#but also there's something to be said that beard HAD to find a group to belong to outside of richmond.

[coachbeards]

genuinely so haunted that beard met jane almost immediately after getting to richmond. like within four weeks, but i think he knew her around 1x03 (he came into work exhausted after a night out....feels very beardjane). like mr "i don't do relationships" also finds his girlfriend / future w*fe almost IMMEDIATELY. like he really had no chance. all of his time at richmond had been consumed by jane / knowing jane / worrying about jane / etc.

[bigification]

Tag You're Fat

"Bro, why the fuck are we playing tag, we are grown ass adults." John asked.

"Just go with it man, it'll be fun." Brad pleaded. "It's not just any game of tag, It's called tag you're FAT! The way it works is that one person gets selected randomly to be it. He will eat this." Brad holds up a large pill. "It will turn them into a fatass for a short time, the fatass will then be contagious. Any person he touches will also become a fatass. Everyone hides and the last person to get fattened wins."

"Dude this game seems weird." Graham spoke out.

"C'mon just try it, it'll be fun." Brad pleaded once again.

The group seemed to collectively sigh and agree to play. Brad then pulled up a random number generator on his phone. "Everyone pick a number, I'll be one."

Each man then says a number between one and seven. Brad generated a number. "It's 4, who's 4!"

A couple guys pointed at Graham. "Man this is bullshit, I didn't even want to play this stupid ass game." Graham complained.

"That's too damn bad, take the pill." Brad responded.

Graham grabbed the pill and stared at it for a bit. "This is temporary right?" He asked.

"Ya of course, just take it." Brad said as he pulled up a photo of Graham on his phone, just for comparison for after.

Everyone started to get impatient so Graham finally swallowed the pill. Almost instantly, he began to twitch and grunt. As he twitched, his body began to jiggle more and more. His once flat stomach grew rounder and rounder by the second, riding up his shirt in the process. It kept growing until he had a solid beer gut that sagged over his waist line and love handles that thickened his once slim waist. His defined pecs became soft and plump as they sagged onto his gut and his arms became plump with a thick layer of fat. His pants tightened under the pressure of his growing ass and thick thighs. Finally his face widened as fat filled his cheeks.

Graham stood in silence as he took off his tiny shirt. His friends waited in silence for him to say something.

"Huh huh huh, that felt good!" He said in a dumb voice.

No one could tell if he was being serious, but they figured he was when he kept giggling and playing with the fat on his belly.

"Ok everyone, HIDE!" John yelled as he ran to a hiding spot. No one had time to react, so they just ran. Each of them found a hiding spot as Graham started to slowly hunt them down.

John trembled as he heard the large man stomp towards his hiding spot. He struggled to keep quiet as Graham approached. "Boo!" Graham yelled as he turned the corner. John jumped and proceeded to plead for Graham to not tag him.

"Wait wait! You don't need to tag me. You can just go find someone else." He practically pegged.

"isn't that the point of the game though?" Graham asked as he reached for John's arm. John yelled in fear, but immediately stopped when Graham made contact.

His muscles seemed to tense up, and he started to grunt. John started to grow much faster than Graham did. Within moments his belly had grown so big that he looked pregnant. It grew and grew, almost never ending until it was larger than a beach ball, ripping straight through his shirt. His hands grew to twice their size as he held his massive gut. A thick layer of fat covered the rest of his body, giving thick arms and legs, and large man tits. His ass also grew to the point that it ripped through his pants, leaving him completely naked, though it's not like you could seem much under that hulking gut. Similar to Graham, his face was the last to change. His face rounded out until it looked like a circle and he grew multiple chins under his thick beard.

John sat there for a moment, getting used to the way his body felt. The thick legs that rubbed together and the giant gut that changed his centre of gravity made it hard for him to move around.

"Get up big guy!" Graham pulled John to his feet.

"Shut it pipsqueak, you try movin around with a gut like this." John snapped back.

The two men soon went back to searching for the rest of their friends, shaking the ground as they walked. Dewayne and Miguel hid together nearby and peered around a corner to see Graham and John searching.

"Dude is that John?! He's fucking massive, and he's naked." Miguel whispered.

"Shut up, they're gonna hear us." Dewayne whispered back.

Almost as if on cue, John and Graham turn and start walking toward their hiding spots. They were cornered, so they just curled up and hoped they wouldn't be seen. It did not work. Graham turned the corner, chuckled, and grabbed both men.

Dewayne started to grunt as his body grew. His soft gut spilled out of his black tang top and over his shorts. He grew soft man tits that stretched his shirt to its limit. His body quickly started to say under its own weight as a thick layer of pudge covered his body.

Miguel befell a similar fate soon after. Although the effects didn't seem as bad on him since he was such an athletic person, but that could only help him so much. His six pack rapidly turned into a beer belly larger than his own dad's gut, riding up his tiny gym shirt. His solid pecs swelled into a pair of moobs with nipples that showed through his shirt. The defined arms and legs he worked so hard for softened into pudgy limbs.

The two men emerged from their hiding spots, happy as ever without a thought going through their minds.

It didn't take long for them to find Andrew after that. He was the tallest in the group, making it hard for him to hide. He tried to run but quickly ran into John, knocking him straight on his ass. Unfortunately for him, his arms hit John's belly in the impact. Andrew sat on the floor as his mind cleared and his body started to grow. Within seconds he had a giant hairy belly hanging out of his shirt, only rivaled by John's. His limbs bilmped out and his ass expanded, popping open his belt and threatening to rip his jeans. Finally a thick double chin formed under his beard. Andrew stood up, towering over the rest and crossed his arms. "Well who's gonna find the rest?" He asked in a dumb voice.

Brad trembled as he heard someone approaching his hiding spot. He had no idea who it was, but it sounded like someone massive. He got scared and decided to get up and run from his hiding spot. As he got up, he was met by Andrews thick underbelly.

His forehead impacted Andrews belly, knocking him back. He grunted in pleasure and pain as the transformation began. His body was hit the hardest since John. His once unnoticeable belly soon became impossible to miss, riding up his shirt to his chest and drooping over his waist. His skinny chest exploded with fat, growing larger tits than he had ever seen before, with large sensitive nipples. His previously thin arms became engulfed with fat and his legs thickened until it was basically impossible for him to separate them. His love handles spilled over his waist and his ass fattened until his crack was visible above his pants. He got up once his transformation was complete, struggling to stay up due to his immense weight. He pulled up his shirt and looked down at his hulking gut and man tits, he smiled before following the rest of the men to find the last of their friends.

"Omar, you're the last one you can come out now!" John yelled.

Omar appeared from behind a couch and stood in shock at the sight of his friends. Each one of them bursting out of their clothes and sagging with fat, John had even ripped out of his clothes. Omar started to laugh hysterically, pointing out how fat his friends were. Once he regained his composure he asked his friends, "so when does this wear off?"

"What do you mean wear off, why would we want it to wear off?" John responded.

"No no, you said it would wear off." Omar's expression quickly changed.

"What do you say boys, this guy is lookin a bit too skinny for our standards, how about we change that." John asked the rest of the boys.

Omar backed away, but quickly became cornered by the horde of large men. It didn't take long for one of them to grab his arm. He froze in place and started to grunt as his body began to change. He tried to resist, but there was no point. His gut burst out of his shirt, popping off the buttons in the process. His pecs grew into thick moobs, and he grew multiple chins under his light stubble. His ass fattened until it ripped through his jeans, and his thighs ripped what was left of them, leaving him naked from the waist down. His arms fattened up as he held his gut.

"Now for the best part about the game." John started as he approached Omar. "It has made up who we were meant to be, it made us hot." John gets really close to Omar, pressing both their bellies together. "Now we can do whatever we want with each other." John grabbed Omar's dick as he spoke, making him moan.

With all the tension built up over the game, it didn't take long for all of them to rip off their tiny clothes. Nothing in their heads other than sex and food.

[warping-realities]

Familly Group Chat

Written version of my last video. At some point I'll make one of the first one too! Hope you like it!

Michael was one of the many “middle kids” of John and Louise Bennet; in fact, he was the 4th of 7, just a few minutes younger than his twin brother, Tobias, with whom he shared that typical inscrutable and unexplainable bond that only twins have. Even though the relationship among all seven Bennet boys was super strong, having been raised under the strict rules of the holy Catholic Church by their parents, they were all scattered across the country, so the only way to keep in touch was through the family group chat on an app. That morning, the 23-year-old blonde man, skinny but toned from constant running, had just finished taking a hot shower and putting on his favorite pair of skinny black jeans, which his modern startup job not only accept but even endorsed as part of the dress code. He was about to start brushing his teeth when a new message notification popped up on his phone.

“Message from Tobias, here we go…” he muttered to himself, knowing his twin would only send a message at that hour if it was to roast someone. And sure enough!

“Hey bro, did you see the good morning message Mom posted in the family group?”

“Not yet, man.”

“Well, brace yourself! I have no idea where she finds this stuff!”

As he opened the family group while heading to the kitchen to make his usual black coffee, Michael couldn’t help but chuckle at the cheesiness of the good morning image Mom had sent.

“Dude, do all moms have a group to share this crap?” he typed to his brother in the private chat.

“Has to be! But you better reply, you know how she gets… soon she’ll be whining about how she raised seven ungrateful kids or some nonsense,” Tobias replied. Thinking about that, Michael rushed to respond to their mom. Louise was really kinda needy now that only the youngest still lived with her. However, when he opened the family group, he couldn't help but laugh out loud at the reply Tobias had sent—an even tackier image than the one their mom sent.

“Dude, you’re the worst! Where the hell did you find that image to reply to her?” he shot back to his brother.

“Well, maybe I’m in the mom’s group!” He replied before sending something completely different. “Hey, what’s going on? Someone saved as Dad 0.2 just join the group. What the hell is this?”

Hurrying to check that message, Michael quickly opened the family group and was shocked to see an unknown person had joined, which shouldn’t be possible without an access link or an invite from one of the group admins, their parents. The private convo that followed between the brothers was frantic and freaked out.

“Dad 0.2 removed Mom from the group… what’s going on?”

“I don’t know… how does someone just waltz into a private group and kick someone out???”

“Dad 0.2 changed the group name from Bennet Family to Bradley Boys! What the hell is this?”

“He’s sending a video, what’s happening???”

“I don’t know, bro, let’s just open it and see.”

The video showed a dude in his forties, but he looked really good for his age, easily passing for someone younger if it weren't for the crow's feet around his eyes that showed he was used to smiling, and his extremely muscular physique screamed years of hardcore workouts. With light brown hair and a well-groomed beard, he was rocking just a pair of sweats that showcased his powerful muscles in a spacious but Spartan room, with minimal furniture or decor.

“Alright, guys, it’s time to send our good morning videos! Who’s next? How about you, Jeff? I’m dying to rest my head on those muscle pillows of yours, babe!” the stranger said, flexing his arms.

“WTF?? You seeing what I’m seeing, Tobias? And who the hell is Jeff?” Michael quickly texted back to his brother.

“I have no clue, man, this is so weird… wait a sec… Dad 0.1 just sent a video, what the hell is this?”

“I think we better check it out…” Michael shot back before opening the video from the contact that also showed up for him as Dad 0.1.

“I’m dying to see you too, Buck! Counting the seconds until you’re back, babe. The bed feels empty without you here! Who’s next? How about our firstborn? It’s on you, Wyatt!” That was impossible; the face on the screen was undeniably their dad, but he had gained a solid 50 pounds of muscle and lost a good amount of fat. Not to mention the carpet of hair that now covered his formerly smooth chest.

“Is that really Dad? No way… how?” Tobias sent back.

“I don’t know, man! This is so bizarre… how did he bulk up so much… it doesn’t make sense… and who the hell is Wyatt?”

“He mentioned firstborn… but no… that can’t be…” Tobias typed before they both received another notification. Upon opening the video, they were in for another surprise.

“Hey there, bros! Ready for a new day? I’m already warming up waiting for my workout buddy—where you at, Maverick, little bro?” said the muscular dude, barely in his thirties, dressed all in black and flexing in a gym locker room.

“Dude… that’s Will!!! But he’s never set foot in a gym,” Michael texted Tobias. William, the oldest of the bunch, was about to turn thirty, and he had the chubby physique of an accountant used to long hours behind a desk, drinking coffee and munching on donuts—that was literally his life… or should be. But if there was anything that video showed, it was that Wyatt had never put a single sweet in his mouth.

“I don’t even know what to say… but there’s more coming!” Tobias replied, apparently just as stunned. As the new video arrived, they rushed to look.

“Ha! I’ve already left you in the dust, Wyatt! Looks like the baby bro is now the big bro! Don’t take too long, or I’ll be late for school, and my coach is gonna flip, right, Griff?”

“Dude, that’s Martin on steroids! That kid looks like he’s tripled in size! Is this some kind of prank? Some deep fake?” he asked in shock. Martin, the youngest, was already a more athletic kid, being on the wrestling team, but with that size, he’d be better suited for the offensive line on a football team, if he wasn’t already too big for that, and who the hell was this coach he was talking about?

“Michael, I’m just as lost as you. But it looks like this isn’t stopping…” Tobias commented as another video popped up in the group.

“You’re gonna have to do a ton of push-ups for not calling me Coach Bradley, kid! No Griff or Griffin while I’m your trainer! And if you’re late for school, it’ll be suicide day! Speaking of late, where the hell are you, Chase? Bet you left Hunter hanging at the beach.”

“Tobias, that’s Gordon! How the hell is he a coach? He’s a math teacher!” Michael texted in disbelief, seeing their second oldest brother looking way older than he should, with thinning hair as if he had been overdoing the steroids, which seemed totally possible, he thought, seeing the massive bodybuilder rocking just boxer briefs and a tight tank top, flexing his powerful muscles in some dimly lit room.

“Tobias? Tobias? Damn… there’s more coming!” Michael texted anxiously as he opened the next video.

“Ha, you know me too well, bro, but The Chaser is on the scene, Hunt’s got to face me!” That was Carl, but just like the other family members, he had gone through a transformation that left him almost unrecognizable. He had turned into a mountain of muscles covered by a thin layer of bronzed skin, clad only in a tiny yellow short, shades, and a backwards cap. Sitting in a car, flexing his muscles and grinning. Michael didn’t even have time to send a new outraged message to Tobias when another video came in.

“Too bad I’m already way ahead in my workout, little bro! You sure you want to take me on? Hehehe. Speaking of challenges, which twin’s gonna fire the next shot? Trey or Micah?” said the bronzed, muscular dude sporting Hugh’s modified look, the brother just below the twins in age. Watching this, Michael’s shock wore off, and he resumed chatting with his twin.

“What the hell is going on??? What are they doing at the beach? They should be in college!” But the reply didn’t come. Worried, he called out for his brother.

“Tobias? Tobias?”

“Who the fuck is Tobias, bro? I’m already sending my video, Micah! Big T is once again taking the lead! At least The Grand Finale is all yours!” was the twin response.

“Tobias, you guys must be messing with me!” Michael sent before opening the family group, where his brother had just sent another video.

“Trey here, leaving the little twin eating dust as always. And like always, I can’t tell what’s more badass, the view from my window or the sight the girls get when they check out my bod! What do you say, Micah, who’s used to seeing pretty much the same thing when you look in the mirror?” said the guy who in no way could be his twin brother, while grinning and showing off his muscular physique in front of his sunny apartment window. Totally lost, Michael sent a message to him.

“Tobias… Trey… I’m not doing any of this, this is insane!” he sent without realizing that autocorrect had changed his brother’s name.

“Dude, we’ve been doing this for years! It’s a Bradley tradition, what’s the problem now? You know how our das freak if we don’t join in. One of them is gonna call you if you don’t send it soon!” he replied. And Michael didn’t even have time to formulate a response to that new absurdity.

“Crap, video call from Dad 0.1,” he muttered to himself, refusing to pick up. But it seemed his phone had a mind of its own because the altered version of his dad popped up on his screen without permission.

“Micah, your dad is far away and wants a video from his boys. Trey just told me you don’t want to do it. What’s the harm in sending it? All your brothers already have, don’t be a buzzkill,” said the man with a serious and slightly disappointed expression.

“Dad, I… what the hell?” Michael started to respond, only to be cut off by the sudden entrance of a third person in the call. How was this possible? How was all this even real???

“Chill out, Jeff! I think Micah’s scared of looking like a weakling in front of his brothers.” It was the guy from the other video, grinning and crossing his arms while looking at Michael with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“What??? I… no… weakling!” For some reason, that challenge sparked something inside him, a primal urge to show what he was capable of, and even more, to show that man what he could do. He wanted… no, he needed to prove himself to that man. Show one of the most important people in his life that he wasn’t some weakling!

“You’re gonna see who the weakling is, Dad!” Micah shot back with a grin before sending his own video.

“Last of the Bradley boys here, you bunch of exhibitionists!” he said, shyly smiling. Unlike his brothers he didn't like to show off his physique without a greater purpose, he kept hitting the gym for the joy it always brought him, mainly because it was something that connected all the brothers and their two dads. The boys didn’t know who was whose dad, and to them that didn’t matter one bit. The Bradley boys were a united front; even though each had their own place, they all worked together at the gym their fathers had founded many years ago, even those who had other jobs like Griff or were still finishing school like Maverick. Even when it came time for college, they preferred to stick around instead of crossing the country, which was why Hunter and Chase still lived with their fathers. Their upbringing had been liberal, but there were still well-established boundaries of respect. Even though a much greater degree of freedom was present now that they were all adults, provocative acts had become more common, with the guys and their parents occasionally sending more explicit videos. In fact, the bond among them was so strong that whenever one of them was away for some reason, it had become family tradition to send those good morning videos.

“We’re looking forward to your return, Dad!” he said in the group, joined by his brothers and other father. They were answered by Buck, affectionately known by all as Dad 0.2.

“I’ll be back this weekend, boys, and I want the whole family together! But until then, at least we’ll have our little moments every morning. To wrap it up, here’s one last video from me for you to think of me as much as I think of you!” he said, winking and provocatively massaging his pecs.

“Come on, Dad! We don’t need this at this time of the morning,” was the response from his sons, even though they were all exactly the same kind of man as Buck Bradley.

[ynscrazylife]

THE BAT IN THE SHADOWS 🦇🕸️ — CHAPTER THREE

Summary: Bruce Wayne is the happiest he’s ever been in a while. He has a beautiful wife, amazing children, and is stopping crime left and right as Batman. All that shatters when you, his wife, mysteriously disappears.

Pairings: Bruce Wayne x Wife!Reader, Batfamily x Batman!Reader, Avengers x Reader (Platonic)

Series Masterlist

It takes quite a lot to confuse Batman. Yet here he stood, reduced to speechlessness, as he stared at the odd group in front of him. The woman called herself Black Widow, said she was looking for his wife. Bruce thought he would’ve remembered if you mentioned anyone like this before.

“Then you’ve come to the right place. I’m also looking for her. How do you know Y/N?” Bruce asked, crossing his arms. They didn’t seem to be . . . Evil, but he had no clue who the hell they were or what you had to do with it and that was very annoying.

Black Widow glanced at her friends and another one of them, a man in bulky, flashy red armor, stepped up. “We used to be on a team together. Years ago. Until a mission went wrong and . . . She disappeared. I guess she landed here,” he said.

This did not help at all. In fact, it only made Bruce more confused. He was positive that you never mentioned working on a team before. “How long ago is ‘years ago’?” He asked next.

“About five now,” Black Widow answered.

Bruce felt like he was being slapped in the face. He had met you five years ago, when you were a rookie officer. You and he dated for two years, then married, and you were so skilled that you made detective within four years. Could this really be true?

“How can I trust you?” Bruce asked.

The group all looked at each other, seemingly coming to this conclusion that this masked man had a connection to you. Then, the archer pulled a paper out of his pocket and unfolded it, passing it to Bruce. He stared down at it, shocked to find that it was a photo. It was all these people, at some party, and . . . You. You were definitely younger, but it was clearly you, smiling and holding a drink.

Willing his hands not to shake, Bruce looked up at them. “I have a lot of questions,” he said bluntly.

“So do we,” the armored man said. “What do you mean that you’re also looking for her? Isn’t she here?”

Bruce took a deep breath, thankful that the mask covered his face, otherwise they’d see the tears pooling in his eyes. “She was abducted a few days ago,” he replied, forcing his voice to be steady.

“That explains the weird signal I detected,” another man said. He had a beard, a cape and looked like some sort of wizard.

Yeah, Bruce had a shit ton of questions.

//

It took some time for parties, the Avengers and Bruce, to get to really talking. They both had to give up information they’d rather not to learn more about the person they all cared about. The Avengers explained that you used to be on their team, until you went missing on a mission like they mentioned earlier. They said they scoured the world for you, until consulting with the wizard guy over here (who called himself Doctor Strange, Bruce didn’t comment on the weird name).

Doctor Strange said that he detected a signal not long after you had disappeared and, with his magic, found out what it meant: you were off-world. In a whole other universe. They’d been scouring the multiverse (which Bruce almost needed to sit down for a second after hearing), until finding a similar signal a few days ago which led them here.

So that meant . . . Both signals gave your last known location, told them that you had been taken. The first one was from the universe that the Avengers were from and the second was from this one, the one where Bruce made a life with you.

He was still utterly perplexed and didn’t completely trust them, but that picture . . . The timeline . . . It was tugging at something inside him. Bruce admitted that he had known you for these past five years, though he didn’t outright admit that you two were married. He was going to hold that fact close for as long as possible.

Finally, the Avengers led Bruce back to the point of origin, where they arrived in the forest. The masked man turned it all upside down, sadly not finding anything that could help.

But . . . He did have something they could help with.

“I don’t really want to do this,” he admitted, turning back around to face them. “But this is my only choice. My only clue to find Y/N. If I find that you’re messing with me . . .”

“We’re not,” a man, about Bruce’s height, looking like the American flag, said sternly.

Bruce sighed, forcing his shoulders to drop. “I have some footage to show you,” he said, really hoping that he wasn’t going for regret this.

//

As soon as the Avengers saw the footage of the store from earlier, Black Widow went pale.

“No, no, no . . . This . . . They’re inactive. This is impossible,” she said, gritting her teeth. Hawkeye placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as all eyes turned to her.

“What?” Bruce asked, his tone sharp and unforgiving.

“Play it again,” she snapped, leaning in close to the computer.

Bruce glared, but complied, restarting the video.

She took in a sharp breath, crossing her arms. “These people . . . Their uniforms, their behavior. It has the Red Room written all over them,” she said, as it dawned on the Avengers how serious this was.

“The Red Room? What the hell is that?” Bruce asked, his patience wearing thin.

[thezombieprostitute]

I'm gonna let myself seriously indulge on this one.

Reader is Tall and Plus Size woman.

Word Count: ~1.2k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, Language, Size shaming

Part 2

Every time you went out with your friends you felt like you were babysitting a bunch of toddlers. They would whine for another bottle, swear they weren't tired, and get angry when you suggested it was time to go home.

You're certain the only reason they ask you to go with them is because you're always the designated driver and your size could scare away some of the seedier guys trying to get with them. You know the reason you keep going out with them is to keep them safe. You'd genuinely feel awful if something happened to them the one time you said you weren't going to go out with them.

Elena had found a new dive bar for everyone to try. The place, named Snowpiercer, gave you bad vibes from the start but your friends were wanting to try to find a place the group could become regulars at. That meant every place deserved a chance.

You were actually heartened to see the motorcycles outside the bar. Bikers may have a mean reputation but they have rules, especially towards women and children. Hopefully, if your friends do something stupid, that'll save them without you having to endure another asshole calling you "a fat she-hulk" or "the ogre Fiona".

You all line up at the bar to order. As expected the place didn't have the best assortment of drinks but you'd let your friends work through that. You were just happy to find out they did serve food. You swear that greasy bar burgers are some of the best tasting in the world.

Tanya, the woman behind the bar, seemed ready for your group to become annoying, belligerent drunks. Her smile widened when you ordered a soda, telling her, "designated driver," by way of explanation.

"Well then that soda is on the house," she replied. "We like to reward people who look out for others."

"Thank you," you smile back. She yells out your food order to someone in the back named Andrew.

Everyone gets their drink and sits at the table (you can't fit into the booths with your long legs). This is the part of the outings you actually do enjoy: catching up, discussing struggles, congratulating wins. Most nights it makes the several hours of wrangling exhausted toddlers worthwhile.

As the designated driver it was also up to you to get everyone's food and drink from the bar. This was yet another safety measure since some of the places you went to were so crowded anyone else would get lost in the crowd and never return with the beer and nachos. As you thank Tanya for another round the door opens and a line of, what you assume to be, bikers pour in. Not wanting to be in their way you quickly duck back to your friends.

The last person to enter catches your eye. You're not used to seeing other people your size or bigger. He's at least as big as you, but with muscle instead of pudge, like yourself. He's got a nice beard, piercing blue eyes and a grumpy look.

As the bikers get their orders they start to fill in the tables and booths around the place and the bar really comes to life. Your initial concerns are gone and you really feel like this place could be comfortable. You're still going back and forth between Tanya and your table. Still on the lookout for the usual skeevy characters that hit on drunk women. Still trying your damnedest to not get into anyone's space.

It's only because you're on alert that you notice the big and tall guy looking your way more than once. It makes you feel more awkward than you know you are. You may be big and tall but you're surefooted, especially in crowds. You have your own gracefulness but he's making you feel like it's more ridiculous than you think.

Another couple of hours pass and your friends have fully reached the level of drunk that requires adult supervision. Some of the other patrons seem to take notice and pick up on the leering looks. Every time they get caught looking you give them your “don’t fuck with us” look. It’s pretty effective. You’re not a fighter but you can definitely look the part. 

Unfortunately, it’s not 100% effective. You come back with another round and a guy has intercepted Mason on her way back from the bathroom. You set the drinks down and walk towards them. She sees you and gives you a look that says, “please help me.” 

“She’s not interested,” you tell him. “Please leave her alone.”

He turns and looks up at you, “the fuck you know about what she wants?”

“I’m her friend,” you reply. “Please leave her alone.”

He laughs, “ain’t nobody friends with a fucking sasquatch like you!”

“Sasquatch,” you contemplate. “Not the usual I get called. I’ll give you credit for creativity. But the woman is here with me and a few friends. Leave her alone.” You grab Mason’s hand and pull her around the guy, getting her behind you. 

You can’t look away from him lest he take that as an attack of opportunity, so you miss that the big and tall guy is walking towards the both of you.

“Fucking cunt,” the guy booms. “Just tryin’ to have a little fun! Such a bitch! Can’t get laid so she doesn’t let anyone else get any!”

“Egg-head!” A deep voice booms from behind you. “Leave the ladies alone and I won’t tell Gilliam about your skimming.”

The man angrily mumbles, “yes, Curtis,” and shuffles off back to his small group.

You turn around and see that Curtis is the big and tall man who’s been watching you. “Thank you for the help,” you nod in appreciation. 

“Shouldn’t have needed to help,” he grumbles. “Curtis,” he says, holding out his hand. You shake his hand and give your name in return. His hands are strong and heavily calloused. 

He watches you go and settle the tab for your group, being incredibly polite to Tanya. You know that with Mason being scared like that, all the girls are going to go into support and comfort mode which means it’s time to go home. 

He’s been watching you all night, even when you didn’t notice. He watched you being kind to Tanya and Andrew. He watched you move gracefully between the drunkards. He watched you look after your friends. He watched you protect them. 

As he watches you drive away he motions to Edgar, “have someone follow her. I want to know everything we can about her.”

“You think she’s the one,” Edgar questions.

“Yeah,” Curtis nods. “She’s the one.”

Tagging @alicedopey and @icefrozendeadlyqueen because I promised I would!

Part 2

[jokeringcutio]

Reader x William Afton - Best Friend's dad (Explicit, SMUT)

Below you'll find a FNAF Ficlet, Rated Explicit for Sexual Content, Dub-con elements, unprotected!, fingering, creampie, forced creampie/breeding kink, older man x younger woman, loss of virginity, Best friend's dad x reader, William Afton is not a nice man, dark romance, Penis in v smut, (f) reader. Summary: After working on a project with your classmate (who is also your best friend and secret crush) Michael Afton, you forget your phone and head back to his house to retrieve it. Michael's dad has plans for you.

~ Best Friend's Dad ~

The floorboards creaked under your feet as you tiptoed over to Michael, leaning over his shoulder to watch what he was scribbling. He was seated on his bed, both of you in his bedroom, as you tried to work on a group project.

“It’s looking good,” you said, a bright smile on your lips. “Better with the colors added.”

Michael smiled up at you, a spark in his eyes while his arm brushed against yours, making goosebumps prickle your skin. “Well, it was your idea. And since we need to hold a presentation on this, I suppose aesthetic is just as important," he rolled his eyes, voice jocular, but you knew that he at least had taken your suggestions to heart.

You were there to work on a college assignment with him, but the atmosphere felt charged with something else - tension, desire, and silent communication. You tried to focus on the task at hand, but your body betrayed you, responding to every gentle brush of Michael's arm against yours.

"Hey, do you think we should add this quote here?" Michael asked, his voice low and soothing as he leaned closer to you, his breath tickling your ear. His fingers brushed against yours, causing your heart to race with anticipation. You blushed, shyly glancing up into his intense gaze, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

Though you had been friends for years, it was only recently that you began to feel attracted to him. But you wanted to take things slow; you didn't want to risk ruining the friendship if things didn't work out.

"Uh, yeah, sure," you stuttered, attempting to regain control over your body and thoughts. It wasn't easy, especially with Michael sitting so close to you.

"Come on, don't be so nervous," Michael teased, noticing your discomfort. "It's just me, after all." He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief, making your stomach flutter with excitement. You knew he was right, but you couldn't help feeling overwhelmed by the situation.

"Sorry," you mumbled, ducking your head down to avoid his probing gaze. "I guess I'm just...overthinking things." You focused on the assignment, trying to keep your mind off the electric energy that seemed to flow between you and Michael.

"Nothing wrong with thinking," he said, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. Your eyes traveled to where he had held you, as if the touch still lingered. Your skin burned where he had touched you, your pulse quickening. Then you looked back up at him, trying to read his expression. Did he feel the same way you did? Was he testing the waters, or just being friendly?

The sound of the front door opening echoed through the house, and you frowned at Michael, who seemed just as surprised as you were. The two of you shared a look before he shrugged it off and returned to the assignment.

"Didn't expect Dad to be home this early," he murmured, his pen scratching against the paper.

"Michael, is that you?" A deep voice called from downstairs, and your breath hitched.

William Afton, Michael's father, had an imposing presence that made you feel uneasy in his company. As he appeared in the doorway of Michael's bedroom, you couldn't help but compare him to his son. He was taller, his hair peppered with grey strands, and his beard gave him a distinguished air. The aviator glasses perched on his nose gave him somewhat of a stern appearance, and you wondered how Michael would look if he wore glasses. Pretty similar, you mused.

But beneath the similarities, there was something darker lurking in his eyes – something that sent shivers down your spine.

"Ah, I see you have some… company," William sneered, his gaze traveling over your body like a predator sizing up its prey. He greeted you by your name, “It’s been a while since I last saw you,” he said.

“Hi Mr. Afton,” you stammered, cheeks red as you felt uncomfortable being addressed by Michael’s father directly. You were happy that he usually wasn’t around much, being too caught up at work in the restaurant. The way he looked at you was making you feel uneasy.

While his eyes remained fixed on you, his words were clearly directed at his son again while he loomed in the doorway, hands pressed against the doorpost on either side. "Well, Michael, I didn't know you had your girlfriend over.”

"Dad, she's not my girlfriend,” Michael replied, a bit too fast for your liking, and you cast him a curious glance to see how he shifted uncomfortably next to you.

“She's my classmate. We're working on a project together," Michael snapped, his cheeks reddening in embarrassment. You could tell he was annoyed by his father's insinuation, but you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than that.

"Right, well, don't let me interrupt your… studies," William drawled, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he retreated down the hallway. "I'll be in my workroom if you need anything."

As soon as he was out of sight, you exhaled the breath you'd been holding, feeling the weight of his stare lift from your shoulders. You didn't like the way he looked at you, as though you were nothing more than an object for his amusement. It made your skin crawl.

"Sorry about that," Michael muttered, his eyes downcast. "My dad can be a bit…intense."

"It's okay," you reassured him, attempting a weak smile. "Let's just focus on the assignment."

You tried to push the encounter from your mind, but the tension in the room was palpable, even after William had disappeared down the hallway. Michael clenched his fists, his jaw tight with frustration. "I swear, he's such an asshole," he muttered under his breath.

"Hey, it's okay," you tried to console him, laying a gentle hand on his arm. "Let's just get this assignment done and forget about it."

He let out a deep breath and nodded, forcing a smile. "You're right. Grumping about it won’t help us score an A."

“A plus,” you joked, happy to see him smile again.

The two of you scribbled down notes and discussed theories until you both carried honest smiles again. Silly jokes slipped through, weird suggestions for the project were made, and in the end, the two of you were laughing on the bed.

You couldn't help but feel Michael's eyes on you every now and then. It wasn't unwelcome, but it stirred a strange mix of warmth and unease within you. You really liked him. But did you like him enough?

"All right, I think we've got everything we need," Michael announced as he closed his textbook. He glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed. "Damn, I need to head to soccer training."

"Already?" you asked, surprised by how quickly time had slipped away.

"Unfortunately,” he moped, standing up from the bed and putting his book aside. “But hey, thanks for your help today."

He stretched his arms before offering a hand to help you up from the bed. "I'll walk you out."

You smiled as you collected your bag, putting your own textbook and pencils inside before zipping it and flinging it over your shoulder. Michael waited patiently before walking ahead of you, through the clean hallway and toward the front door. He only halted once to grab his soccer bag.

As you reached the door, Michael hesitated. "Listen, I'm really sorry for the rush. I completely forgot the time and you know…"

"It's all right, Michael," you reassured him, giving his hand a comforting squeeze. "Don't worry about it. We finished what we had to do. We can play one of your games later," you said, knowing how you usually loved to spend your time together playing games on his game consoles or by watching silly videos online. You still tried to convince him to start a channel of his own. His impressions were the best.

Michael closed the door behind you before he offered a small smile and pulled you into a hug. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, pulling you in for a hug.

The scent of his cologne filled your senses, making your heart race. You hesitated for a moment before returning the embrace.

"Take care of yourself, okay?" he whispered in your ear. “I’ll see you tomorrow at college.”

With that, you both pulled away and said your goodbyes.

The cold air nipped at your skin and you huddled your coat closer around you. As you walked away from the Afton house, you reached into your bag to grab your phone, seeking a distraction, only to find that it wasn't there.

"Shit," you muttered to yourself, stopping in your tracks. Panic set in as you realized you had left it behind at Michael's place - and it had crucial notes for college on it.

The haunting memory of Mr. Afton’s gaze lingered in your mind, making you shudder involuntarily. You had to go back there, you realized. And without Michael, it meant you would have to face his father again.

Alone.

But it seemed you had no choice. You turned back towards the Afton house, your heart pounding in your chest. The thought of facing Mr. Afton again sent chills down your spine, but you knew you couldn't afford to leave your phone behind.

You hesitated at the front door of the Afton house, your hand hovering over the doorbell. Your heart raced in your chest, the pounding a constant reminder of what you were about to face.

"Come on, it's just a phone," you whispered to yourself, trying to muster up the courage to ring the bell. Finally, you pressed it, the chime echoing through the seemingly empty house.

Not much later, the door creaked open, revealing a displeased William Afton. His eyes narrowed as he looked down at you, an irritated sigh escaping his lips. "Back already? What do you want?"

"Um, I-I left my phone inside," you stammered, glancing nervously into the dimly lit hallway behind him. "I need it for college."

"Fine," he snapped, stepping aside to allow you entry. "Make it quick."

You stepped into the house, your pulse quickening with each step you took toward Michael's room. The door was slightly ajar, and you pushed it open, relieved to spot your phone between the covers of Michael's bed. Bending over, you reached for it.

And then you froze as you felt a presence behind you, too close for comfort. Something hard and hot was suddenly pressed against you. Mr. Afton’s hands found your hips, steadying you as if you were about to fall.

"Wh-what are you doing?" you managed to choke out, your voice barely audible.

"Isn't it obvious?" he replied nonchalantly, smirking down at you. Panic coursed through your veins, your breaths coming in shallow gasps.

William Afton’s hands started to unapologetically roam your body, his fingers tracing the outline of your trembling form. Each touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for the attraction you felt toward him. He leaned in close, his warm breath tickling your ear as he whispered, "I've wanted you for so long, watching you with Michael every time you came over. How I wished it was me touching you instead."

"Michael never touched me,” you whispered, uncertain why those words came out. Why did you feel like you had to defend your relationship with Michael in front of his dad? “We are just friends," you insisted, your voice shaking.

"Really?" William sounded genuinely surprised. “Does he know this?”

You blinked, uncertain of what Mr. Afton meant.

An annoyed groan came from behind you as one of William’s hands roughly kneaded one of your breasts through your shirt. You yelped, arching your back and accidentally pushing your hips right against his crotch. His erection pushed back, making you freeze in his hands once more.

“I suppose what I am trying to ask,” Mr. Afton rasped, his breath tickling the skin of your neck and voice hoarser than you ever heard it before, "is if you ever slept with my son?”

You trembled slightly in his hands, mind reeling. So many memories of being in the Afton household emerged, but they were all friendly. Never like that.

“Not even a blowjob?” He whispered, voice dripping with sin.

A shuddered breath escaped your lips as you shook your head determinedly. “Like I said, Mr. Afton, we are just friends.”

A low hum escaped the older man, his fingers tickled down your skin thoughtfully. “Hard to believe a pretty girl like you never got laid." Something changed about his tune then, as his words turned into a rasped whisper, "I suppose what I want to know is...”

Here he hesitated, brushing his lips past the shell of your ear while his arms kept you trapped against his body, “Are you a virgin?"

The question shocked you to your core, and you stammered, "Mr. Afton! That's... inappropriate."

"Is it now?" he teased, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties, making contact with your sensitive clit. The feeling surprised you, your body instantly responding to his touch. You gasped as he began rubbing slow circles around it, igniting a fire within you that you'd never experienced before.

"You're wet," he stated, his voice low and dangerous. "You must want this, don't you?"

"Please," you begged, unsure whether you were asking for him to stop or continue. Your mind raced with conflicting thoughts and desires, your body betraying you as it craved more of his touch.

"Such a good girl," he murmured, inserting a finger inside you, making you whimper. The haunting tone of his voice seemed to wrap around you like a vice, tightening its grip on your very soul.

"Mr. Afton," you moaned, unable to resist the urge to push back against his hand, seeking more of that intoxicating pleasure he offered.

“Oh-ho, Mr. Afton,” William said while his fingers continued their sinful dance, sliding in and out of your cunt with sopping wet sounds that sounded so sinful, you felt like you were losing your mind. Especially when he started flicking his thumb roughly past your clit.

“I like that,” his words came out as a growl while he nipped his teeth at your ear. “Makes me feel in charge.”

Without a warning, Afton’s fingers slipped deeper inside your sopping wet cunt, you couldn't help but feel embarrassed by the lewd sounds that echoed throughout the room. Your thoughts raced, unable to comprehend that it was your best friend's father who was currently fingering you so expertly.

"God, you're so tight and wet," he growled, his voice sending shivers down your spine. Your walls clamped down on his fingers despite their punishing pace. It felt so, so good. "You must really enjoy this, huh?"

His words were like a knife, cutting through any remaining self-control you had left. You bit your lip, trying to focus on anything other than the pleasure that threatened to consume you. But it was impossible – every stroke of his fingers, every teasing touch against your sensitive clit, only drew you deeper into the dark abyss of desire.

"Please..." you whimpered, the word barely audible as it escaped your lips. You didn't even know what you were begging for anymore – relief? Mercy? More?

"You're such a good girl," he whispered in your ear, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. "So eager to please... Just imagine if Michael could see you now."

The thought mortified you, but it also sent a perverse thrill through your body. The idea of being discovered in such a vulnerable state only served to heighten your arousal.

"Look at me," William demanded, grabbing your chin and forcing you to meet his icy gaze. His eyes bore into yours, daring you to look away as he continued to finger you mercilessly.

"Come for me," he ordered, his voice dripping with authority. It took every ounce of willpower you possessed not to obey him instantly, but in the end, your body betrayed you.

With a cry, you climaxed on his fingers, the waves of pleasure crashing over you like a relentless tidal wave. As you trembled in his arms, he smirked down at you, clearly enjoying the sight of your complete and utter submission.

"Such a good girl," he repeated, slowly retracting his hand from between your legs. You felt a pang of loss as his fingers left your body, but that feeling was quickly replaced by shame as he held them up for you to see.

"Look," he commanded, making sure you watched as he brought his wet digits up to his face. His lips parted, agonizingly slowly, and then his tongue darted out between them, the tip twirling around his fingertips.

He made sure that you watched him as he licked each finger clean, the wet trace of your arousal glistened before his tongue lapped it up. His cold blue eyes were fixed upon you, their pupils blown as he savored the taste of you. A low hum escaped him as he finished the last of your juices. "Tastes sweet."

Then his blue eyes settled back on you, dark and gaze heavy.

His words made something snap inside of you. What the fuck were you doing? You’ve let your best friend’s father finger you?

No.

He had made it look all too easy, and if there was something you were not, it was an easy lay. You had saved yourself for someone special. For Mr. Right. You hadn’t decided who it was yet, but Michael was high on your list. Not his creepy father who he seemed to hate passionately.

Your eyes darted down, away from William’s glistening fingers and to the tent he sported in his pants. The shape of his cock was perfectly outlined beneath the fabric, looking large and heavy.

He wasn’t done yet.

You had to get away.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you tried to push past William and make a dash to Michael’s door, desperate to escape. But he was quicker. Large hands wrapped around your upper arms. You instantly struggled and kicked at him. But he was too strong, easily tossing you back onto Michael's bed like a ragdoll. The air was knocked from your lungs as you landed, gasping for breath.

"Imagine how dirty it would be," William whispered, crawling on top of you. The sound of rustling fabric reached your ears as he undid his fly and pulled out his hard and glistening cock, palming it. "If I took your virginity right here on my son's bed."

Your cheeks burned with shame at his words, but a traitorous part of you couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement at the thought.

"Please don't," you whimpered, even as your core throbbed with a mixture of fear and desire. But your pleas only seemed to amuse him. He smirked, easily parting your legs with his strong hands.

"Come on, work with me," he ordered, his voice dripping with authority. His hands pushed against your legs, making it clear what he wanted you to do.

Reluctantly, you spread your legs wider, not fighting when he started to pull your pants down, making it easier for him to slip your panties off. You knew it was wrong, but the heat pooling between your thighs refused to be denied.

With a predatory grin, William came to stand between your spread legs, wrapping his hand around his cock, sliding his palm up and down, smearing pre-cum from the tip all over his shaft until it glistened.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from the sight– it was as if you were under his spell. Your heart raced, torn between terror and anticipation.

His eyes flitted down to your exposed core and he tutted.

“My, my, such a pretty little pussy,” and you felt your cheeks flush at his comment. "All mine."

The low rasp of his voice sent sparks of arousal deep inside.  

"Look at me," he commanded, positioning himself at your entrance. You no longer saw his cock, only felt it as it pressed hot and wet against your entrance.

You locked eyes with him, unable to look away. Slowly, his lips curled into a grin. And then, without warning, he thrust inside you, bottoming out, claiming your virginity in one swift, brutal motion.

The pain was sharp and intense, but it was soon replaced by an overwhelming wave of pleasure as William started to pump into you. First gently, then a bit faster.

Your world narrowed down to the sensation of his hard length filling you completely. You knew it was wrong – so very wrong – but you were powerless to resist the pleasure he was giving you. You parted your lips in silent gasps while your hands sought his arms for leverage.

William's thrusts grew more rhythmic, his hips grinding against yours with a hunger that both terrified and excited you. He leaned down, close enough for you to feel his breath on your ear as he whispered, "You like this, don't you? You like being fucked on my son's bed."

Your cheeks burned with shame, but you couldn't deny the pleasure that consumed you. It was intoxicating, the way William seemed to know exactly how to touch you, how to make your body sing.

"Answer me," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. His hand snaked around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. "Do you like this?."

"I... I do," you admitted, the words spilling from your lips before you could stop them. You felt the stutter of his hips, how he stilled, then looked up to see him frown down at you.

"Do you?"

You frowned as well now, the haze of your building orgasm already slowly fading. It was as if William saw what was happening, for he pushed his cock deep inside, nudging the entrance to your womb painfully with the head, staking dominance.

"Tell me you are mine," the words came out with an animalstic growl that indicated he wouldn't take pleasure with anything less than your compliance. You hesitated, breath caught in your throat, then complied, placing your hands gently upon his clad chest. The checkered blouse crumpled beneath your fingers.

"I'm yours," another raised eyebrow and deep nudge of his cockhead against your cervix, and you flinched.

"Whose?" he asked you sternly, reminding you of a schoolteacher with the way his dark eyes penetrated you from over his glasses.

"Yours, Mr. Afton," you gasped, instantly feeling his hips move again. A low, satisfied growl escaped the depth of his chest. You felt it, felt the rumble beneath your hands.

"Atta girl," you heard the breathless words from his lips. "Call me Mr. Afton more, sweetheart. Show who is in charge."

"Y-yes, Mr. Afton," the words came out as gasps, unable to utter them fully with the way William was moving inside you.

A wicked grin spread across William's face, his hand slid past your forehead and gently down your cheek, almost lovingly. And then he rewarded your honesty with a particularly hard thrust that sent shivers down your spine.

"Good girl," he purred, his fingers digging into your skin as he picked up the pace. You could feel the heat building within you, an insistent pressure that begged for release.

“You can come again, can’t you?” It wasn't really a question, more like a demand. “I want to feel you come on my cock."

His command echoed in your mind as his movements grew rougher, more desperate. The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, your moans intertwining with his grunts and groans.

William Afton was larger than you, bulkier, and incredibly strong. His hand slipped back to your throat, tightening a little, just enough to make you gasp for air. The action made your walls clench down his cock even harder. The way he overpowered you, the way his cock hit that sweet spot deep inside, had you mewling with pleasure. Sweat slicked your bodies, making it easier for him to slide in and out of you.

"Fuck, you're so tight," William growled, his voice strained with pleasure as your pussy pulsed around him.

"Please," you whimpered, teetering on the edge of ecstasy. "Please, I need to..."

"Then come for me," he ordered, his grip on your throat tightening, literally taking your breath away. "Show me how much you want this."

As if on cue, your world shattered into a million pieces, your body convulsing with pleasure. Never had you experienced such an intense orgasm, and it left you breathless, oversensitive, and desperate for more.

You threw your head back in ecstasy, feeling his fingers slip from your neck. Your pussy pulsed wildly around his cock. William's laughter filled your ears, malicious and victorious.

"Feel that?" he asked, his voice rough with lust. "That's how much you belong to me. And now,” he said in between gasps, his hips pushing harshly against yours. You felt how your walls fluttered around his cock as it kept battering your cervix with fervor.

A low grunt escaped the depth of his chest, “I’m going to come,” he panted. Another gasp and deep thrust of his hips that had you shoved up the bed, pussy still pulsing wildly around his cock, “inside you,” he promised, each word punctuated with a fresh thrust. "Deep inside of you."

You were faintly aware of murmuring something incoherently, to which Michael’s dad replied with a murmur of his own, “Inside, love. Put my baby there. See how Michael's gonna like a baby brother or sister from the girl he loves." The thought both thrilled and scared you, and you shook your head no - not yet, too young, not ready - but William growled above you, uncaring about your wish. "Gonna fill you up good."

The thought sent another wave of desire through you, and you found yourself clenching around him, desperate for more. With a roar, William drove himself deep inside you one final time.

Warm liquid flushed into your pulsing core, his hot cum flooding your insides so much that some of it started to drip down his cock, as he, too, reached his peak.

For a moment, the room was consumed by the sound of your mutual pants and gasps, the aftermath of your frenzied coupling.

You felt the hot rush of his release deep inside your tummy and realized what had been done. How you had just allowed Michael’s father to rut into you like an animal in heat.

The room smelled heavily of sex, the scent mingling with the musky aroma of Michael's bedroom. Shame started to creep upon you as you floated back to earth, the afterglow of your orgasm fading.

Slowly, William climbed off you, his cock sliding out of your abused cunt, leaving you feeling strangely empty. You felt a wet trail on the inside of your legs, a mixture of slick and cum.

"Stay here," he commanded, his tone sharp and cold as he strode over to the window, flinging it open, allowing the cool evening air to filter into the room. The breeze stirred the curtains, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

As William returned to the bed, he casually reached for a napkin that was tucked under Michael's pillow. You followed his movements with your eyes, feeling them grow wide as they came to rest on his softening cock. It glistened in the light of Michael’s bedroom lamp. Covered in juices.

And blood.

You watched how Michael’s dad meticulously used the napkin to wipe the remnants of your virgin blood from his cock. Without a word, he then folded the soiled napkin and slipped it into the breast pocket of his blouse, patting the pocket, as if it were a trophy.

The sight made you shudder.

His gaze fell upon the blood and cum-stained sheets, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Well, I suppose Michael's bed has seen better days," he mused. "We shouldn't let his mom see this." Then his eyes locked onto yours.

"But you, my dear... You've been such a good girl, letting me be your first." His words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of shame and excitement coursing through your veins.

"Please don't tell anyone," you pleaded as you tried to push yourself up on your elbows, your voice trembling with vulnerability. You knew that if word ever got out about what had happened, your life would never be the same again.

"Of course not," William said, his smile taking on a predatory edge. "As long as you’ll be my good girl,” he came to kneel on the bed, a knee at either side of you, cupping your cheeks in his hands and forcing your eyes to meet his.

His thumb slipped in between your lips, pressing down on your tongue, making it impossible for you to speak. You tried to swallow around the digit, mouth suddenly dry as he spoke slowly, as if he were talking to a small child and wanted to make sure the child understood.

“Just remember who you belong to."

The implications of his words hung heavy in the air between you, and despite the lingering thrill of your climax, a cold dread filled your stomach.

Then his thumb was gone from your lips and Mr. Afton had turned away from the bed. You gazed up at him confusedly, watching the movements of his arms as he seemed to zip his pants and straighten his blouse.

He then turned around, pushing his index finger against the front of his aviator glasses. His expression was stern, lips pressed into a thin line, voice betraying no emotion.

"Make yourself presentable, and go home," he commanded coldly. "You wouldn't want to fall behind on your homework, would you?" His tone was callous, as if nothing had just transpired between the two of you.

Confused and still trembling, you pushed yourself off the bed.

Mr. Afton leaned in the doorway of Michael’s room, arms crossed in front of his chest, a bored expression on his face as he watched you get dressed. You tried to straighten your clothes and fix your hair, arms trembling.

"Go home," he told you once you were fully clothed, his voice devoid of any warmth or affection. "Don’t forget your phone.”

You nodded numbly, unable to speak, swung your bag over your shoulder and picked up your phone. Carefully, you stepped toward him, only to watch him step aside so you could pass him without so much as brushing past him.

A little voice piped up inside your head, telling you that it had always tried to warn you of this. Mr. Afton’s coldness had returned in full. His searing hot gaze had been replaced by one you could not read. Distant and cold.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stumbled through the hall, each step a painful reminder of the heavy fucking you had just endured. The reality of what had happened began to sink in, and you couldn't help but wonder what would become of you now that you'd given yourself so completely to this dangerous man. The promise of having to be his good girl - of now belonging to this man - lingered in the back of your mind. Why had you made them?

William followed closely behind, his presence looming over you like a dark shadow. As you reached out to open the door, thinking this was it and you would leave without another word being said, his hand shot up and pushed against the wood before you could turn the handle.

"Look at me," he demanded, forcing you to look up and meet his eyes. His gaze bore into you, making you feel even more powerless.

"From now on, I expect you to milk my cock whenever I desire." Chills ran down your spine at his words, a mix of fear and unwanted arousal stirring within you.

He lifted a finger to your lips, brushing the fingertip past your sensitive skin and silencing any protests you might have had. "This is our little secret, understood?"

The threat was in there, clear as day. You had to keep quiet about this.

Not that you could tell anyone. Not with how famous and influential of a man Mr. Afton was. And you? Who were you? Just a silly college girl.

You nodded, unable to speak.

William gave you a sinister smile before gallantly opening the door for you. “Atta girl,” you heard him say as he watched you intently while you stepped outside. “Come visit again soon," a command. You heard his low voice, a raw hunger underneath, "Michael loves it when you're here.”

And so does he, you thought, because being here meant he could get his hands on you again. It was clear by the way he carefully phrased things. He was abusing Michael as an excuse to lure you back in.

Your name fell from Mr. Afton's lips like dripping honey, a dark promise hidden within them, obviously coated with desire. He wanted to see you again. Do this again. And you realized with a start that you would be back... for Michael. But could you dodge his father? Prevent this from happening again? Did you even want to?

Clutching your phone tightly in your hand, you wondered what kind of twisted nightmare you had just become entangled in.

“Good evening, Mr. Afton,” you whispered, then turned your back to him and slowly started your walk home. Aware of the secret you now carried. Bound to your best friend’s father.

Perhaps forever.

~

AN: I am open for prompts. ~~ Masterlist - Request Box -  Support me on Ko-Fi ~~

[spinchip]

Bloat

(Warnings: disrespectful discussion of self harm/suicide by a side character. murder. Lots of death.)

They're here about a series of murders. Nya doesn't know why they dragged the ninja out to this nothing town with its stone castle and still water lake, with its missing persons and their empty spaces. The ninja aren't detectives, even if Zane likes to pretend. With twelve people missing, Zane keeps his fedora at home and approaches this delicately. Nya wishes he'd put on that stupid hat.

She's also not sure why she keeps slipping up and saying murder when it's really just missing persons, officially. Eight men, four women, varying ages. All different kinds of backgrounds vanished without a trace.

The ocean mourned each dead fish, every shrimp swallowed alive, but it didn't interfere. Nya struggles to find the point to this. Everyone is somber and cold in the rainy afternoon fog. Jay tries and fails to speak to her several times, slinking away with his tail between his legs each time. She could have been nicer, less blunt, when she ended things. The river does not apologize to the stone it shaves to dust. Her thoughts still feel disjointed and off. The lake's surface is so serene it's mirrored, reflecting gray clouds and dark nights.

The first two victims were teenage boys who snuck out to buy cigarettes. They were supposed to meet a mutual friend but failed to show up. The living boy is distraught, a mess, consumed by guilt and grief and fear for his friends. Kai takes Nya by the upper arm and hauls her away from the group when she says something uncouth, insensitive, cruel. The ocean had no use for manners.

She dreams of drowning in a bathtub, but she doesn't struggle. She simply sinks under cold water, closes her eyes, and-

She wakes up vomiting brackish water over the edge of her bed and doesn't tell anyone.

The seventh victim is hardly considered a victim at all. She'd tried to kill herself three weeks before she went missing, and the rude cop with the badly trimmed beard scoffs at her inclusion in the list. Probably snuck off to the woods, he sneers, finished slitting up her wrists. Nothing to do with these other cases, just lumped in there to do it.

But her mother said she'd changed her mind. What is the significance in wanting to live when death will come for you regardless? She thinks about that girl the most, and hopes she found peace.

Nya feels more aligned with the blood under her skin than the rest of her body. Flow. Liquid. It rushes through her veins like whitewater rapids.

She dreams of inky blackness, encased by water. She wakes up vomiting water again, but Zane is sitting by her bedside with a bucket and paper towel. His eyes are cold despite how he tries to hide it. They're always cold, now.

Bad dream? He asks, reserved. It's a trap but she doesn't know how.

Go back to bed She says instead, rolling over and ignoring him for the rest of the night. He doesn't leave. She doesn't fall back asleep.

Cole gets her to eat even when bread and eggs taste like salt water and seaweed. She hates the taste of the water from the tap. The lake is covered by a thin layer of mist and it smells old and stagnant. Settled water, too much of it.

Charles, the older man who tends to the castle grounds, tells her it's a man-made lake. Put together by the previous lord and lady of the land, dug out by workers paid pennies. He worked on it when he was just a boy. He doesn't say much, and he doesn't do much around the castle. Old and feeble, his mind has gone spoiled. He looks at Nya like she's inhuman.

The last victim was the lord's son, Albert. He's the only one whose name they learn immediately, the police placing his file on top of all of the others and ranking him at priority number one. It's time to do something now that the lord's son is missing.

He'll have my head, Lord Vonnet will, if I don't return his son safely The lord's royal guard dabs his sweaty forehead with a damp towel.

You poor bastard, Nya says before she can think, get your affairs in order.

Lloyd is the one to drag her out of the room looking mortified. Zane follows him out and they exchange a handful of quiet words that Nya can't hear behind the raging waves crashing in her ears. Zane takes her out to the lake.

They are all dead he says simply.

Since before we even set foot in town she confirms.

They are in the lake.

She closes her eyes and sees still, black water. At the very bottom.

The wind blows a sour smell off the surface of the lake. It might have been beautiful, once. When it was fresh and the water was clear and blue. Before it was filled with rot.

I do not know who did it he confesses I keep having bad dreams.

I dream I'm drowning she offers.

I dream I am throwing bodies in the lake he gives back.

She stares at the horizon I feel nothing. Isn't that awful.

He shrugs the ocean does not care to investigate every whale fall.

Interesting choice of words. Whale fall. There are no fish in this lake, it's all man-made she looks at him with dull eyes you think something is eating

When I toss them in the lake i Am certain they will never be found

You're not bothered by this either

He shrugs again, an entirely human act for a man whose eyes are so detached, an Emperor does not care to investigate the death of every subject

She stands and ties her hair into a bun, I'll draw them up, can you make them float?

She doesn't bother waiting for an answer, sinking her awareness down down down to the bottom of the lake. She focuses on the vaguely human shaped masses in the water, cupping them and hauling them to the surface where she lets them go and returns to the bottom. She's so powerful now she doesn't need to step foot into the water to raise up the bodies. She begins to find cow and deer carcasses alongside men and women. She finds bones. She finds old jewelry and clothes.

Finally, she finds the animal.

It was given the name stronsay by the whales and sea lions up north, where these things are typically found. Giant sea serpents, rare in the ocean- non-existent in freshwater lakes. Especially never found in man-made ones like this, too barren to support life. It was juvenile, small, and had not yet shed its baby skin. It was not thriving in this fresh water, but it would have lived until it was too big to move in this thing.

Zanes frozen the bodies of the dead and dragged them ashore.

The lord's son is one of the dead, his body in a poor state. When the rest of the ninja and the police come, after they thaw out his body, they find a leather-bound journal where he talks about the pet he hatched from an egg he found in the cold waters on his last holiday. He wrote extensively about how hungry it was, and exactly how he fed it.

He couldn’t keep up with its appetite, Nya says, staring down at his wet, bloated body.

Icarus Zane mutters at her side.

What will become of the beast? The mustaches policeman asks.

We shall slaughter it! The Lady of the land wails, And stick its head on a pike!

It will be safely and humanely relocated Nya corrects her cooly, Do not allow anyone near the lake before it is moved. Unless you don't like them.

Nya Kai warns.

Later, while Lloyd oversees the beasts removal and the others are likewise occupied, Zane asks do you think we are like them?

Dead?

Changed forever. Call it rot, putrefaction, trauma- altered and, ultimately, lost He murmurs.

I would prefer to just be dead she says without thinking, a thrum of shock at the admission the first tangible emotion she's had in days. She remembers the seventh victim. She'd changed her mind.

Zane grins and it's all teeth, a baring of bone.

Where does that leave us, if we are changed? She looks away, staring out at the lake.

Alone He says simply.

We have each other, don’t we? You understand me. I understand you.

We do He looks at her and she looks at him.

The kiss tastes like saltwater and blood. She kisses him again.

[riverbutghost]

Santa!Ghost. Nothing more. slight nsfw towards the end!!

He had lost. He had lost a fucking bet and he had to wear a fucking Santa costume.

His first thought was to cancel it all or just give them the satisfaction of making him embarrassed.

But no, he had pride. He wasn’t going to bitch and moan about sitting down with kids and taking pictures with them. Hell nah. He could do this. He would do this.

So he went to a store, bought a Santa costume (even though the workers looked at him like he was sick) and agreed with someone. He didn’t think there would be so many children. But oh boy, was he wrong.

And he was regretting it.

“Smile for the camera, Lt!”

Soap laughed while hitting Gaz’ back, making Simon’s scowl to get deeper.

Another kid sat on his lap, and his eyes dropped to the little girl with pigtails.

“Ho-ho, princess, what would you want for Christmas?”

His voice sounded energetic and happy, which made Soap and Gaz laugh harder. They were obviously recording it, to send it to the group chat of Task Force.

“i want a big Camaro, but my dad said it was for boys.”

The little girl pouted and looked at him with hopeful eyes. Simon looked at the dad, who was giving him a pointed look. He couldn’t care less.

“A car isn’t for boys, princess. I’ll give you one, here.”

-

The day went by, and Simon wasn’t as unhappy as he was before.

Soap and Gaz had left to eat, leaving Simon alone with a handful of kids.

The last boy wanted a real Santa to take home with him, and Simon almost gave in at his pleading. He never thought he would like children, but he enjoyed their cute little giggles as he gave them their presents.

“Hey, Santa?”

Simon cleared his throat and looked up, only to see you in an elf costume.

“came here to tease me sergeant?”

You huffed and sat down on the floor.

“i don’t think i have the right to tease you when i look like this-“

You pointed to yourself and Simon smirked a little. So you had lost the bet too.

“you look good though.”

You sucked in a breath as your cheeks got redder.

“you look good too, Santa.”

You playfully smile at him and got up.

“So, is your shift over?”

Simon sighed and looked at his watch.

“Yeah, i guess.”

He stared at you, eyes roaming over your body and how the elf costume hugged your curves.

He breathed through his nose, the fake beard itching his chin.

He suddenly felt too exposed, without his black mask and military uniform.

“Never thought i’d see you in a beard, Lieutenant. But it looks good.”

You bit your lip and turned around, swaying your hips while walking towards the exit.

His pants suddenly felt too tight, his neck felt too hot.

“What do you want for Christmas?”

He said, with a raspy voice. You cursed at the arousal that you were feeling when he called your name again. You turned around, feeling too hot and bothered with the elf costume.

“Hmm, lemme think.”

You took a few steps forward, reaching him in a minute.

“Yeah?”

You sat on his lap, giving him no chance to readjust himself. His hands automatically went down to your waist, reeling back as he looked at you with hooded eyes.

“I do want something, but i don’t know if it wants me.”

Simon sucked in a breath as you wiggled, making him squirm in his seat.

“I can assure you that he- it wants you.”

You smirked at him. Simon licked his lips as he saw the playful glint on your eyes.

“I have a problem, though…”

You mumbled and got up, getting rid of your elf costume in a minute. Simon’s cock hardened more if it was possible.

He whispered your name, hands going to your hips and pulling you on his lap as he ripped his beard off. You gasped at his naked face, hands finding his little stubble.

“handsome…”

He smiled lazily up to you, your hands rubbing his chest through the Santa costume.

“Hey Lt!-“

Soap gasped loudly and ran put of the room in a second after seeing you both devouring each other’s faces.

-

i was actually going to write it as a smut, but i have no motivation. School is killing me 👾👾👾

also, i have no idea how Christmas works since i was raised in a slight Muslim household but ended up being an atheist-

[arcane-vagabond]

Fool's Fare: Chapter Three

Fool's Fare: Chapter Three

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Triggers: Language, Excessive alcohol consumption, Talks of the supernatural. Think that's it.

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: Here is Chapter Three! I hope you all enjoy! I'm hoping to start working out the timeline for the DPU again so I can post an update for Outrun the Devil here soon, but I might update Meet Me at the Sea again before I do. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated! 18+ ONLY!! You can also find me on AO3 under arcane_vagabond where I post my updates as well!

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist

The town of Port Royal was crowded with men of different ilk the likes of which you had never seen. The Hangman had docked in the early hours of the morning, and once you had finished helping Bob prepare and serve breakfast, you had dragged the young man down the gangway and onto the street, heart hammering away with excitement.

“We can’t be gone too long,” Bob said, grinning at your clear excitement. “We have to be back in time to prepare supper.”

“What’s the point of traveling if we can’t even see the sights?” you scowled, pushing your way through the heavy throng of people around you. A few men gave you dirty looks as you did, but you paid them no mind. Men were rarely able to back up their bark with enough bite, in your experience, but you pressed onward without so much as a second glance at them.

“Pete, we are seeing the sights,” Bob chuckled behind you.

You turned to fix him with a scowl. “We’re seeing, but we aren’t appreciating. How can we when we only have a few hours?”

“I think you’re overestimating how much there is for us to do around here,” he laughed. You paid him no mind as you neared the market of the old pirate hub. Men bargained with each other at several of the different stalls, and groups of women were scattered along the streets looking for paying customers to share their bed for the evening.

“Ahoy, handsome,” a pretty redhead grinned at you as she leaned over the railing of the brothel. “You look like you’ve hardly reached manhood, and I don’t suppose you have much experience under your belt. Can I interest you in some lessons?”

“I, uh,” you stammered, blinking up at her nervously. “No, thank you, miss.”

“Shame,” she smirked, eyes looking behind you. “And what about you, sailor?”

You turned to see Bob looking as red as a tomato as he glanced nervously at you. “No, I’m fine.”

“Well, I’ll be here if either of you change your mind,” she grinned, tossing her long curls back to show off her ample cleavage. “Just ask for Lucy when you come back.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” you blushed, hurrying to move forward with Bob hot on your tail. The two of you continued on a little farther until a glint of light caught your eye. You walked slowly up to the stall, several men grousing at you as you crossed right in front of their paths, but you paid them no mind. Your eyes were locked on a beautiful necklace that lay on top of a small wooden chest at one of the stalls. The golden chain held a six-pointed star, tiny diamonds encircling a burning opal. You had never seen something so beautiful before.

“I see you’ve found the soul of Polaris.”

You jumped, looking up to see an older man with a salt and pepper beard staring down at you. His accent was foreign, and if you had to guess, you’d say the man was from somewhere in Scotland.

“Is that what this is?” you asked him, looking back down at the jewel.

“Aye,” he continued, folding his arms. “They say a sea witch fell madly in love with a sailor long ago. When the two finally met face to face, the witch proclaimed her love for the man, but what she didn’t know is that the man was disgusted by her form. You see, the sea witch was also a mermaid, a siren of the sea. For while the witch was fair of face, the sailor knew what monster lay beneath the surface. So, he told her that he would only accept her love if she offered him something valuable.”

“And that was the gem?” you asked him, eyes wide. The old man chuckled with a shake of his head.

“No, lad. Wasn’t the gem,” he explained. “Was what the gem holds. There’s nothing more important to a sailor than the north star herself. Every man worth his salt knows that much. No, the gem holds an ancient magic. A magic to calm the sea and guide men to what it is they need most.”

“Which is what?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “It’s different for every man.”

“Why are you selling it if it’s so valuable?” Bob chimed in, eyes narrowed at the man.

“Because it showed me that it’s time to pass it along, and I’m nothing if not a man who loves a proper sale,” he grinned. “Are ye interested?”

Before you could answer, Bob grabbed your elbow, pulling you away.

“No, we’re not,” he huffed out. You let out a cry of protest as he dragged you through the crowd. It wasn’t until the merchant faded from view that he finally slowed down, and you jerked your arm out of his hand.

“What was that about?” you griped, glaring up at him. He looked around the crowd wearily before shaking his head.

“Just didn’t like the look of him, is all.”

“Oh, that’s all?” You scoffed, crossing your arms. “What if I wanted to buy it?”

“Yeah?” Bob bit out a sharp laugh. “With what money?”

You were silent for a moment, and he nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

“You don’t have to be such an ass, you know,” you muttered, looking away dejectedly. You heard Bob sigh before he placed a hand gently on your shoulder.

“Look,” he began, “I’m sorry. I just don’t like anything having to do with magic or witches or anything of the sort.”

“Why’s that?” you asked him.

Bob didn’t answer you, instead looking somewhere off in the distance before grinning down at you.

“C’mon,” he said, once again pulling you through the crowd. “There’s something I want you to see.”

You allowed him to tug you along, the crowd thinning as the two of you moved closer to the edge of town. Finally, the cobblestone streets gave way to white sands and the stunning blue of the ocean. You felt your breath catch in your throat as you looked out onto the horizon. How you hadn’t noticed it when you departed the ship earlier, you didn’t know, but now your gaze was transfixed by it. This blue was so different from the blue you grew up seeing every day. Where your home’s waters were usually a dark, stormy blue, Port Royal’s water shined like topaz.

“I didn’t know the sea could look like this,” you breathed out.

“I knew you’d like it,” Bob smiled, turning his focus to the water before you. The two of you stood there in silence for a few moments before Bob turned to you once more. “C’mon, we best get back to the ship.”

“What’s all the commotion up there?” you asked Bob, hearing the stampede of footsteps above you on the main deck. Bob glanced up, a smile crawling onto his face.

“Sounds like they’re back aboard,” he grinned, rushing towards the door.

“Who is ‘they?’” you called after him, but he was already gone. You sighed, eyeing the ingredients for dinner before making your way after him. A crowd had gathered by the gangway, and you stopped at the edge where Bradley stood.

“What’s going on?” you asked him.

He shrugged. “Guess we’re here to pick up two other crew members from what I’ve gathered.”

You hummed, craning your neck to try and peer over the horde of men. You managed to catch a glimpse of two figures on the other side of the crowd; one man and one woman.

“Natasha!” You heard Bob cry. You saw the head of sandy hair bounce up to the woman who smiled at him. “How was it? How did it go?”

“Bob!” Natasha hollered as she pulled the young man in for a tight hug. “It’s good to see you. It was great!” She gestured to the man beside her. “You should have seen Mickey haggling with that old codfish! Thought we might get away without payin’ a cent there for a second. And then just when we had him, the codger backed out.”

She grimaced at the memory. “Couldn’t for the life of us figure out why he would back out at the last second. Just as we were headed back here though, he stopped us and offered another deal, one too good to pass up.”

“And so you took the deal.”

Everyone turned to see Jake, having just come from his quarters, at the edge of the crowd. He strutted towards the pair with a cocky smirk.

“You bet your ass we took that deal,” grinned the man, Mickey, as the captain approached. “We were leaving with it one way or another.”

“Lucky for the old man, he came to his senses,” smirked Natasha, arms crossing in front of her. Jake hummed as he stopped in front of them.

“And where is our little treasure?” he asked them. Mickey rifled through his pockets before pulling something out. The chain dropped to reveal a six-pointed star with tiny diamonds surrounding a burning opal. You gasped as Mickey handed the necklace over to Jake, who quickly pocketed it. He turned back to the rest of the crew.

“Alright, you lot. Show’s over. Get back to work! We set sail in an hour.”

The crew clambered to prepare the ship for launch, but you continued to stare at the small group on the other side of the ship.

“I’m going to freshen up in my quarters,” Natasha told the two with a smile, already making her way to where the cabins were housed. You gaped before looking over at Bradley.

“Bradley,” you hissed at him. Bradley swallowed thickly.

“She’s a woman.”

“Yeah.”

“She’s got a cabin on the ship.”

“Yeah.”

“She’s a member of the crew.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah.”

Before you could say more, Bob had come bounding up to you. “Are you ready to get back to cooking?”

You shot one last glare at Bradley, who looked everywhere but back at you. That idiot.

“Yeah,” you grumbled, turning to head back into the hull. “I’m ready.”

“Why is that woman a member of the crew?” you asked Bob as you scrubbed at the pot in your hands. “I thought woman weren’t allowed on ships?”

“On most ships, yes,” he told you as he finished dishing out portions for the crew. “But Jake doesn’t really care who is crew is made up of as long as they carry their own weight and don’t cause any problems.”

You hummed. “So anyone can just join, huh?”

“I suppose,” he mused. “Jake doesn’t let anyone join the crew unless he thinks their worthy and have something to offer. A lot of men were skeptical when Nat first joined, but she quickly made a name for herself as the Phoenix.”

“The Phoenix?” you questioned, pausing your scrubbing to look at him. He nodded with wide, excited eyes.

“Yeah! Whenever we come upon a ship to plunder, she does this thing where she’ll light the ends of her coat on fire. It smolders, giving her this terrifying look like she just rose out of the flames. That’s why, ya know…”

“The Phoenix,” you finished for him, turning back to your work. “Do you all have nicknames like that?”

“Some of us, sure,” he replied. “But our names work just fine. Now help me pass these out to the crew.”

You moved to help him and the two of you began taking the dishes out to where the crew had gathered around the massive tables.

“Cabin boy!”

You turned to see Natasha waving at you with a mug of ale.

“Come join us,” she grinned. You glanced at Bob who nodded.

“Go, I can get the rest,” he smiled. You nodded back at him and made your way over to where Natasha sat with Reuben and Mickey.

“Take a seat, cabin boy,” Natasha grinned, taking a sip of her ale. You did as she commanded, eyes darting between the three sailors as they stared at you.

“Is it true?” she asked you with a raised eyebrow.

“Is what true?”

“That your dad is Maverick Mitchell!” Mickey grinned, leaning in closer to you. A large figure slid in beside Reuben.

“What are we talking about?” Bradley asked, glancing between you and the other three.

“We were just starting to ask the cabin boy here about his father, Rooster” Reuben told him, taking a bite of his food. Bradley’s mouth set in a firm line as the three turned their attention back to you.

“What was he like?” Mickey asked you, practically bouncing in his seat. You shrugged noncommittally as you took a bite off your own plate.

“I don’t really know what you're expecting me to say.”

“Well, was he just as daring as the stories say? Did he take you out on his trips? Did you help him plunder? Did he ever find the treasure he was looking for?”

“Alright,” Natasha groaned, setting a calming hand down on his shoulder to stop him. Bob chose that moment to join the lot of you, sliding in next to her on the opposite side of the table. “Settle down, fanboy.”

“I can’t help it!” He hollered. “It’s not every day you meet the kid of one of the greatest pirates known to man.”

You stilled, seeing Bradley tense up on the other side of Reuben.

“What?” You whispered, eyes wide as you stared at Mickey who stared at you uncertainly.

“Pete Mitchell was your father,” Mickey said slowly, glancing around the table. “Right?”

“Yes, he was,” you said firmly.

“Pete Mitchell, better known as Maverick,” Reuben rattled off, “was a world renowned pirate of the highest order. His very name struck fear into the hearts of many a ship’s captain and crew. He was respected both far and wide by civilians and sailors alike.”

“Until one day he just disappeared,” Natasha added, studying you curiously. “Said his life’s mission was to find the greatest treasure the world could offer, and he plundered and stole for decades before dropping off the face of the earth.”

You felt like you were going to be sick. You didn’t know this man they were talking about. You knew the man who told you stories before bed, who showed you the proper ways to tie different knots, who always treated you kindly and had a smile at the ready for you, who never once raised his voice in anger at you or your mother. The man they were talking about was a stranger.

Without thinking, you grabbed the nearest cup to you, Natasha’s, and downed it. The ale did little to ease your comfort, and you grabbed Reuben’s next and did the same.

“Woah there, cabin boy,” Reuben called out as you reached for Mickey’s. “Slow down there.”

You didn’t want to slow down. You wanted to forget. You downed Mickey’s cup and searched for more. The men to your right had watched the scene unfold, and one of them let out a low chuckle before pushing his cup towards you.

“There ya go, cabin boy!” He laughed. “Drink up!”

You happily obliged him, downing the nearly full mug in only a couple of gulps. You stood, head already beginning to feel both light and heavy all at the same time. You had never had more than one cup of ale before, but you weren’t worried about that fact in that moment. You stumbled on your feet as you made to move towards the barrel that had been opened for that night’s dinner.

“No,” Bradley said from behind you, having gotten up when you did. “You’ve had enough.”

You whirled around to face him, nearly falling on your face in the process. “I’ll decide when I’ve had enough,” you hissed up at him, trying and failing to push past him as he gripped your arms.

“That’s enough,” he growled down at you, but you continued to push at him until he gave you a gentle shake. “I know you’re upset, but this is not how you should be handling it.”

You stared up at him, studying him. Why was he being so calm about this revelation that had just been dropped into your lap?

“You knew,” you breathed, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. “You knew, and you didn’t tell me.”

Bradley stiffened, hands tightening ever so slightly on your shoulders. He looked defeated as he let out a sigh. “He didn’t want you to know.”

“Bastard!” you screamed at him, your struggle renewing with a vengeance.

“What’s going on here?”

All of you stopped and turned. Javy stood at the end of the stairs, eyes scanning the room and the scene before him. He frowned when he saw the state you were in.

“Cabin boy,” he said slowly, eyes always studying you. “Go get some air.”

You took a breath before pushing at Bradley who stumbled back half a step. You staggered toward the stairs, hearing Javy address the crew. You didn’t hear what he said, too focused on making it up to the main deck.

The air had grown cool as the sun began to set, and you staggered towards the edge of the boat. You grasped onto one of the ropes, feeling your resolve start to break. The tears started to fall and you let out a shaky sob into the wind.

“Rough night, cabin boy?”

You turned, vision hazy from the ale, to see Jake standing a few feet away from you.

“What do you care?” You muttered, frowning at him. He let out a low chuckle before walking over to lean against the side of the ship next to you. The two of you stared at one another for a few moments, but said nothing.

“He was a pirate,” you whispered, almost inaudibly, the tears still flowing down your cheek. Jake nodded.

“Aye,” he said. “He was.”

“But he was a good man,” you frowned, more of a question than a statement. Jake cocked an eyebrow at you.

“Can’t a man be both?”

You shrugged, head starting to feel even heavier. “I suppose so.”

Jake let out another chuckle, leaning into you a little more. “You suppose so?” he teased.

“Yeah,” you nodded sleepily. “S’pose so.”

Jake reached up to cup your cheek as he watched you. “How much did you have to drink down there tonight, Guppy?”

“D’unno,” you muttered, subconsciously nuzzling into the palm of his hand. “More than I’ve ever ha’ before.”

The two of you stood in silence for a moment before your eyes shot open, staring at him. What did he just call you?

Jake watched you with a knowing smirk as you struggled to form a coherent thought through the alcohol induced haze.

“You catchin’ up there alright, Guppy?” he asked you, a grin breaking out over his face.

“How long have you-?”

“Since you walked up to the ship behind Rooster, sweet girl. You think I’d just forget a pretty face like yours?” he laughed as you scowled up at him.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you snapped.

He shrugged. “Figured things would be much more interesting this way. Besides, you looked so cute thinkin’ you had fooled me into thinkin’ you were a boy. Wanted to see how long you’d play into it.”

“So why bother saying anything?” You grumbled. His grin dropped as he stared at you with a stern expression.

“Cause you went and did a stupid thing like gettin’ too drunk. Now I gotta worry ‘bout you ‘round some of these men.”

“You don’t trust your own men?” You asked him, eyebrow raised. He chuckled lowly, placing a large, warm hand to the small of your back.

“While I believe they aren’t stupid enough to try anything with me or your brother on board the ship, I’d sleep much better tonight havin’ not taken the chance.”

“Wait,” you said, his words catching up with you. “They know?”

Jake laughed at that. “Darlin’, everyone knew the moment you set foot on the ship. That brother of yours needs to work on his disguises.”

You scowled up at him as he helped you towards the cabins. He beamed down at you, eyes twinkling, and you could have sworn you saw a blue mist twirl in his pupils as he stared down at you.

“C’mon. You can bunk with Natasha from here on out.”

[aspenmissing]

ᴀ ɴᴇᴡ ꜱᴘᴀʀᴋ (ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ x ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 1307 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴᴏɴᴇ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴊᴏɪɴɪɴɢ ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ'ꜱ ꜱᴀɴᴄᴛᴜᴀʀʏ ɪɴ ᴢᴀᴜɴ, ʏᴏᴜ ꜰɪɴᴅ ꜱᴏʟᴀᴄᴇ ɪɴ ʜɪꜱ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡɪꜱᴅᴏᴍ. ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴏɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀꜱ, ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛᴇᴀᴄʜᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴀʟᴜᴇ ᴏꜰ ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏꜱᴇ. ɪɴꜱᴘɪʀᴇᴅ ʙʏ ʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜ, ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴛʀɪᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʟᴘ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜɪᴍ.

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ

The bar smelled of spilled ale, wood polish, and the faint metallic tang of the undercity—a mix that you had grown accustomed to over the past few weeks. It was far from pleasant, but it was familiar. After the rebellion, life had become a series of adjustments. Vander’s home—a sanctuary for those who had lost everything—was where you now found yourself.

Vander had taken you in, just as he had with Vi, Powder, Mylo, and Claggor. The man’s kindness was overwhelming at first; it seemed impossible that anyone could be so selfless, especially after losing so much. But Vander had a way of making people feel safe, even in the chaotic heart of Zaun.

“You’re staring at that broom like it’s going to clean the bar on its own,” Vander said, his deep voice pulling you from your thoughts.

Startled, you blinked up at him. The broom was still clutched loosely in your hands, but the floor beneath you remained unswept.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, quickly beginning to push the broom across the floor. “I’ll get it done.”

Vander chuckled, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. His towering frame and the graying streaks in his beard made him look as much a protector as a father figure. “Take your time, kid. No one’s judging.”

You glanced up at him, his words a gentle reminder that here, there was no rush. No expectations. Vander never pushed anyone harder than they could manage. That alone was a new experience for you, a child of the streets where survival meant running faster and hitting harder than everyone else.

“I just don’t want to be a burden,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Vander’s brows furrowed, and he stepped closer, crouching slightly to meet your eyes. “Listen to me,” he said, his tone firm but warm. “You’re not a burden. Not to me, not to anyone here. Got it?”

You nodded, though doubt still lingered in the back of your mind. Vander ruffled your hair affectionately before straightening up. “Good. Now, once you finish that, how about giving me a hand with the barrels?"

The two of you worked in companionable silence, the occasional clink of glasses and muffled chatter from the street outside filling the space. Vander’s bar was a hub for Zaun’s people, a place where they could gather and find respite from the harshness of their lives. It was also a place where Vander’s quiet strength was most apparent. He carried the weight of the undercity on his shoulders, yet never seemed to falter.

The first time you saw him fight was a few days after you arrived. A group of enforcers had come down from Piltover, their polished boots and sneering faces a stark contrast to the grime of Zaun. They’d demanded “taxes”—a thinly veiled excuse to extort whatever they could from the struggling people. Vander had stepped in, his voice calm but commanding as he told them to leave.

When they didn’t, he showed them why he was called the Hound of the Underground.

His punches were precise, each one sending a message. He didn’t fight for sport or for ego; he fought to protect. And as you watched him stand tall, even as blood trickled from a split lip, you realized what kind of man Vander truly was.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Vander said, breaking through your reverie as you sat together in the dimly lit bar. The others had gone to bed, leaving the two of you alone. He slid a mug of warm tea across the table to you, his own tankard of ale in hand.

“Just thinking,” you replied, wrapping your hands around the mug. The warmth seeped into your fingers, a comforting contrast to the chill of the underground.

“Dangerous habit, that,” he teased, though his eyes held genuine concern. “Something on your mind?”

You hesitated, unsure how to put your thoughts into words. Finally, you said, “Do you ever wonder if it’s worth it? Fighting so hard for people who don’t always fight for themselves?”

Vander’s expression softened. He leaned back in his chair, taking a long sip of his ale before answering. “Every day,” he admitted. “But the way I see it, someone has to stand up. If not me, then who?”

His words hung in the air, their weight settling in your chest. You’d seen firsthand the sacrifices Vander made for the people of Zaun, and yet he never wavered. It was a kind of strength you weren’t sure you’d ever possess.

“You’re a good person,” you said quietly.

Vander chuckled, the sound deep and genuine. “I’ve made my share of mistakes, kid. But I try. That’s all any of us can do.”

As the weeks turned into months, you began to feel a sense of belonging you hadn’t known before. Vander’s bar became more than just a shelter; it became a home. Vi taught you how to throw a proper punch, Mylo’s sarcasm became oddly endearing, Powder’s wide-eyed curiosity reminded you of a time when you’d been just as innocent, and Claggor’s steady presence grounded you, his quiet wisdom offering comfort during the chaos. Together, they became your new family, each one leaving their mark on your heart in ways you hadn’t expected.

But it was Vander who left the deepest impression. He was more than a protector; he was a guide, a steady hand in a world that seemed determined to swallow you whole. He didn’t just teach you how to survive; he taught you how to live.

One evening, as you helped him clean up after a particularly busy night, he asked, “What do you want to do with your life?”

The question caught you off guard. You’d spent so long just trying to get by that the idea of a future felt almost foreign.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I guess I’ve never really thought about it.”

“Maybe it’s time you did,” Vander said, his tone encouraging. “You’ve got potential, kid. More than you realize. Don’t let this place define you.”

“This place didn’t define you,” you pointed out.

Vander smiled, a touch of sadness in his eyes. “Didn’t it? The rebellion, this bar, these people—they’re all part of me. But they’re not all I am. You’ll figure out who you are, too. Just give it time.”

His words stayed with you long after the bar had emptied and the lights had dimmed. For the first time, you allowed yourself to imagine a future—one where you weren’t just surviving, but thriving.

The turning point came one rainy afternoon when a fight broke out near the bar. A group of thugs had cornered a young woman, their sneers and jeers echoing off the wet pavement. You froze, unsure of what to do. But then you saw Vander, striding toward them with a look of quiet determination.

“Enough,” he said, his voice cutting through the chaos like a knife.

The thugs hesitated, but when one of them lunged, Vander moved with a speed and precision that took your breath away. He disarmed the man with ease, his movements a testament to years of experience. The others quickly scattered, leaving the young woman unharmed.

As Vander helped her to her feet, you felt a surge of admiration. He wasn’t just a fighter; he was a protector, a force for good in a world that so often seemed devoid of it.

Later, as you sat together in the bar, you said, “I want to help people. Like you do.”

Vander’s eyes lit up with pride. “Then you’re already on the right path, kid. Just remember, it’s not about being a hero. It’s about doing what’s right, even when it’s hard.”

“Like you do?” you asked, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Like we all try to do,” he corrected gently.

[mariaofdoranelle]

Catastrophic Blues

Written for @sjmromanceweek

Prompt: Favorite tropes (exes to lovers yay!)

I wrote most of this oneshot a year ago, and I never posted because it’s so sad, and also it’s the only time I fully trauma dumped on my fics. Anyway. Enjoy this thing that was based on one of the most pathetic days of my life lol

Warnings: none?

Words: 2,2k

The low lighting the uber had at night only called more attention to the cold, churning mess that was Aelin’s stomach. It was the lack of something to focus on when what she needs right now is sensory overload. The smell of alcohol, loud music, strobe lights.

Aelin wanted to focus on anything that wasn’t her destination—or who she’d meet there.

It was fine. She was fine.

It was Fenrys' birthday. The cheeriest of Aelin's cheery friends. Aelin definitely couldn't miss his birthday. Today was about Fenrys, and not the ex-boyfriend who was also invited.

But Aelin was fine. It wasn't a big deal. It’d been more than a month since they broke up, and Rowan even texted her asking if she’d be comfortable if he brought his new girl tonight.

How considerate of him.

But Aelin agreed, with no regrets. The only thing she regretted was merging her group of friends with her ex-boyfriend when they were dating. That was something she’d keep in mind for the next time she met someone.

Out of the car and in front of the bar, Aelin let the cool summer breeze wash her nerves away. He was probably in there already, always on time. She knew this would eventually happen when they broke up and decided to stay friends for the sake of the gang. There was no need for her to freak out—good thing she wasn't. And if she acted weirdly today, what would Rowan do a month from now?

The crowded place was booming with laughter and drunken yells, busy waiters running around the place, barely paying attention to the graceless group of friends singing Bohemian Rhapsody at karaoke.

A large hand gripped her waist, turning her towards the source, and Aelin met a smiling pair of onyx eyes.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

“Fen!” She hugged her friend and handed him his present, wishing him a happy birthday.

“Everyone’s at a big table back there, and…” Fenrys trailed, trying to read something on Aelin’s expression. Whatever words he was about to say died in his throat.

Aelin crossed her arms. “Spill.”

He shrugged. “You’re hotter than her.”

Lyria, he meant. And Aelin agreed, she was definitely hotter. It wasn’t hard to find Rowan’s new girl on Instagram after she commented a red heart on his last picture like a dog peeing on the comment section for territory. She found out about it even before he told her himself.

Aelin narrowed her eyes at Fen. “I’m over him.”

He shrugged. “Just thought you’d like to hear it.”

Her smirk was met with a similar one from Fenrys. He knows her too well.

Then Aelin shook her head, chastising herself for such thoughts. She was the one to end things, due to her… distressing circumstances. She had no right to shame Rowan for settling for a less hot person.

It’s not like she cared, anyway.

Stepping onto the back of the bar, Aelin quickly spotted the table and greeted everyone—including the lovebirds.

Rowan was stiff like a robot, and Lyria was polite. Bland. Guess he lied when he said he liked Aelin’s fiery personality and the way they clashed, since his new girlfriend is the total opposite. He’d probably still be his dutiful self to her in a month, and Aelin would be in Suria with rows of men—or vodka, most likely—lying at her feet.

She sat beside Elide and ordered a non-alcoholic beer—the doctor had cleared her to drink alcohol with moderation by now, but she didn’t want to risk it. Connall decided to restart whatever work gossip he was telling to keep Aelin in the loop.

She was paying attention, or at least she was trying to, but—why did Rowan shave off his beard? God, she loved his jawline. How it looked so firm by far, but felt so soft under her lips and teeth. Aelin could still remember how his beard tickled against her skin when he decided to grow it, or even better, the feeling of it against her thighs when he--

"Ace, are you alright?" Elide whispered in her ear, "You look a little lost."

Aelin blinked, trying to focus on her friends. Apart from Ellie, no one noticed she'd zoned out. Looking back at her friend, Aelin nodded, a small smile on her lips.

Her friend arched one eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

Rolling her eyes, Aelin chuckled. "Of course."

Looking back at everyone, she caught Rowan’s eyes on her. Busted, the only thing left for him to do was send her a small, close-lipped smile and tip his head to the Heineken 0.0% she clutched. Aelin raised it and took a long swig, letting the bitter beverage go down throat, the feeling so close to the real thing.

He feels proud of her growth. Not a big deal when he keeps a perky brunette under his arm.

But she knew this feeling was just an initial clash of their lives apart. Aelin was fine, she truly was. Her feelings towards Rowan would never be the same she had to a regular friend, because the nature of their memories together was different. Erasing their history was impossible, so it was either fully leave or learn how to live in the shadows of what they used to be.

This hollowness she felt in her chest was just an initial shock, an adjustment. Aelin wasn't the only person in the world to lose the love of her life, and some of them even did great after that, with their second-best significant ones.

No one can keep every good thing that happens in their life forever. Even if said good best thing is right there, standing in front of you.

Actually, she was wrong. Aelin did keep Rowan in her life. As a friend. Which was enough, and just what she needed.

“…Right, Ace?”

Aelin blinked, being dragged out of her thoughts back into the conversation. “Excuse me?”

Elide sighed. “The birthday cake, Fenrys got it from Emrys’. Isn’t that the place you recommended to him?”

“Oh.” Aelin blinked. “Yes. Absolutely, yes. They’re the best.”

Ellie gave her a quick look that was hard to decipher, but maybe it was time for Aelin to pay attention.

And pay attention she did. She leaned on the table and held her chin under her palm. Turns out the owners of Emrys’ are regulars at the motel Fenrys works at. Disgusting news to hear, and Connall agreed with her unshared thoughts. Fenrys accused his brother of being homophobic, since they’re talking about a gay couple. Connall retorted, saying that he can’t be homophobic if he’s gay, and it’s not prejudice if he hates everyone equally.

The twins bickered on and on. Rowan watched them as if it was a tennis match, with undiluted attention, while Lyria seemed endlessly amused by it.

Aelin wished she had stayed home.

But she came here for Fenrys, and for Fenrys she stayed. And stayed and stayed and stayed until that fucking song started playing. For Mala’s sake, today was not her day.

Aelin looked around, trying not to be too obvious that she was looking at them. Trying not to look too much or too little.

He's got a one-hand feel on the steering wheel, the other on my heart.

Rowan took Lyria's hand and held it against his chest.

Just like he used to do with her.

Aelin swallowed, her chest shrinking. She was going to be sick.

She excused herself and got up, walking to another section of the bar near the restrooms where she couldn't be seen from the table, and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes.

Breathe in.

She could still feel the shape of Rowan’s lips against hers.

Breathe out.

She could still feel the weight of his body above hers.

Breathe in.

She could still feel his calloused hands caressing her bare back in bed.

Breathe out.

Her heart was beating just as much as on the day she finally got the courage to cuddle him after sex, almost two years ago. When she first rested her head on the crook of his neck, Aelin scented her favorite version of Rowan’s smell because it was completely ingrained with hers. And she did it again. And again. And again. Her hand could trace the shape of him even that long after the last time they were together. She hated how much she'd cling to those small details, and she hated even more that she cared about this. Because she did. Aelin would barely admit it to herself, but of course she did.

She took a deep breath, ignored her quivering stomach and schooled herself, walking to the bar's counter.

The man next to her leaned on the counter so much he was half laid in it, but he still managed to turn his piercing blue eyes at Aelin and smile.

"Can’t find a bartender," he complained, his speech slurred. "I need a beer."

Aelin chuckled, leaning her forearms on the surface too. "And I need water."

He raised his head a little. "I'm Dorian."

"Aelin." She looked at him up and down, from the fumbled hair to the rumpled clothes and untied shoes. “Are you sure the bartenders aren’t bartending you on purpose?”

“I’m sure they are.”

“Huh.” Aelin scanned the liquor selection, tempted. She really was doing better with this new medication, and Dr. Hafiza cleared her for an occasional drink. She could definitely use a drink now. Instead, she tilted her head at Dorian and said, “Did you lose a puppy or something? Or this is just your usual Friday night?”

He ran a hand through his hair and grinned at her, so confident it reminded her of Fenrys. "My answer depends on whether you're giving me your number or not."

Aelin snorted. She thought of how satisfying it would be to watch Rowan watch her leave the bar with someone else, but a drunk wouldn't do. Besides, this wasn't a competition. Aelin had already lost.

"Not a chance. Spill."

He sighed and slumped again on the countertop, hitting his head against it.

"My situationship doesn't see me as dating material."

Aelin grimaced. "That sucks"

He waved a hand, dismissing her pity. "You?"

Her mind went back to a year ago, how he stood by her side, red-rimmed green eyes when Aelin became a shell of herself. How his anxiety skyrocketed when hers did too. How well he was doing now that she wasn't his problem anymore.

A bitter chuckle left her lips. "My sadness is contagious."

Dorian rolled his eyes. “I just bared my soul to you, and this is what you tell me?”

“You did not!”

“I’m gonna get another drink if you don’t entertain me.”

“Is this a threat?”

“Absolutely, yes.”

Aelin sighed, looking up while she gathered her thoughts. “I broke up with my boyfriend.”

“Obviously.”

“Because I was bringing him down. No drama. We decided to not break up our group of friends.”

“No drama, you said?”

“He’s with his new girlfriend at the back of the bar and all my friends are schmoozing with her now.”

“I sense drama.”

“And we have a trip booked for next month we didn’t discuss.”

“Paid it all before the breakup, huh?”

Aelin nodded and ordered two waters before they traded stories about their pathetic love lives. She didn’t know how long they stayed there, neither if she liked Dorian or just this escape from the table from hell, but being here was a respite.

They were about six Tinder horror stories in when a hand landed on Aelin’s shoulder, making her jump, heart racing with surprise.

Rowan stood beside her with his trademark frown. “It’s been a while since you left the table.”

“Yup.” What was she supposed to say?

He jutted his chin towards Dorian. “Is he bothering you?”

“Not at all.” She squared her shoulders, trying to find a light way to describe their pity party. “This is Dorian. I’m getting funny dating stories out of him before I call an uber and send him back to his world of heartless women and tawdry men.”

“I see,” he trailed, eyes trained on them, and took a step back. “Okay. I have to go back there, but if you—“

“I know.” She waved him off. He needed to be at the table and be a good boyfriend to someone else, she got it.

Aelin was fully aware that her mind was going on a petty path, but she couldn’t help it. Yes, Lyria was nice. Yes, Lyria had been nothing but polite to her the entire night. The only problem was that Lyria was dating the wrong person. Or the perfect one, if Aelin wanted to address her issues more directly.

She banged her head against the disgusting counter, resting there to contemplate this rare moment of self-pity.

Aelin dug her own grave.

Dorian had his eyebrows raised. “Damn, he’s hot.”

“And thoughtful.”

“I wasn’t thinking about his thoughtfulness when he murdered me with his eyes.”

“He did not.”

“He did. And you know why.”

“I do not.” Aelin sipped her water. “Anyway, what happened to the guy who was cheating on his wife with you?”

Dorian’s eyes sparkled with the memory of this unfinished divorce story, and she was thankful to get the spotlight of the conversation away from her.

Unlike Aelin, Rowan had his shit together and was happy. She wouldn't—actually, she couldn't—disturb this little peace he found after she cut him off.

Her selfishness only went so far.

Read part 2 here

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[winnie-poohbear]

trick or treat!!

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

I offer a silly Time fic as my treat

Behind the responsible and stern leader that he was supposed to be, Time had to admit that he had a tendency to purposefully cause trouble. A sinister side that thrived in causing mayhem among his brothers, especially the younger ones.

This “tendency” is what led to an outrage at dinner on the ranch that night.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T WANT TO DRESS UP FOR HALLOWEEN?” Wind cried over his plate of mash potatoes. “IT’S HALLOWEEN FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!

Warriors chuckled. If there was one person who knew when Time was trying to cause problems, it was his older brother.

“Halloween is more of a kid’s holiday,” Time said with ease, keeping his poker face from faltering. “I think I’m a little too old to dress up, don’t you think?”

Wind gasped so hard that he choked on his food.

“That’s not true! My grandma dresses up for Halloween every year, and she’s probably older than you.”

“Probably?...” Twilight questioned.

Time rolled his eyes, ignoring that comment. “Maybe she just does it for you and your sisters’ sake.”

Wind huffed, then slammed his hands down on the table. “That’s enough old man! I will find you the perfect costume, and you WILL wear it.”

With that, Wind excused himself from the table, presumably to start planning.

—-------------

For the next few days Wind was ecstatic, taking materials from Malon and using equipment from the kitchen. Time had only intended the minor squabble to be a joke, but the idea of Wind trying to create a costume for him was too amusing, and he of course had to see the final result. Then afterwards he would tell him that he was kidding. Maybe.

—-------------

“HERE!” Wind shoved a plastic bag full of something into his arms.

“And what would this happen to be?”

“Open it and see,” He responded, chest puffed out and a proud smile plastered across his face.

Inside there was… a beard? Upon further inspection, there was also a grey wig, glasses, and a cane.

“Wind,” Time began, already knowing what was coming. “What is this?” Wind grinned smugly, “It’s an old folk’s costume, because you’re the old man.”

Time sighed. 

Perhaps he wasn’t the biggest troublemaker in the group after all.

[mr2swap]

Dungeons and Dragons

-Jacob! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?! - the childish and strident voice of a child made the gang of friends leave their wooden swords, their plastic shield and their "magical" scepter that was actually a broom on the floor

Among all the "kids" there was one that stood out from all the others, a 35-year-old man, shirtless, holding a large metal sword that would normally decorate the Johnsons' game room, he fell on the grass, The muscular man and Shirtless froze in terror instantly upon recognizing that shrill and annoying voice-Ups! Damn, we met-

A scrawny 8-year-old boy walked into the garden, his angry look turning to surprise as he saw the group of children staring at him in silence. -oh Fuck- those words escaped from his mouth with an adorable tone. -Hm… Hey… Dere- I mean "my" dad needs you to help him move something… from his niece.-

-Hey!… Uncle Dick, don't worry, I told my friends about the amulet, I saw you asleep on the sofa, so I thought you wouldn't mind if I took your body to play and I…- Uncle Dick He slowly approaches the children and takes the huge, hard hand of his little thief of his nephew.

-Yeah! Come on Uncle Dick! Just let me play with my friends for 15 more minutes!...- the rejuvenated Uncle Dick sighed and placed his soft hands on his head to give himself a little massage to prevent his brain from exploding from all the anger and anger. accumulated stress in this. Little time.

-Listen Jack... you took my body without my permission, you told your friends our little secret and you left me locked in your room while I slept with a note that said "I'll give you your body back at dinner time, it would be great if you did my math homework” -How the hell do you think I feel?!-

Jack winced and a couple of tears formed on his face which was covered by a freshly cut beard, he rushed to the grass and started crying as he yelled -SORRY UNCLE Dick I JUST WANTED TO PLAY DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS WITH MY FRIENDS AND KENNY NEVER LET ME BE THE KNIGHT BECAUSE I AM THE SMALLEST OF MY FRIENDS AND ALSO I…-

Now the thunderous voice of his nephew was heard throughout the neighborhood, The Man in the body of his weak nephew looked to all sides worried that one of the neighbors would look at the muscular man throwing a tantrum -Okay, okay! Only 15 more minutes! You're not in trouble! But stop crying for the love of God!-

The tears stopped, Jack using the hideously long fingers of his new hairy hand wiped the tears from him, wiped his nose and stood up. -Thanks Uncle Dick! You're the best! - The children continued their little game while their uncle Dick supervised them, from time to time he checked his text messages so he was not having such a bad time in the skinny body of his nephew Jack.

"I just hope Uncle Dick doesn't mind having to spend another day in my body. When he finds out that I gave my friend Clarence the magic amulet so he could take over his stepfather's body, he's sure to try to kill me. But what?" could I do in my puny body of only one meter? I guess I'll keep the amulet for now, I don't know what planes my brother had with this thing, but I have big planes for his body tomorrow.

We have big planes for tomorrow! We will drive, go to the bar and even buy our first cigarettes! Maybe if we have time we'll play Dungeons and Dragons, maybe we can both be knights now!”

Hey! You can support me to continue creating stories, see similar stories on my patreon, you can also join my discord if you are interested in role-playing about bodyswap, possession and transformation, m2m!

[ero-heart]

Deimos x reader but reader is an agent from some agency called Los Muertos that are in Mexico and they hunt down criminals but only does that escaped from mexico.

So deimos find his recruiter being brutally murdered by you as you done your mission and walk away but deimos grabs and tries to stop you and your like "señor déjeme ir no tengo tiempo para esto" or "señor por favor déjeme ir" and deimos doesn't let go so you just drag him with you.

(I'm not good with Spanish)

Reader is basically hank but if they were an agent

This took so long to make I had no idea how this could be done,, I am sorry if it’s not of your expectations!

Cw: violence, some gore, guns and cigarettes

GOTCHA!

(Deimos x Los Muertos Agency Reader)

(Platonic/Romantic) (mostly platonic)

“Haha! Nice! Now all we gotta do is-“

Deimos stared at his coworker’s lifeless body beside him, steam dancing from the hole on his neck from a bullet, definitely work of a silent firearm, given that no sound could be heard on the half second that he looked away from the recruit. Deimos frustratingly threw his equipment on the ground and cursed, he had fucked up. He couldn’t guide the newbie if he was *dead*. What will Doc say this time? He couldn’t get away with this forever, but no matter how much he made sure the coast was clear something ALWAYS happened to stack up the death count of newbies under Deimos’s watch. He looked around the roof to see if he could find the perpetrador, the coast was clear, he directed his gaze to the other buildings around him. What he found was a thin veil of smoke coming from behind the entrance hatch of another rooftop, lightly blown by the wind.

“Pff there you are..”

Deimos was keen on avenging himself for being screwed like this, uh? Yea his coworker too. Stalking behind a wall, Deimos had to come up with a way to get to the other building without being noticed and as quick as possible, before the stranger dashed off somewhere else. Noticing a very convenient bridge made of wood planks leading to his wished destination.

You had taken a smoking break after a long day of hunting and eliminating. It had taken three days to arrive at this corrupted town to finish your target, a fugitive that had heavily screwed your agency by leaking important data to the enemy, apparently he was on the midst of integrating on another group, well too bad, Los Muertos never left debts unpaid. You we’re tired, just the thought of sitting on the subway for three more days was exhausting and you were considering renting a motel room to spend the night, there should be one around the block actually if your memory is correct. Dropping the butt of the cigarette to the ground, you were ready to leave when you heard the cock of a gun, looking to your side, you were met with the muzzle of a ar-15. You sighed, looking at the other problem you had to deal with. Baggy clothes, slicked back hair covered with bandages and a cap, patchy beard growing along his face, this man was unkempt. He had a mustache growing from the corners of his mouth, reminded you of some of your coworkers. The stranger glared at you, not loosening his grip on the firearm.

“There you are you- you newbie killer!”

Deimos was definitely stressed, not having his cigarette break yet and it was starting to get to him. His target looked unsurprised by his presence, keeping perfect posture as they turned to face him. They reminded Deimos of AAHW agents, suit, tie, and all, only difference was the colorful embroidery on the dark suit of mythological sanguinary creatures, along with a detailed face paint resemblant of a skull, they also wore a fedora, shading most of their face features. The mysterious person looks Deimos up and down before speaking:

“Escucha no tengo tiempo para esto, amigo. Baja el arma.”

Deimos understood nothing the stranger said, staring at them confusedly while trying to decipher what those words could have meant.

“What?”

You realized that this man might have nothing in terms of knowledge about your language, which is bad because you knew barely nothing about his language as well. You both were unprepared for a situation like this. You couldn’t have expected for him to pull the trigger due to your lack of an answer, chuckling upon realizing that it had no bullets.

Deimos frustratingly threw the gun to the ground in a fit, cursing and grabbing on his hair. The stranger just laughed at him more before they started walking towards the exit.

“Hey! Hey! Hey! Where do you think you’re going? I ain’t done with you yet!”

Deimos jumped and wrapped his arms around their neck, making both fall onto the floor. The stranger tried their best to wrestle their way out of it but Deimos kept persistent. Sitting on their back, he pushed their shoulders to the ground with as much force he could master, he panted heavily, the amount of activity taking a toll on his lungs.

You felt yourself get anxious, normally you would stay calm in a situation like this but the lack of nicotine was making your hands tremble. You moved them towards your pant pocket, barely pulling the cigarettes out before the man slammed your shoulders harder onto the concrete.

“You stay there!”

“¿Ni siquiera puedo fumar en paz? Perro apestoso..”

You tried to take the cigarettes again as the man noticed what you were reaching for, he suddenly got quiet and did nothing as you, with some difficulty, opened the box and picked one stick with your mouth. You managed to grab the lighter from the same pocket, flicking it as the man spoke:

“Uhh.. are those cigarettes?”

You ignored him as you took a drag of the drug.

“Hey uhm, I can.. uh.. If you give me one of those I may let you live!”

Seeing you ignored him again, he just grabbed your own cigarette from your mouth, loosening his pressure on you as he put it between his own lips. You watched as he breathed the smoke in, then out. Mostly confused (yet relieved) that apparently this guy just needed a cigar to get off of your back, looking up at him looking at the distance, to the bright city that illuminated the two of you, he grumbled something you couldn’t understand, you just knew that there were some swear words sprinkled here and there. He still did not get off of you, you were stuck with this weirdo while he got on his smoke break.

“¿…Puedes darme un..?”

Might as well continue your smoke break along with the man.

I hope this was enjoyable lol I am not really satisfied with my writing but nothing practice can fix it! Hope everyone if safe and sound 🩷

[canirove]

In The Name of Love | Chapter 1

Summary: The plan that night was just to have fun and try to forget. And Valeria (or Val as everyone calls her) did forget. But what she didn't expect, was to do it with someone younger than her. Someone who also happened to be a football player, and from her team's sworn enemy: Pedri González.

Little warning: there is an age gap in this story. Throughout it I don't mention any exact number, but in my head she was like 28/29.

Author’s note: Me, a Real Madrid supporter, writing for a Barça player? Yep, it's happening 😅 It all started as a joke with a friend who is currenlty obsessed with him and other Barça players, then I got carried away... and here we are. Hope you like it, and thank you for reading! 💜

Next chapter

Masterlist

"Stop checking that photo, Val."

"I wasn't checking it" I say, quickly putting my phone down.

"Of course you weren't" Silvia says, rolling her eyes. "We are here to forget about all that, remember? Let's focus on it."

"Ok..." I sigh, taking a sip of my beer.

"Great. What do you think about them?" Silvia says, nodding towards the group of men to my left.

"Eww, no."

"And what about… them? The ones ordering a drink. They look quite decent."

"And posh."

"They do, don't they? And we are trying to forget about a posh guy, so they aren't an option. What about… Oh! Them!" she says, nodding towards someone to my right. "I thought the cute one had left, but looks like he only went to the bathroom or something."

"Who?"

"That guy over there, the one with the Adidas t-shirt. He hasn't been able to keep his eyes from you since we arrived."

"Yeah, sure" I snort.

"He is looking at you again."

"Silvia!" 

"What?"

"Why did you wave at him?"

"Why not? He is really cute. His friend too."

"I don't trust you and what you find… fuck" I say as I turn around.

"He's a hottie, uh?" she smirks.

"I know who that is."

"You do? Is that why he has been looking at you?"

"I don't know him in person, but I know who he is."

"What?" Silvia asks with a confused look.

"That's…"

"Hello" a male voice says next to us. 

"Hi" she replies with a big smile. 

"I hope we aren't bothering you. I saw you waving and I just…"

"No, it's fine. It's fine. My friend here was actually telling me that she knows you!"

"Silvia!" I hiss.

"What? You do know him, don't you? Though she said something weird about not doing it in person. Do you follow each other on Instagram or something?"

"I wish" he chuckles. 

"Ok, now I am completely lost."

"Silvia, you are talking to Pedri."

"Who?"

"The Barça player" I sigh.

"Pedri? I don't remember hearing you talk about a Pedri."

"Because when I've done it, I haven't said nice things about him."

"Ouch!" he laughs, reminding us that he is standing next to us.

"I'm a Real Madrid supporter. Sorry" I shrug, finally daring to look at him. But he doesn't look like the Pedri I remembered from our last game against Barça. He seems to have gotten rid of the stupid haircut, and looks like he is trying to grow a beard. He looks less like the kid he actually is, and more like a man, kind of… attractive? And the way he is looking at me, the smirk on his face… Fuck. He is attractive. 

"Bro, she is gonna be a tough one" his friend laughs. 

"You are gonna have to let me buy you a drink. I won't see the end of it if you say no" Pedri says, trying to give me puppy eyes.

"Are you allowed to buy alcohol?" I ask.

"Why wouldn't he? I see football players getting drunk all the time" Silvia says.

"It's not because of his job. It's because of his age."

"What?" she laughs.

"How old do you think he is?"

"I don't know… Twenty something?" 

"Without the something" I say, crossing my arms over my chest. "He is a kid."

"Really?"

"I am not a kid" he replies, also crossing his arms and trying to look offended.

"Yes, you are. And I don't accept alcohol from kids."

"Oh, c'mon. As if you were an old lady or something" he laughs. "You can't be older than 25."

"Oh my God" I laugh, Silvia joining me. 

"What? What is so funny?" he asks.

"You" I say, trying to contain my giggles. "You are so innocent."

"Now that is something funny" his friend chuckles.

"Ok, fine. You aren't 25" Pedri says. "26 then?"

"I'm too old for you. Let's just leave it there."

"Well, I don't care about how old you are" he shrugs.

"But I do."

"Oh, c'mon, it's just a drink and a chat. There is nothing illegal about that."

"But I support Real Madrid and you play for Barça. I'm pretty sure that is illegal."

"Another excuse" he says, rolling his eyes.

"It isn't an excuse, it's a fact."

"It is an excuse" he repeats, moving closer. "You are just afraid you may end up fancying someone younger and from the enemy."

"Afraid? Please" I snort.

"Then let me buy you that drink."

"If I say yes, will you leave me alone once I've finished it?"

"If that's what you want… But you'll probably want more" he smirks.

"Yeah, sure" I reply, trying to ignore the way my stomach has reacted to that smile. Again. "Silvia, do you… Wait, where is she? And your friend?"

"Looks like they left us alone."

"I'm killing her the moment I find her."

"Or thanking her."

"Why do you keep insisting? Why are you flirting with me instead of those teenagers over there?"

"Because they don't interest me. You do."

"Me? Why?"

"I don't know" Pedri shrugs. "But the moment you walked in, I couldn't keep my eyes from you. You are different from the others."

"Has that pickup line ever worked before?" I chuckle.

"I'm telling you the truth."

"And I'm 25" I laugh.

"You do look 25. And they look so good" he says, looking at me from head to toe, making my cheeks get warm. 

"Are you buying me that drink or not?" I say, trying to stop whatever he is doing to me.

"Yes, sure" he smirks. "Another beer?"

"Please" I reply, taking a big breath when he turns his back to me to go order, trying to compose myself. Why is a kid making me feel… things?

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"So, how did you end up here tonight?" Pedri asks me once he is back with our drinks.

"Silvia wanted to go out to help me forget about something."

"Have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Forgotten about that something."

"I… I actually have, yes. Having a kid trying to flirt with me has helped. Cheers to that" I say before drinking.

"Cheers" he chuckles. "But I am not a kid."

"That's what you keep saying, but I don't believe you."

"I'm drinking alcohol and have a driving license."

"Not enough."

"Do you want me to show you that I'm not a kid, then?" he asks, arching a perfect eyebrow. 

"Yeah, why not" I shrug.

"You asked for it" he says, quickly moving around the small table where we were standing and showing up by my side, his hands cupping my face before kissing me.

He is kissing me. Fucking Pedri González is kissing me. And for some reason, I am not slapping his face. For some really odd reason, I am kissing him back, getting completely lost on what is happening.

"Is this enough to prove to you that I am not a kid or do I have to keep going?" he asks, resting his forehead on mine and trying really hard not to smile.

"Not enough" I hear myself saying.

"Ok" he replies, this time fully smiling before kissing me. And, again, I feel myself getting lost on the way his lips and his tongue feel on mine, on his hands on my face, mine resting on his chest. It feels like something completely new and exciting, but also familiar and somehow peaceful. As if we had known each other our whole lives and hadn't met just a minute ago. 

"And now?" Pedri whispers against my lips when we finally manage to stop.

"Now what?" 

"Do you still think I am a kid?"

"A teenager."

"What?" he laughs. 

"You've gone from kid to teenager, congratulations."

"I am not a teenager either."

"You actually are. Scientists say that the teenage years end in your twenties, so" I shrug.

"Ok, fine" he laughs again, moving one of his thumbs over my cheek. "You are hot."

"Thank you?"

"I didn't mean it like that" he chuckles. "You are hot, but you also feel hot."

"Oh. I… I actually do feel a bit hot, yes."

"Do you want to go outside and have some fresh air? I know a place where no one will bother us."

"Ok" I say, letting him take my hand and guide me outside.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"I had never seen the city like this. It's beautiful" I say as I look at Barcelona's skyline. "How did you find this place?" 

"A security guy from the club brought me here after someone recognized me and things got a bit crazy."

"He brought you to the rooftop?"

"Yep" Pedri says. "Weird, but it was exactly what I needed to calm down."

"Was it too bad? What happened that day, I mean."

"I'm pretty sure I had a panic attack. I suddenly found myself surrounded by too many people with phones flashing everywhere, arms and hands all over me. It was too much."

"I'm sorry" I say, giving his hand a little squeeze. We hadn't let go yet. I hadn't.

"Thank you… Wait, I don't know your name."

"What?"

"I just realized I haven't asked you your name."

"I guess you were so busy putting your tongue down my throat that you forgot to ask."

"I didn't hear you complaining" he smiles. 

"Yeah, whatever."

"And?"

"And what?" I ask.

"Your name. Are you going to tell me or not?"

"You'll have to earn it."

"Earn it? How?"

"I don't know" I shrug. "But I'm sure you can think of something."

"I… I actually can, yes. And it is something that will also show you that I am not a teenager even if scientists say so."

"Enlighten me" I say, my words turning into a whisper when I notice the way he is looking at me.

"My pleasure" he replies, guiding me towards a picnic table. Why is there a picnic table on the rooftop of a club? I don't know. 

"What… what are you doing?" I ask when he lifts me up and sits me on the table.

"What do you think?" he smirks, sitting between my legs and caressing the inside of my knee, the feeling making me shudder.

"We are on a rooftop."

"And?"

"What if someone comes in? Or sees us? Or… fuck" I gasp when he kisses my inner thigh.

"No one will bother us."

"How do you know? Have you done this before? Is this where you take all the girls you pick up downstairs?"

"You are the first person I've brought here" he says, meeting my eyes before kissing my thigh again.

"Am I?"

"You are" he says, slowly lifting my dress. 

"Should I feel flattered?"

"Definitely. I told you you aren't like the others."

"Yeah, because I'm way older" I chuckle.

"Tonight you are 25. And when I'm done with this, so will I."

"Yeah, well. We'll see" I say, biting my lower lip and trying to stay calm despite the way my skin is burning under his touch or what I am feeling… there.

"May I, then?" Pedri asks, his fingers playing with the hem of my underwear.

"Yes" I nod, my eyes focused on his as he pulls it down.

"Try not to forget about your name" he smirks.

"Why would I… Fuck" I gasp when I feel his tongue, everything that he does after making me forget about my name, but not his. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Morning."

"Good morning" Silvia yawns. "What is all this?"

"Breakfast" I smile.

"You made breakfast?" 

"Yep."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I was in the mood for it" I shrug.

"You were in the mood for it, uh?" she chuckles. "You should fuck a teenager more often if this is what I get in return. It looks amazing."

"I didn't fuck a teenager" I say, rolling my eyes.

"Ok, fine. He did it all while you just had the best orgasm of your life."

"It wasn't the best."

"Top 3?" Silvia smirks.

"Whatever" I say, pouring myself some coffee.

"Are you seeing him again?"

"No way. One mistake is enough."

"Mistake?" she laughs. "Girl, look at you. You are glowing and haven't been able to stop smiling since you said goodbye to him. That doesn't look like a mistake to me."

"He is a kid, Silvia. And a football player. He is like a walking red flag."

"But I'm not asking you to marry him or anything. I'm just telling you to have fun for once in your life."

"Are you calling me boring?"

"When it comes to your relationships, yes, you are boring. This is the most interesting thing you've done since you became single, and he managed to make you forget about you know what, didn't he?"

"He did, yes" I sigh. "But it probably is because I was too busy freaking out about the fact that I had made out with a teen who happens to be a football star and I didn't have time to think about anything else."

"You were too busy thinking about the way he was making you feel, not his age or his job. That's good, you know?"

"That's crazy, Silvia. And dangerous."

"That's good. If he has managed to make you feel like this just with what he did last night, imagine what he can do when he actually fucks you."

"That isn't going to happen, tho."

"Why not?"

"Because he is Pedri! The Pedri! And he plays for Barça!"

"And?" she shrugs.

"Urgh."

"I think you should meet again. He definitely fancies you."

"He doesn't. He just sees me as a challenge because I'm older and support Real Madrid, and if he gets to fuck me he'll be able to brag about it with his friends."

"Did he tell you that?"

"No."

"Then you don't know if that's what he feels" Silvia shrugs again. "And what if that's the case, uh? I'm sure it'll be worth it."

"Oh, yes. Being treated like I'm just a piece of meat by a bunch of teenagers is so worth it" I reply, rolling my eyes.

"But you will also be using him, Val. He gets to brag, you get to be railed. I think it is worth it."

"It is madness, that's what it is. Now can we please eat our breakfast and change the topic of conversation?"

"Yeah, sure" Silvia says when my phone starts ringing. "Oh my God, is that him? Did we manifest it?"

"It's my mum. He probably is still sleeping like the baby he is. Hello, mum" I say, picking up.

"Valeria! Why hadn't you told me that Marc got engaged!"

"I forgot" I shrug.

"You forgot? He is your ex boyfriend!"

"Maybe that's why I forgot?"

"I thought you had remained as friends."

"And we have."

"Then?"

"Then what, mum?"

"Then why didn't you tell me!"

"Because I forgot, I already told you!" 

"There is no need to yell, Valeria."

"I'm sorry, mum. I'm not in the best mood right now" I sigh.

"Oh, my poor thing. Knowing that you are the only one in your group of friends who isn't married or in a serious relationship can't be easy."

"I don't care about that, mum" I say.

"Well, you should! I want grandchildren, Valeria!"

"I have to go, mum."

"Where?"

"Silvia is calling me, she needs my help with something. Bye."

"But…"

"Bye" I say before hanging up.

"That was rude, Val."

"I'm sorry, ok? But she can be so annoying. Who cares if… Fuck."

"Uh?"

"He just texted me" I say, my eyes fixed on the notification on my phone, my heart suddenly beating way too fast. 

"Who did?"

"Pedri just texted me."

"No way!" Silvia says, quickly moving to stand next to me. "What does he say?"

"If I'm free later today."

"Well, you are."

"Weren't we going to…"

"No, that's been canceled. You are going out with him and hopefully get railed so you can forget about your mum and everything she just said."

"Silvia..."

"You are going, Val. End of the story." 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"I thought you wouldn't come."

"Why not?"

"Because I am a teenager who plays for Barça and that's illegal?" Pedri laughs. 

"Yeah, well. I needed to get out of the house and stop thinking, and you somehow manage to help me with that."

"And is that something good or bad?"

"Silvia says it's good. I don't know yet."

"Then I'll guess we'll have to keep hanging out until you make up your mind" he smiles.

"Maybe... We'll see. I had never been here before."

"That's because this is my secret place."

"Another one?" I chuckle.

"Another one. When you become so famous you can't step outside without being recognized, you somehow manage to find spots where no one can find you, places that are just for yourself."

"It must suck. Not being able to do normal things anymore, I mean. I don't know if I could be able to handle it."

"It sucks, yeah" he sighs. "But then I come here and I forget about everything. It's just me and the sea."

"Look at us, both looking for something that helps us forget" I laugh. "We are so sad."

"But now we have something in common" Pedri winks.

"I guess" I giggle. I giggled? Why did I giggle? "Anyway" I say, clearing my throat. "Can we go down to the beach?"

"Of course. There is a path over there."

"Then let's go" I say, taking his hand on mine and starting to walk.  

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"You are going to end up falling into the water if you keep playing like that" Pedri says with a cheeky smile.

"Lucky me, there is a young man next to me that will come to my rescue" I smirk, jumping when another wave threatens to touch me.

"Oh, now I am a young man?" 

"You've earned it for bringing me here. This beach is perfect."

"I still feel like a kid when you talk about all these rewards, tho." 

"That's my inner teacher speaking" I shrug.

"Is that what you do for a living?"

"Yep. This year I will be teaching 6-years-old."

"And I can tell you love it."

"Uh?"

"Your smile. It says it all" he says, looking at me in a way that makes me feel all fuzzy inside.

"Yeah, umm… Should we go for a swim?" I blurt out.

"Now?" Pedri chuckles.

"Yes, now."

"But we don't have swimsuits."

"But we do have underwear, don't we?" I say, taking off my t-shirt. "We do, right?"

"Yes, we do" he laughs. 

"Then c'mon" I smile. "You are an island boy, you must be aching to go into the sea and just swim."

"You know what… you are right" he says, taking off his t-shirt too and making me stare at him. I just can't help it. Because a kid should not have those arms and that torso and those things on his hips that go all the way down to… 

"Liking what you see?"

"What?" 

"You are staring" he says with a teasing smile.

"I was just thinking and not looking anywhere in particular."

"Yeah, sure."

"I was" I insist, getting rid of my skirt. "And now you are the one staring" I say when I look up at him again.

"Yes, I am. I really like what I'm seeing."

"Great, cool. Shall we?"

"After you" Pedri smiles, making me feel his eyes on me as I turn around. He is checking me out. He definitely is. Why did I think this was a good idea? Swimming in the sea in my underwear. What the hell? 

"Oh, shit" I hiss, the water feeling colder than I expected.

"You are going too slow!"

"What?"

"Too slow!" he says behind me, lifting me in the air and throwing me over his shoulder.

"Pedri!" 

"This is how you do it!" he laughs before jumping with me into the water.

"It is so fucking cold" I laugh when I make it back to the surface, his head popping next to me.

"It isn't that cold, stop complaining" he says while splashing me.

"It is" I reply, splashing him back. 

"Maybe this will help" he smirks, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me closer to him.

"Still cold" I reply, putting my arms around his neck.

"What about this" he says before kissing me. It is a short kiss, but it is enough to make me feel my cheeks getting warm.

"That is definitely working" I giggle. Again. Why am I behaving like the teenager here? 

"Should I keep going, then?" he asks, trying to hide a smile. 

"You should. You definitely should" I say before his lips are on mine once again.

[missbubblesoda]

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (13)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26) | (27)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 2.7k

“I mean, if that’s something you’re comfortable talking about.” You rushed to add, fearing your question might open old wounds. “We don’t have to talk about it if-”

“No, it’s fine. You told me about your family, it’s only fair that I tell you about mine.” His eyes scanned the ceiling, as if trying to find the starting paragraph to a really long, complex story. He then took a deep breath and said: “My father, his beard was always unkempt and so was his mustache.” You chuckled lightly, tickled by the unexpected and rather random beginning he chose for his story. “He disliked loneliness. Not only when it came to people, but also objects. He didn’t like it when things looked lonely. If he passed by a bakery and there was only one loaf of bread left at the end of the day, he would buy it even though we had enough at home. If there was a book alone on a table, he would place it in a group with the others.” If your eyes hadn’t been glued to him the way they were, scanning every inch of his face, trying to read all the sentences you knew he was purposely leaving out of his story, you would have missed the way his lips twitched as they tried but failed to compose a smile.

“He rarely got drunk, but when he did, his habit of bringing lonely things home would only worsen. One time, I woke up in the middle of the night, startled by a noise that to my sleepy 8-year-old self sounded like a woman crying.” He said, as you shuffled against him, having no clue where this story was going. “Scared, I looked out the window only to see my father trying to push a cow inside the house.” You opened your mouth in disbelief. “He said the poor animal was all alone in a field, looking like it could use a friend. The next day, he had a hard time explaining to our neighbors that he wasn’t trying to steal their cow.”

“Well, that alone tells me a lot about him.” You said, the thought of a perplexed, golden-haired boy in his pajamas, and an equally confused thousand-pound cow being forced through a small door in the middle of the night making you chuckle. “What did he do for a living?”

“He was teacher.”

“Let me guess, History.” His eyes widened, head tilted to the side, asking you to explain your deduction as well as the conviction present in your voice. “I mean, that would explain a lot of things, including your love for History as well as all these books.” You said, pointing at the shelves that covered the walls of his room.

“These are not books. The ones in my office are. But these… these are just things I write.”

“All of them? You mean as in journals?”

He nodded before explaining: “Writing helps me clear my head, especially after expeditions. When we come back from a mission, time moves on and so does life, at least for those who survive. But what about those who don’t?” The question seemed to be directed at the air and not particularly at you. “What about those who never make it back home?” He paused for a moment, seemingly letting the taste of those words linger on his tongue like bitter lemon, before continuing. “When my men die out there, they are not really left behind. They are forever immortalized in the pages of these journals. It’s my way of remembering them, of making sure their sacrifice doesn’t go to waste.” Your eyes paced around his room, things slowly taking on a whole new meaning, and you wondered how much anguish and sorrow were trapped in the pages of those journals. “They stay behind and trust us, the living, to go on and find meaning in their deaths.”

You stared into the flickering flames of the fireplace without speaking, but simply, quietly understanding. Understanding that writing was his way of finding meaning, of making sense of it all. Understanding that a scout’s life was never easy, you knew that from the get go, but it was then and there where you finally and fully comprehended the dimensions of the position you held, the implications of the path you had chosen. And, when your vision started to get blurry, and your mind, to wonder if one day you would become a character in one of those dreadful entries, you decided it was time to change the topic.

“So! Your father was a teacher.”

“Yes, and I was in his class.” He paused for a moment, the space he decided to leave between each word, as well as the calmness in his voice, reminding you of trees after a violent rainstorm, battered and partially uprooted, but still standing somehow, or at least trying to. “One day, he was talking about how humanity was forced to take refuge within the walls to protect themselves from the Titans, and how that bought them 100 years of peace.” There was something about his voice that took you back to a rainy day, ten or fifteen years ago, sitting by the classroom window, only that this time your head wasn’t propped on your hand, your pencil wasn’t tapping on the desk, and your mind wasn’t lost somewhere far away, wondering when you would be able to go home. Because this time, the commander was the one speaking, and his voice, while monotonous and gentle, had the spark required to narrate the longest of stories without losing the audience’s interest in the process. A rare skill you had known only one more person to have: Hitch. That, paired with his ability to explain complex things, made you think he would make a great History professor; and you couldn’t help but wonder how different his life would have looked like had he chosen to follow his father’s footsteps.

“In doing so, any records of our earlier past were lost for all of time.” His voice pulled you back to the present, and you nodded, both to signal you were following his story, and to shake the vivid pictures that had started flooding your imagination, vivid pictures of him coming home after work to a warm dinner on the table, to his family, to a beautiful house in some small village or to a cozy cabin in the middle of some quiet forest, instead of this lonely office trapped between walls of cold stone. An alternate reality where he wouldn’t have to wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, startled by nightmares of titans tailing behind him, trying to devour him and his men.

“At least, that’s what we’re all taught.” You looked at him, your brow furrowing in suspicion, sensing there was more to this story. He seemed to be trying to decide what he would say next. Or whether to say it at all. And before you could tell him it was okay if he didn’t want to say more, he decided to continue. “I… having doubts of my own, asked my father a question. At first, he evaded answering and ended class as normal. But after we got home, he answered my doubts. He said the history books given by the government were full of contradictions and mysteries.” Something about that last line reminded you of a conversation you had with your own father a while ago, about those government conspiracy theories he was so intrigued by. But you didn’t want to interrupt, so you just nodded and let the commander go on.

“My father continued to tell me more, and even as a child, I was astounded. You see, there’s a reason he didn’t tell that story to the entire class, but I wasn’t smart enough to know.”

“You told the story to someone else.”

He nodded. “To other neighborhood kids. And one day, the Military Police came to question me.” He was looking straight into the fireplace, as if having a staring contest with the flames. Almost as if someone was standing in the middle of the flames, staring back at him, and he wasn’t allowed to break eye contact. You thought about the scenery reflected in his eyes. The blue in his eyes mirroring the bright, red fire, as well as glimpses of an emotion he had never displayed in front of you before. Slight anger, maybe. “My father didn’t come home that day… And I haven’t seen him ever since. He died in some accident in a faraway town. Or so I was told.” He added, sadness scattered around his eyes like stars in the dark night sky.

His words reverberated inside the silent room, spreading across the available space, reaching every corner, and stabbing every inch of your heart in the process. You had somehow deducted his father wasn’t around anymore, so when he started narrating the story you hadn’t expected it to have a happy ending. This, however, was way beyond your imagination. This was downright traumatizing, another level of disturbing for sure. And you felt horrible for asking him to pick at a wound that had barely even scabbed at all. But you also knew that his father hadn’t died in an ‘accident’. “Based on what I knew-”

“The government. He was silenced by the government.” You concluded, words leaving your mouth at the exact same time the thought was born.

He nodded again before continuing his story. “One hundred and seven years ago, humanity that fled into these walls… The king had altered their memories to make them easy to rule. That was my father’s theory.” You had never listened to this part of the story before. It was as if important pages had been ripped off the history books you studied at school. And the whole sensation was very odd. It left your mouth dry and your skin shivering. It was like finding there was an alternate ending to a book you had read a hundred times. One you never knew existed. A darker one.

He didn’t say anything, and you felt he was giving you time to process everything and reach your own conclusions.

“Because if he hadn’t done that, civilization within the walls could never succeed.” You finally said.

“Exactly. Ever since I was a child, I’ve been thinking… Why did my father have to die for nothing more than getting close to the truth?” He asked, and you knew this time he wasn’t talking to the air nor to you, but to himself, his voice and the emotions behind it raising like water reaching its boiling point. “Even those in the government would believe what they’re doing is just. However, I realized one thing about them: What they’re trying to protect is not humanity.”

“It’s their gardens, houses, and land.” You completed the sentence before he could, having lived far too many years around them to know what their most precious possessions are.

“If anyone dares threaten their authority, they’ll be silenced, whoever they are.” The hand that was intertwined with yours tightened its grip on your fingers. “In the end, there was nothing to justify my father’s death. In the end, my father was killed by human greed.” His knuckles went ghost-white. “And by the foolishness of his own son.” Still staring into the dancing flames before him, you noticed he had the eyes of a man whose future resembled a dead-end street. The eyes of someone who was tired of seeing seasons die one after another, knowing that his father would never come home. The eyes of someone who was tired of seeing tomorrow die even before it came. The eyes of someone who spent a whole life dreaming upon days that would never return, dreaming of a person he would never see again. And you wondered if it was his father whom he saw in the flames, or was it a younger version of himself? Or maybe, he saw memories of happier days. Memories of a past he would never be able to go back to, along with scenes of a future he would never be able to move on to. Because his legs remained forever trapped in the heavy muds of regret.

“Before I knew it, my father’s theory became true inside my heart. Now, my mission in life. It’s to prove my father’s theory once and for all.”

You wanted to string together the right words, one by one, until they formed a bridge that would lead you closer to him, so he wouldn’t feel so alone. Because, even though your bodies were pressed so closed together, you could tell his soul was lost somewhere far away, somewhere dark, somewhere lonely. And you knew his father would have hated it for him to feel that way.

You stayed still, silent, and slightly mad at yourself for not being able to say something to him. The night is always dark if no one holds the light, so you wanted to hold it for him. You really wanted to. But you were astounded and overwhelmed by all the information, both about his past and about the reality you all lived in. His father’s theory, if true, would change the world as you knew it. As everyone knew it. A possibility that, if true, would change everything.

In the end you made peace with the fact that you weren’t wise enough to know what to say, and opted for gently wrapping your arms around him instead, pulling him closer, burying your face in the crook of his neck, hugging him as tightly as you could. If you couldn’t tell him, you would show him. If words were beyond your ability, you would make sure actions weren’t. He immediately responded by tightening his arms around you and pressing his nose against the top of your head, where you could feel him breathing heavily. He took such a deep breath that, for a moment, you thought he was going to cry. But no, you knew he wouldn’t, that would be nearly impossible. Because at this point, given the rate of pain he had been enduring for years, at that rate your eyes would run out of tears before your heart could let go of the pain.

As your head rested against his chest, in such proximity to his heart, and as its beating told you more about the pain he had been living with for all those years since his father’s passing, a question popped up in your mind.

“The basement. In Eren’s house. It has something to do with this. Doesn’t it?” You spoke after a few minutes of silence.

“Intel suggests that the basement of Eren Yeager’s home in Shiganshina holds a vital secret regarding our enemy. That’s our destination. By getting there, I can prove my father’s theory. I know it.” He held your hand tighter. “I just know it.”

His words carried the exact same conviction they did during meetings when planning strategies or during expeditions when giving commands in the field. Only that this time they were infused with something else, a certain vulnerability. A vulnerability that, along with the violent beating of his heart against your ear, explained to you why he was so committed to the cause. Why he had decided to give his entire life to the Survey Corps. It all made sense now. You understood that it had less to do with freeing humanity from the walls, and more to do with his late father.

As his heartbeat lulled you to sleep that night, your mind became flooded with thoughts of the basement and the secrets that could be hidden there. If there was something hidden at all, in the first place.

-

next chapter

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