking."

Soap snarled, pulling away from Ghost. "I need ta get ta her! She cannae get hurt, no' fer me."

"We will find her," Ghost said, crossing his arms over his chest, immovable. "And when we do, you need to be sharp."

"Ah am!"

"You've gone full Scot."

Soap swore, and then swore again because Ghost was right. Not that he had a chance to admit it.

His phone pinged. For a moment, neither man moved. Then Soap pulled it out, eyes going wide.

There was a video message from you.

He hit play immediately, going cold as he watched. Your scream sent his heart all the way down to his feet. His hands were shaking.

He knew exactly who had you. Who, but not how or where.

His phone was plucked out of his unresisting hands and Ghost was saying… something. Soap couldn't hear past the roaring in his ears.

You were supposed to be safe. You were supposed to be away from all the shit in his life, safe from the darkness and the filth.

And now this one man held your life in his hands.

"--p. Soap. C'mon." Ghost pushed him a little, and as the rage and panic receded enough for him to feel more or less cognizant, Soap realized he was being herded to Price's office.

"Soap, Ghost." Price looked between the two, eyes narrowed.

"Captain." Ghost held out the phone without another word. Soap didn't watch, couldn't watch from where he stood, feet too heavy to move on his own.

But the sound of your scream… that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

"Fuckin' hell." Price leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his mouth. "When was this sent?"

"Just a few minutes ago."

Price nodded, setting the phone down very gently. "I'll see if we can get any location data from the message."

"And the rest of it, sir?" Ghost didn't move, didn't even shift his weight. But the tension in the room was undeniable.

Price breathed out slowly. "He's targeting Soap," he murmured with an apologetic glance at the Scot. "Means he doesn't know the rest of the 141. Everything was addressed just to Soap. For now, we'll back off to recon only."

"Copy that." Ghost did finally glance at Soap. "And her?"

Price was silent for several moments. "We have to assume she's alive."

Something in his chest loosened with his captain's confidence. Price assumed she was alive, so Soap would too. Just because she'd been bloodied didn't mean she was dead.

But it did mean that the arsewipe who thought he could hurt you would pay dearly for every drop of blood he spilled.

It took far longer than Soap was comfortable with for Intel to find you. (Any time was too long, any time spent with that rat bastard was unacceptable, the sound of your scream echoing in his head on repeat, your blood-stained skin etched behind his eyes.)

But they did find you. Price organized the raid. The best and worst thing? He hadn't taken you far. A couple hours from the cabin. Not far at all, in the grand scheme of things.

Price led, with Ghost finding a good sniper spot around the back. Gaz and Soap followed Price in. The goal was to do this as quick and quiet as possible.

The building had once been a home, but had been renovated and added on to before being abandoned. There had been no up to date plans of the interior that Intel could get their hands on.

All they had to go off of was the video. That damned video.

Two sentries outside. Price dispatched one, Gaz the other. Soap hung back, watching through the one uncovered window.

No movement inside that he could see.

The snake cam showed one more guard inside, back to the front door, focus on something further in.

"Gaz." Price kept his voice low, almost too low to hear, but Gaz knew. He nodded, testing the door. It swung open slowly with the faintest of creaks.

"Don't even with me, George," the guard started without turning. "Your break–"

Price slit his throat, silencing him. The body slumped to the ground.

Gaz went first, creeping slowly further into the house. A woman sat in a room further in, typing away on a laptop and speaking quietly into a phone.

"...the Cayman account. Yes I'm sure. I don't pay you for your opinion, just get the money moved. Now." She hung up with a short sigh and then stood. "Ray? I need the car, Mr. Hammond will be late to his next appointment."

Gaz moved silently behind the woman, clamping one hand over her mouth and his other arm firm around her middle. Soap pounced after her, quickly restraining her arms. Gaz dragged her outside at Price's nod.

Price and Soap continued on, moving silently through the building. The rest of the building was clear.

Except for one last door, in the middle of the house. Soap pressed himself to the wall on one side, Price on the other, both listening hard.

"You see, I'll be leaving momentarily." Hammond spoke calmly, as if this was nothing more than a meeting. "I can leave you here to the tender mercy of two of my men, or I can shoot you now."

Your muffled whimper sent Soap's blood boiling, rage tightening his muscles.

"Don't look at me like that, it won't help you." Hammond was quiet for a few moments longer. "Well. I suppose I'll let you live for now." Footsteps approached the door, and it pulled open into the room.

Soap lunged, tackling Hammond around the middle into the room. The first punch hit Hammond right in the eye. Soap didn’t even feel the impact against his knuckles. He didn't realize he was cursing, either. He just punched Hammond, again and again.

Until a hand caught his, hauling him back. Soap turned, lips curled back in a snarl.

"Easy, Soap," Price barked. "That's an order." He shoved the sergeant more or less gently in your direction.

Price must have cut you loose, because your hands were over your mouth, wrists rubbed raw and oozing. Blood still stained your skin from the injury Hammond had given you.

You were also the most beautiful thing in the world.

"Darlin'." Soap lurched forward, dropping to his knees in front of you, hands hovering an inch away from your face. Shame washed through him, hot and bitter. You were here because of him, you'd been hurt because of him. How could you ever forgive him, ever want to see him again?

Except you hiccuped a tiny sob and your hands covered his, pressing them to your cheeks. You leaned into his touch, heavy and desperate as you started crying again. "Johnny," you whimpered, hands convulsing around his.

That was all the convincing he needed. Soap pulled you in slow and careful until you could hide against his shoulder, one hand carefully shielding your wounded temple, the other rubbing across your back.

"Yer alrigh', darlin'," he crooned. "I got ye. My sweet bonnie, my darlin' lass, I got ye."

–

You had no idea how long you sat and cried against Johnny's shoulder. Long enough that you ran out of tears. Long enough that your breathing evened out.

But you still flinched when someone else cleared their throat nearby.

"Jus' my Captain," Johnny murmured to you, his hand never ceasing its soothing rubbing along your back.

"We need to go." The Captain's voice was low and rough. You risked a careful peek over Johnny's shoulder and the Captain gave you a tiny smile, standing guard at the door.

"Can ye walk?"

You blinked a few times and then nodded carefully. "Slowly," you agreed.

"Alrigh'." Johnny stood and helped you to your feet, holding you steady. Hammond was gone, something that you noted absently and were eternally grateful for.

"Gaz and Ghost are in one car," the Captain told you both (mostly Johnny). "We'll take the other."

"Rog." Johnny kept one arm around you, helping to support you out. You tried not to look at the blood splatters on the floor and ground.

Rather to your surprise, the Captain opened the door to the backseat for you, and Johnny helped you in before quickly scooting in next to you.

"We'll head back to base," the Captain said as he started the car. Ahead of you, you could see the other car leading the way. "We'll need to take your statement." It wasn't until his eyes met yours in the rear view mirror that you realized he was speaking to you.

"Okay," you agreed quietly, though the thought of having to relive the last few days sent your pulse racing.

The drive was silent. Johnny refused to let go of you entirely, holding your hand and rubbing your knee, both relatively uninjured areas.

You shuddered to think how you'd feel tomorrow.

You had no idea how long the ride was. Long enough that you were nodding off against Johnny's shoulder, only to wake going over a bump.

"Easy," Johnny murmured in your ear. "We're almost there. Then we'll get you patched up."

You nodded, squeezing his hand. You just wanted to go home and sleep for a week and forget any of this had ever happened.

The transition from the car to medical was… a lot. There were a lot of people and a lot of talking over your head. But Johnny refused to let go of you the entire time, staying glued to your side.

But you still could never remember how exactly you got to medical, sitting on a cot while someone cleaned blood off your face, Johnny sitting pressed up against your side.

"We should do this now, before you forget anything." Price lowered himself into a chair in front of you, out of the way of the nurse cleaning you up. You realized with a little start that your wrists had already been bandaged, and when you tried to lift a hand to check your forehead Johnny caught you.

"Best not, darlin'," he murmured, low and concerned. "It's taken care of."

You pulled in a deep breath, holding it for a moment before you nodded. Your hand fell limp unto your lap. "Okay."

Price nodded, setting down something on his knee and motioning for you to proceed.

You started slowly, stumbling a little. How you got the text and packed up a backpack. How you followed protocol, doing everything exactly as Johnny had planned.

How you got to the cabin and waited. And waited some more.

"He knew my name." You felt a little bit floaty by now. The nurse had gone, too, leaving you with the two men. "He called my name through the door."

Johnny looked worried, squeezing your hand gently. "Did he know the all clear?"

"He did. Not at first, he said… said you'd sent him to pick me up. But when I refused to open the door, he gave the all clear." You blinked slowly and licked your lips.

The men exchanged another significant look. You just reached trembling fingers for the cup of water.

Price rescued you, handing it over and holding it until you had a firm grip. "Then what?"

You sipped the water and shrugged. "Well, I opened the door. He knew the all clear. He told me to leave my things, because we needed to go." You paused, tipping your head a little. "I think he drugged me. It gets fuzzy, but I think I remember something hurting my neck, and maybe being set down in the car?"

"Okay," Price murmured. "We're almost done. When did you wake up?"

Your hands started shaking. "A few minutes before that video."

"You don't need to tell us about that," Johnny was quick to assure you, shooting Price a look as if to keep him from objecting. "What happened in between waking up and the video?"

"Not a lot. He didn't say much, just said…" You swallowed hard, hand clutching tight to Johnny's. "Said he needed me alive, but not necessarily unharmed, so I should behave."

Johnny rubbed your knee soothingly. "That should be enough, aye, Captain?"

"Just one more question." Price leaned forward a little. "After the video ended… what did he say?"

You looked away, swallowing roughly. You didn't think you could physically cry anymore, but you wanted to. "That what I did was foolish, and I should remain quiet or he'd kill me." Your next inhale was shaky. "He wasn't planning to let me leave alive no matter what Johnny did, was he?"

"No. He wasn't." Price turned off the recorder and patted your knee. "Get some rest. You too, Soap." And then he was gone, striding away.

You leaned more heavily into Johnny, exhaustion pulling at your eyelids. "Are we done?" You couldn't raise your voice above a murmur.

"Yeah, we're done. You did so well, darlin'. So well." Johnny pressed feather-light kisses to your temple and cheek. "Drink the rest of that water, aye? You're dehydrated."

You drank, and then laid back in the cot when Johnny helped. His hand leaving yours caused you to struggle into sitting again, a pained noise leaving you.

"Easy, darlin', easy," Johnny assured you. "Just moving this cot so I can get some sleep too." He dragged the cot right next to yours and then laid down, once again holding your hand. There was open pain in his gaze as he looked you over again. "I am so sorry."

"Don't. Don't apologize for him. It's not your fault." You held tight to his hand, frowning and ignoring the pull of the butterfly bandages at your temple.

"But–"

"No. They chose to do awful things, not you. Don't take the blame for them." You dared to scoot a little closer to him. "Please, Johnny. Don't let this destroy either of us."

His eyes widened and a moment later he was curled around you, trembling minutely. His breathing was fast and shaky, unsteady. But you held firm through it all, lifting one hand to rub at the soft, prickly short hairs on the side of his head until he calmed.

"You're a bloody marvel," he finally whispered, breath warm against your collarbone. "And you need to sleep."

"Stay?" You pressed your hand to the back of his head, gently holding him.

"As long as you'll have me," he vowed, quiet and sincere. "Maybe even a bit after that."

"You'll be waiting a long time," you murmured. Your eyes were closed and you couldn't pry them back open. Thoughts were hard to keep track of.

"Wouldn't have it any other way, darlin'."

You meant to reply, you really did. But between thinking of a response and trying to actually say it… you fell asleep.

But you wouldn't have it any other way.

#john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap x you #mind the warnings

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in1-nutshell · 3 months

Note

Me again I loved the peceptore easily scared younger sibling can you do another one where buddy gets kidnapped by decepticons and they get really almost have a spark attack please if you don't want to that's fine

How to give someone a spark attack? Simple. Just call the DJD.

Hope you enjoy!

Perceptor's younger sibling gets kidnapped by the DJD

SFW, Mention of injury, nothing too graphic, Angst, Familial, Almost death but everyone is fine, Romance, Cybertronain reader

MTMTE

The DJD had invaded the ship.

Thankfully it wasn’t the whole team, just a small party.

That was probably why the Lost Light managed to get them off the ship so quickly.

“What’s our status?”--Rodimus

Megatron flinching a bit at the damaged control board.

“So far, no casualties reported. But also, no injured, but the numbers will probably show up once everyone has been accounted for.”--Megatron

Rodimus looks a bit miffed.

“What about communications within the ship?”--Rodimus

“They are still in repairs Rodimus.”--Magnus

Rodimus looks even more sulky.

Drift notices this.

“Rodimus?”--Drift

“Hmm?”--Rodimus

“Do you want to go see Buddy?”--Drift

“…Probably not the best idea so far. Anyways they’d try and kick my tailpipe if I tried to see them with the crew still in disarray, not to mention they still need to report the damages and injured. They are probably with Perceptor too.”--Rodimus

Drift nods knowingly, but a bit proud of how much Rodimus has started taking his responsibilities as Co-captain over his significant other.

Primus knows what Drift would have done if he didn’t get a chance to go see Ratchet right after the attack.

Perceptor in the meantime had a sinking feeling as he helped with the ship’s internal repairs.

Something was wrong.

Something was very, very wrong and he couldn’t lay his digit on it.

“How about we take you to Swerve’s for a drink? Or even go see Buddy?”--Brainstorm

Perceptor shakes his helm.

“There’s still much to do, not to mention communications are still down and Buddy still hasn’t reported back the injured or if there were any casualties—”--Perceptor

“But this is about something else.”--Brianstorm

“…I do not know how to explain it Brainstorm. But something horrible has happened and I don’t know what it is.”--Perceptor

Brainstorm pats Perceptor’s back in sympathy.

“We just came back from an invasion of part of the DJD, I think that having your nerves still winded up is justifiable. Let’s just go to Swerve’s to get some of the edge off. Anyways the diagnostics still need time to work, which leaves us plenty of time to drink.”--Brainstorm

“…One drink.”--Perceptor

Brainstorm pats his back a bit more enthusiastically.

“Well then, let’s go!”--Brainstorm

Brainstorm and Perceptor walk to Swerve’s.

“How much you want to bet that Buddy is clinging onto Rodimus?”--Brainstorm

“Brainstorm!”--Perceptor

“Perceptor!”--Brainstorm

By the time Perceptor made it to Swerve’s he saw Rodimus chatting with Drift and Ratchet.

The scene felt wrong without Buddy standing by Rodimus.

Where was Buddy?

Maybe they were somewhere else in the bar? Or getting some drinks for them and Rodimus?

The feeling in his tanks didn’t go away with the drink.

Brainstorm noticed too as he saw him constantly looking around.

Rodimus looked puzzled when he finally saw the two scientists at the bar.

Where was Buddy?

“Perceptor?”--Rodimus

Perceptor turns to see Rodimus with Drift and Ratchet behind him.

“Where’s Buddy?”--Perceptor

“Buddy? I thought they were with you?”--Rodimus

“I thought they were with you?”--Perceptor

“Somethings not right.”--Drift

“It isn’t. And Buddy’s at the center of it.”--Ratchet

“How?”--Brainstorm

“Buddy was supposed to send in the injury report an hour ago. They still haven’t done that yet. They aren’t usually this late either, extremely punctual.”--Ratchet

“…Do you think something…”--Drift

Perceptor and Rodimus share a worried look.

“Rodimus! Perceptor!”--Nautica

Nautica, Whirl, and Swerve part their way through the crowd looking worried.

“You might want to look at this. Its Buddy.”—Swerve

“And you’re not gonna like it. Jumpy’s gone.”--Whirl

It isn’t until they see the CCTV footage that they realize what happened to Buddy.

One of the members of the DJD had overwhelmed them and had taken them to their ship.

Buddy had been kidnapped.

It was all servos on deck to try and locate them.

Rodimus made sure that every resource was being used to find Buddy. On the outside he was much more steely than usual, he was on a mission that he was not going to fail.

On the inside, however, he was a mess.

How long had Buddy been missing and he hadn’t noticed?

He didn’t even go visit them to see if they were okay!

What kind of partner was he!?

Rodimus vows to make it up to Buddy when they find them.

They will find them.

Perceptor had holed himself in the lab making sure every single scanner was working to their full potential.

He didn’t look too indifferent from the outside.

But his closest friends could tell otherwise.

He was overdoing things again and the nervous shake in his servos was noticeable.

Brainstorm did have to talk him into taking a break before he blew a gasket.

Percy just wanted his younger sibling back.

But knowing the survival rate of anyone caught by the DJD…

He knew that he needed to prepare… in case…

They eventually locked in on Buddy’s energon signature.

The Lost Light eventually found a sole damaged escape pod.

That’s where Buddy’s energon signature was coming from.

Rodimus and Perceptor quickly banded into a small team to get inside the pod.

Rodimus melted the door ripping it off its hinges.

Perceptor quickly ran inside.

He found Buddy lying motionless on the ground in front of the control panels. They were heavily injured.

Perceptor drops his rifle when he sees Buddy.

“Buddy?”--Perceptor

“…”--Buddy

Perceptor falls to his knees and quickly looks for any sign of a spark pulse.

He’s nearly stops when he doesn’t feel anything.

“RATCHET! SOMEONE! I CAN’T—”--Perceptor

Ratchet and First Aid come racing in.

Perceptor gets pulled away from Buddy by Brainstorm.

His optics don’t leave Buddy’s body even as it gets covered by Ratchet’s.

Rodimus is being held back by Drift who looks equally distraught.

“Perceptor! Perceptor what—”--Rodimus

“CLEAR!”--Ratchet

Rodimus nearly drops when he hears the sound of the energy pulse.

“No…no…no…”--Rodimus

“CLEAR!”--Ratchet

Perceptor starts shaking a bit in Brainstorm’s hold.

Brainstorm is trying hard not to shake too as he squeezes Perceptor closer.

“BUDDY YOU ARE NOT LEAVING US HEAR WITH RODIMUS UNSUSPERVISED. CLEAR!”--Ratchet

“WE GOT A PULSE! WE GOT A PULSE!”—First Aid

Drift had to physically hold up Rodimus while Brainstorm held a fainted Perceptor in his arms.

Buddy was quickly admitted into the med bay as patient number one.

When Perceptor came back, Rodimus, Drift and Brainstorm told him what the medics thought of what happened.

From the looks of the other injuries, it was clear they had been in a torture session. There were clear signs of burns, melted metal and tears in the armor.

But by some miracle they made it into an escape pod.

The suspicion from the medics was that as soon as Buddy had finally gotten out of the DJD’s radar, their spark gave out.

They had that spark attack that they warned everyone they would have one day.

They were going to be out for a while.

Percy couldn’t bear to stay in the med bay after seeing their state.

Rodimus had no problem with it and promised to let him know if anything happened to Buddy’s health.

For once Perceptor was glad to not receive anything from Rodimus.

Many bots had come to visit Buddy in the med bay even to leave bits of inner most energon.

They were one of the lucky ones to have survived the DJD in relatively one piece.

It wouldn’t be until a few weeks that Rodimus would comm Perceptor in.

Buddy was finally awake.

Perceptor bursting into the med bay.

“Perceptor—”--Ambulon

“Where are they?”--Perceptor

Velocity points to the far end of the med bay.

“They are in one of the private rooms.”--Velocity

Perceptor speed walks over and opens the door.

Buddy was there.

They were crying, frame shaking a bit holding onto Rodimus servo like a lifeline while burrying part of their face into his neck cables.

Rodimus was doing his best to not cry and soothe them.

“Oh Roddy, Roddy, Roddy. My Roddy…”--Buddy

“Shhh… its okay now… you’re safe now…”--Rodimus

“My Roddy…”--Buddy

“Buddy?”--Perceptor

Buddy slowly peaks out of Rodimus neck cables and bursts into another wave of tears.

“Percy?”--Buddy

Perceptor quickly moves to the other side of the berth and holds their servo gently in his.

“Oh Buddy…”--Perceptor

“…Your servos are shaking Percy.”--Buddy

Perceptor gives them a watery smile and presses their servo on the side of his faceplate.

“First time for everything correct?”--Perceptor

Buddy smiles weakly.

They gently rub their thumb on their big brother’s cheek.

“I’m really safe? Or did I not make it?”--Buddy

Rodimus squeezes their servo a bit.

“You’re safe. You made it. You’re home.”--Rodimus

#transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #idw mtmte #mtmte x reader #mtmte x platonic reader #mtmte rodimus #mtmte rodimus x reader #mtmte perceptor #mtmte perceptor x sibling

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rejectedbytheempty · 3 months

Text

TRAPPED PT. 2

a/n: okay wow i didn’t think that many ppl would want a part 2 lmao. sorry, i’ve been busy w schoolwork but i finally got around to writing the second part 🙏🙏

previous part

tw: sewing up a wound? idk it’s not very graphic but i feel like it should be noted

“How could I be so stupid!” Villain cried out, running their hands up their face, then pushing the heels of their palms against their eyes.

They sighed deeply and let their hands fall to their sides before glancing over at Hero. They were just sitting there, staring at a random point on the floor. It shocked Villain to see how pale their face had gotten, “God, Hero. I’m- Christ, I don’t even know what to do. Say something, please. Yell at me, punch me, do something.”

Hero didn’t seem to even register that Villain was speaking, they just sat there, looking like a kicked puppy.

“Shit, I’m going to help you, you’re going to be okay. I promise, Hero,” Villain said, it felt almost like they were talking to the wall of their prison cell.

“Hello? Is there anyone there?” Villain called out, half expecting no one to answer but in a moment a face peeked around the corner, someone that Villain assumed was the guard Supervillain left to keep them in check. However, the guard looked scared half out of their mind.

“Yes?” They answered. Villain had to hold back a grin, it was good to know that they still had that effect on people.

“We need medical supplies in here, Hero is practically bleeding out.”

The guard swallowed nervously, “Um, I don’t know if I’m allowed to give you anything.”

Villain rolled their eyes, “Right, which would make sense if I asked you for a sword or something, but I doubt I could get very far with a roll of gauze.”

The guard bit their lip, running the options through their mind for a moment before nodding, “Okay, I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Right, I’ll keep that in mind,” Villain muttered to themselves as the guard left.

“I-I’m sorry.”

Villain quickly turned to see Hero laying there, their eyes glistening with tears.

“I shouldn’t have come here, all I’ve done is mess things up. Escape while you have a chance, so both of us don’t have to be stuck here,” Hero managed to rasp out.

Villain shook their head, “Don’t talk like that. I’ll get you patched up and we’ll find a way out of here, it was my fault we’re here in the first place.” Just then the guard came back with the supplies, opening the cell door and handing them to Villain. For a moment, Villain glanced at the open door, freedom was right there. All they had to do was subdue the guard and make it out before anyone notices they are gone. In the corner of their eye, however, lay Hero, shivering and pale. They ripped their gaze from the door and quickly snatched the kit from the guard’s hands and turned to Hero. The resounding sound of a lock clicking echoed through their cell and Villain sighed, their shoulders slumping. Well, no turning back now, they thought. They shook their head to dispel those thoughts and got to work. It didn’t seem to be too bad of a wound, it was deep, but it was a clean cut.

“Okay, I’m going to pour some alcohol on it to clean it out, it’s gonna hurt like a bitch, but we don’t want it to get infected.”

Hero nodded, smiling softly, “It’s not as bad as looking at your face.”

Villain chuckled, “Right, why did I think that you were ever capable of being serious?” They then poured the liquid over the cut as Hero gritted their teeth together, sucking in a deep breath.

“See, I knew you could do it,” Villain smiled down at Hero who gave an exhausted laugh. From then on it was easy work, sewing the wound closed and wrapping gauze around Hero’s midsection to soak up any more blood and protect it from the grimey cell they were in.

“There, all done.” Hero grunted as they attempted to sit up, but Villain was quick to put a hand on Hero’s chest and back, leading them back to a laying down position.

“Christ, Hero, you’re not invincible. Don’t try doing anything too drastic,” Villain chided.

“Oh, right, I forgot” Hero said in a dazed tone, their eyes half lidded.

Villain drew back their hands, Hero now laying down flat on their cot, their blinks getting longer and longer as their adrenaline had now faded.

“You know what?” Hero asked, staring at Villain through their eyelashes, “I always thought you were pretty.”

Villain stared down at Hero in disbelief, heat rising to their cheeks, “I- what?” But Hero had already fallen asleep, chest rising and falling in a steady pattern. Villain stood there for a moment, face contorted in confusion before they let out a sharp laugh.

“God, Hero, you are something else” Villain chuckled to themself.

Reaching over, they ran their hand through Hero’s hair before tucking a loose strand of hair behind Hero’s ear. Villain quickly pulled their hand back, feeling as if they were snapping out of a trance, “Fuck, what am I doing?” They couldn’t afford connections, especially not with Hero. They had to remember where they were, who they were. I need to get out of here, before I do anything else stupid, Villain thought.

#medical inaccuracies #i am not a doctor #and it shows #villain x hero #hero x villain #hero #villain #enemies to lovers #hurt/comfort #writeblr #writing

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justjams2003 · 5 months

Text

Fast Pace- 9

Summary: You're a hard-working Chef in Paris and after a freak accident run-in with Carlos Sainz, your life makes a 180. Let's just say with a certain agreement, you get your bills paid and in return stand in as Carlos' girlfriend for the press. But will you be able to handle the pressure and ensure the lines don't blur?

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: I've aged up Carlos, he is 33 in this fic. Smoking, smut, sexual themes, age difference, manipulation, control, slight obsession, the word 'daddy', tell me if I missed any

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics and @s-silk

Taglist: @httpjeonlicious, @f1lov3r, @messersandmesses, @hollie911, @oriconde08 @thehufflepuffavenger1 @fanboyluvr @thatgirlmj @whyamireadingthis @oriconde08 @depressedriches @roseseraj @skepvids @sain55wifey @distinguishedvoidlady @amatswimming @sachaa-ff @lightdragonrayne @lazybot @dark-night-sky-99 @formula1mount @fangirl-dot-com @saintslewis @carlossainzwho @lordpercevalcharles @topguncultleader @kitixie @serp3ns0rtiae

Word count: 3,1k

Masterlist

Part 8~Part 10

“How was your day?” She asks from the bathroom. I shrug only to realise she can’t see me. “The usual,” I can hear her zip something up. “What is the usual?” I too am getting dressed in something more comfortable. It’s already 5 and we had dinner called up. For me, however, getting dressed is much quicker.

“Well, especially now that we are in the home of Ferrari, Charles and I spend a lot of time on the racing simulator. With that we have the chance to speak to the factory workers, thank them for their hard work and really speak with the engineers. Then after that I spend a lot of time in the gym.” Yet these days, I spend a lot of the time there thinking about her.

However, before I can say much else, she finally exits the bathroom in the first outfit. It’s a tweed white set. Oh, how I do love her in white. It gives me a sneak peak of the day she becomes mine. She looks so professional, ready to boss around whoever denies her anything. Too, at the same time, so elegant in the way her hair falls to the way her eyes shine.

“And how was your day?” I ask, allowing her to change outfits, she had just shown me ravishing white bikini that has me needing to think of something else. “Oh, Carlos, I had so much fun. I just love the car so so much, people were taking pictures of it and me all day. Don’t you think it would look beautiful in like, a light pink?”

I can’t help but laugh. “What? Would it be considered some sort of car treachery?” This does make me laugh even more. She is so cute. Holding the smallest things with such high honour but still always staying true to her heart. “There are some men out there who would call it...a betrayal to the craftsmanship. But those men are the ones who can’t afford the car and haven’t felt a woman’s touch since they were born.”

Her laugh explodes from the bathroom. It warms my heart and brings a wide smile to my face. How I wish I could bottle that sound and carry it with me, for the days when everything becomes too much. That laugh of hers takes me to another dimension, one when it’s only me and her and not a single thing on this earth could come between us.

The moment she steps out of the bathroom, my heart stops. She is just so gorgeous. She should be locked up in my house forever. How no one has stolen her heart yet is beyond me. She gives so easily her heart. There is so little I have to give and so much that she gives me. “Carlos, you haven’t said anything. Do you not like it?”

How long have I been staring at her? How could I ever stop looking at her? “Would you prefer I bend the knee, or bow down fully?” Her laugh is like music to my ears. “What are you talking about?” Her eyebrows furrow, but I can’t look past just how much healthier she looks. The withdrawals seem to have gone for the most part.

I’d been giving her medication to help, of course after consulting the best expert I could find. That crease in her forehead is gone and her eyes don’t seem as foggy anymore. “You are a goddess. This has to be the only conclusion. And I am your loyal follower, sent to worship you.” She coos, a pink hue becomes her.

“Wait until you find out the name of the dress.” I motion my hand for her to continue. “Mon Amour.” Of course, because the universe knows. She must have seen me smile so bright because she says more. “When I told the shopping clerk, that it is one of your many names for me, he immediately called the designer over.”

I do love listening to her talk. I could to it until the end of time and still not get tired. “I didn’t even know the designer was in house. I mean, it’s Channel, you’d expect that from a small boutique not a big house like them. Anyways, when he saw me in the dress, he was, as he said, ‘overwhelmed with my beauty.’”

This causes my jaw to tick. Yes, I had sent the Channel store a generous sum of money, telling them about the very important client that would be visiting their store. I knew she’d go there; Chanel is her most visited page on Instagram. Besides mine, these days. She doesn’t need to know how I know that.

What I didn’t know is that they’d send a designer in. Or the fact that this designer would be a he. “He said what?” Her words make my jaw tick. “He said something along the lines of ‘the way your body simply is, is inspiring.’ His words really made me blush.” The urge to show her just exactly who she belongs to is strong.

Not only that, but I’d love to find this ‘designer’ and beat him to a pulp. Yes, his words are correct, but the fact that his attitude made her blush? That should have him sent to prison. “He then started styling me, oh I can’t wait to show you.” She then runs off only to return in a tight denim dress.

One that hugs her curves like the red dress but shows just a bit less skin. Yet still, the thought him evaluating her body, watching her as I do now, is infuriating. What the fuck was he thinking? And why would she allow him to do any of this? She does a turn before going back, only to come out with a black skirt and pink top.

I don’t say anything, I mostly spend the time plotting the man’s murder. The next is a green set, one that highlights just how heavenly she is. A fairy roaming in the gardens. A mermaid walking for the first time. An angel who has just gotten their wings. “After I finished paying for all this, he gave me his business card. Said to call him when I start getting serious about modeling.”

I hold out my hand and she places the card in my hand. Without hesitation I tear it up. This man will never contact her ever again. In fact, no one should. I don’t want people from the outside filling her heads with all sorts of stories. They could drive a wall between us. And if that happens, my plans for her will have to take a drastic jump.

“Carlos! Why would you do that?” Her lip pushes out and her arms cross over her chest. “I don’t want him contacting you. If he wants to speak to you, he’ll have to talk to me first.” She rolls her eyes at me and then sighs. “You have to be joking.” I raise my brow at her. This is incredibly serious. “In fact, I don’t want anyone outside our inner circles contacting you.” She gasps and her mouth hangs open.

“This is taking it too far, Carlos.” Her eyes are usually big, doe and sparkling, but now I see a fury and an anger. “That’s what assistants are for. So that you don’t have to spend your time worrying about schedules or weeding out the people who will further your future and those who just want to use you.”

I can show her far. Someday it will only be me and her and the Sainz family. There will be no interruptions from people. She will not be tainted by the words and opinions of others. They will not take her from me. Nothing will. “Oh,” her mouth snaps shut and that fire in her eyes dim. “What, do you think I’d shut you out from the world? I’m not that jealous.”

A little lie here and there won’t hurt her. After all, once she is in my hands, it will have happened so slowly she won’t even realise that she has been taken home. I am her home. No one else. Not her parents, not her friends, not her co-workers. Not even the other drivers on the grid. She will be untouchable, unreachable by everyone but me. The goddess and her dress and her disciple.

There is a knock at the door, I glance at the balcony and see it’s already dark out. After the outfits, she had also shown me the jewels she bought along with a purse and some shoes. It was quite fun actually, seeing her eyes shine like the gems she had bought. Her smile so wide, I just want to eat her up. I settle for a kiss on the forehead. “Go get in your pj’s, I’ll get the food.”

“What movie are we watching?” I ask, turning off the big light after we ate. She’s already snuggled in bed, like a kid on Christmas. “Pretty Woman, duh. I’m going to point out every time I felt like Julia Roberts.” I can’t help but laugh at her shenanigans. And still give her a kiss on the head and climb in the bed next to her.

But I can see the way she eyes me, with a longing glance and those big doe eyes. “Come here, mi amor. Snuggle in close.” Her eyes beam again and without hesitation I pull her close into my arms. She cuddles in close, almost rubbing her face into my chest. She curls herself into a small ball and I make sure she isn’t uncomfortable for a single moment.

Yet, still, she’s fidgety. “Sit still, o te pondré en una posición en la que no tendrás más remedio que quedarte quieto.” I squeeze her legs tight, to really drive it home. Her squirming has caused an effect on my body that I’m sure she’s not ready to handle yet. She whines, “I’m sorry, can I show you something?”

“Of course,” I make small circles on her delicate skin, encouraging her to tell me more. She pulls out her phone and then goes to the videos. She then continues to show me a video in the Instagram reel format of her enjoying her day shopping. “Do you think it’s cringe?” She asks, biting her lip and this time it’s me that squirms.

“No, of course not, I’m glad that you’re finally pursuing your dreams. Even if it’s a small start. Not to mention, it’s really well done.” A blush coats her cheeks, she so up and down. One moment she’s the hottest girl I’ve ever met and the next she’s as cute as can be and I want to hold her like this, all bundled in my arms, forever.

I haven’t seen this video on her Instagram yet. “Why haven’t you posted it yet?” She bites her lip and avoids my gaze. “No seas tímido conmigo,” she gasps when I nip at her ear and it forces a deep chuckle from me. “I’m scared of what they’ll say about me. I’m scared that they’ll piece together our agreement.” I scoff at her, and shake my head. “So what if they do?”

She whines and rolls her eyes. “If my modelling career starts, I don’t people to think it’s because I whored myself out.” Whored herself out? How dare she even think something like that? If anyone ever even dare to talk even slightly bad about her, I’ll have them castrated. I have a tough security and they do anything I ask.

Money does a lot for a person and for her... I, myself don’t even know how far I’d go. “If you ever say that again, I’ll fuck the word right from your mouth.” I just love the way her eyes go big and she begins to stutter when I say something even slightly seductive. It turns me on, just how much power I hold over her.

“Dios, eres tan lindo. Here, give me your phone.” She does it without hesitation, still flustered by my words. I open the camera and the moment she sees the selfie side, she ducks behind my arms. I take a picture, it’s as cute as can be. I go to set it as her wallpaper but see that the photo she took on the first day is already the wallpaper.

I raise my brow at her and she just shrugs. I look and see her lock screen is her and her other two friends that I hear so much about. “I always keep the most important things in my life as my wallpaper.” I feel so warm at her words. How much more perfect can she be? I take my phone and do the same as she has. And proceed to post it on my story.

“Post the video. Let them talk, that just makes it more fun to prove them wrong.” She just gazes up at me with such love in her eyes. Then her eyes flicker back to the TV and she gasps, “Look, look. Look at how awful these fancy ladies are to her. She’s just this big bundle of energy and childlike joy and they’re just so cruel.”

I stay listening with extreme intent. It’s almost funny, the way she describes this girl, because it sounds just like my Y/N. “It happened in the store, just today. Before I went to Chanel, I walked into Gucci. I had parked a bit away, for safety. A bit of a habit, I guess. They didn’t see the car, but they gave one look and went ‘we have nothing in your size.’”

My grip grows tighter than I want it to be. I don’t want her to know the effect she has on me, I’m certain that she’d use it against me. If she truly wanted, she could have me like putty in her hands. Wrapped around her finger, she could have me on my knees with one look. She doesn’t notice it, but there are tears that pool in her eyes.

“I’m a size ten! That’s very average. Shouldn’t they make clothes for an average person like me.” She pouts, pushing out her bottom lip. Subconsciously, she wraps my arms tighter around her. I’m her protection, she doesn’t realise it, but I am her safety blanket. I scoff at her words. “Please, you are the least average person I have ever met. I’ll have the store bankrupt by next week.”

She gasps and gives me a slight hit on the arm. “You will do no such thing.” I laugh, kissing her neck. “And why not?” I whisper, pulling her closer into my arms. “Because, you are just race car driver, you will not bankrupt a store that has been standing there for decades with a fashion rich history. I will not have some nepo-baby with too much money on his has destroy it over some girl he met two weeks ago.”

Her words would be harsh coming from anyone else. But when she says it, it only makes me laugh. “Is that really what you think of me?” She blushes, “I’m sorry I said that. I don’t know much about cars, but I can see you have a real passion for it and a real talent for it. You know, outside of your father’s influence.” She makes me feel like a superhero. In her eyes I can do no wrong. It feels like everybody has been criticizing me all my life, but she? No, she just loves, open and free and can’t find anything wrong with it.

“And I’ll support you. Always, like you do me.” How I wish now I could kiss her. Just to make the words stop, because if she says one more thing, I might just cry. “Speaking of fathers... Next week is an off weekend and I still owe you a visit to your family.” She sighs, a loud, heavy drawn out one, she leans against my arm and pretends to go back to the movie.

On instinct I just know, and once again open her phone and find her messages with her mom. She doesn’t stop me, actually she encourages it by giving her password. I can see almost each time her mother has messaged her, she either replied with a dry answer or just didn’t reply at all. “I don’t know what to tell her.”

“You haven’t told your family about us yet?” Her shy eyes avoid my gaze and I know she feels guilty. “I don’t know what to say. Oh, yes, I’m in the arms of a man I’ve only known two weeks, because, you know, he paid off my student debt and is also so hot it’s unfair to any other guy that has ever lived.” Yes, her words are true but we both know we’re forever. And if she doesn’t realise it, I’ll just have to convince her.

A low hum escapes my throat, “They do not watch the race? They haven’t seen you there?” She laughs and shakes her head, “They wouldn’t dream of it. They both are kickers for the good old days and when they do watch TV, it’s just those old soaps. In fact, I got my first job when I was 16 and with my first paycheck I bought a shitty phone. After school I’d walk to the nearest café, use their Wi-Fi and watch every fashion movie I could find. Illegally, of course.”

I love hearing everything about her. It feels as though I could never know everything about her and that breaks my heart. “Well, I suppose we have to have a story for them and the media too. Let’s say this, we keep the story the same, we just move the timeline back about a year. So, instead of 13th of August, let’s make it...the 1st of February.”

“And why wouldn’t I tell my own mother, about a guy I’m dating, for six months.” That’s a good point. “Well, let’s say that we wanted to keep it private until we’re sure of us.” She shrugs, “That makes sense, ooh, can I buy them presents tomorrow?” I chuckle, always so thoughtful. “Of course.”

I have to buy them over somehow. If they don’t aprove of me... I’d hate to break my girl’s heart. Having a bit fall out with your own parents can be very traumatic. But I won’t hesistate. I’m sure mother would love her just as much as I do. And father, he would understand why I do, what I need to do.

Taglist is open, just ask!

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #sugar daddy!carlos sainz x sugar baby!reader #sugar daddy!carlos sainz #sugar daddy!carlos sainz x reader #formula one #formula 1 #f1 #formula 1 x reader #f 1 x reader #f1 xreader

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sasheneskywalker · 4 months

Text

sladick explicit fic recs

To Conciliate a Tiger by Rubynye

Dick makes a deal. Slade gets a bargain.

E | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Deathstroke/Nightwing, Slade Wilson/Dick Grayson

A Darker Stripe by Rubynye

It's been a long day, and it won't be over anytime soon.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Deathstroke/Nightwing, Slade Wilson/Dick Grayson

Twist in the Tail by Rubynye

Hell hath no fury like a supervillain scorned.

E | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Deathstroke/Nightwing, Slade Wilson/Dick Grayson

Big, Bad by MissNaya

In order to keep Deathstroke from killing his current target, Dick has to agree to do something a little unorthodox.

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Caught in Between by MissNaya

Dick, Jason, and Slade go cross-country in pursuit of a criminal they all have their sights set on. When Slade and Jason start to spend too much time together, Dick gets... frustrated.

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Slade Wilson

Moonbound by MissNaya

Not only is Jason a werewolf, but Slade is, too. Dick wants answers, but in order to get them, he needs to stay the night with the pack. It doesn't take long for him to find out that there's more to being a werewolf than hunting and howling.

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Slade Wilson

Merrier the More by MissNaya

Jason and Dick have a problem: Jason wants to teach Dick to come through prostate stimulation alone, but nothing they try seems to work.

Seems like it's time to bring in a third party.

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

bad desire by cheju

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Slade murmurs back absentmindedly, still focused on the knots at Grayson’s wrist.

Grayson makes another one of those sounds, somewhere between a gasp and a cough, like he’s trying to simultaneously swallow and eject something stuck in the back of his throat. “Jesus, kid, what the fuck is it this time?” Slade says.

“Yes,” Grayson chokes out. “What the fuck it is is yes, I’d like that, and stop asking me questions.”

Dick gets truth serum’d. Slade does not, in fact, stop asking him questions.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

a knife, baby, edgy and dull by cheju

Slade’s presence should be unsettling, and it is – don’t get him wrong. But it’s also finally something happening, a chance for Dick to work off some of this tension. He’d be lying if he said a part of him wasn’t itching for the fight he knows is coming.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

down together by cheju

I can help you, says Dick. I won’t let you, says Slade. Then they fuck nasty about it.

An alternate ending to Slade's attack on Titans Tower in Dark Crisis #2.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

listen to teeth by cheju

It usually goes like this: Slade teasing him, Dick responding in kind, until one of them backs down from the ledge they always seem to be teetering on. But today Dick is so not in the mood to be teased, still a bit prickly from his mission’s failure. Still trying not to think about how many bodies must be outside this room.

Dick's failing his mission, can't get out of his handcuffs, and guess who walks in the door. Just fucking guess.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

diesis by cheju

Dosed with Poison Ivy's pollen, Jason is losing control fast. Dick takes him to the closest safehouse he knows of and prays its owner won't show up. (His prayers go unanswered.)

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

dark corner by cheju

“I don’t think it’s a failure of imagination,” Slade says. “No, I’d say it’s a failure of desire. Why imagine what you would do to me when you’d much rather imagine what I would do to you?”

Robin visits Slade in jail. It doesn’t go as planned.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

fly on the wall by cheju

It’s just Cal’s luck that he’s on guard duty when Deathstroke the freakin’ Terminator comes to rescue their prime hostage. But Richard Grayson doesn’t exactly seem happy to be rescued. In fact, he’s being... snippy? And Deathstroke... isn’t shooting his brains out for it?

Who the hell are these people?

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

the paper-thin line by wingdingery

After Dick interferes with Slade’s job in Gotham (which, to be fair, he’d only done because Slade interfered with his first), he decides the best way to prevent future retaliation is to strike a deal: if Slade agrees to leave Gotham alone, then Dick will stay with him alone for one night, and no matter what Slade does, he won’t run.

Though that doesn’t mean Dick is going to go down without a fight.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

in the night we burn by wingdingery

Slade knows there’s no way in hell that someone like him should ever even dream about touching someone like Richard Grayson, and running into an alternate dimension version of them that’s for some godforsaken reason a couple isn’t going to change his mind.

Unfortunately, it seems like it might be changing Grayson’s.

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson/Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson/Slade Wilson

no stopping ('til I break every rule) by wednesday

Dick can hear Deathstroke lazily walking down the line of handcuffed, terrified hostages trying to shuffle back even closer to the wall. He already knows where this is going.

There’s not enough time to decide which would look less suspicious—looking up or not. Slade grabs Dick’s hair and pulls him up, leaving him no choice but to move forward until he’s kneeling at Slade’s feet. He can hear shuddery sighs of relief from the other hostages and can’t blame them.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

take the offer that wasn't made by wednesday

“That’s not what my contract is about.” Slade sounds out of breath, but not angry; if anything, he sounds smug. Dick’s thoughts screech to an unexpected halt. The arm around his neck tightens, making him lightheaded.

And for the first time since Dick found out Deathstroke had taken a contract in his city, Dick feels real panic, like white noise spreading through his veins. There’s a sting right above the collar of his costume, and Dick spends the last ten seconds before the tranquilizer knocks him out drowning in waves of fresh fear.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

put a gun in my hand by wednesday

“Uh oh,” Nightwing says when he looks up and sees Slade. He freezes, halfway to pushing himself up off the now unconscious guard. “Oops?”

Slade growls at him and wishes he didn’t have his mask on so Grayson could see exactly how close to murdering him Slade feels. Except not, because his mask is covered in splashes of the drugs that were supposed to be his paycheck and are now a collection of broken glass and violently luminescent slush.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

in every end (we start) by wednesday

At first, when he gets dragged downstairs and towards a metal door that screams cell, he’s relieved. They’ll leave him alone and he’ll be out in no time. Easy.

Then the badly suppressed fear and nervousness of the alpha guard a few feet away from the door registers. Followed by the impressive blood splatters on the floor and walls.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

this vice, this temptation by wednesday

Dick gets drugged during a party and finds a solution that might be his worst idea yet. But really, staying in the company of Deathstroke should work wonders at keeping everyone else away.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

counting all the lines (all your sweet lies) by wednesday

“Slade!” Dick exclaims cheerfully, and feels his own grin widen at the choking noise behind him. He sashays right to Slade’s table. “Fancy meeting you here!”

“You do not want to do that,” Slade says quietly enough that only Dick can hear him. He looks amused, though, and a quick look at the table makes it clear he’s eating alone. Perfect.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

can't help but be wrong in the night by wednesday

“Richard,” says a familiar voice to the accompanying tune of irregular gunshots. The shock of hearing this particular unexpected voice makes Dick overbalance and roll off the cushions and right onto the floor.

A burst of what sounds like machine gun fire brings him back to the real issue.

“Slade?” he asks, feeling a completely reasonable amount of apprehension settle in his gut. It can’t be anyone else, but Slade Wilson calling him doesn’t seem very plausible. The background noise is a cause for concern as well, but not more than the call itself.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Interlude by wednesday

On one hand, Slade has done his part as agreed, and owes Grayson nothing. On the other hand, Nightwing’s been less annoying than usual, and gracefully agreed to not involve the Bat, who would have snarled and bitched about Slade anywhere near his territory and fucked with his contract on principle, so Slade is feeling charitable.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Play-acting by wednesday

Dick being undercover as omega goes a lot further than planned.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

placed a gamble by wednesday

It’s clear the kid realizes he’s made a mistake the moment the cuff clicks closed on Slade’s wrist. Cuffing them together is inventive, Slade will give him that, but there’s a reason no one else has tried restraining him in this particular way.

---

Deathstroke and Nightwing, handcuffed together in a snow storm.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Break the Fall by wednesday

Getting rescued does not make Dick's situation better, not at first.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

for every mistake by wednesday

His first mistake, and Dick should absolutely have known it would end up being a mistake the moment he thought of doing it, is inviting himself back to Slade’s safehouse.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

shimmer silent by wednesday

Slade doesn’t stop at just crowding. He invades Dick’s space until there’s no air left between them. Until he’s pressed against Dick, tightly, shoulder to thigh. And kisses Dick.

Well, kiss isn’t an adequate description of the mess of violence, lust and tongue that happens. And biting. There’s biting going on, and that’s what kind of shocks Dick back into action. He bites back and pushes Slade away. What the hell?

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

still counting on my worst behavior by wednesday

Two steps from the door he freezes. There’s a feeling of being watched that he’s too well trained to miss. He puts on his friendliest smile and turns around.

“Looking for something, kid?”

Deathstroke in full armor, just the mask missing, is standing across the room, hands crossed and looking at Dick.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

ain't lived if you've got no regrets by wednesday

Around the time he’s trying to decide if some friendly chatting would make his chances of escape better or much worse, something smashes through the roof of the warehouse.

Someone, he realizes just a moment later. Before that someone even hits the ground, Dick recognizes him and regrets the lack of a panic button an order of magnitude harder. Because he can definitely feel some panic right about when Deathstroke starts shooting while still airborne.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Sabotage by wednesday

Too exhausted to fight, Dick discovers there is another way to distract Deathstroke from his contract. He really should have stopped after the first time.

***

Five times Dick uses unconventional sabotage methods and one time he doesn't.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

turn up the cards by wednesday

Dick smiles at the frazzled-looking girl by the register, most likely unused to the influx of customers that keep coming in and not leaving. He’s about to order, when he notices the one table that only has a single customer sitting at it. There’s a buffer of space around him, like everyone can feel some kind of aura of danger surrounding him and are choosing to keep their distance from him, from—a man with white hair.

Goddamn.

The warm cozy holiday-like feeling Dick was getting into evaporates.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

my lucky stars by withthekeyisking

Dick ruins one of Deathstroke's contracts, costing the mercenary half a million dollars. And Slade is damn sick and tired of Nightwing always getting in his way. Seems it's time to teach the little bird a lesson that might actually stick.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

The Irony of Life by withthekeyisking

Dick starts working at the strip club because of a case; he doesn't expect to run into Deathstroke the Terminator of all people while working.

Slade just wants to do his damn job; he's not expecting the perk that comes with it.

E | Underage | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

More Than What You Paid For by withthekeyisking

Slade only wanted to scratch an itch after a very long and grueling job. He didn't expect to have to face an assassination attempt from a prostitute.

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Easily Worth by withthekeyisking

Dick is desperate to rescue his brother.

Slade is...an option.

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Close Encounters by withthekeyisking

Running into Deathstroke at a BDSM was not the plan, but it seems to have an upside.

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Guys My Age by withthekeyisking

Dick enjoys his frenemies with benefits arrangement with Midnighter. He enjoys the same such arrangement with Slade. He never thought it would be possible to mix the two, but it seems they're full of surprises.

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Midnighter/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Midnighter

A Little Touch of Skill by withthekeyisking

When Dick and Slade run into Rick Flag while working on a joint mission, Dick sees no problem with teaming up with the man, considering they're all going after the same target. He should've accounted for Slade's possessiveness, though.

Or maybe he should've just relied on Slade's competency kink smoothing everything over.

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Rick Flag/Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Rick Flag/Dick Grayson, Rick Flag/Slade Wilson

Eyes on You by withthekeyisking

Dick is counting the seconds until this mission is over and he can get the hell away from Deathstroke and Talia al Ghul, and all the danger and weird flirting therein.

The hotel they stay in the last night of their mission only has one bed, but that won't have any impact on the situation, right?

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Talia al Ghul/Slade Wilson, Talia al Ghul/Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

A Memorable Send-Off by Skalidra

The first that Dick hears of the contract out on Nightwing's head, it's at the end of a long night, and with Slade's gun in his face. Slade doesn't have any intention of letting someone else claim the reward, but there's still a chance for Dick to make it out of the whole situation. If he can be... distracting enough.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Scripted Negotiations by Skalidra

The film was only ever supposed to be a one time thing, for Dick. An exorcism of one of his darkest teenage fantasies, played out in a relatively risk-free setting to get it out of his system, so he can put it behind him. Nothing was ever actually going to happen with the real Deathstroke, and no one else would ever find out about it. Problem solved.

Until he gets an offer to film a sequel.

(Slade's not expecting to find the real Nightwing starring in some C-grade porn flick, but when an opportunity drops itself in his lap like that, well... How can he not take advantage?)

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Taking Charge by firefright, Skalidra

Jason has a strict policy when it comes to his clients: no surprises. But there's one, Slade Wilson, who always seems to delight in pushing his boundaries. Never more so than when, on what should be an ordinary appointment, he brings along his partner, Dick Grayson, without calling ahead. One alpha at a time Jason can handle, but two? That might take a little more work.

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Slade Wilson

Accidental Discovery by firefright, Skalidra

“Jason,” Dick says slowly, a little dazed as he straightens back up from retrieving Jason’s phone after accidentally knocking it down onto the carpeted floor of his safehouse, “Why do you have Slade Wilson’s number saved on your phone under the name ‘Daddy’?”

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Jason Todd/Slade Wilson

Takedown by Sandrine Shaw (Sandrine)

Deathstroke's heavy armor digs painfully into the sore muscles of Dick's back, flattening him against the bricks. Caught, literally, between rocks and a hard place.

Under Dick's ribs, his heart beats a frantic song of fear and exertion.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

he who thinks he knows no fear by Sandrine Shaw (Sandrine)

That dizzying sensation that feels a little like stepping up onto a platform to take a leap without a net underneath isn't quite fear, and Dick likes the thrill too much not to chase it.

Four times when Dick isn't afraid - even though he should be - and one time he is.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Mutually Beneficial by Sandrine Shaw (Sandrine)

"Slade? What the—"

"Quiet," he orders, not bothering with an explanation.

He clamps his hand around the back of Grayson's neck and gives it a rough squeeze in warning. Under his thumb, he can feel the kid's pulse jump, fast and erratic like a bird.

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

A Very Good Bad Thing by Disniq

"Dick should… He should go. He should—

But… that’s Slade. Wilson. And Dick… Dick can’t leave Jason alone with Deathstroke the fucking Terminator.

Pressing back into the shadows, Dick reassures himself that he’s just making sure his brother is safe.

That’s all."

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Slade Wilson

Warm Me Up In A Nova's Glow by Disniq

Initially, Jason had thought having Nightwing tag along with Red Hood and Deathstroke would put a damper on what is usually an unrestrained riot of a time, but it turned out he was worrying over nothing.

And Jason has never been happier to be wrong.

For DickJay Week 2023 - Day 1 prompt: Praise Kink

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Slade Wilson

Open up and swallow on your knees by Naphorism

“It’s just business, kid.” Slade shrugs, brushing his fingers through Dick’s hair with surprising gentleness. “A deal’s a deal. You give me something, I give you something.”

“What more do you want?” Dick croaks. His eyes look even shinier than they were just a moment ago as he gazes up at Slade, but it could be a trick of the light.

“What are you willing to give?” Slade counters with a smirk, the camera behind Dick catching the mean glint in his eye in perfect resolution.

“Anything.”

E | Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

The thing that keeps you up at night by Naphorism

When Dick falls asleep, Robin dreams.

E | Rape/Non-Con, Underage | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Slip ‘n’ Slide by Nightwang

“The first thing Slade noticed was that his safehouse had been broken into. The second was the smell - rich caramel and underneath something a little spicier that he couldn’t quite identify. Omega. An in heat omega.”

For the SladeRobin Week prompt Same Dynamic Omegaverse.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Ready or Knot by Nightwang

"Dick wasn’t quite sure how he’d ended up here, in a safe house on the edge of Bludhaven with Slade Wilson pressing him up against the wall, but he wasn’t complaining."

For the SladeRobin Weekend prompt Omegaverse

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

#dc #dc comics #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #slade wilson #deathstroke #sladick #sladedick #sladin #dickstroke #fanfic recs #fanfic rec #fic recs #fic rec #fanfiction #fanfic

104 notes · View notes

lokiandbuckysdoll · 1 year

Text

Not Your Happy Ending

Summary: You thought you were his happy ending, turns out he had other plans.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader, mentioned Past Bucky x Natshsa.

Word Count: 1,131

Warnings: ANGST!

A/N: So this idea got stuck in my head and this fic is a product of that idea. I'm sorry in advance! also for people who have requests, I'm working on them !!!!! Also, this is not MCU TIMELINE accurate so please no hate!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

You had thought that everything was going well, the world was finally getting back to normal after the defeat of Thanos, Steve gave Sam the shield and is now Captain America, and well Steve that old man somehow figured out a way to bring Peggy back to your timeline and have his happy ending.

With all this good happening after such tragedies, you still couldn't help but feel as if something was still wrong. As if at any moment something was going to happen. Maybe a little part of it had to do with the way Bucky has been acting since he met with Steve last week. You shook off that feeling and tried to occupy your mind. Yet something told you that things were wrong with bucky.

Today you decided to surprise him and have a talk with him about his distinct. You'd gotten off of work early and stooped by one of Bucky's favorite bakeries in Brooklyn, you thought he'd enjoy one of his favorites and hopefully ease him into a conversation.

However, you would soon regret having made that decision. As soon as you arrived at the compound, you had asked Friday to send you in the direction of where Bucky was. She had told you he was in the kitchen with Sam and asked if you would like her to announce your arrival. You asked her not to and then made your way to the kitchen.

Upon walking down the corridor, you stop yourself before turning as you can hear Bucky having what seemed like an intense conversation with Sam. You knew it was bad to east drop but that worried feeling in your stomach began, so you quietly listen to his conversation.

" Just hear me out okay, all I'm saying is that if Steve brought back Peggy to our timeline then maybe.." You felt your heart tighten at what bucky was trying to say. Did he want to go back to the 40s? you were pulled out of your thought when you heard Sam speak. " Maybe what buck?" Sam questions him.

"Then maybe I can bring back Nat from this timeline or a different one and have the life we always wanted, I miss her Sam and I can't stop thinking about the 'what ifs'. Steve even said there might be a chance I could bring her back!" At this exact moment, you felt your heart being ripped out of your chest and stepped on. You knew the passing of Natasha wasn't easy on bucky, she was more than a collage or a friend. They were Ex-lovers for crying out loud, they had a connection like no one else. It was one of your top insecurities going into this relationship, you knew you could never be Natasha or live up to what she and bucky had.

You were in deep contemplation that you nearly forgot you were holding the box of baked goodies in your hands until it almost slid from them. Just as Sam was ready to start speaking again, you swiftly tightened your hold.

"Are you insane or simply fully insane?" Sam shouted. Sam shook his head and said, "You can't mess with death, Bucky. Bringing Peggy back to our timeline is one thing, but to bring Nat from our timeline or another one is a whole different thing." He stopped, "Hell, I'm sure strange wouldn't even help because it's bizarre." Before Bucky could respond, Friday informed him that Torres needed them at the hanger immediately. When the close was evident and it was plain what you had to do, even if it hurt, you had to leave bucky.

The last moment that you spoke with Bucky was through a text message from Sam informing you of a last-minute operation they were going on and when they planned to return. It had been a full two weeks since you had heard what Bucky had said to Sam. After what Bucky had admitted, not even he could text you.

You have recently packed up the life and memories you had with Bucky. You sobbed as you took one last look around the partially empty apartment, soaking it all in before bidding it a fond farewell, lamenting the loss of something that may have been more.

Bucky knew he had to visit you as soon as he stepped off the Quin-Jet. Sam helped him understand during the past two weeks that the idea of bringing Nat back was impractical. Sam also taught him to value and understand that his relationship with you is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. When times were tough, you were the rock that supported him. Everything you do, whether you dance, grin, or cry, stays in his memory. The more he considered leaving, the more he could not bear to go through that because he adored you. You were always there.

Before he could even leave the compound Sam stopped him. He gave him an envelope, "What's this ?" he questioned as he opened it. "Friday said it was from y/n" That was all bucky needed to hear before opening it.

Dear James,

I look back at the early days of our relationship, the days that were filled with love and innocence with affection heightened and improved over time. Falling in love with you felt like those fairytale moments in a child’s movie. It’s weird to say, but it feels like I cannot exist without you like my life revolves around the love I have for you. I feel as though you have absorbed me.

I often ask myself. How did I love before I knew you before I possessed your affection? Maybe it’s when you love someone like how I love you that you know how to Indore everything that can perish. I hate to be selfish, but I have to admit it. I will always love you, my sweet James Buchanan Barnes.

However, I cannot stay in this agony of wanting you to love me how I love you. So I must set you free so you can truly be happy, go explore the world, and live the life you so willingly deserve because in the end that’s all that I care about is your happiness.

I am sorry I am not your happy ending.

In that moment Tears began to pull around his eyes as he read the last sentence those words finally sinking into him and hitting him in the face. You must’ve heard his conversation with Sam. He rushed out of the compound and straight to your apartment. He skipped up the stairs desperately to see you, and ultimately when he opened your apartment you were nowhere to be found. He knew he lost you for good, all because you thought you were not his happy ending.

TAG LIST💜

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jobean12-blog · 2 years

Note

You're not much used to dating apps--maybe you're old fashioned, but you'd always preferred meeting in person versus texting over a screen, but your therapist convinces you to give it a try. "Just swipe on a few people and chat. No committment, no problem, right?" Bucky is easy to talk to--he doesn't demand to meet up with you, assail you with unsolicited pictures of his genetalia. No, he seems happy just to chat and get to know you, which is perfect.

Exactly what you need.

😈

Private Eyes

Pairing: Soft!Dark!Bucky x reader

Word Count: 1,500 (Yes, exactly that because I'm insane)

Summary: You're finally going on a date with the hot guy you've been talking to for weeks. You're nervous but excited. He seems genuinely sweet and even a little shy. What could possibly go wrong?

Author's Note: I finally got this done! I'm sorry for how long it too but it's my first ever attempt at soft!dark! Not sure how dark it really went but I will keep working on these type of fics! This is for the lovely @boxofbonesfic Monkey's Paw Challenge and her amazing milestone celebration! Congratulations lovely, you rock! Thank you for hosting and for having me! Hugs and love!💕 Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by my sweet @firefly-graphics thank you lovely🥰 And I was listening to Hall and Oates 'Private Eyes' when I thought of this. I want to thank my love @sgt-seabass for helping me develop this and really get it where it needed to be, as always, I love and thank you for your brain! And thank you to my sweet Ali @maladaptivexxdaydreaming for supporting me the whole way! Love you both!💕

Warnings: fluffy sweetness to start, some tension, thoughts of kidnapping and stalkerish behavior, implied choking (if I missed anything please let me know :) 18+ ONLY PLEASE!!!

Gif NOT MINE: Credit goes to @unearthlydust thanks a bunch sweets🥰

“Ok, so I have the name of the restaurant and you said your phone is fully charged right?”

Your best friend, Rachel, eyes you from the bed, watching as you check your reflection in the mirror and smooth your hands over your hips.

“Yes and yes,” you answer.

“What if he asks you back to his place?” she inquires, raising a brow.

You turn her way, narrowing your eyes. “I haven’t decided yet. I mean we’ve been talking for weeks and we’ve done face time and talked on the phone, all that. I feel like we know each other pretty well. And remember…”

Before you can finish the sentence she chimes in with, “no dick pics!”

“Exactly,” you smile.

“Well, he better be as hot as he looks in the pictures you showed me,” Rachel huffs even as she dramatically fans herself.

“Yea well let’s hope not otherwise saying no to him is going to be hard,” you giggle.

“Are you wearing something sexy under there?” she asks, the corner of her mouth twitching with a grin.

“Maybe…now, I need to leave or I’ll be late,” you say, grabbing your bag.

“DON’T FORGET TO TEXT!” she yells. “I’ll lock up when I leave.”

“Thanks Rach!”

You stand outside the restaurant, happy you’re a few minutes early and have a chance to try and calm the butterflies in your stomach. You’re just reaching to get your phone from your bag when a smooth and familiar voice says, “hey doll.”

When you look up it’s into the same blue eyes you’ve been staring at on video chat and in pictures.

“Hi Bucky,” you say, hoping you don’t sound too breathless. He looks better in person, which you didn’t think was possible.

“You look gorgeous,” he whispers, clearly trying but failing to keep his eyes on yours, his own making a slow perusal from your head to your toes.

He clears his throat, running a nervous hand through his hair. It only makes it look better.

“I have to admit,” he says quietly, now rubbing the back of his head, “I was worried you might not show.”

His feet shift and when his hand drops to his jeans you notice he tries to discreetly wipe his palm along the material.

His nervousness is endearing and you place a reassuring hand on his arm.

“I’ve been looking forward to this,” you explain, “but I get it. I’m nervous too.”

He gives you a grateful smile and reaches for the door, holding it open for you to walk through, his eyes closing as he inhales deeply when you brush past him.

Once you’re seated and you have your drinks the conversation flows easily, any initial anxiety melting away the more time you spend in his company. He’s sweet and a little shy which only makes you like him more.

He keeps the focus on you, asking the right questions but never pushing too far and when you finally switch gears and ask about him, he’s open and honest.

You notice the leather glove covering his left hand and you gently lay your fingers over his.

“You don’t need to wear this for me,” you tell him, smiling sweetly.

He closes his hand around yours and gives it a squeeze.

“Thanks doll face. I appreciate that. I’m just so used to having it on when I’m out in public.”

You nod in understanding.

“Do you want to get dessert?” he asks. “Or…”

“Or?” you repeat, with a smirk.

“You already know how I enjoy cooking and baking,” he starts, continuing after you smile in acknowledgement. “Well, I don’t want to come off as presumptuous but I did bake something especially for you in case you agreed to come hang with me after dinner.”

His lopsided smile and the light tinge of pink dusting his cheeks is all you need to agree to it.

“That sounds really nice. I want to know what you made!” you laugh.

“Nah…surprises are more fun doll.”

He gives you a wink and it sets the butterflies that have finally settled in your stomach all aflutter again.

After paying for the check, he pulls out your chair and presses his hand to your lower back, leading you out of the restaurant and into the chill night air. You subconsciously rub your hands over your arms.

Before you can protest he starts to shrug off his light jacket. He stands in front of you, reaching up to brush his fingers across your shoulder and adjust the fallen strap of your dress before he lays the jacket over you.

You can’t stop the way your body trembles at his touch and when he lingers in your space, his eyes dropping to your lips you can barely get out your breathy “thank you.”

A loud group of people bustle by and effectively snap you both out of the moment, but not before he stares at you for another beat, his gaze heated as his tongue traces his lips.

Your eyes follow the motion and you swallow hard.

“Ready?” he asks as he lets out a breath.

Not trusting yourself to speak you simply nod and smile.

“We can grab a cab to my place. It’s not even a ten-minute ride.”

Helping you out of the cab, he pays the driver and takes your hand.

“I’m on the third floor,” he says as he presses the button for the elevator.

The ride up to his floor is quiet, the side of his body pressed to yours as the tension settling between you increases.

“Something to drink?” he asks, after he drops his keys by the door.

“More wine would be great,” you say as you take in his apartment.

“I have prosecco,” he smiles. “That’s what you like best right?”

You pause and study him. “Did I tell you that?” you ask, trying to recall when you would have mentioned it.

He shrugs with indifference. “I thought I remember you telling me after you had gone out with friends and you text me. You might have been a little tipsy.”

His smile is bright and playful.

The tension that unconsciously tightened your shoulders eases and you giggle. “That sounds about right!”

“Ready to try my special dessert?”

He holds up a plate of chocolate brownies, topped with a fudgy like frosting and sprinkles.

“Wow, those look so good! I love brownies!”

“I know,” he says, clearly proud of himself. “We talk enough about food and we definitely went over favorite desserts.”

In two short strides he’s pressing into your space, holding a brownie up to your lips.

“Wanna give it a try doll face?”

You part your lips and lean forward, biting into the gooey chocolate. Your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks and you let out a low moan.

“Wow Bucky,” you breathe. “So good.”

His thumb reaches up to wipe a crumb from the corner of your mouth and he spreads his fingers across your cheek, pulling you closer.

“I’m glad you’re happy with them,” he murmurs. “I can make them anytime you want.”

Your fingers close around his wrist and you lean into his touch.

“Can I have more?” you ask.

He feeds you another bite, watching your mouth as you savor the sweet treat. His eyes drop to your lips again and you feel yourself leaning forward but your phone dings with a message.

“Shit,” you mutter. “I should check that. Rachel might be worried.”

“It can wait,” he murmurs, brushing his lips along yours.

Your breath hitches and your eyes close, his hands settling at your waist to pull you closer. The kiss is soft at first but when the whimper slips past your lips he parts them with his tongue, the feel of him like a drug.

He walks you backward, his hands wandering over all your exposed skin. It isn’t until your back softly bumps the wall that you pull away, your head dizzy.

You realize you’re in his bedroom…but something is off. You look around, taking it the placement of the furniture and even the furniture itself, the bedspread, the color of the walls, and then your eyes land on something on the bed.

Your body stiffens and your eyes go wide.

“My wolf, my…my,” you gasp. “How did…?”

You try to back away but there’s no where for you to go. He grabs your arms and holds you against him.

“What’s that doll?” he whispers against your ear.

You let out a shuddering breath. “I don’t understand.”

“You will…in time,” he says, his tone almost excited. “All the comforts of home.”

“Please,” you cry even as your breath hitches at the feel of his metal hand ghosting across your skin.

Your body betrays you and he knows it, the feel of him hard and straining making you clench around nothingness.

“As long as you behave and do as you’re told you’ll be happy and I’ll keep you safe,” he promises as his cold fingers tighten around your neck.

@book-dragon-13 @christywantspizza @dreamlessinparis @goldylions @hiddles-and-skittles @hiddles-rose @jhangelface0523 @loricamebackyetagain @nano--raptor @randomfandompenguin @rebel-stardust @loki-laufeyson-1054 @lookiamtrying @weekendgothgirl @breakablebarnes @seitmai @justile @whippoorwillbarnes @peaches1958

#bucky barnes x reader #soft!dark bucky barnes x reader #soft!dark bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #soft!dark bucky barnes x female reader #monkeys paw challenge

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foreveralwaysanauthor · 1 month

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Same Trailer, Different Park

(Pilot Episode)

April 14, 2024

Notes - Last night, I went to my first-ever DND game with my oldest nephew, and it was incredible! It's supposed to be every other week, but we're doing it again this upcoming Saturday, and the storyline is giving me so many ideas that I could use for one-shots and stuff! Also, my sciatic pain is going away. It's moved from going all the way from my spine to my right knee to just my right hip, so that's an improvement! Anyway, this was just shy of 50 pages and would have been posted sooner if I had the moodboard and divider transferred to my computer, but I didn't, so here we are lmao! The divider I've used is just temporary until I can sit down and work on one I think suits the vibe, but until then, it is what it is. Also, I hope your finals go well! I believe in you!!

April 14th - the day RMS Titanic struck the iceberg.

Usually, on this day every year, I would be prepping for a Titanic watch party and making sure everyone was ready for it, but that’s just not how it’s going to go this time around. After I get out of school today, it’s officially spring break, and I couldn’t be more excited to finally get away from this endless rain despite the deviation from my annual Titanic anniversary get-together. Riven already offered to give me a ride to school this morning, but since Mom asked me to give Abby and Olly one, and Erica’s piece of shit truck can’t go over puddles without breaking down, he’s giving her and JJ a ride instead. I have to remember to pick up stuff for my battle bot before I leave school, so I’ll tell Abby to remind me - she’s good at that kind of thing. Maybe if I take my notebooks with me on my trip, Mickie and the guys can help me figure out some ideas for what I want to build. Then, I won’t have to come up with something when I get back! Yeah, maybe that’s what I’ll do!

Vivien snapped her journal shut and tugged her headphones off before turning them off and tossing them onto her desk alongside her journal. With a sigh, she found her gaze in the mirror that hung on the back of her closet door as she made her way toward it. Despite the hair sticking in every direction, the blanket marks lining the arm she had fallen asleep on, and the wrinkled pajamas she wasn’t quite ready to rid herself of, she looked ready to start her day. Although she highly doubted she would need a cup of coffee that morning as her excitement for the day was propelling her forward like a cup full of espresso shots, Vivien knew she needed to at least look like she was half as ready as she felt.

Her reflection smiled back as she pushed the door of her closet open, but as she pulled the clothes she had set aside the night before down from her hangers, she found herself wondering if she should have put more thought into the outfit she had chosen. Would her typical choice of jeans, a witty graphic tee, and a brightly colored long-sleeve be a good choice in the long run? She would stand out like a sore thumb in the sixties, but nobody at her school would, frankly, give a shit what she wore. Her dad’s signature triple knock on her bedroom door gave Vivien no chance to change her mind as she hollered back that she was almost ready to go. He left after letting her know that he had to leave for an early morning meeting, wishing her a good morning and telling her that he would see her at lunch before leaving to tell the twins the same.

Sighing as she stretched her tired limbs out, Vivien set her cell phone on her dresser, asking Siri to put on one of her playlists as she debated on what to do with her hair. Glancing at the clothes she had yet to pack for her vacation, Vivien cringed as she realized just how much work she’d forced on her after-school self. For once, she was tragically unprepared for a trip. There was a lot she would have to do in the small amount of time between her release from school and Mick’s family picking her up. Pulling her shirt over her head with a huff and freeing her hair from under the collar, Vivien found her phone screen illuminated as a text came in from the girl who had invited her on her family’s trip in the first place.

Mick’s text was simple - a picture of four plane tickets to the John Wayne Airport in Santa Ana, California. Then, as Vivien smiled at her phone, another message came in, asking her if she was ready. A flutter of eager anticipation flew through Vivien’s text as she replied, telling the older brunette how excited she was to finally be able to spend time with the people they both cared about. Once the message had been sent, Vivien found an ABBA song on her playlist, turned the volume back up, and sang softly to herself as she finished getting ready for the day.

After brushing her teeth and taking the time to detangle the hair she had forgotten to ask someone to braid the night before, Vivien gathered her things for school, shoving her overstuffed folder full of homework and project notes into her backpack before grabbing her permission slip for the regional battle bot tournament and shoving it into the back of her bag where it would be kept relatively safe until the end of the school day. Tucking her school laptop into her bag, zipping it shut, and throwing a strap over her shoulder, Vivien scurried out of her room, just barely remembering to turn off the light as Oliver mumbled out a good morning on his way to the stairs. Chuckling as she wished her brother a good morning, Vivien stepped back to allow Abby to parade by with her backpack on one shoulder, a book in her free hand, and her hair pulled back in a migraine-inducing high pony that Vivien was sure she would hear the girl complaining about later in the day.

Following her siblings downstairs as Abby muttered her oral report to herself, Vivien took in a slow breath and hoped her mother had already left for her meeting with some city council board as the smell of slightly charred bacon wafted through the air. Their mother had a habit of making perfect bacon and sausage for herself and everyone else but would sometimes forget Vivien’s and her ex-husband’s in the pan while she took the time to ensure her twins had everything exactly how they liked it. Vivien never bothered to bring up the issue; instead, she gave the charred bacon strips or sausage patties to Riven as he was practically a walking garbage disposal and seemed to enjoy the blackened breakfast meats. Her siblings had tried to bring it up before, and Vivien knew her father had tried as well, but to no avail. The woman wouldn’t argue much with her younger children and always denied anything being wrong, pointing out the fact that Vivien never brought it up herself, but even when Oliver argued that the disgust on Vivien’s face was obvious, nothing changed.

Entering the kitchen, Vivien smirked as Oliver turned back toward Abby and began spouting random historical facts to throw his twin off her train of thought. Abby was quick to fight back, whacking her brother with her book as she told him to shut up and let her focus. Their mother was quick to jump in and tell her only son to leave his sister alone before handing them both their lunch boxes and telling them to get going before they were late. Abby sent Vivien an apologetic look as the eldest of the O’Brian kids took the only remaining lunch box from the counter, and their mother ushered them toward the coat closet. After giving the twins a quick kiss on the forehead and telling Vivien to drive safely, the woman grabbed her jacket and left, heading out to her car and taking off while the kids were still pulling on their spring coats.

With a sigh, Vivien grabbed her keys from the hook by the door and held the door open for her siblings, but it wasn’t until they were in the pale blue Hyundai Vivien had received from their father after passing her license test that any of them chose to speak up. Oliver huffed as he slid into the back seat, buckling his seatbelt before stretching out across the bench seat and sighing, “I don’t get Mom’s issue.”

“Olly,” Vivien sighed, a soft reprimand that she hoped would keep her brother from ranting the whole way to their school.

“No, Viv,” Abby cut in before Oliver could speak, “we all see she treats you differently, and it isn’t right!”

“It isn’t,” Vivien agreed as she pushed the key into the ignition and started the car, turning the defroster on to keep the windows clear, “but it isn’t worth the effort of trying to change her. Besides, I’ve got you guys and Dad.”

“And Auntie Hayley and Aunt Charlie,” Oliver piped in.

“Exactly,” Vivien nodded, smiling at her younger brother as she backed out of the driveway.

Abby huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and slouching in her seat as she complained, “Still. I wish we knew what her problem was.”

“I have a few theories,” Oliver claimed.

Abby grinned, “We know. You’ve shown us your corkboard of conspiracy theories.”

“Yeah,” Vivien snorted, putting the car into drive and taking off down their street. “I swear, introducing you to MatPat and Shane Dawson at a young age was a bad idea.”

“Seriously,” Abby agreed teasingly. “If I have to be subjected to another three-hour rant about the government brainwashing us through Justin Beiber’s music, I just might pitch myself off of the water tower.”

“First of all, that’s not what my theory was about,” Oliver chuckled, “and second, I meant about Mom treating Viv differently.”

Shifting so that she could see both Oliver and Vivien, Abby said, “Well, you’re the conspiracy theorist here. What do you think is the issue?”

Excited to finally have the chance to blather about the ideas he had been bouncing around in his head for a while, Oliver beamed as he began his spiel, “My first thought was that she’s jealous that Vivien has a better relationship with Auntie Hayley and is upset that she’s not Viv’s birth mom, but that wasn’t an issue when we were little, so why would it be now?”

“Yeah, makes sense,” Abby nodded thoughtfully, sparing a glance at Vivien, who nodded as she slowed to a stop at an intersection. Turning back to her twin, Abby pressed, “So, what else you got?”

Oliver sighed, “Sadly, I think the most likely reason is that she’s just pissy because she thinks Viv forced me into the ‘Alphabet Soup Community’ and is scared she’ll do the same to you, Abs.”

Abby’s expression shifted, a disgusted wince tugging her eyebrows together in frustration as she took in her brother’s theory. It made sense, but she didn’t want to admit it. Though Vivien had come out as bisexual years ago, their mother never truly seemed to accept it until Vivien began dating Royce a few months ago. When Oliver came out as gay, the woman had taken the news out on her eldest child, pulling her aside and blaming her for “poisoning her baby brother” with her “disgusting beliefs.” Abby had unintentionally overheard the conversation, listening proudly to her older sister as the brunette fought for her brother to be treated better than she had been. When Abby later told Oliver what she’d heard, the pair found themselves in Vivien’s room, showering their sister with kind words of gratitude and love that the older girl seemed to relish in.

Ready to rant about their mother’s blatant homophobia, Abby scoffed; however, it was Vivien who spoke before her sister could rage for the rest of the drive, “Sadly, that could be right.” Vivien placed a hand on top of the one Abby had placed on the center console, gently squeezing her hand as she continued, “Even though I hope that’s not the case, it could very well be. She’s always been a little… uptight about that sort of thing.”

“A little?” Oliver chortled, finding Vivien’s gaze in the rear-view mirror. “That’s the understatement of the year.”

Abby laughed, “You couldn’t pull a needle out of her ass with a tractor!”

“Abby!” Vivien reprimanded despite her laughing at the girl’s choice of words.

“It’s the truth!” Abby argued. “I’m sure she would’ve sent you guys to conversion therapy or something if Dad hadn’t said something.”

Vivien sighed as she turned onto School Street, “Still. She’s our mom, and until we move out, we have no choice but to put up with her bullshit.”

Oliver shifted in his seat, ready to crack a joke in order to lighten the situation, but Abby huffed, “I just don’t get why your sexualities matter so much to her. It’s not like it has anything to do with her in the first place.”

“Maybe she-”

“And why should she care if I’m straight or not?” Abby continued, cutting off Vivien’s statement with a scoff. “Is she just going to drop all of us if I someday decide to come out of the closet?”

Once he was sure his twin was done ranting, Oliver shrugged, “Maybe. Like Auntie Hayley said, Mom can’t stand that we aren’t her little dolls who do whatever she says now. I wouldn’t put it past her if she chooses to up and leave if this becomes a three-for-three situation.”

Taking in the wounded expression on her baby sister’s face as she pulled into an empty parking spot, Vivien smiled reassuringly and said, “I doubt you have much of anything to worry about anyway. Even if you came out as bi like I did, you and Malachi have been dating for, what, almost a year now?” When Abby nodded wordlessly, Vivien continued, “Well, Mom only chilled out when she found out I was dating Royce. Since you’re dating a boy already, I doubt there would be a problem.”

“Besides,” Oliver began as he pushed open his door and picked up his bag from the floor, “you’re straight - you have nothing to worry about.”

Plastering a smile on her face as she tugged her bag up from the floor, Abby nodded, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Patting Abby’s hand with a grin, Vivien opened her door and stepped outside, grabbing her backpack from the backseat and locking the car once the doors were closed. Once her keys were safely tucked into the front pocket of her backpack, Vivien followed her siblings to the front door of the school. Before she could step inside, however, a honk from a nearby car made Vivien jump, whirling around to see Riven’s red Miata pulling to a stop by the sidewalk. Telling her siblings she would see them later, Vivien headed over to the car as the passenger’s side door opened, and a head of emerald hair stepped out before pushing the seat forward.

“Hey, Viv,” Jade greeted with a smile as she tightened her ponytail.

As Erica tumbled out of the backseat, the seatbelt wrapped around the ankle of her Doc Martens, she peered up at the brunette and beamed, “Oh, good! I was hoping to catch you before first period.”

“Mission accomplished,” Vivien chuckled as Erica hobbled her way away from the car. As the car door closed and the window rolled down, she leaned over and teased, “That’s the only car full of ladies you’ll ever have, isn’t it?”

Riven sent his best friend a grin and gestured to his fellow bandmates as he spoke, “Blues Clues over there can hardly be considered a lady, and considering JJ is the only cheerleader who has ever given me the time of day, probably.”

Chuckling, Vivien rolled her eyes and said, “You’re an idiot.”

“Love you too.”

Before Vivien could return the sentiment, Erica placed a hand on her shoulder and said, “Alright, dipshits, let’s go before the bell rings and we get told off.”

Jade chuckled as she tossed her Chapstick into her bag, “By who; Viv’s dad?”

Vivien snorted at the thought of her dad reprimanding them, but Erica beat her to the punch as she turned toward her girlfriend and said, “I was thinking Coach Boogeyman.”

Leaning over the passenger seat, Riven wondered, “I thought Bogman was forced to leave after the color guard claimed she was spying on them in the showers.”

“She was supposed to,” Jade huffed, “but until they find enough evidence to take her to court, she has to finish out the year.”

“Sadly,” a voice sighed from behind the group. Turning toward the voice, Vivien smiled as her father spoke, “Until we have her on camera, there’s nothing we can do. Besides, she’s been pushing off retirement for years. With this accusation, we should be able to finalize everything at the end of the year.”

“Good,” Erica snipped as Vivien stepped around her. “She’s always given me the creeps.”

“Understandably so,” Damien chuckled softly, smiling as his daughter slotted herself under his arm. “Hey, babygirl.”

“Hey, Dad,” Vivien beamed. “Did you come to walk us to class?”

Damien shook his head, squeezing his daughter’s shoulder as he replied, “Not quite. I saw you four chatting and figured I would try to get you inside before anyone else came out and started yelling.” Leaning forward enough to see Riven, he asked, “Are you joining us, Riven, or are you just going to do virtual lessons today?”

“No, I’ll be in,” Riven quickly replied, glancing toward the parking lot with his signature grin. “Just have to find a place to park.”

“Make it quick, bud,” the man stated as he glanced at his smartwatch. “The bell rings in ten minutes.”

Riven nodded, checking to make sure his path was clear before pulling away from the curb, his Miata drifting toward the parking lot as Damien began leading his daughter and her friends inside. After handing her lunchbox off to her dad so he could put it into the staff fridge until lunch, Vivien waited until Riven came running up to the front door before stepping inside behind him, taking his hand and allowing him to pull her toward the stairwell across from the main office, waving goodbye to their friends and her father as they propelled up the stairs. Riven dragged her up to the next floor, where their lockers resided, before letting her go as he began twisting in his locker combination. Meanwhile, Vivien pulled her keys from her backpack, slipped a purple-painted one into her lock, and freed it, popping open the metal door with a sigh and placing her bag on the hook inside.

“You know,” Riven began, “it’s days like today that I wish my birthday wasn’t after the school cutoff.”

“Rough morning?” Vivien asked with a grin.

Riven scoffed as he tugged his social studies workbook down from the shelf he had shoved it onto the day before, “I slept through my alarm, and Dad was already at work, so he couldn’t help. Then, I woke up to Erica screeching about needing a ride, only to have my phone die mid-call. And, to top it all off, I’m about eighty-three percent sure these sweatpants are yours from the weekend.”

Vivien’s eyebrow lifted, but as she glanced down at the navy blue sweatpants Riven donned, her eyes widened. Sure enough, the stars and planets she had embroidered around the pockets and hemline of her sweatpants now stood as a glaring reminder of the clothes she had tossed into the wash at Riven’s house. They had been cooking stuffed shells, and she had dropped the jar of sauce, splattering chunky, red tomato sauce all over the floor and their legs. After putting the food in the oven, they got a majority of the stains out in the sink but threw their clothes into the laundry afterward to get rid of the smell. She had forgotten the pants in her rush to get out the door on Monday morning, having told Riven she would take them back when she went back to his house after spring break was over. Holding back her bark of laughter, Vivien grinned at the thought of Riven rushing around his room that morning, throwing on whatever he could find before leaving the house and somehow missing the colorful threads lining his legs.

“Yeah,” Riven breathed, rolling his eyes at Vivien’s not-so-discrete snort of laughter. “Erica thought it was hilarious.”

“It kind of is,” Vivien giggled softly. At Riven’s dismayed sigh, her grin faltered, and she glanced down at her pants as she offered, “Do you want to trade? I’m pretty sure I stole these from you over the summer.”

Riven spared a glance at the jeans Vivien had worn and grinned; the cuffs were rolled up toward her ankles to prevent them from being stepped on, and she had to wear a belt just to keep the waistband in place, something Riven had no issue with in the slightest. With a snort, he shook his head, “I think I’m good, Pip. You made these and, despite them being on the shorter side, I’m only here until lunch. I can run home and change before work after I’m done eating. Besides, they wouldn’t match your outfit.”

Vivien’s eyebrow lifted into her bangs as she asked, “Since when do you care if clothes match?”

“I don’t,” Riven shrugged as he closed his locker, “but I know you do. Now, come on, it’s almost time for the bell.”

Scrambling to grab her books for the next two classes so she wouldn’t have to run to her locker between bells, Vivien slammed her locker shut and walked alongside Riven until he reached his class. They wouldn’t see each other again until she was allowed to head to the cafeteria for lunch, but their mornings in the halls were something she had cherished for a while. Joining a few of her classmates on their way to their first period of the day, Vivien caught a glimpse of the oversized clock on the wall and sighed. She had four periods until lunch, and only two were on the same floor, but she had planned to use her study hall block to join her friend Emily in the drama wing of the main floor.

Emily - or Emmy, as she was often called by her relatively small friend group - had been begging her for the last two weeks to join her for the auditions in some musical the school was putting on. Originally, Vivien had no desire to audition as she hated the thought of having so many eyes on her, but when Emily pointed out that the auditorium was in close proximity to the cafeteria, she relented. If it meant she didn’t have to run from her study hall on the top floor all the way down to the main floor to eat, she was in.

Her first block was spent listening to Mrs. Adams - the only social studies teacher who actually seemed to enjoy teaching - ask everyone what their plans were for spring break. She loved to make the class hard as most of her students were either on the honor roll or enrolled in advanced placement classes, but Fridays were the one day a week when everyone got some reprieve from her constant stream of tests, exams, and droning lessons. By the time the bell rang, everyone had broken off into groups, writing out their plans for the week as their teacher sat at her desk with a smile, grading the last few papers on her computer. Vivien had made up a story on the fly, writing out her plans for the trip to California she told everyone she was going on, but as the bell rang, she closed her notebook and shoved it into her desk before grabbing her book for the next class and following her friend, Carter, down the hall toward the French class she had signed up for at the start of the semester.

Although she struggled a lot with the language - finding her old Spanish and German classes easier than French - the teacher commended her many times for at least trying. She wanted nothing more than to learn the language her boyfriend’s family knew, intending to surprise them on her trip. However, she knew her attempts were fairly futile. French just wasn’t her strong suit. Grateful her grade for the class wasn’t going to affect her final grades for the year, Vivien slumped into her chair in the middle of the room and hoped the class would go by faster than it usually did so that she could escape to the auditorium.

Thankfully, it seemed as though the teachers were of the same mindset as the students - eager to escape the concrete and stucco walls and leave for vacation. After answering a one-sided paper of questions in French about how their week had been, the teacher let them wander the halls, allowing Vivien to dump her books in her locker before making her way down to the auditorium. The auditorium was hardly ever used unless they had a guest speaker or a show being rehearsed, but the doors were almost always left unlocked, making it easy for Vivien to slip inside and make her way to the front row of chairs.

The auditorium would be empty for a while before the audition time came, but as Vivien had all the time in the world until her friend showed up, she didn’t mind the silence. Opening the notes app on her phone, she began typing out all of the things she would need to pack when she got home. Her list was already relatively short as she had put her essentials into her suitcase after using them that morning before school - her toiletries taking up the small pouch in the front of her luggage to leave room for the clothes she was still up in the air about. Although she knew that clothes weren’t really necessary as Mick had told her many times that she would be able to borrow period-typical clothes from them upon her arrival, she still needed to shove some summery clothing into her suitcase to make it seem as though her time had truly been spent in the California sun.

With a sigh, Vivien realized she also needed to leave room for the souvenirs she would be bringing back and any potential shopping she did in either world. By the time she had whittled down her list to just necessities, her journal, and some extra changes of, well, every article of clothing she owned, people had begun to fill the auditorium, ascending the stage and beginning vocal warm-ups that would have impressed Sharpay Evans. Vivien tucked her earbuds in as the noise in the room began to grow, only pulling them out when Emily appeared in the seat next to her, excitedly tugging Vivien out of her shell and onto the stage with her as she rambled about the show they were going to be performing for the end of the school year.

Checking her blood pressure on her watch, Vivien sighed as the drama teachers, Mrs. Kaisla and Mr. Doyle, began telling everyone where to stand before giving them the run-down of the show. “As you all know by the posters in the halls,” Mr. Doyle began, “this year’s final show will be Hairspray.”

“I really want to play Tracy or Penny,” Emily squealed in a whisper mere inches from Vivien’s ear. Grabbing Vivien’s shirt in a fist, she added, “Imagine if Colby gets picked for Link or Seaweed - it would be perfect!”

Chuckling at the girl’s obvious crush on the dark-skinned football player who had been in their friend circles since kindergarten, Vivien whispered back, “I admire your enthusiasm, but is he the only reason you’re auditioning? I mean, you hate being the center of attention as much as I do being on stage; why would you wish for the lead?”

Emily’s sparkling smile faltered as Vivien’s words sunk in but quickly reappeared as the teachers wrapped up their short spiel about the show, “That’s why you’re here.”

“To make sure you don’t look like the worst performer here?” Vivien questioned teasingly.

Emily scoffed, elbowing Vivien in the arm, “Shut up. You’re not that bad.”

“Says you,” Vivien replied as Mrs. Kaisla began ushering some students toward center stage. As soon as she was sure neither she nor Emily were part of the group selected, she added, “There’s a reason I only ever sing in the car or the shower.”

With a sigh, Emily nudged her friend closer to the front of the stage and said, “And there’s a reason I asked you to come with me instead of literally anybody else. You have a beautiful voice. Besides, I need someone here who makes it easier to be in the spotlight. Now, shush!”

Vivien rolled her eyes but smiled as Emily hushed her, urging her to watch the others as they were instructed on what to do. Minutes flew by as the group took turns singing popular songs played over a bluetooth speaker one of the boys had brought to the school. Before she knew it, Vivien felt her stomach clench anxiously as her name was called, and Emily practically dragged her to the center of the stage. Taking a deep breath as the others took turns singing, Vivien tried to think of a song - any song - she could sing at least fairly well, but any titles she knew seemed to flee her brain as her mouth dried up as she resorted to biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from fidgeting under the blazing lights.

As Emily’s choice - an 80s hit that had made an appearance in the last season of Stranger Things - began to play, Vivien realized just how doomed she was, and her mind flickered to the cell phone in her back pocket. Surely, her Spotify would have something she could work with, right? However, to her chagrin, as soon as the device was free of its jean prison, Vivien found the music had stopped playing, and she was forced to choose a song without any assistance. Had she really taken that long to decide? Clearing her throat, Vivien smiled tersely as she gave up the only song that had found its way to the front of her brain in time - ABBA’s Lay All Your Love On Me.

The teachers she hardly knew seemed to smile as they talked amongst themselves, and although a part of her was sure they were talking about how easy the song was to mess up, Emily’s encouraging smile from the side of the stage somewhat assured her that all was fine. Closing her eyes as the music began playing, Vivien attempted to force her fears down as she sucked in a deep breath. All she had to do was get through a section of the song, and she would be free to leave as everyone else was. Pretending she was just singing in the car with Riven, Vivien allowed her voice to carry over the music, her enjoyment of the song obvious as she began to sway to the beat, the lyrics flowing out of her like water.

Once the chorus had left her, the music began to fade, allowing the teachers to be heard as they scribbled something on their clipboards. Looking up at her, Mrs. Kaisla smiled and said, “Thank you, Vivien. You’re free to go.”

“Remember to check the cast list when we come back to school,” Mr. Doyle added before gesturing toward the side of the stage, where Emily received her with a hug and a squeal.

The two made their exit relatively quickly, Vivien practically pushing Emily through the double doors so that she could find a source of oxygen in the halls. Once the auditorium doors had closed with a click, Vivien sighed, checking her blood pressure as a wave of anxiety-fueled dizziness washed over her. After making up a quick excuse as to where she was going, Vivien told Emily she would see her after lunch before making her way to her locker, where she kept her water bottle. Sitting on the floor by her locker, Vivien sipped at her water until the bell rang, forcing herself to calm down as she scrolled through Pinterest.

Before long, Jade and Riven appeared, having left the same class Vivien would have to attend after lunch - World History. They hauled her off of the floor, and Riven tossed his books into his locker before draping an arm around Vivien's shoulders and guiding her toward the stairs while Jade rattled off about the teacher - Mr. Smith - being the most boring teacher in the school. After retrieving Vivien's lunch from her father, she joined her friends at their usual table by the windows on the far wall of the cafeteria, spending their lunch block playing a segment of their Dungeons and Dragons campaign on their phones while eating.

After a while of playing and eating, the bell rang, and they cleaned up their table before tossing Vivien's now empty lunch box into Erica's locker near the gym before saying goodbye to Riven and splitting off to their respective classes. For Vivien, the rest of her classes went by without a hitch, time flying by the way she had hoped all morning that it would. Once her final class of the day ended, Vivien sent a quick text to the group chat she and her siblings had created, telling them that she had to drop off her form for the battle bot tournament and would meet them at the car. Making her way from the top floor to her locker, Vivien gathered her belongings, shoving her water bottle and a small bag of Cheetos her Trigonometry teacher had given her into her backpack before slinging her backpack onto her shoulders.

Once she was back on the main floor, Vivien scurried across the hall, rounded the entrance to the office, and took the stairwell across from the vending machines down to the school's basement. As she descended the stairs, dampness and mildew filled her nostrils, making her nose wrinkle in disgust as she pushed the door to the bottom floor open. Hardly anyone visited the basement unless they had to, as there was little to see, but there were a select few who found comfort in the almost eerie silence and smell the basement offered. While the basement wasn't overly dark or dreary, it never quite felt warm enough to give off the same welcoming feeling the upper parts of the school gave.

Perhaps it was the piercing white light of the fluorescents or the steady beeping from the computer lab that sounded almost exactly like a hospital heart monitor that kept people away, but regardless, there were only a handful of students who enjoyed the ominous, cold, almost abandoned feeling the basement radiated. Vivien was one of those odd students. After years of exploring abandoned buildings with Riven for his photography blog and her Instagram, the smell and cold environment of the school's basement did little to drive her away. If anything, it was almost calming.

There weren't many reasons for most students to visit the basement, as there were only three labs and two committees that met there. The chemistry, robotics, and computer laboratories were in a triangle-like formation at the very end of the hall, while the photography and student politics groups met at the other end of the hall, their rooms across from each other and sharing a single wall that was thin enough to hear conversations happening in the other room. Vivien hummed to herself as she stepped around an old projector that had been wheeled into the hallway, grinning fondly at the memory of having to haul the old machine up the stairs to the top floor for one of the summer school teachers while helping her dad out in the office. Stepping into the Bermuda Triangle of classrooms at the end of the hall, Vivien scanned the names beside the doors before making her way toward the left-most room.

The door to the robotics lab had been kept open with a hunk of metal the teacher, Mr. Kevin Hill, had welded in his free time one summer. Mr. Hill was one of Vivien's favorite teachers of all time. Mr. Hill was a short Irishman with a fondness for taking things apart and rebuilding them, something Vivien could appreciate. There were a few other students in the room - Vivien's bandmate, Erica; Damon Perry, a vitiligo-skinned freshman who hardly spoke around upperclassmen unless he was spoken to first; and Preston Osborne, a senior who thought his shit didn't stink because he had more money than he knew what to do with.

Unlike the rest of the handful of rich kids at their school, Vivien had known Preston by extension for years. He had been something of a nightmare for the school system, using his daddy's reputation as a hotshot lawyer in the city to be a dick to anyone who dared push back against whatever he wanted. According to Erica and Jade, Preston wasn't horrible until middle school, when the older kids began picking on him. One threat of a lawsuit later, Preston officially became known as someone nobody wanted to trifle with. Over the years, Vivien had heard her father complain about the boy and had heard horror stories from teachers who'd had him, but Vivien hadn't known him personally until she became the youngest person from their school ever to win the regional battle bot championship.

In her first year fighting back in seventh grade, she had beaten Preston by a long shot, her little, ladybug-shaped robot tearing Preston's robot apart with its electrified saws. Preston, of course, seemed incapable of taking the news well, having argued with the competition's judges until he was forced to either accept defeat or be disqualified. Ever since that day, Vivien found herself with an upperclassman who thought of her as nothing more than his arch-nemesis. Though she found him obnoxious after a while, Vivien hardly played into his made-up game of tug-of-war unless provoked, something that seemed to piss Preston off more instead of making him see how ridiculous he was being.

Rolling her eyes at the imbecile's glare, Vivien signed her name on the clipboard on the teacher's desk, taking a glance at the competition as she allowed her backpack to slide down from her shoulders. The robotics teacher was supposed to supervise from his desk as Erica, Preston, and Damon scoured the materials the teacher had laid out for them to take, but Damon had somehow managed to ask a question that kept the old Irishman talking while Erica and Preston searched the scrap bins the teacher had left out for them to rifle through. The bins would be there until the day of the competition, giving Vivien plenty of time to come up with a model and a mock-up before she started digging through the bins of scrap metal that, hopefully, wouldn't be sending anyone to the hospital for a tetanus shot that year.

As Mr. Hill stepped away from his conversation with Damon, he found Vivien standing by his desk as she dug through her backpack for the paper she swore she had left in the front of the biggest pouch. "Ah," the teacher began, "Miss O'Brian. I was wondering when you would show."

Vivien peered over at the teacher and smiled before resuming her search, "Well, better late than never, right, Mr. H?"

The graying man smiled with a short nod as he sat in his chair once again, "So far, I have only received a couple of sign-ups, so your competition from our school is looking rather small. Do you have an idea for what your battle bot will look like this year?"

"You know I can't tell you, even if I do," Vivien stated as she tugged her permission slip out and handed it to the teacher. As Mr. Hill glanced over the paper with mild interest, Vivien stepped away from his desk and looked over some of the objects the teacher had prepared. She picked up a few metal pieces she could use for either a weapon or a protective shield and placed them in a plastic Walmart bag that Mr. Hill had left out for the students to use. "Besides, I wouldn't dare divulge my secrets to my enemies," Vivien claimed theatrically as she glanced around at the other students in the room.

Erica leaned forward just enough to stick her tongue out at Vivien, placing a couple of springs in a plastic bag the teacher had given her. Damon simply smiled but kept quiet as he signed out a workshop tool that he'd need to return in the next two weeks. Vivien returned his smile and chuckled; in the few years she had known him, Damon had always seemed to be a very quiet, reserved person, but he seemed to come a little bit out of his shell when it came time for battles such as this one. However, as opposed to his silent competitors, Preston Osborne scoffed at Vivien and rolled his eyes as he turned toward the brunette.

He used the wrench he was holding to point at Vivien, watching her with scrutiny as he spoke, "After last year's height requirement debacle, I doubt anybody would take your advice."

"What?" Vivien began sarcastically, her voice taking on an infantilizing tone. "Are you still upset that mine was bigger than yours?" Ignoring the snorted bark of shocked laughter from her blue-haired friend, the brunette, never one to back down from a fight with the arrogant male, moved so she could look Preston as straight in the eye as her shorter stature would allow. "At least you could see mine in the ring. Everyone needed a pair of binoculars to see yours; it was so small."

Preston stared down his nose at Vivien before chuckling condescendingly, "At least mine didn't need a judge to do a height check last minute."

"Yeah, and? Who won that battle again?" Vivien asked rhetorically. Gasping dramatically, she placed a hand over her chest and answered her own question, "Oh, right! Me."

"You just don't know when to shut up, do you?" Preston retorted with an arrogant scoff. Then, his voice lowered as he hissed, "My dad could sue the shit out of your family. I'd run you and your whole family out of town."

"I don't know who told you that, dipshit," Vivien laughed, "but your daddy's got no power here and neither do you. In fact, I bet your 'big city lawyer' father would love to hear all about how often you try to threaten people in this school. Threatening bodily harm is a potentially jailable offense, you know. I can see the headlines now!"

Vivien pretended to gag as Preston leaned closer, his breath polluting her face as he snarled, "That big mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble if you don't shut it."

"If you think my mouth is big, I feel bad for your girlfriend." Vivien paused, gave a mock gasp, then added, "Oh, wait, you don't have one. Do you, shrimp dick?"

"Look, you little bitch, I-"

"Mister Osborne, Miss O'Brian," Mr. Hill interrupted, rising from his seat before the argument could get any worse. "I believe this argument will get you nowhere. Mr. Osborne, as you have already gathered your things, I suggest you sign out any tools you may need and leave before this ends up as another after-school detention for you. Miss O'Brian, please continue looking around for any particular parts you may need."

Vivien nodded and waited for Preston to back down and storm off before she resumed her perusing, allowing the teacher to handle Preston as he approached the desk. Mr. Hill was one of the teachers who always formed his own opinions of the children who came into his class, regardless of their notoriety. The man didn't care about who the kids' parents were; he would treat him the same way he would treat any student. Vivien knew from Riven's occasional photography classes at the community college that Mr. Hill had taken opportunities to float around the different universities in the area, teaching robotics and photography when he wished; if he got fired from this school for not babying Preston or some other Karen's spawn, it probably wouldn't be a hard blow. Maybe that was why Vivien, Erica, and most of the other students who didn't like Preston liked Mr. Hill so much.

Soon, but not soon enough, Preston left and took his bags with him, and Erica flipped him off as he disappeared down the hallway. Turning toward the grinning Vivien, she beamed, "Bitch, you handled him so much better than I would have."

Vivien smiled as she tossed a handful of small springs into her wagon. "Thanks. I just- I can't stand him."

"Who can other than his parents?" Erica scoffed, "His head's so far up his own ass, I'm surprised he can walk straight."

"I have to agree with you," Mr. Hill piped in as he sat back in his seat. "Although Preston makes fair marks as far as I am aware, he rides on his father's reputation to keep himself above everyone else. Though, as a teacher, I must advise you change your approach, a couple of wounds to his pride will, hopefully, do him well over time."

"I doubt he'll change," Vivien said, shaking her head, as she examined a small shell-shaped piece that could be used as a cover for her robot.

The teacher returned to the book he had been reading, and Erica nodded in agreement before taking a battery holder and putting it inside her bag. She looked at Vivien's bag and shook her head at how much the younger girl had already stored away. "Well, I'm looking forward to being annihilated by you again this year, as always."

Vivien knew the other girl was only joking, as Erica had told her before that she only entered the battles for fun and found it interesting to see how far she could get. With a smile, Vivien chirped, "And I look forward to annihilating you, as always."

Erica laughed, giving Vivien a quick hug before leaving, claiming she and Jade were getting a ride to work from one of the girls on the cheer team who worked at the mall with them. Once her friend was gone, Vivien went back to picking out parts for her robot, picking out items she thought could be of use and tucking them into the bag that had begun to weigh her arm down. The brunette spent another handful of minutes in the classroom before deciding she had enough things. As she placed her heavy bag inside another, she tied the handles in a knot and said, "Well, Mr. Hill, I believe I'll be on my way."

"Actually, Miss O'Brian, I have to go over the rules for the battles before you leave," the teacher claimed, tucking a bookmark into the novel he was reading before pulling a paper from his desk drawer. "Normally, I would wait until I have you in class, but since we won't be back in school until after spring break, now is as good a time as any."

Vivien accepted the paper from the teacher, reading over the first couple of rules before nodding to herself. "Did they change them or something?"

"Not exactly." Mr. Hill stood and made his way around the desk, sitting on the other side of the surface as he pointed out some of the notes at the bottom of the page. "The officials are new this year. They've agreed to keep the three-foot height acceptance, but they've eliminated the use of robotic arms that can be used to puncture another robot from the maximum height - as you can see here."

"Let me guess, that rule was made because of my robot from last year?" Vivien pondered.

"That would be my guess as well," the teacher agreed with a grin. "While that robot of yours was quite impressive, you have to keep it short if that's your plan this year."

Vivien shook her head, knowing that wasn't her idea at all. She liked to change things up every year, never showcasing the same attack twice. Thinking for a moment, Vivien scanned over the jumbled nonsense on the page that she would probably hand off to Mick the moment she saw her and asked, "Are saws and shields still allowed?"

"Yes, of course," Mr Hill said, nodding insistently. "It would be very hard to take that ruling out. Just remember that you need to have your robot done by the first of June. The following week, the judges will go through the ruling process. Any final adjustments will have to be made before the end of the school day on Friday, the ninth. The first day of battles will be Saturday, and Sunday will be finals and awards, as per usual."

Vivien allowed herself a brief moment to process the information before nodding, a smile lighting her face as she spoke, "That sounds good to me." Picking up her backpack from the floor, Vivien folded and tucked the paper into the pocket of her jeans and headed out of the classroom. It wasn't until she was near the stairwell that she heard her name being called again. Turning toward the voice, she found Mr. Hill standing in the doorway of his classroom. "Yeah?" she called in return.

"Just something I meant to tell you before you left." The teacher held his book up a little, a gesture that made Vivien believe he was going to quote something from it, yet, without looking down, he began speaking once more. "Those who are willing to work hard - day in and day out - to achieve their goals are the true winners, regardless of the scores or the judges' opinions. I don't doubt that you are one of those hard-working people, Vivien; you know what you're doing. Your skills never cease to amaze me, and I hope you prove me right again this year."

With a raised brow, Vivien asked, "Prove you right, sir?"

"I've been an AP Robotics teacher here for twenty-three years," Mr Hill said. "It's not often that I have someone in my class throughout junior and senior high school. Other teachers said I should have booted you down to the regular class with Miss Denis, but since the day you first walked into my class, I knew you had potential. Since then, you've proved them wrong every step of the way. I commend you for that."

Vivien stood in place for a moment, stunned at her teacher's kind words. "Thanks, Mr Hill. I won't let you down."

"I know you won't, Miss O'Brian. You never do. Have a nice evening," he replied before turning back to his book and stepping back over to his desk, leaving Vivien standing alone in the hallway.

Vivien stared at the spot Mr. Hill had previously occupied, letting out an airy laugh as a brilliant smile found its way onto her face. Taking in a deep breath, she straightened her posture and turned toward the stairs, propelling herself up them with newfound confidence. Her bag of assorted metal bits jangled, clanking together in a symphony of scrapes and tings as she ascended the stairs. Once she had reached the main floor, Vivien retrieved her lunch box from Erica's locker. The girl's four-digit code - 8104, Erica's birthdate and year combined - was one of the many Vivien kept in her notes app in case her friends ever forgot them, and even though she was sure Erica couldn't possibly forget her locker combination, Vivien enjoyed knowing that, if her friends needed her to, she could help them.

After tugging the lunch box out from the chaos that was Erica's locker, Vivien rushed to the office, saying a quick goodbye to her dad before heading to the main entrance, pushing open the first set of doors before lifting the hood of her jacket over her head and hoping her siblings had gotten the spare key to her car from their father as rain poured from above. Shoving open the door to the outside world, Vivien watched as rain slammed down in sheets, taking a deep breath before bolting into the freezing rain, letting out a shrill screech as she scurried across the parking lot to her car. She threw the door open and jumped inside, grateful her siblings had already started the car's heater, as she slammed the door shut behind her.

Abby smirked at her sister's reflection in the rear-view mirror as Vivien shivered in her seat, and with a snort, she asked, "Bit chilly, sissy?"

Turning back toward her little sister, Vivien nodded and sighed, "You could say that." Hauling her backpack and Walmart bag of metal parts over the gap between her seat and Oliver's, Vivien asked, "Can you hold onto these for me, Abs?"

Peering back as Abby placed Vivien's belongings on the seat next to her, Oliver asked, "You're doing the championship again this year?"

"When doesn't she, Olly?" Abby asked rhetorically as Vivien backed out of her parking spot. "She fights every year, and every year, she wins."

"I know that; I'm not stupid," Oliver retorted.

"Debatable," Abby shrugged.

Ignoring his twin, Oliver said, "I just thought that, since she was going on vacation, she wouldn't be participating this year."

"I'll have plenty of time," Vivien claimed, putting the car into drive and steering it toward the parking lot's exit. "Besides, I'll be with Mickie for a whole week. If my battle bot isn't at least halfway done by the time I get back, then one of us either got sick, somehow got pregnant, or died."

Oliver let out a snort, "I mean, fair enough, but aren't you going to do anything fun while you're in California?"

"Building things is fun," Vivien retorted, flicking on her turn signal and glancing both ways before pulling out of the parking lot, "but yeah, we're going to the beach, checking out some museums, and we might visit Disneyland if we have the time."

Leaning forward between the front seats, Abby asked, "How is it possible that Oliver and I might have a more entertaining spring break than you?"

Sparing a glance at her siblings, Vivien asked, "What do you mean?"

With a smile bright enough to put the sun to shame, Oliver announced, "I'm going with Markus' family to New Jersey so we can check out that American Dream place with the indoor water park and ski slope."

"Really?" Vivien asked. Muttering more to herself than anything, she added, "I'm surprised Mom allowed that after you broke your ankle the last time you went on a trip with them."

Abby hummed in agreement before speaking, "And I'm going with Brynna's family to Great Wolf Lodge for her birthday."

"Those sound fun and all," Vivien admitted, "but how is that more fun than literally going across the country?"

"Because you're going to be doing nerd shit while on vacation while we're having actual fun," Oliver stated blandly.

As the car slowed to a stop at a red light, Vivien turned toward her brother with a knowing look, "You say that like you won't be spending hours upon hours researching some cryptid or something with Markus in the hotel room." Peering in the rear-view mirror, Vivien found Abby's gaze and said, "And, Abby, we all know that you and Brynna will spend your time playing with her little siblings instead of just hanging out."

Abby opened her mouth to argue but quickly shut it again as she let out a soft sigh, "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Just because it's spring break doesn't mean we somehow magically turn into party animals once we're on vacation," Vivien claimed with a shrug as the light turned green, and she continued onward. "We've been ingrained to be responsible regardless of where we are, but I'm sure we'll all still have fun being boring with our friends."

Although they constantly joked about going to big house parties at their friends' houses and getting absolutely trashed on whatever alcohol they could find, none of the O'Brian siblings had actually ever gone to a big house party or willingly gotten drunk. Most of the people at their school weren't interested in big parties either as it would be increasingly difficult to get all of their friends in one town. Since their school was regional, kids from towns almost an hour away would be shuttled in on the handful of school-choice buses, making it hard for big parties to really be a thing. Besides, many, if not all, of the friends the O'Brians had made at the school were relatively introverted kids who cared more about their studies than getting wasted, making their running joke of getting drunk with their friends even more preposterous.

Abby peered out the window at the rain as Oliver said, "You know, I kind of like that we're boring."

"Oh, yeah?" Vivien asked, glancing at her brother as she checked whether or not she could cross through the intersection.

"Mhm," Abby nodded in agreement.

"It means our parents let us hang out with pretty much anyone without really caring," Oliver claimed. "Even if our plans were to go out and do dumb stuff at a friend's house, they wouldn't think anything of us going over there."

Abby thought for a moment before saying, "That's true, but we also would feel pretty bad if we took their trust in us for granted."

This time, it was Vivien's turn to hum in agreement, "Yeah."

For the first time since her parents gave her permission to join their neighbors in their house in California, Vivien felt wary about her decision. Although she knew that they had no qualms about her going to California as they had known the Birch family longer than Vivien had been alive, they had no idea about the other universe they would be taking her to. She had no plans of telling them about it as she had promised to keep it a secret from literally everyone she knew, but the thought that she was, for the first time in her life, taking advantage of her parents' trust to go off galavanting in a world they had no idea about. Even though she had no plans of doing anything wrong or illegal while there, a knot began to form in her stomach at the idea of letting her parents down for keeping such a large secret from them.

Taking a deep breath as she pulled onto their street, Vivien pushed her thoughts aside, allowing her excitement to fill her once more. She could worry about it later when she had Mick to talk her through every insignificant problem her mind could sprout up. For now, she had to get ready for the trip, and with a limited amount of time to get all of her clothes folded, she needed to focus on that. As Vivien's blue Kona pulled into the driveway, their mother stepped outside with a few umbrellas, making her way to the end of the walkway and waiting for Viviebn's car to stop. As soon as the car was in park, Chelsea held her umbrella over the passenger's door and opened it, handing her son an umbrella as he stepped out with his backpack.

Wrapping her cardigan tightly around herself, Abby tapped Vivien's arm and said, "I'll take your metal stuff in so it doesn't get wet."

"Are you sure?" Vivien asked in return as Abby handed her the purple backpack she had kept an eye on during the trip home. "I can take it."

"That's okay," she replied. Once the front passenger's door closed, she quickly took hold of the Walmart bag's handles and added, "I don't think Mom bothered to bring out your umbrella, and I don't want them to get wet."

Hoping to save her sister from having to lug the heavy bag inside, Vivien tried to gently argue, "I'm parking in the garage, Abs, it's not a long walk to the door."

"That's okay," Abby shrugged. "I've already got it. I'll bring it up to your room for you."

Before Vivien could say anything to the contrary, Abby grinned, pushed open her door, and slid out, taking and opening the umbrella her mom handed her before slamming the door and rushing to the house with their mother not far behind. Left with her mouth still open, Vivien breathed, "Thanks," before shaking her head fondly and pressing the button to open the garage. Once her car was parked in the spot furthest from the door, Vivien slid out of her seat, pulling her backpack with her. Glancing out at the pouring rain, the brunette sighed, hauling her backpack onto one shoulder and gripping her keys in her free hand as she rushed into the downpour with a squeal, closing the overhead door with a single click as she raced toward the front door of the house.

Once inside, she closed the door, grateful for the warmth of the house, as she trudged her way to the coat closet and began taking off her now-soaked sneakers. Loki soon joined her on the floor, licking the water from her cheeks as she tossed her sneakers onto the drying rack alongside her siblings' shoes. Running her hands through the dog's fur, Vivien felt herself calm as she thanked the dog for his warm welcome. Pushing herself from the floor, Vivien ascended the stairs with her backpack and her Saint Bernard, grateful her bedroom was near the landing, as Loki shoved his way into her room and onto her bed. With a sigh, Vivien rolled her eyes at the oversized puppy and dropped her backpack onto the floor at the end of her bed, plopping herself onto her mattress as she debated how much time she had to pack.

Not even a minute into her procrastination party, Abby stepped into the room without so much as a knock, snickering at her older sister's dawdling as she passed by. "You know, lying there like a limp spaghetti noodle isn't going to help your bags get packed."

"Okay, Mom," Vivien huffed with a smirk, missing the way Abby visibly winced at being compared to their mother. Taking in a heavy breath, Vivien pushed herself from the bed and sighed, "Is it weird that I'm not ready for this now that I'm leaving?"

"Not really," Abby shrugged as her sister entered the closet and pulled her suitcase down from the top shelf. "You get this way before out-of-state competitions too."

"This is different from comps," Vivien said as she placed her suitcase on the end of her bed and opened the shell. "I don't usually go far without you guys."

Stepping up behind her sister, Abby placed a hand on the older girl's back and smiled once she had Vivien's attention, "You'll have tons of fun and you know it. I'm sure you'll forget all about us once you land."

"That's impossible, Abs," Vivien breathed, pulling the lighter-haired brunette into a hug. "I love you guys too much to not miss you."

Lifting her head enough to see her sister's face, Abby replied, "Trust me, you'll be sick of us by the end of the week. Dad will keep you updated with pictures of Loki every morning like he does when we go to camp, I'll send you pictures of the lodge and everything interesting I see, and I'm sure Olly will send you paragraphs of random facts he and Markus found online while they're away. By the end of vacation, you'll be so sick of us that you'll want to get away the minute you come home."

Vivien laughed, "Probably, yeah."

Stepping out of her sister's hold, Abby grinned and said, "Now, come on, we have packing to do."

Allowing her sister to take the reins, Vivien headed into her closet to figure out what clothes she wanted to bring, hauling her plastic bins of summer clothes down from the top shelf as Abby headed into her en-suite bathroom to pack up the essentials Vivien had typed out on her phone. Once Vivien had fished out a handful of clothes she wanted to bring, she brought them to her desk and dropped them in a heap in her chair. By the time Abby finished getting stuff out of the bathroom and into the suitcase, Vivien was halfway done folding her clothes, something Abby had helped finish in record time. After reassuring her sister that she would be borrowing swimwear from Mick's closet upon her arrival, Vivien threw a couple of pairs of shoes into the mesh pouch on the lid alongside her journal and the astronaut-shaped galaxy projector she kept on her bedside table as a nightlight.

With her packing done quicker than she had anticipated, Vivien sent a text to Mick that she was all set before grabbing a dry hoodie from her closet and hauling the suitcase to the main floor of the house, leaving it near the coat closet so that she could slip on some shoes and get out the door as quickly as possible. Once everything was in place, she and Loki joined her siblings in the living room, where Oliver had begun setting up Mario Kart on the Switch. Sitting in the space the twins had left for her, Vivien took the purple joy-con from the coffee table and slouched into the comfort of the couch cushions as Loki took his place on the floor by her feet.

As she chose her usual character, Yoshi, Vivien's phone dinged, and she pulled it out of her pocket, giving her siblings the chance to argue over who got Baby Bowser. Unlocking her phone, she opened her dad's text and smiled. Peering over Abby's head to where their mother was leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping at her freshly-made smoothie while she presumably scrolled through her Facebook, Vivien rolled her eyes and went back to her conversation, thanking their dad for his offer of dinner and asking if he could pick them up their usual McDonald's orders before tucking her phone between her thigh and the couch and picking up her joy-con once again. Breaking up her siblings' argument with ease, Vivien started the game. Once they figured out who got which character, the three of them quickly got immersed in their battle for the first place.

As Oliver overtook Vivien for second place in Coconut Mall, leading the oldest of the siblings to cuss him out and jab him with her elbow, the front door slammed shut, alerting the whole house to the new visitor. Loki let out a bark as he rose from the floor, abandoning his post as the protector in favor of following the smell of french fries and cheeseburgers to the front door. The kids called out greetings to their father as they entered the final lap of their race, getting a chuckled response as Damien made his way through the entryway to the kitchen. Damien set the flimsy drink tray and paper bags plastered with golden arches on the kitchen counters, ignoring the look his ex-wife sent him as he began pulling fries and boxes from the bags and setting them out according to which family member had ordered what.

By the time the kids had finished their race, Chelsea had begun arguing with Damien about the quality of the food he had brought home, but the man seemed unbothered by her attitude, pushing aside her frustrations as the children approached. Stepping aside to allow them access to their meals, Damien accepted quick hugs from each of his children and asked them how their school days had been before following them to the living room. As Abby began to explain how her usually strict English teacher had them watch a movie as he had a migraine, Vivien sat cross-legged in her usual space on the far end of the couch and put one of the throw pillows over her lap so that the plate she put her food onto wouldn't fall.

After her siblings had rambled about their days, Damien turned to Vivien and asked, "What about you, babygirl? Anything fun happen today?"

Vivien shrugged, swallowing her mouthful of french fries before replying, "Not really. I signed up for the battle bot tournament after class."

Before her father could say anything, Abby butted in, "Alix said they saw you at the first round of auditions for the musical. I told them there was no way 'cause you hate being on stage, but they said it was true."

"It was," Vivien admitted before taking a bite of her burger.

Oliver choked on his chicken nugget, coughing a few times before swallowing thickly and asking, "Wait, seriously?"

Nodding, Vivien dipped her sandwich in a pile of ketchup and said, "Yeah. Emily wanted to audition, but didn't want to go alone, so I stepped in. It's not that big of a deal."

"It's a huge deal!" Abby squawked, twisting so that she could see her sister better. "Alix said the drama teachers were thinking of cancelling the other auditions because of you."

"Bull," Vivien scoffed, carefully avoiding the rest of her accusatory cuss as she felt the growing heat of her mother's gaze. "It wasn't even a meaningful audition. I sang some ABBA and ran for the hills; there's nothing impressive about that."

"But Alix said-"

"Alix could have heard wrong," Vivien argued, cutting off her sister's statement before it could spiral out of control. "Besides, even if they do choose me - which they won't - I'll just step down and let the understudy take whatever role I get."

"That would be for the best," Chelsea stated as she stabbed her fork into the grilled chicken salad her ex-husband had bought for her. "We've all seen how you get on stage at your grandparent's camp; putting you in any leading role in front all those people would be so much worse."

Ignoring their mother's statement with a roll of his eyes, Oliver turned to Vivien and said, "You can't back down."

Vivien grinned, sending her brother a curious look as she asked, "Why not?"

"Because!"

"That's not a reason, Olly."

"But it is," Oliver claimed. "We've all heard you sing in the car and you love theatre. This is your chance to see what it's like on Boadway."

"Who says I want to be on Broadway?" Vivien asked with a laugh.

Oliver thought for a moment before saying, "Well, nobody, but-"

"But the school is petitioning to get the Titanic Musical for the April show next year," Damien piped up, eyeing his eldest daughter out of his peripheral vision as she froze, her handful of ketchup-soaked french fries hanging in midair as she processed his claim. Smirking, he added, "If you have at least one show under your belt, they might consider you for one of the primary roles when the time comes."

Excitedly watching the wheels turn in Vivien's head, Abby grabbed her sister's free wrist and wiggled it as she said, "See! If you back down now, you'll never get to be in Titanic next year."

Vivien sighed, green eyes shifting from mild annoyance to fondness as she turned to her younger sister and slipped her fingers between Abby's, "As much as I would love that, there's no chance of me getting the lead."

"Would you at least try out for Titanic next year?" Oliver asked. "That would be right up your alley."

With a snort, Chelsea chortled, "She would probably spend all her time critiquing the accuracy of everything."

"Actually," Vivien began, finding a sliver of courage to meet her mother's gaze, "the show is fairly accurate when it comes to representing the people aboard the ship that night. The historical details are only slightly manipulated to add more drama, and-"

"See," Chelsea began, glancing between her children and ex-husband, "she's already at it."

Abby opened her mouth to argue, but Vivien's grip on her hand tightened, telling her to back down before things could get worse. Abby's bluish-brown eyes found Vivien's emerald gaze, and with a shake of her head, Abby resigned, returning to her food with a barely audible sigh. Refusing to let their last family dinner before spring break be soured by the cutthroat words of his ex-wife, Damien took the remote from the coffee table and switched the input back to the Roku before letting the kids decide between two of the movies on their watchlist - The Outsiders and The Truman Show.

With the rather unanimous vote of The Truman Show, the family settled in once more and relaxed as they watched Jim Carrey's character come to life. Not long into the movie, Abby shifted between Vivien and their father, and it wasn't long before she was sprawled out over the two with her head on Vivien's lap and her legs on their dad's. Once Abby had settled into a comfortable position, Vivien began absentmindedly running her fingers through the girl's lighter hair, calming both of them at once as Truman watched his dad get shoved into a bus and taken away. However, further into the movie, as Truman began drawing a spacesuit around his reflection, Vivien's phone began to ring, and she quickly stood, shoving a somewhat disgruntled Abby off her lap and taking her trash with her to the kitchen before answering the phone.

After checking the caller ID, she smiled, tossed her trash into the bin next to the refrigerator, and quietly said, "Please tell me you're on your way."

A snort came from the other end as Mick replied, "Hello to you, too. I mean, damn, child, are you that willing to run away from home?"

Vivien glanced at her family and chuckled, "Maybe a little."

"Well, good," Mick replied. "We're pulling into the driveway now, so come out when you're ready."

Snickering to herself, Vivien said, "I thought you already knew I was bi, Mickie."

"Look, rugrat," Mick snipped, though Vivien could clearly hear the humor in her tone. "We're parked by the garage, but bring a rain coat or something; it's pouring."

"Still?"

"Yup."

Vivien sighed, "Alright, I'll be out in a few." She sucked in a deep breath and smiled to herself as Mick hung up her end of the call. Vivien headed back to the living room and grinned as she noticed Oliver holding the remote, keeping the movie paused until her return. Ruffluing her brother's hair, she cooed, "Aww, Olly-bear! Did you pause the movie just for me?"

Shoving her hand away, Oliver ran his hand through his hair and scoffed, "No, I just didn't want to have to rewind it for you."

"Yeah, sure," Abby drawled sarcastically as she punched her twin's thigh.

Chuckling as the twins began arguing over Oliver's ability - or lack thereof - to show kindness, Damien twisted in his seat, found Vivien's gaze, and asked, "Was that Mick and her parents?"

"Yeah, they just pulled up," Vivien nodded, glancing toward the front door.

With a smile, he asked, "Are you ready to go, babygirl?"

Vivien excitedly nodded, but her excitement seemed to dim as Chelsea asked, "Go where, exactly?"

"To California," Vivien explained. "You know, for spring break?"

"I never said you could go," Chelsea stated, finally looking up from her phone with steely eyes. "A trip like that requires planning, and I highly doubt you, of all people, are prepared to fly three thousand miles across the country for a week in some random city you've never been to."

Before Vivien could argue, Damien turned to his ex and said, "She asked both of us months ago, and, actually, she's had everything planned out since I gave her permission. Vivien's a smart girl; she wouldn't jump into something without proper planning."

"She even helped Abs and I plan our trips with our friends," Oliver piped up.

Placing a hand on her dad's shoulder and glancing toward her brother, Vivien thanked him with a smile before turning toward their mom and saying, "And, since Dad gave me permission, I can go, right, Mom?"

Chelsea took in a deep breath, glancing between Damien and Vivien with a stare that would end wars, but finally, she picked up her phone and huffed, "Fine. Go."

Hoping to get out the door before her mother could change her mind again, Vivien began making her way to the door, only to hear footsteps rushing up behind her. Turning, Vivien smiled as Abby and Oliver jogged up to her, Abby wrapping her in a hug as Oliver stood to the side with a grin. Squeezing her older sister, Abby pleaded, "Take lots of pictures for me, sissy."

Letting out a breath of a laugh, Vivien waited until Abby stepped back before taking her keys from the hook by the door and pushing them into the palm of her sister's hand. At Abby's confused look, she said, "Can you put them in your lockbox for me? I don't want Mom to use my car while I'm gone just 'cause it has lower mileage than hers."

Nodding in understanding, Abby softly asked, "Do you want your diary in there too?"

Vivien shook her head, "I'm taking it with me, but thank you."

Oliver shuffled closer, hinting at his desire for a final hug before his oldest sister's departure as he asked, "What about your fancy rocks?"

Wrapping her arms around Oliver's shoulders, she replied, "I took a few with me, but I doubt Mom will do anything with them because most of the ones I left are big and would be obvious if they went missing."

"If you're sure," Oliver mumbled into Vivien's shoulder before patting her back and slipping out of her grasp.

Once she took a step back, Vivien reached into her pocket and pulled out two colorful crystals, holding one out to either of her siblings, "For Abby, some charoite. It's good for keeping away negativity and helping you see a new side of yourself. Hopefully, it'll help you relax while you're away."

Abby smiled at the purple rock, shifting it in the light to see the different hues before thanking her sister and pocketing the crystal. Then, with a roll of his eyes and a smirk, Oliver accepted the smooth green lump and said, "Let me guess, this is some hard-to-pronounce rock too."

"Actually, no," Vivien snickered. "It's green aventureine and it's good for creativity, luck, and opportunities. I figured, with all the activities you'll be doing, and the theories you'll be picking apart, it would be nice to take with you."

Rolling the crystal around in his palm, Oliver allowed his smirk to spread into a smile as he handed Vivien her raincoat and said, "Have fun in Cali, Vivi."

Vivien smiled but didn't have the chance to respond as her father entered the room and said, "She will. Brady and Mack reassured me that they had a fun week planned."

Finding her dad's tired eyes, Vivien slotted herself in his arms and asked, "Will you be alright here without us for a week?"

"I'll be fine," Damien claimed as he ran a soothing hand over Vivien's hair. "Your mother is going on one of her work trips on Monday, so I'll be alone most of the time you kids are away."

Peering up at her father, Vivien smiled, "A week of empty-nesting, huh? That'll be interesting for you."

Damien pressed a kiss to Vivien's forehead and smiled, "It'll be over before I know it. Now, do you have everything?" Vivien nodded. "Are you sure? You've got your toothbrush, hairbrush?"

"I'm sure, Dad," Vivien chuckled. "And, before you ask, yes, I have the taser pen Riven's dad gave me. I took the batteries out and everything, just like he taught me."

Nodding, Damien sighed, "Good. I know I'm overthinking this, but I don't want you to be in a strange city without protection."

"I know," Vivien said with a knowing smirk. "And I don't blame you. It would be stupid of me to go without anything."

Damien hummed before smiling at his oldest girl, "I had your sister sneak something into your bag from the three of us, but promise me you won't open it until you get where you're going and have the chance to settle in."

Glancing at her sister, wondering when she could have slipped something into her luggage, Vivien smiled and said, "I won't, I promise."

"Good," he said, more for himself than his daughter. Then, patting her arm, Damien told Vivien, "Alright, well, get going before I chicken out."

"Alright, alright," Vivien snickered as she rolled her eyes up at her dad. "I'm going."

Allowing his daughter to step away and pull the zipper of her raincoat up as far as it would go, Damien pulled up her suitcase handle and held it out for her to take as he breathed, "Have fun, sweetheart."

"I'll try."

Placing a hand over Vivien's, he smiled, "You will." Once Vivien nodded in agreement, he requested, "Let us know when you land, okay?"

"Of course," Vivien beamed, anticipation bubbling up in her chest as she nodded excitedly. "I'll let you know when we get to their house too."

As Oliver opened the door and Vivien stepped out, Abby said, "I'll let Mom know you said goodbye."

Vivien crossed the threshold of the house and dragged her luggage with her, waving to the Birches and saying, "Thanks. I'll see you guys in ten days."

"Have fun!" Abby called as Vivien rushed through the rain to the Birch family's minivan.

"Enjoy the sun!" Damien said as Brady helped Vivien haul her suitcase into the trunk before closing it.

"Don't get wasted on the beach!" Oliver added, earning him a middle finger from his oldest sister and a tap on the back of the head from their dad. "What?" he asked rhetorically as Vivien hopped into the van and rolled the window down. "I'm just saying."

As the vehicle began to roll down the driveway, Vivien leaned out as far as the seatbelt would allow and yelled, "Love you!"

As her family called back in kind, Vivien rolled up the window and relaxed in her seat, earning a chuckle from Mick as the older brunette greeted her, "You look like a wet dog."

Laughing breathlessly, Vivien pushed her stringy, wet bangs away from her forehead and sighed, "I probably smell like one too, to be honest with you."

Mick pretended to sniff the air before grinning, "Only a little bit."

Vivien smiled and tipped her head to the side, finding Mick's gaze as she sighed, "I hope I don't look like a drowned rat when Royce sees me."

Mack laughed from the passenger's seat, leaning over the center console to see Vivien as she reassured her, "You won't, sweetheart. We'll make sure of it."

"I mean," Brady drawled as he pulled out onto the main roads, seemingly weighing his options until Mack slapped his arm with the back of her hand.

"Brady!"

"Kidding!" the man chuckled, somewhat proud of his playful jibe as the girls in the backseat snickered.

Vivien sighed contentedly as she relaxed into the van's faded, somewhat worn fabric seats, "I've missed this."

"You won't be saying that for long," Mack claimed. "By the end of the first week, you'll be begging us to send you home."

"Doubtful," Vivien replied with a smile. The idea of spending any length of time in the world Mick had been talking her ear off about since the day she discovered it back in December had been like something of a fantasy for Vivien. Now that she actually had the chance to see the places in her friends' pictures, the thought of cutting her stay short for anything other than the most dire circumstances was bizarre. "I'm pretty sure you'll have to drag me away kicking and screaming."

"Well, we certainly won't be doing that," Brady laughed.

"Yeah," Mick agreed, taking Vivien's hand with a brilliant smile. "You can stay there with us for as long as you want."

"And time here won't change, right?" Vivien recounted.

"Right," Mack agreed. "That machine will allow you to stay as long as you like without anything changing."

Mick nodded, watching Vivien's thoughtful eyes flicker behind her circular frames as she explained, "We turn the time control mechanism off while we're in this world so that they can enjoy life normally there, but we freeze time here so that we can enjoy things without having to go back and forth to pay bills and stuff like that."

Vivien grinned, "Like taking random teenagers into different dimensions without their parents feeling the need to call everypolice department in the tate to see if they can send out search parties?"

"I guess you could say that," Brady snorted as he pulled onto the turnpike and pressed the gas pedal further toward the floor.

The conversation seemed to split from there as Mack pulled up the directions to the airport on her phone, telling Brady to slow down before they reached a particular spot the state troopers liked to park in order to catch people speeding on the turnpike. Watching trees and distant buildings fly by as the car sped up, Vivien pulled her phone out of her pocket and unlocked the Discord chat she had with her bandmates, sending them a selfie of herself and Mick before hastily typing a message about them finally being on the road.

Erica was the first to respond - her text of "bitch, you bettr not become a fuckign valley girl!" appearing just before Riven's "Have fun, Pip! Don't get eaten by a shark; I need you for comp" and followed soon after by Jade's ever-calm message of, "ignore their bs. we love you. stay safe. xoxo." Vivien snickered as the trio began blowing up her phone; Erica starting an argument with Riven about sharks being harmless while also telling Jade to fuck off for being the responsible one.

"You good over there?" Mick asked, her humor evident as Vivien glanced up from her phone.

Holding out the device and leaning over so that they could both watch the drama unfold, Vivien explained, "Erica's being a bitch, Riven is a sarcastic shit, and Jade's acting like a mother hen, so Erica picked a fight with both of them."

Mick watched as Erica sent a wall of text that only consisted of the middle finger emoji, snickering, "So, a normal day, then?"

"Pretty much," Vivien agreed. As they watched conversation bubbles appear and Erica's rant spiral into nonsense, her smile faltered. She would miss them while she was away. Even when her family went on vacations, Riven would go with them, and she could text the girls anytime she wanted. This time, her ability to message them and ask them for advice on things would be revoked the minute she entered the other world. With a heavy sigh, she admitted, "I'm going to miss them."

Taking in the girl's expression, Mick reached up and placed a hand on Vivien's back, rubbing circles into her plastic raincoat as she said, "It'll suck for a few days, but after a while, you sort of get used to it."

Peering up at the older girl, Vivien allowed herself to smile, "You're talking from experience, aren't you?"

"Sadly," Mick confirmed. "My instincts were to take pictures of everything to show my friends when I got back, but then I realized I couldn't. It took a while to adjust and my phone is still full of pictures nobody else has seen, but after a while, I got used to just saving the memories for myself."

Nodding in understanding, Vivien breathed, "Yeah, I guess you're right. I can send them some pictures when I get back, but until then, I can keep them to myself."

Pivoting in her seat, Mick turned toward Vivien and asked, "So, what are your plans for Royce? Are we doing a casual surprise where you just walk in and say hi or are we doing something grand in front of everyone?"

"I don't know," Vivien shrugged. "I haven't really given it a lot of thought. I was more concerned about my mom keeping me from going."

"Well, now we've got time to think it through!" Mick exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

“Not much time,” Mack explained. “We’ll be at the airport in about five, maybe ten minutes, and since we have a private flight, we’ll be in the air within the hour.”

“You guys never told me you have a private jet,” Vivien stated. “Like, I knew you guys had money, but damn.”

“It’s not ours,” Mick shrugged.

“One of my friends from school became a pilot,” Brady explained. “He’s offered us free trips whenever we need it since he knows how often we travel to the East coast and it gives him the opportunity to visit some family of his in Vermont.”

Vivien hummed, more to herself than to anyone in the vehicle, “That’s nice of him.”

After a moment of relative silence, Mick patted Vivien’s hand and told her, “Anyway, regardless of what you decide to do, Royce will be surprised.”

“You think?” Vivien asked. “I thought someone would have told him by now.”

Mick shook her head emphatically, beaming proudly as she explained, “Actually, I haven’t told anybody that you’re coming.”

Vivien’s eyes glittered with excitement as she asked, “Seriously?”

Mick nodded, her wavy hair bouncing with the movement, “I'm not the greatest at being sneaky, so the only person who might know is Butchy, and he’s not one to spill things like that.”

“That’s insane!” Vivien exclaimed, a laugh tumbling from her lips at the thought of surprising her friends with her sudden appearance in their world.

“I know, right!” Mick giggled. “But that means we have endless possibilities for surprising people. It all depends on where they are at the time.”

“When we land, it will be about one in the morning, Pacific Time,” Mack explained. “On a commercial flight, we usually stop a few times along the way to swap planes or pick up new passengers, but since this is private, we’re going to stop in New Jersey for a few minutes due to busy airways, and then get back in the air.”

“That will give us plenty of time to think about it,” Mick said cheerfully.

“And give both of you the chance to sleep,” Brady reminded his daughter, peering at her in the rearview mirror before he pulled onto the street that led them to the airport. “We don’t need both of you to be zombies when we touch down.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mick brushed off with a wave of her hand, her excitement over the whole situation outweighing the concept of sleep. “Anyway, I’ve got ideas for both options, and we can talk about them on the plane, if you want.”

Sending the older girl a smile and a nod, Vivien watched Mick smile and relax in her seat; pulling out her phone as Vivien took in a slow breath and glanced out the window. As they passed the Mall of New Hampshire, Vivien snapped a quick picture of the building and sent it to the group chart that had begun to quiet without her presence there to encourage the chaos, sending a cheeky message teasing the two girls who worked within the large, stucco and concrete building. Jade was the first to respond, her video message of her waving to the camera, arriving on Vivien’s phone as they pulled up to a gated parking lot. As Brady began speaking to the guard, listing the passengers and which flight they were on, Vivien sent a private message to Riven, telling him how nervous she was about being on a private plane.

‘You have nothing to worry about, Pip,’ was his reply. ‘The Birches know what they’re doing and wouldn’t put you in danger like that. Just breathe. You’ve got this.’

Sucking in a deep breath through gritted teeth, Vivien sent back a reply of gratitude and tried to relax as the car lurched forward and moved past the gate. Mack popped open the console between herself and Brady, pulling out a trio of passports before turning toward Vivien and asking, “Do you have your passport ready?”

Reaching under her rain coat and into the pocket of her hoodie, Vivien pulled the navy blue booklet out and handed it up to Mack, who added it to the stack in her hands. As they rolled down the tarmac, Vivien watched through the windows, trying to guess which aircraft they would be in. Narrowing it down the further they got, Vivien let out a noise of surprise as Brady turned to the side, lurching her toward the door as he pulled to a stop in a parking space. Looking around in confusion, Vivien followed the others out of the car, following Mack to the back of the vehicle, where they pulled their luggage from the trunk.

Mick grabbed Vivien’s free hand, pulling her toward a jet that had the door open and a set of stairs waiting. Pushing the handles of their suitcases down and picking them up by the straps on top, the girls boarded the plane, pushing their suitcases to the side to be scanned before finding seats to collapse into. Nudging Vivien into a window seat, Mick took the seat across from her and relaxed, waiting for her parents to board before instructing the younger girl to buckle up.

After the pilot came to greet them, telling them all the basics he needed to go over before the flight, he returned to the cockpit and announced that they would be leaving as soon as he had permission from the traffic control tower. With much reassurance from the others, Vivien began to relax, snapping pictures of the plane and the setting sun to send to her friends and family. After another announcement came over the speakers about taking off, they were in the air, and Vivien’s phone returned to her pocket as the seatbelt lights turned off. Peeling off her rain coat and shoving it into the seat next to her, Vivien huffed a sigh of relief as she realized the part she had worried about the most was now over.

Watching as the ground below grew smaller and harder to see, Vivien turned her attention to Mick, who had folded her arms on top of the table between them, leaning closer with a smile that told Vivien she didn’t want to know what the girl was going to get her into. “Do I want to know?” she asked the older brunette.

Vivien could hear the girl’s feet thumping against the base of her chair as she swung her legs back and forth, but Mick’s smile refused to dissipate as she explained, “I’ve been cooking up ideas for you.”

Nodding to herself, Vivien rolled her eyes, “Yup, didn’t want to know.”

Ignoring the girl’s statement, Mick said, “I was thinking-”

“That’s dangerous,” Brady chuckled from his seat on the opposite side of the plane.

“Dad,” Mick sighed dramatically. When the older man snickered and struck up a conversation with his wife, Mick turned her attention back to Vivien with a roll of her caramel eyes. “I figured that, once we land, we can-”

“Go to sleep?” Vivien interrupted.

“Ha!” Mick laughed. “No.”

“Yes,” Mack said, her motherly tone giving Mick little to no wiggle room as she deflated slightly.

“Okay, yeah, that too,” Mick relented. “But we can pick out some cute outfits from my closet and make sure you feel beautiful before we go.” Pointedly turning toward her mom, Micxk asked, “Right, Momma?”

“So long as you two aren’t up all night, yes,” Mack replied before taking a sip of the water bottle she had taken from the cabin’s mini fridge. “Now, Vivien, did you have anything to eat, sweetheart? They have sandwiches and things in the fridge, if you’d like.”

“That’s alright,” Vivien brushed off graciously. “Dad brought home some Mickey D’s on his way home from work.”

“I’m surprised he made it through the warden with that,” Brady said in a scoff.

Vivien smirked as the other two women gave their own forms of agreement, simply glad she wasn’t the only one who found her mother’s strict food control to be something of a nightmare. “Yeah, well, he didn’t exactly give her a choice. He came in, gave her a salad to shut her up, and let us get our meals without letting her anger break him down.”

“Good for him,” Mick grinned.

“Glad to know he’s finally growing bigger balls than hers,” Mack added. “I think we’ve all been placing bets to see how long that would take.”

With a hum of agreement, Vivien allowed the conversation to flow between topics, absentmindedly bringing up the subject of the battle bot project she wanted to work on when they got the chance, something that made Mick practically vibrate with excitement. Brady brought up the idea of using his tools if need be, which inspired Mick to go off on a spiel about possibly going to either Butchy’s or Miles’ place of work to utilize their welding kits and use some of the metal scraps they had tossed aside. By the time Mack had managed to pull them away from the topic at hand, they were starting to make their descent at an airport in Newark, New Jersey.

Before the plane took off again, Vivien sent a few relatively dark images and some quick messages to the people who knew she was leaving before stepping into the bathroom of the jet to call her aunts before they went to bed. They discussed the trip and spoke for a while about all of the activities Vivien was looking forward to before they wished each other a good night. Vivien promised to let them know when they landed before ending the call and scurrying back to her seat as the captain announced their approaching departure. Once they were back in the air and allowed to roam about, Mick showed Vivien how to recline her seat and find a comfortable position to sleep in before offering the girl a blanket and promptly passing out in her chair.

One by one, Vivien watched as the Birch family succumbed to the land of dreams, but despite her growing exhaustion and yawns tumbling from her mouth every other minute, she couldn’t find it in herself to actually sleep. She could have easily chalked up her inability to sleep to her nerves, but that wasn’t quite right. Somewhere deep inside her, she knew that there was nothing to worry about. Royce and Bentley would love to drag her around, Carrie had promised to take her to the lot they were filming on if she ever found herself in their world, and even Butchy and Miles had discussed dragging her to their respective jobs to show her knowledge of old vehicles off to their respective coworkers. There was nothing for her to be worked up over.

Forcing herself to take in a deep breath and push her unfounded fears aside, Vivien allowed another yawn to overtake her as she stretched. Reclining her seat and tugging her blanket around her shoulders, Vivien slouched into a more comfortable position, tucked her cell phone into her pocket, set her glasses on the table between herself and Mick’s slumbering form, and waited until the soft humming of the plane’s machinery lulled her to sleep. To her dismay, what felt like only a few minutes passed before Vivien found herself being gently shaken awake, grumbling at the interruption as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

A chuckle came from a blurry form as Vivien searched blearily for her glasses, listening to the person apologize in a soft voice before handing her the glasses she was searching for. Finally peering up at the person, Vivien found Brady smiling back at her, offering her a hand as he told her, “We just landed, kiddo. Time to go home.”

Chuckling exhaustedly as she stretched herself out like a cat rising from a comfortable position in the summer sun, Vivien muttered, “Am I too old to ask for someone to carry me?”

Brady let out another soft laugh, “Never, but I haven’t carried anybody in years, and I’d rather not drop you down the stairs of a plane.”

Vivien snorted and pushed herself from her seat, “Yeah, let’s not do that, then.”

“Smart girl,” Mack advised, patting the teenager on the back as she passed her on her way back from the bathroom.

As Brady worked on waking Mick from her slumber, Vivien folded up the blanket she had used, made sure she had everything she brought with her, and followed Mack to the front of the plane, where they received their belongings. Yawning as she followed Mack down the stairs, Vivien welcomed the warm California air with a tired grin. “It’s nice out,” she muttered as Mack led her toward a pale blue Jeep that had been brought onto the tarmac for them.

Accepting her car keys from the driver who brought the car over, Mack chuckled, “My phone says it’s fifty-something right now.”

More than content with the idea of the summer-like weather, Vivien sighed happily as she hauled her suitcase into the trunk of the car alongside Mack’s, “Like I said, I think you guys will have to drag me kicking and screaming from this place.”

Bringing an arm around Vivien’s shoulders, Mack smiled, “Just wait until you see how close we are to the beach.”

Vivien’s eyes glittered as the woman brought her to the side of the car, encouraging her to climb inside as Mack slid into the driver’s seat. However, before she climbed inside the vehicle, Vivien pulled out her phone and took a picture of the plane they landed in, sending it to the group chat with her bandmates before sending a message to her family members, letting everyone know they had landed safely in Santa Ana and were on their way to the Birch family’s home. Once she was sure the messages had been sent, Vivien slid into the backseat behind Mack and pulled the seatbelt across her body. Once the others had found their way to the car, Mack started the engine and pulled away from the plane, heading through a series of gates before making her way to the street and pulling away from the John Wayne Airport.

Unable to fall back asleep as they pulled onto the San Diego Freeway, Vivien watched with wide eyes as she took in the glow of the city. Throughout the half-hour drive, Vivien took a myriad of pictures. Glowing palm trees, buildings in the distance that appeared to touch the sky, and, as the freeway pulled them through San Juan Capistrano toward the beach, pictures of a seemingly endless night sky over the water. Smiling as he watched the girl take another picture, Brady encouraged his wife to take the long way home without saying a word, and Mack took the next exit, pulling onto Pacific Coast Highway and following it until the first set of lights she could turn at. At the next intersection, she turned onto Park Lantern and followed the street toward the water until it merged with Coast Highway.

The couple suppressed their laughter as Vivien gasped, leaning over their daughter to take pictures of the water that was still covered by a blanket of stars in the nighttime sky. Once houses began to block her view, Vivien relaxed, but her excitement was still very much palpable as the car glided down the highway. Turning toward the backseat, Brady kept his voice hushed as they slowed to a stop at a red light, “If you want a good shot, our street sign is right up here.”

“Really?” Vivien whispered.

Brady hummed in confirmation, “It’s on the light post up here on your side.”

Sure enough, as Vivien leaned closer to her window and squinted up at the post, she found a green sign with the words “Camino Capistrano” in thick, white writing. Although her cell phone refused to see the sign in the dark, Vivien smiled and kept her eyes on it until they had turned onto the aforementioned street and could no longer see the sign. Smiling more to herself than anything, Vivien watched with bated breath as Mack drove further up the street, past a traffic light, and through a curve. When they finally pulled to a stop in front of a fancy black gate with a Mediterranean-style roof and a few doors on either side, Vivien felt her jaw hit the floor.

Contrary to popular opinion, Vivien’s family had money. For a while in her childhood, her family had lived in an apartment that barely gave them enough room to live, but they had enough money to put food on the table and buy new things here and there. After her grandparents offered them the opportunity to move into their old house and take over the winery while they moved closer to their beloved summer camp, Vivien felt as though she was the luckiest person on the planet. While they weren’t exactly Elon Musk-level rich, the winery her parents operated and her grandparent’s summer camp made them more than financially secure. Knowing she had the chance to take on their jobs in the future, Vivien thought she would become richer than she had ever previously thought possible. However, as she got her first look at the Birch’s house, she realized she didn’t know shit about rich people.

Being well off on the East Coast meant having a home you owned, a car or two, and potentially a pet if you felt like it. Most people back home enjoyed taking up residence in old, colonial-style homes that would set them back a good hundred thousand dollars at least and were originally built for families with eleven or twelve children. East Coast wealth was classy, clean, and, well, antique. West Coast wealth, on the other hand, was a new kind of expensive. Stepping out of the car once they rolled to a stop in the four-car garage, Vivien couldn’t help but feel poor in every sense of the word.

Although Vivien had seen bits and pieces of the house over FaceTime with Mick, the sheer size of the house was astonishing. Following closely behind her friend, Vivien’s eyes scanned from the large, orange roof to the various balconies, to the swimming pool that seemed to wrap around the side of the house, and the various water guns and toys strewn about in the yard that were evidence that her friends from another world had visited before the Birches had come to collect her. Entering the house, Vivien waited for the lights to turn on before looking around at the pristine entryway. A large glass chandelier hung above the entrance, glimmering rays of light throughout the hall and part of the living room.

Although Vivien felt more than awake and ready to explore the luxurious home, Mack and Brady urged her to follow Mick upstairs once she had taken her shoes off by the door. Relenting despite her excitement, Vivien followed Mick up the hardwood stairs, grinning at the various childhood photographs of Mick and her friends along the wall as they climbed. Coming to the landing, Vivien found herself taken aback once more by the view. Across from the top of the stairs was a panoramic view of the beach across the street, a comfortable lounge area settled facing the floor-to-ceiling windows with a television mounted on the right wall - the only one without windows.

Before she could take a moment to process the kitchenette on one side of the staircase or the gaming area on the other, Vivien found herself taken by the wrist around the banister to a short hallway with three doors. They passed a room with Mick’s initial painted on the door, but Mick didn’t so much as glance toward her bedroom before opening the door to another room at the end of the hall and stepping aside for Vivien to enter.

With a yawn, the short brunette explained, “This used to be one of our guest rooms, but the boys usually take it when they stay with us, so a lot of Bentley art supplies and Royce’s books stay here.”

Looking up at the coffered, waffle-esque design on the ceiling and the various signs of life in the room, Vivien let out a disbelieving laugh, “This is insane.”

Mick took a look around and sighed at how poorly she had cleaned the room before leaving the week before, “Yeah, I know it’s not the cleanest right now, but we can pick everything up in the morning if you-”

“No, no, no!” Vivien said with a quick shake of her head, turning back toward her friend with a smile as she stood her suitcase by the end of the queen-sized bed. “Mick, you don’t understand.”

Confused in part by the conversation and part by her lack of sleep, Mick’s head tipped slightly to the side as she asked, “What do you mean?”

“I thought my house was big and that we were well off,” Vivien began, twirling around as she examined the room before finding Mick’s gaze again, “but I think yours just bitch-slapped my whole family onto the poverty line!”

Mick let out a snort, shaking her head fondly, “Well, don’t start comparing dick sizes just yet, gremlin. Save that for a time when I can actually think straight.”

“I hardly ever think straight,” Vivien smirked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed she had been given.

With a roll of her eyes and a fond smile, Mick teased, “Believe me, I know. Now, try to get some sleep. You don’t want jet lag to knock you out on your ass later.”

Raising her hand to her forehead in a mock salute, Vivien said, “Sir, yes, sir.”

Chuckling, Mick wished the younger girl a good night before disappearing into the hall, leaving the girl’s door open so that she could see the dimly lit lights in the hallway. Taking in a deep breath in the silence of her new room, Vivien hefted her suitcase onto the bed beside her and unzipped it, pulling out her astronaut lamp and setting it aside before tugging a pair of celestial pajama shorts and a matching tank top from one side of her suitcase. Picking up the luggage, she carried it over to a chair and left it open in the seat, changed into her pajamas, plugged in her lamp, and slipped under the covers with her headphones in one hand and phone in the other.

Putting on her headphones and listening to one of her favorite ASMR channels while watching the stars dance across the ceiling, Vivien finally found herself able to fall asleep relatively quickly. Dreams of surfing cerulean waves with her friends filled her night, and by the time the sun had begun poking through the curtains on either side of her bed, Vivien felt well-rested and ready to start her day. After hastily getting dressed in something appropriate for the eighty-three-degree weather her phone forecasted, Vivien took her time examining the house as she made her way down to the kitchen. Mick’s bedroom had already been vacated, and if the voices floating up the stairs were anything to go by, she was with her parents.

Making her way through the house to the kitchen, Vivien smiled as she listened to her friend’s family converse. The energy in the Birch’s house was always somewhat calming to Vivien, an environment where she could relax and feel at home regardless of what they were up to that day, but the feeling of belonging never wavered, no matter how far apart they truly were. Watching Mick dance around with her mother to the music on the radio, Vivien smiled as she leaned against the island counter. Brady nudged her arm as the song changed, beaming at the new addition to their household before offering her his hand.

Without much hesitation, Vivien placed her hand in Brady’s and allowed him to lead her in a bouncy dance that twirled them around the kitchen as Vivien giggled. Mack and her daughter stopped after a while to watch the pair, listening to Vivien half-sing, half-shriek her way through the lyrics as Brady spun her around the kitchen with ease. As the song came to an end, he twirled Vivien away, grinning as she laughed over the voice of the radio host.

Once her vision had stopped spinning, Vivien giggled, “Good morning, America!”

Brady chuckled, “Good way to get the blood pumping early in the morning, right, kiddo?”

Vivien nodded, but it was Mack who spoke, “We find it’s nice to do something fun before you start your day.”

“Speaking of starting your day,” Mick began as Vivien climbed onto one of the stools on the side of the island, “are you feeling up to leaving yet?”

“Makana,” Mack scolded lightly, “let the poor girl wake up first.”

Vivien smiled as Mick sighed dramatically, but she shook her head as she turned to the older woman. “It’s alright, Mrs B. I think I’m too excited to be tired.”

Sighing as he opened the fridge, Brady said, “Well, that’s good because I think we’re going to have to have breakfast at Butchy and Lela’s house this morning.”

Mack appeared confused for a moment before realization dawned on her face, “We forgot to pick up food last night.”

Mick shrugged, “It was two in the morning.”

With a shake of his head, Brady turned to his daughter and asked, “Do you mind us using your kitchen?”

Before Mick could reply, Vivien asked, “Wouldn’t it be easier to go to Big Momma’s for breakfast since we have to go there anyway?”

“It would be,” Mick replied with a nod, “but by the time we pry Lela off of you, it’ll be time for lunch.” Turning back to her parents as Vivien nodded in understanding, she said, “Butchy and I can make up something while everyone gets settled in.”

Mack nodded and turned her attention back to Vivien before asking, “Would you like to go now, then? Do you have anything you would like to bring with you?”

Vivien thought for a moment before nodding, “I brought some stuff with me that I wanted to show everyone. Can I run up and grab it?”

“You don’t have to ask, Vivien,” Brady insisted. Nodding toward the stairs, he said, “Just go; we’ll still be here when you come back.”

As Vivien slid out of her seat, Mick patted her arm excitedly and said, “Just put your clothes on the bed and take your whole suitcase. I’m, like, ninety-three percent sure you’ll leave with more clothes than you came with.”

Her excitement surging at the idea, Vivien nodded and hurried for the stairs, bounding up them two at a time and pushing aside her desire to explore the large home as she headed for her room. Moving her suitcase from the chair she left it on to the end of her bed, Vivien began pulling out a majority of her daily clothes, leaving her essentials, headphones, charger cords, astronaut lamp, the envelope with her name on it that her siblings and father had given her before she left home, and a few items of clothing Carrie and Lela had let her “borrow” and never got back. Once she was certain she had everything she wanted to bring with her for however long she would be away, Vivien zipped up her bag and took in a deep breath. Glancing out the window at San Clemente, Vivien smiled at the knowledge that, within mere minutes, she would be transported into a world she had only ever heard in stories and seen in a movie.

Grabbing her suitcase by the handle, Vivien left her bedroom and headed for the stairs, lifting her bag before her descent and taking the handle once she’d reached the landing. Practically skipping to the kitchen, Vivien beamed at the Birches as she cheered, “Ready for liftoff!”

Happy to show off his work to a new person, Brady clapped his hands and gestured toward the sliding glass doors that led to the backyard, “After you, kiddo.”

Vivien took the lead, opening one side of the door and sucking in a sharp breath as she was hit full-force with the heat of Southern California. Mick snickered, wrapping an arm around Vivien and guiding her toward the shed at the back of their property as she chuckled, “Welcome to California.”

‘Ugh,” Vivien groaned, “is it always like this?”

“Not always, no,” Mick claimed, “but believe me, summers are much worse in Florida.”

Hoping the older girl was simply joking, Vivien remained quiet until Mick ushered her into the shed, and she was made to carefully toe her way around scrapped projects and stray tools until she reached the yellow, tube-shaped behemoth pressed securely against the back wall. A large flower Vivien recalled seeing on a surfboard hanging on the wall in the Birch’s home was engraved into metal at the very top of the machine, wires and metal bars sticking out behind it in a haphazard yet efficient way. Pulling the handle on the right side of the machine, Vivien stepped back as the rounded glass panel at the front slid back into the left side of the machine.

With a gentle nudge from Mack, Vivien stepped into the machine, followed soon after by the family who had brought her there. As the glass door slid closed again, Mick took her friend's free hand and told her to hang on to her belongings before instructing her to watch out the window to see things change around them. Somewhat cautious of the machine as it whirred to life, Vivien watched as a vibrant glow from above seemed to illuminate the otherwise dark mechanic's shed. A soft hum filled the air as colors began to swirl outside the machine, a kaleidoscope of hues coming to life in a vibrant array that faintly reminded Vivien of a show she had seen as a child. The colors grew brighter and more vibrant, rivaling the LED lights Vivien knew Oliver had lining his ceiling before slowly dimming and allowing Vivien to see her first glimpse of another world.

Although she didn't want to appear let down by the view she was given, Vivien couldn't help her quirked brow and immediate response of, "It's an old pickup in a dark garage. Cool."

Nudging her friend with her elbow, Mick stepped around her to open the door and snorted, "It's Butchy's. Now, come on."

Taken by the hand. Vivien was dragged into the house and pulled toward the kitchen, where running water could be heard just over the sound of Chubby Checker's song The Twist that played over the radio. As she came to a stop, Vivien felt a smile split her face as she took in the striped wallpaper and yellow cabinets, the vibrant colors of the room making it feel even more inviting than she thought it would. Tilting so she could see around Mick, Vivien held in a laugh with a hand over her mouth as Butchy turned off the faucet, and Lela's voice could be heard as she danced to the music beside him. It wasn't until the music came to an end and the radio host began speaking about the next song that the raven-haired girl noticed the new figures in her house.

Lela jumped and pressed a hand to her chest, her instinctive reaction to cuss out her sister-in-law cut short as she spotted the taller brunette standing behind Mick. Letting out a screech so shrill Butchy flinched behind her, Lela rocketed forward, all but shoving Mick out of the way in order to wrap her arms around her younger friend. Rocking Vivien from one side to the other, Lela excitedly asked, "What are you doing here?!"

"It's spring break back home," Vivien explained as Lela moved back just enough to squish her cheeks in her hands. With her lips resembling that of a goldfish, Vivien continued, "I wanted to surprise everyone."

Prying his sister's hands away from the sixteen-year-old's face, Butchy smiled, "If this is anything to go by, I think Royce might end up having a heart attack when he sees you."

"Let's hope not," Vivien chuckled somewhat nervously. "I don't particularly feel like killing him."

"Sure," Butchy chortled sarcastically. "You know, I've seen some of those crime shows you love so much, piccola. You'd be arrested in an instant if you tried to kill anyone."

Smirking, Vivien said, "First of all, I watch those enough to know how to not get caught at this point. And, second, one of these days, I'm going to figure out what you're calling me, big guy."

"I'm sure you will," Butchy grinned, allowing the girl to step forward and bring her arms around him as he ruffled her hair. "It's good to see you again, Viv."

Staring accusatorily at the man as she took a step back, Vivien asked, "Is the swear jar still in place here?"

Confused as to what that had to do with him being glad to see her, Butchy slowly nodded, "Yeah, why?"

"In that case," Vivien huffed, "I'd say it's nice to see you too, but maybe I shouldn't just yet."

"Oh yeah?" Butchy questioned. "Just because of the swear jar?"

"Mhm," Vivien nodded. "You keep that thing in place and I'll be broke by the end of my first week here."

Butchy chuckled, but before he could formulate a response to Vivien's jab, Lela spoke up, "You're staying for more than a week?"

Turning to the shorter girl, Vivien shrugged, "I was hoping to, if that's alright."

Mick chuckled as she began pulling things from the refrigerator, "She is. I don't think her staying is the problem."

"What do you mean?" Lela wondered.

Butchy stepped up to the counter to help Mick make breakfast before answering, "After letting the boys know she's here, it'll be nearly impossible for them to let her return home."

Lela breathed a noise of understanding before taking Vivien's hands and saying, "We need you to look as normal as possible before you go see the boys. How do you feel about borrowing something of mine?"

Smiling, Vivien nodded, "You're the boss."

As Lela let out a noise of excitement and began pulling her away, Butchy called out, "See you in three hours."

Vivien barely got the chance to look around on her way up to Lela's room, pulled up the stairs faster than she thought humanly possible as Lela began babbling about all the things she wanted to do with the younger girl. Although the girl's excitement was evident, Vivien couldn't help but feel astonished at how fast Lela could talk when she was happy. As Lela pulled her into her bedroom, Vivien couldn't help but look around in wonder at how different it was from the movie. Despite everything looking fairly similar, there were touches of modernity that stood out against the mid-century style of the room - pictures from modern times that had made it back in the girl's luggage, an old iPod Vivien was sure Mick had given her, and some items strewn about that Vivien recalled seeing the older girl buy in her world.

Before Vivien could ask her about anything she saw, Lela pulled her over to the closet, where she revealed a room that had Vivien convinced she had somehow ended up transported to Mia Thermopolis's closet from the second Princess Diaries movie. Two plush chairs sat against the far wall, racks of clothes illuminated by little dome lights lined the walls, and shelves of shoes and accessories filled the empty space. Lela scanned the racks of clothing as Vivien looked around in wonder, picking up a pair of oversized sunglasses with a smile before setting them down and moving on to the shoes.

Moving with practice ease through her color-coordinated clothing, Lela pulled clothes down by their hangers and began stacking them on her chair. Once she felt satisfied by the selection she had laid out, Lela turned to Vivien and smiled as the girl looked at herself in the mirror with a pair of elbow-length gloves, cat-eye sunglasses, and a large sunhat that flopped in front of her face. Stepping up behind the girl, Lela said, "Time to play dress-up."

Vivien giggled, pulling the sunhat off of her head and lowering the sunglasses as she said, "I think I already am."

"And you look fabulous," Lela claimed with a smile before stepping aside and gesturing to the clothes on one of her chairs. "However, I put aside some clothes for you to try on."

"Ooh," Vivien sang as she turned around, setting her accessories aside in favor of the large pile. As Lela began setting things in their rightful places, Vivien picked through the clothing and quickly found herself lost in the myriad of colors, fabrics, and styles. "You want me try on all of this?"

Lela glanced at the dainty watch on her wrist that her uncle had gifted her for her birthday before answering, "Well, I think we'll only have time for a few before they bring us something to eat, but yeah."

Shifting a pair of shorts onto the arm of the chair, Vivien mused, "I'm surprised you didn't want me in a dress today."

"Normally," Lela began as she made up the distance between herself and the brunette, "I would have, but where most of my dresses would be far too short on you, I figured we could make up for that at the shops later. For now, I figured pedal pushers, tees, and some shorts would be more comfortable for you."

"You're definitely not wrong," Vivien smiled. Turning to the older girl, she asked, "Where should I try these on?"

"Right here," Lela beamed, unhooking a curtain from the wall and letting it fall between herself and Vivien. "If you find anything you feel suits you for the day, let me know and I'll come help you look for accessories. In the meantime, I'll be doing my morning skincare."

Excitement flowed through her like an ice-cold drink on a hot summer day, and Vivien thanked Lela before turning toward her pile of clothing and sorting through everything. Setting aside bottoms she could put together with various tops, Vivien began picking out options and trying them on, examining her reflection before trying on something new. After trying on different outfits for a while, Vivien finally settled on one - a pair of striped, white and lavender shorts with a matching purple tank top that covered far more skin than that of the tank tops back home. Lela was quick to offer assistance with the rest of the outfit, deeming Vivien's classic, black and white, doodle-covered Converse acceptable before selecting a handful of necklaces and bracelets for the brunette to choose between.

Once they had taken a break to eat breakfast, Lela began working her magic on Vivien's hair. After making sure her bangs were separated from the rest of her hair by a curler, Lela brushed out Vivien's hip-length locks before pulling them up into a ponytail and securing them with not only an elastic but also a ribbon. Lela curled the very ends of Vivien's ponytail so that it all ended in a uniform ring before spraying it down with enough hairspray to poke a hole in the ozone layer and pulling the curler out from under Vivien's bangs.

Grinning in disbelief at her reflection in Lela's vanity, Vivien thanked Lela for putting in more effort than she ever did back home, "I could never do anything like this."

"You could," Lela argued as she placed the cover back on her canister of hairspray and set it on the corner of her vanity. "It just takes practice, that's all."

"And far more patience than I could ever manage," Vivien chuckled, rising slowly from the bench Lela had practically shoved her onto. "Seriously, though, Lela, thank you."

"Anytime," Lela beamed. Checking her watch once again, she clapped her hands and said, "Now, I believe it's time we show you off to everyone at Big Momma's."

"What about Royce?" Vivien asked hesitantly as Lela began to leave the room. "Shouldn't we go see him first?"

Turning back to Vivien as she opened her bedroom door, Lela smirked knowingly, "His shift starts early on weekends."

"His shift?"

But Lela was already on her way out of the room, a wink being the only response Vivien could pry from the girl as she followed Lela out of the room and down to the living room where everyone else was waiting. With everyone else decked out in their finest sixties regalia, Vivien didn't feel half as out of place as she assumed she would be as she followed them outside, where a blue Volkswagen bus waited. As Mick climbed into the driver's seat, Vivien was allowed the seat beside her, and once everyone was inside, they took off down the road. Taking in the sights of the beach town as they rolled down the street, Vivien found it impossible to wipe the smile from her face.

The look of everything in the area was so different than what she was used to back home - mid-century houses with slanted roofs and fun doorways lined one side of the street while small businesses with typically fifties and sixties fonts in their windows lined the other. Turning toward Mick, she said, "I think I'm already in love."

With a laugh, Mick's gaze flitted toward the brunette before settling on the road again as she turned into a small parking lot where a few cars and motorcycles had parked, the expansive beach and a large building with a thatched roof within walking distance of the lot. Confused, Vivien followed the others as they climbed out of the car, but as everyone headed around the building, Vivien found herself dragged by the wrist toward the back entrance. Mick held the door for her younger friend and guided her through the kitchen before depositing her by the refrigerator and telling her to stay low until she came to get her.

Resigning to her fate of being stuck between the fridge and the trash can, Vivien crouched low to the floor, observing the people in the kitchen as they moved around, seemingly without noticing her presence. The smell of freshly cooked fish and baked potatoes filled the air, contrasting the stench of the food scraps piling up in the trash next to Vivien as she inched as close to the fridge as possible. However, as a blonde waitress entered the kitchen through the swinging door Mick had left through, Vivien found herself caught. With a hesitant smile and an awkward wave, the blonde neared the fridge with a tray and gathered colorful bottles of soda from it before placing it on a stainless steel counter and glancing over her shoulder at Vivien.

"Are you supposed to be back here?" the girl asked, a thick, southern twang accenting her voice.

Vivien swallowed thickly, offering a shrug as she explained, "My friend pushed me back here."

"Why?" the blonde questioned as she began popping off the lids of the sodas.

"I'm trying to surprise my boyfriend," Vivien explained. "I'm from New Hampshire and he doesn't know I'm here."

The blonde glanced around the kitchen, seemingly looking for someone, before settling her hazel eyes back on the girl crouched on the floor. Lowering her voice, she said, "Be grateful Big Momma isn't back here. This place is supposed to be staff-only after the soda geyser incident that happened a few weeks ago."

"Soda geyser?" Vivien repeated, mildly curious as to whether or not that had anything to do with the Mentos experiment she had shown the boys over Facetime not long ago.

"It was a huge mess," the blonde said before waving it off. Kneeling down to the brunette's height, the girl held out a hand and asked, "What's your name?"

Latching hands with the girl, Vivien smiled and said, "I'm-"

"Vivien, it's time!" Mick whisper-yelled as she pushed open the swinging door. Finding the girl on the floor and the blonde in front of her, Mick stalled, the gears in her brain turning for a moment as she processed the scene before a smile appeared on her face. "Oh, hey, Juliet."

"Hey, Mick," Juliet greeted. Turning back to the girl before her, she asked, "I presume that makes you Vivien?"

Vivien nodded, "And you Juliet?"

"Guilty as charged," Juliet smiled, her teeth a blinding white in comparison to her peachy lip gloss. Pulling the younger girl to her feet, Juliet asked, "So, what's the plan? How're we surprising this lucky mystery boy?"

"Well, I was thinking Viv could go out and pretend to be a waitress to surprise him," Mick claimed.

Glancing through the serving window, Juliet asked, "What table are they?"

"It's Miles' little brother, Royce," Mick explained. "He should be on his lunch break with his brothers now, right?"

Juliet's wide-eyed gasp shocked Vivien as the blonde whirled around, "Wait, for real? You're with Royce?" When Vivien slowly nodded in confirmation, Juliet let out a soft chuckle, "Everyone thought he was pulling our legs when he said he had a girlfriend. Especially 'cause he said she lived in a different state."

"Well, he was telling the truth," Vivien smiled nervously.

"I guess so," Juliet beamed. Turning to Mick, she said, "Anyway, I just got all their drinks together. If you want to head out now, I'll take Vivien here with me and say she's a new trainee."

Mick thought for a moment, but it didn't take her long to decide, "Honestly, that's a better plan than mine. I'll go back to my seat, and I'll see you out there in a few!"

As Mick hurried back through the door, Juliet turned to Vivien and asked, "So, newbie, are you ready for your first day at work?"

"I guess so," Vivien said, sucking in a deep breath.

With a smile, Juliet took a spare waist apron from the hangers on the wall and tied it around the younger girl before picking up her tray of sodas and asking, "Think you can carry this to their booth?"

"I can certainly try," Vivien offered, eyeing the collection of colored liquids.

Once Juliet was sure Vivien had a good hold on the tray, she said, "Just stay behind me and don't say a word until I introduce you. The less chance he has of seeing you, the better chances you have of surprising him."

Vivien nodded, and without another word, Juliet began to lead the way out, holding the door open behind her for Vivien before leading her through the busy restaurant. Vivien didn't get the chance to look around much as they walked, more focused on not spilling any drinks than exploring. However, as Juliet stopped at a booth along the far wall, Vivien looked around, hoping to see some familiar faces among the crowds.

Clearing her throat, Juliet spoke, "Hope y'all don't mind, but we've got a new girl with us this noontime and I figured I'd show her the ropes while Royce here takes his break."

"That's fine, Jules," Vivien heard Miles say. "What's her name?"

"I figured I'd let her introduce herself when she's ready," Juliet said, glancing over her shoulder at Vivien before stepping aside.

Finally able to see the group in the booth, Vivien took in the look of surprise on Miles' face first. Miles quickly got Carrie's attention by squeezing her hand, getting her to look up from the menu in her hands. Cerulean eyes glittered like fireworks as Carrie saw the girl standing at the end of the table, and she hurriedly tapped Bentley's shin under the table with the toe of her shoe, making him lift his head from the crayon drawings he had begun on the back of one of the disposable, paper placemats. Somewhat annoyed at the interruption, Bentley lifted his gaze with a question on his lips, but as Carrie pointed to the end of the table, his question died, and his mouth dropped open, his eyes widening to the size of dinner plates.

Before anyone could signal Royce to lift his head from his arms as he yawned tiredly toward the table, Vivien smiled at his tangled curls and said, "Hey, handsome."

Without bothering to look up, Royce decided that, since nobody else cared to speak, he would, and mumbled, "Believe it or not, Miles has a girlfriend."

Vivien fought down a laugh and said, "Believe it or not, I wasn't talking to him."

The first to pull himself out of his shocked stupor, Miles grinned and said, "Royce has one too."

"I don't see her anywhere," Vivien said, placing the tray of drinks on the end of the table. "Maybe I need a mirror."

Royce rolled his eyes, lifting his head from his arms enough to take his soda from the tray as he said, "Not interested."

"Royce," Bentley began warningly but was quickly stopped by Miles as the oldest of the brothers placed a finger to his lips and gestured for the boy to stay silent.

"Damn," Vivien sighed as Royce's forehead rested against his arms once more. "And here I thought we would have lasted at least half a year before you decided to break up with me, Rolls."

Startled by the choice of nickname, Royce's eyes peeled open, and through the corner of his eyes, he found himself looking at a pair of Converse with faded doodles on the white of the toe, but it wasn't until he saw the tiny ship charm dangling from her laces that he began putting pieces together. As he slowly lifted his head, Royce found himself frozen with shock. Sure enough, standing before him was his girlfriend, but she looked as though she had stepped out of a magazine. Her typical jeans and T-shirt were replaced with clothing he was used to seeing on some of his friends at school, and her hair was pulled into a ponytail he knew she would normally complain about at the end of the day, but she didn't seem upset by it in the slightest. Her round glasses caught the light above their table perfectly, glinting magically as the light above another nearby table casted a golden halo around her from behind. For a while, Royce was convinced he was seeing things - Vivien couldn't be in his world; it was impossible! She would have told him she was coming! - but then she smiled down at him and said something he couldn't hear over the thoughts running rampant in his head.

Swallowing as he blinked up at her, Royce softly asked, "Vivien?"

The girl before him laughed, and while that beautiful symphony was all he needed to hear, her nod dispelled any further doubts he could have had. Rocketing up from his seat, Royce lunged forward, bringing his arms around her as far as they would reach, nearly lifting her from the floor as she giggled by his ear. They stood like that for what felt like an eternity before Royce backed away enough to take her face in his hands, examining her as though it was the first time.

"Hey," she breathed, as eloquent as ever.

"You-" Royce cut himself off with a laugh, "You're real. You're real and you're here. How are you here?"

Vivien shrugged, "Magic."

Scoffing a laugh, Royce shook his head and brought her back into an embrace that she quickly returned. Looking over her boyfriend's shoulder at the group, who had now pulled themselves out of the booth to greet her, Vivien smiled and gestured for Bentley to join them. Needing no further encouragement, Bentley was quick to attach himself to the pair, ducking under Royce's arm as it came around his shoulders and smiling as Vivien's snuck around his back. The trio refused to separate until Miles asked for his hug, making Vivien pry herself away from her boys for long enough to give Miles and Carrie a greeting as well. Then, just like magnets, the trio fell back together again. This time, however, they separated after a minute, and with Vivien's hands locked firmly in theirs, the boys began showing her around to anyone and everyone who would give them the time of day.

Vivien couldn't help but smile as she was dragged through the restaurant, her face burning like a neon firetruck. As much as she hated being the center of attention, she tried to swallow back her growing anxiety at being surrounded by strangers in favor of allowing the boys to introduce her to the people they cared about. She was sure her growing nerves and embarrassment at being shown off like a prize horse would wear off over time once the boys began to settle, and she wasn't about to complain to either of them until they were calmed down a bit. After all, they had waited long enough for this. Besides, what was the harm of a little embarrassment? If it meant the boys' gleaming smiles never left their faces, she would deal with it a thousand times over. Catching Royce watching her fondly as Bentley introduced her to some of their and their brother's friends, Vivien smiled.

Maybe - just maybe - she could get used to this.

#Same Trailer Different Park #STDP #and so it begins

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