#but so far i think there are 3 areas at *least* that i think i can map out when i got time just for funsies

[dimonds456-art]

I cannot believe I forgot to post this.

Chapter 3 is up! Also below the cut for anyone who doesn't have an AO3 (though the fic has been unprivated, so even guests should be able to see it now!)

Stanford awoke slowly to the sounds of gulls screeching, cars zooming, wind blowing, and kids laughing. Light was hitting his eyes, uncomfortably bright behind his closed eyelids, and he was quickly becoming aware of the sand that was coating his face. 

He groaned, eyes opening without his consent. Sunlight blinded him, and he rolled over to avoid it. It wasn't his soft bed from home, though- this was far more rough, lumpy, and shifted beneath him as he moved. Sand, his mind supplied. He lowered his arms to push himself up, feeling it shift beneath his fingers. It was the rough kind of sand, too, not the soft stuff people said in the movies. At least this area wasn't littered in glass. 

He sat up, taking stock. He was in the Stan O' War, laying in the middle of the floor of the broken boat. His backpack, bindle, and toolbelt leaned against the wall, right next to the box of nails. 

Stanley wasn't there. 

Stanford frowned. Shouldn't his brother have found his way here by now? They both knew where it was by heart, he should have been here!

And just like that, he was fully awake. 

Ford sat up, scrubbing sand out of his hair and cringing as he felt it hitting the lenses of his glasses- he should have taken them off first, whoops. He'd fallen asleep wearing them, as he'd tried to stay awake for as long as he could to wait for his brother. His efforts were in vain, it seemed. 

Anxiety started doing weird things to his chest. He'd felt anxious before- the churning that circled his guts when he was scared, the shakiness, all of it. The tightening of his chest was a much rarer one. Not his first time experiencing it, but enough that the feeling was still mostly foreign to him. Anxiety that made his breathing come out weird, like something was squeezing him from the inside. 

He stood up, dusting off as much sand as he could. If Stanley hadn't come in the night, then something was wrong. Very, very wrong. 

Stanford quickly ran outside, giving the whole boat a once-over. "Stanley?!" he called out. Maybe he fell asleep on deck? Or against the wall? Or nearby? "Stanley, where are you?" 

No response. 

Outside, he could see a couple of kids running down to the beach, mostly teenagers. It wasn't warm enough to warrant actually swimming just yet, but they weren't doing that anyway. Ford squinted, trying to spot his brother in the small crowd, but didn't see very many kids his age. The rest were accompanied either by a teen or a disgruntled adult. 

Taking a deep breath, Stanford placed his hands on either side of his mouth. "STAAAAANLEYYYYYY!" 

A few people looked toward him, but then went back to whatever it was teenagers did at the beach. 

Nothing. 

The anxiety twisted in his chest, starting to settle in his guts now, too. Not good. Not good at all. 

He ran back inside, tearing open his backpack. Old Reliable tumbled out again, but he ignored it. Ballpoint pen and notebook paper. He needed to think. He flipped open to the first blank page he could find and started frantically taking notes. 

Stanley ran away

Missing since yesterday morning

Not in any spot he usually would be

No signs as to where he could have gone

Ford moved to rub the back end of his pen through his hair, thinking. Stanley would either be at the Stan O' War or waiting for Stanford nearby, but since he wasn't doing that, then something else must have happened to him. And whatever it was, Ford had to find him. But, with no leads, how was he supposed to do that? 

Went back to the Jersey Devil? 

Found by Wood Dwarves? 

Taken by The Big Red Eyes? 

Eaten by Mantis Men? 

Between each entry, Ford's anxiety rose. He knew about cryptids, of course, but actually finding them was difficult. He'd only found the Jersey Devil before, and that had been with Stanley's help (and technically the Sibling Brothers, if that even counted. They'd borrowed their clothes in the name of scientific pursuit, that barely counted for anything!). 

Okay. Logic. Methodical. Where could Stanley be? 

It probably wasn't the Devil because they'd both already met that one, and it wasn't exactly happy to see them. Unless he'd gone back for treasure or something? But they'd get plenty of that once they got out on the water. 

Wood Dwarves were pranksters, and according to some, could turn invisible! It did seem like he'd just kinda vanished, so maybe they had something to do with it. But they usually lived in the forest- Stanley would have been heading for the beach, right? 

Same problem with the Big Red Eyes theory. He lived far away from the ocean. Unless he'd been on vacation? 

And the Mantis Man was usually seen around the river, which would be freshwater, not saltwater.

Ford slammed the notebook closed, feeling frustrated. It just didn't make any sense!

He hung his head, looking around the inside of the boat again. Well, clearly, Stanley wasn't by the ocean. He hadn't come here last night. Stanford would need to take his search elsewhere. 

…But what if Stanley was heading here, and got caught up with something? What if he was still on the way? 

Ford frowned, getting an idea. He grabbed Old Reliable and popped the cap. The Sharpie's thick tip was perfect for writing big, bold messages. 

Ford circled around outside again, and went to the side of the boat that was facing the road. Then, he began to draw. A hashtag, then a boat, then an X, an exclamation mark- each letter of their alphabet came into being on the boards, clear black against medium-brown wood.

Stanford stepped back, making sure each symbol was legible. He didn't like that he had to do that- they'd already written on the side of the boat, and this felt something like vandalism- but he had to make sure Stanley got the message. But there was no way he was going to just give the Sibling Brothers any hints. 

"Stay here, I will find you." 

With that settled, he plugged the cap on Old Reliable, snuck it back in his bag, and started gathering his stuff. 

He had to come up with a new plan- fast. 

Maybe he could retrace his steps? But that would mean going back to Pines Pawns, and if he got caught now…

Nope. Too risky. But maybe there were other clues around town? 

He needed to clear his head. There was one place he could always do that. 

He pulled an apple out of his bindle and started walking.

Stanford made his way up the steps and into Glass Shard Beach's local library. It was run-down and not well taken care of, but it was quiet and safe. None of Ford's usual bullies frequented the library, and everyone was usually either too absorbed in their work or their reading to notice his hands. It was a good place to think. It was a good place to reorient and refocus. 

He waved to the librarian, who barely gave him a nod in return. He appeared to be nose-deep in a political book. Stanford found himself grimacing internally. So many things to write about, and you pick politics? And then other people READ that? Dull. He didn't think he'd ever get why. 

There was a specific table in the back that Stanford loved; right by the window, letting in some good natural light, while tucked out of the way from view. It was a good place to go if you wanted to be left alone. 

He went there now, grinning as he saw no one else there before him. There were a couple of children's books sitting on the end, as well as a stack of blank, white paper, but he paid them no mind as he sat down in his favorite seat; back to the library entrance, window to his right. Perfect. 

He pulled out his notebook again, scanning the details he'd written. Stanley hadn't been anywhere yesterday, and he hadn't been at the Stan O' War today. Ford doubted he'd be by the swingset, as the boat provided the best shelter, and he didn't see why he'd have a reason to go there. 

So, that left the entire rest of Glass Shard Beach, or… outside of it. 

Stanford frowned. Surely Stanley hadn't run away, run away, right? Wherever they went, they went together. It wouldn't make sense for him to leave town without his brother. 

Then again, his mind hissed, it also doesn't make sense he'd run away without telling you, first. The Stanley you knew would make plans WITH you, not without you.

Stanford waived those thoughts away with a shake of his head. Clearly, that didn't matter, because that IS what happened, strange as it was. 

He wasn't sure if any cryptid would seek his brother out and kidnap him, either. The only ones he knew of that would do that were Wood Elves, and they lived in. well. the woods. Not in the middle of a small town. 

He picked up his ballpoint pen. 

Things that could have happened to Stanley: - Ran away from town   - Why would he do that? - Taken out of town (?)   - By what? - Eaten by a monster   - Would have been evidence of that somewhere, though, right? - Ran into the woods   - Wildman Stanley? He's never told me he wanted that before - Aliens??

Stanford glared at that last option before scribbling it out. No, no, that would be dumb. Extraterrestrial beings descending from the heavens just to kidnap a lonely boy who had just run away and therefore would leave very few people to look for him, meaning they could get away with the crime essentially scott-free? 

…Ford re-wrote the aliens point back in again. 

He sighed, leaning his head in his hands. This was stupid and not helping. He needed to be out there looking for evidence! But he had no idea where to look…

He turned to look at the papers sitting next to him. Blank. 

It's not defeat, Stanford thought to himself. If people know he's missing, they'll be helping the search. This will be a good thing. 

He grabbed a paper and started sketching his brother, trying to capture him just right. 

He'd made about twenty missing posters, as well as his original sketch page of his brother. He wasn't sure where or even how to put them up, but he wouldn't know until he tried. The day was still young, kinda (it was noon), and he had plenty of places to search. 

He could try to put some up in different diners and restaurants, some down at the boardwalk, maybe one or two at school…

No, school was a bad idea. Crampelter was there. If Crampelter ever discovered that Stanley was missing…

Stanford shuddered, then stiffened, his walking speed slowing. Crampelter wasn't just at school, especially now that school was basically out for summer, with the addition of a couple extra curriculars (ug. sports). Crampelter could be anywhere, as well as his goons. 

Uh oh. 

Well, it's not like he could just not put the posters up. He'd made them, and he needed to find Stanley. Whatever Crampelter had in store for him was worth it if it meant he'd be able to find his brother. 

As he walked past the front desk, the librarian noticed him. He raised his bushy eyebrows in surprise. "Working on a project, Pines?" 

Stanford looked up at the man. "Kinda." He walked forward, handing him one of Stanley's missing posters. It featured his brother grinning at the "camera", little dots for eyes, messy hair, his striped shirt, and a backpack on his shoulders. (He'd also drawn a few posters with sticks in his hair or bugs on his arms, just in case that helped.) Down at the very bottom was another message written in their secret code, too- "Go to the ship".

Mr. Walker looked down at the parchment with scrutiny, pulling his glasses down a bit more to read the words. 

"My brother went missing yesterday, and I don't know where he went," Stanford informed him, looking at the poster he'd handed him. "Do you want to keep that one? Maybe you could hang it up here in the library." 

The bushy man turned his brown eyes back to the boy. "I suppose I could keep an eye out," he said, weirdly strained. "Stanley ain't exactly one to swing by the library, though." 

"I… I know." Ford looked away. "I'm just worried about him." 

Mr. Walker's gaze softened. "Sure. I can hold onto this one for ya, and if I see him, I'll tell him yer lookin' for him." He stood up, grabbing some tape from behind the counter.

Stanford lit up. "Oh, Mr. Walker, thank you!" He put his hands on the table and couldn't help the bounce in his feet. "Tell him to go to the boat. He'll know what I mean." 

"Boat. Got it." Mr Walker finished taping it up, right next to a bunch of other fliers. "I'll tell him." 

"Thank you!" Ford grinned. "I'll see you around!" 

Mr. Walker waved at him. "Remember to be home before it gets too late," he called after the boy. Ford just smiled. Mr. Walker didn't need to know about that part. 

Feeling rejuvenated, Stanford practically skipped out of the library. 19 posters and a sketch page. Finding where to hang up the rest would give him more excuses to turn his search outward, to more places Stanley was less likely to be. Which, paradoxically, meant he might be there. 

As he pushed open the large, oak door, sunlight made him squint. But beyond that, he could hear laughing. Mocking laughter, specifically. 

Ford gasped, shutting the door quickly. He had to hide the posters, fast.

He threw off his backpack, unzipped it, and began to rapidly stuff in papers. They were gonna be all folded and crumply later, but at least he'd have them. He just had to-

The door swung open with a BANG! against the opposing wall, and a large shadow fell over the entrance. Stanford hastily zipped up the bag and put it behind him right as none other than Crampelter himself waltzed into the library. 

"Weeeell, look what the cat dragged in!" the bully himself grinned. Crampelter crossed his arms as his two yesmen circled around behind him. "Howzit feel not having your little guard dog around, hmm?" 

"I-I…" Stanford looked up at him warily. Now the Sibling brothers were about the same age and build as the Pines twins, so confronting them was a bit easier than… this. Crampelter was a mountain, towering over Stanford and casting a long shadow. He grinned. The light from outside rimmed around him, casting the rest of him in shades of grey. The two behind him didn't look much friendlier (though the shorter one was all bark, no bite, Ford knew that). 

Crampelter put his hands on his cheeks, creating a look of mocking fear. "I-I-" he stuttered out, before laughing loudly. "You what, dork? Scared?" 

"Hey!" 

All four heads turned to Mr Walker, who was quickly pacing towards them. He stopped in front of Crampelter, leveling him a knowing look. "This is a place of learning and leisure," he hissed. "Keep it down or get out, Crampelter. You know the rules, same as anyone else." 

Crampelter let out a loud tch, rolling his eyes. "Whatever." He side-eyed Stanford, a mischievous grin crossing his lips. "Catch us outside, huh, nerd? We'll be waitin' for ya." 

And with that, he and his posse turned on their heels and stormed out. As Crampelter's form left the building, he turned back around and cupped his mouth with his hands. "READING'S FOR NERDS!" he shouted. His voice bounced annoyingly off the peeling walls. 

Before Mr Walker could react, the three of them had bolted, cackling, out the door.

The man sighed. "I worry about those three," he grumbled. "Shapin' up ta be no good, I tell ya." 

"Umm, Mr. Walker, sir?" Stanford hated how much he was… unnerved by the three bullies. Not afraid- Pa said being afraid was stupid. "Don't be a sissy," he'd say. But Stanford certainly didn't feel comfortable around them. 

The librarian turned to look at the boy questioningly. "Yes, Pines?"

"I…" He fidgeted with his hands, wringing them around each other. "I don't wanna go outside." 

Understanding made its way across his features. Mr. Walker knelt down, putting a hand on Ford's shoulder. "Those three pick on you a lot, eh?" 

Hesitantly, Ford nodded. "Stanley usually helps me with them," he mumbled. 

Mr. Walker thought for a moment, then stood back up. "Here, I got an idea." He started to walk towards the back of the building, motioning with his hand for Ford to keep up. "Follow me." 

Stanford grabbed his backpack and trotted after the librarian. 

He wasn't too familiar with the man, but he had been nothing aside from friendly towards him. The first time they'd met, he'd made a comment about his hands, but that was forever ago now, and Mr. Walker didn't seem to mind them so much now. Just another reason Stanford saw the library as a sanctuary; a place to hide from bullies and to be able to get a clear head when things got tough. Peaceful. 

He'd always hoped that, if Mr. Walker could learn to ignore his extra finger, maybe others could, too. Some of his teachers got used to it, but even then, he still saw the lingering looks sometimes. His classmates, too, just seemed to become adjusted to it rather than disregarding his hands like he'd hoped. It didn't feel like acceptance, it was more akin to tolerance. And Ford's tried his best to keep that tolerance for as long as he could, he did. He thought he was doing an okay job, but then Crampelter would show up just to remind him that tolerance and acceptance weren't really the same thing. 

It was humiliating, to say the least. 

Mr. Walker made his way through the halls of the library, walking in a relatively straight line. He finally came to a stop near the back wall, by one of the windows. He unlatched it, heaving it up. The early summer breeze entered the building, tickling Ford's cheeks and ruffling his hair. 

"Here," the man said, "out this way. They won't expect you there." 

Stanford looked up at Mr. Walker with a small, genuine smile. "Thank you, sir," he said. 

Mr. Walker just nodded. "You're very welcome, Pines." 

Sneaking out around the library was harder than Ford initially thought. Just a quick glance around the corner showed the bullies hanging around the entrance, pointing and laughing at anyone going in or out of the library. 

Stanford frowned. What are they even DOING here? he wondered. Crampelter would rather get sick with the plague than willingly enter the library, and now that Stanford thought about it, it WAS odd that he'd decided to even come here at all. 

Did this have to do with Stanley somehow? 

That made Stanford pause. If Crampelter knew something about Stanley going missing, then it made sense that he'd come taunt Ford with that information. But there was no way to know until Stanford asked him, and he was not exactly in a hurry to do that. 

He had to sneak past. 

The library was surrounded by two other buildings on either side, but they were pretty far away. There was a yard in front of the building with lots of room to sit and read, including a tree with some okay-ish shade from the sun. If Stanford could just make it to one of the other buildings without getting caught, he could escape and start putting up posters. Clearly Crampelter knew already; no point in hiding it. 

The bullies were gathered more on the right side of the building than the left, so Ford took in a deep breath, headed to the left, watched them for a moment, and…

No. No running was a bad idea. That'd draw their eyes. He had to go slow. Yeah. Yeah, niiiice and easy. 

He let out the breath he'd taken awkwardly, and instead, hugged the wall. One foot in front of the other. He stayed close to the library, and no one saw him. Yet. 

He was right at the corner now. He could hear Crampelter push someone off their bike. Though he felt bad, it also created a pretty good distraction. He peered over. Sure enough, some kid was currently adjusting their glasses, sitting on the pavement, while the three bullies yukked it up. 

Now or never. Ford tentatively stepped out into the light, and when no one saw him immediately, he turned and began to speed walk away. He didn't know where he was going, just that he needed to get away from the library as fast as his feet could carry him. 

He'd only made it a couple of sidewalk slabs down the road before a yell shattered his small sense of victory. "THERE HE IS!" one of the yesmen announced, and Stanford could feel the finger pointed in his direction. It only took a quick glance over his shoulder to see all three of them sprinting after him now. 

Oh Moses.

Ford panicked, breaking into a sprint and zipping off down the road. He turned left at the corner, trying to hide from view, but those boys were still behind him- and gaining. 

He had to hide. What's that thing they always do in movies? Duck into an alleyway? 

There was one coming up. They hadn't rounded the corner yet. Ford had a chance. 

He ducked left again, slipping into the slot between buildings, only to find nothing to hide behind. It was empty. 

Their shouts and jeers were getting louder. There was nowhere to go. 

Ford ducked down, facing away from the opening, and tried to make himself as small as possible. Maybe they'd just keep going, and leave him alone, and he could get out of this one by himself so he could keep looking for his brother-

"Found him!" 

Something grabbed his backpack and lifted him up. Stanford cried out in surprise, then started swinging his arms frantically. He kicked, he punched, he tried to wriggle out of their grasp. His efforts were met with more jeers. 

"Aw, look at him go!" 

"He's worked up quite the kick, eh?" 

"Like an angry kitten!" 

Ford flushed. "I am not a-" 

A fist to the back of the head silenced him. "Shut it," Crampelter snapped. 

Ford lifted a hand to rub the spot. "Ow!" 

"Eugh. Get your freaky hands away from me," Crampelter grumbled out. He let go of the backpack, sending Ford to the ground in a heap. His hands scraped against the pavement, and to his horror, he noticed more glass shards here than he'd originally thought. "We just wanna talk to you, nerd." 

Stanford re-adjusted his glasses, finally turning to look at his tormentor more head-on. "About what? About how I'm a freak?" he snapped. "Go ahead, I've heard it all before!" 

Crampelter tutted at him condescendingly. "No, dumbo, it's about your guard dog." He crossed his arms triumphantly. "Heard some talk down by the docks. Apparently some of the guys overheard you asking for him at the boardwalk." 

Stupid! Stanford berated himself. Of course that's how he found out. 

Crampelter's face was oddly neutral. "We just wanna know what happened." 

Stanford blinked. "You… what?" That seemed… weirdly considerate of them. Something was wrong. 

Shortie (he didn't know their names and didn't care) piped up. "Heard he ran off," he grinned. 

Lanky nodded. "Did he finally learn he don't got a future?" he sneered. 

Stanford glared at them each in turn. "What are you talking about?!" he exclaimed. "We have a future! We're gonna get out of here!" 

"Hah!" Crampelter's eyes glinted. "Did he tell ya that?" 

Something about the way Crampelter was looking at him was making Stanford uneasy, but he didn't have a good word to describe it. It was like he was dangling a carrot over his head- a carrot he knew Ford couldn't see. But Ford knew it was there. Something in him was getting riled up at that. His glare deepened.

"Yeah, he did. And Stanley wouldn't…" he trailed off for a second, looking away. "He wouldn't lie to me!" 

That got all three of them laughing again. 

"Good ol' sticky fingers?" 

"All he ever does is lie!" 

Ford's gaze burned holes in the bullies, but they didn't seem to notice or care. "Not to me!" Stanford shot back. 

That just made them laugh harder. 

Confusion and hurt was welling up within him. He moved to shove past Crampelter, but he was quick to swat Ford back into the alley again. 

"Gonna go home?" Crampelter cooed, tilting his head knowingly. "Gonna go cry to Mommy and Daddy about how your brother somehow got smarter than you??" 

Ford blinked. "What are you talking about?"

Lanky shrugged. "Sticky fingers ain't good for nuthin," he said casually. He leaned back against the opposing wall, lifting a leg to look cooler. "He knows he's just the stupid version of you. He must have finally figured out what he was and took off." 

Shortie snickered. "About time." 

Stanford wanted to glare at them, but something about their wording was throwing him off. "What do you mean? What is he?"

Crampelter's fists clenched. He tilted his chin up, looking down on Ford with a judging, condescending smile. "And here I thought you were the smart one, freak."

Ford stood up, moving to push past them. He had a brother to find, and clearly they didn't know anything, so this was just wasting his time. He had posters to put up and people to talk to and Siblings to avoid. 

"Oh no ya don't!" A hand grabbed his arm and yanked him back. Ford yelped, stumbling, but managed to stay upright. Crampelter sneered at him. "Where d'ya think you're going, dork?"

"Away from you!" Stanford leveled a glare up at him. He didn't have to just stand there and take this. 

Crampelter nodded to his two followers, who seemed to get it. Ford felt arms wrap around his, and no amount of wiggling around and throwing wild punches got them to let go. He felt them tugging at his backpack, pulling it off. 

Stanford tried to get it back on, but the arms holding him twisted his wrists, making him try to curl in on himself on instinct. The straps were freed, and Crampelter held the red book bag in his hands. 

Ford's eyes widened. "Hey! That's mine!" 

Crampelter ignored him. He unzipped it and proceeded to dump the contents out, scattering papers, pencils, pens, his notebook, and- Ford watched in horror- the missing posters. He watched the cartoony face of his brother drift out, flapping gently down to the ground in a smiling heap of hope. 

"Hah!" Crampelter barked out a laugh. "Were you gonna hang these up?" 

Ford continued to try to writhe out of the other two boy's grip. "What's it to you?" he snapped. 

Crampelter didn't say anything. Instead, he picked up a poster, holding it up. It was one of the ones Stanford had made that featured Stanley with sticks in his hair. It was one of the better ones, in his opinion. 

Crampelter snorted. "Didja start doodling on this thing? What is that?" 

He pointed to a line down at the bottom, the line reserved only for Stanley's eyes. To anyone else, it was just drawings. The Twins knew better.

Ford glared. "It's code. And I'm not telling you what it says!"

Shortie snorted. "Sticky understands codes?"

"You have too much faith in him," Lanky piped up. "He doesn't even know how to read." 

That one got Stanford genuinely offended on his brother's behalf. "He does, too! He just, he told me that the letters get all scrambled sometimes, so it's-" 

"So he can't read." Crampelter tutted, looking back at the pile. "Would be a shame if your guard dog realized just how much you relied on him," he mused to himself. "Not that he's good for much else." 

Stanford glared. "Like you're any better, jerk!" 

The bully's eyes snapped to him. He twitched, then his brows turned down into a glare. He looked back down at the pile of papers, then around the rest of the alleyway. 

Water glistened off a nearby puddle. 

Stanford froze. "No," he said softly, realizing where this was going. "No, Crampelter, you can't! I need those!" 

That just seemed to make up the bully's mind. He stormed over to the puddle and stomped both feet in it. When he lifted one back out, it was covered in mud. He turned his gaze back to the pile of posters, Stanley's silly grin looking back at Ford. 

The bully stomped closer. 

Ford picked up the struggle again. "NO, STOP!" 

All he could do was watch as Crampelter stomped down, smearing mud and dirty water all over the parchment. He made sure to cover every single one, crumpling and tearing the paper beneath his feet as he kicked and scraped and stomped. 

Once every paper had been covered, he kicked them all towards the puddle. They dropped in, water soaking through and smearing the ink. 

"STOP!" Stanford cried out. "STOP IT!" 

"There!" The bully grinned down at the pile, satisfied. "How're you gonna call him home now?"

Rage boiled within him. He clenched his fists, trying to remember the things Stanley told him about fighting. Wide stance, fast fists, lots of yelling, there were teeth involved whenever you punched a jaw…

He went slack, waiting for the moment to strike. He felt himself breathing fast, breathing angry, and he just wanted to stomp Crampelter's stupid smile into the stupid ground and find his stupid brother and go back HOME. 

He stopped listening. They were saying something. He didn't care what. 

As soon as Lanky's grip faltered, Stanford broke free with a swing. He tore his arm free of his grip, hitting Shortie in the head. Shortie let go, and Stanford darted forward. He grabbed his notebook, clothes, pens and pencils, and stuffed them in the bag as fast as he could. He reached for the posters, but most were ruined by now. His hands grasped a single one; the sketch page he'd made for practice. It was wet, and crumpled, but it lived. He tucked it in there with the notebook and zipped it shut. 

Crampelter watched him with a neutral face until the two made eye contact. Then, he grinned smugly. 

"Good luck finding him now, freak," he jeered. "Not that it'll do ya much good." 

That was it. Ford reached his hands out, shoving past Crampelter and darting back out into the streets. He could hear the bullies laughing behind him, but they didn't seem to be chasing him this time. 

Whatever. He didn't care. 

It didn't make any sense…

It doesn't make any sense!

Ford wasn't stupid. He'd heard the way people talk about his brother for a long time, like he was inferior to Stanford in some way (which was a weird paradox, considering everyone also thought that Stanford was a weirdo who could curse their family if they shook his hand or something). But he'd always made sure that Stan knew not to listen. He tried to humor his brother as much as he could, and listened to his wild ideas about superheroes and girls. He laughed at his brother's dumb jokes because they were funny and because Ford loved him. 

Crampelter was just being mean again. Yeah. That's it. 

Stanford ran and ran and ran until he found himself back at the street that led home. He slowed to a stop, looking down the familiar road. He could see the Pawn Shop. He knew his mom had found the note by now. He could picture her talking to Pa, asking him to call the police. He'd shake his head, insisting that Stanford would be home soon. And then he'd sit down and open his newspaper, waiting for him. Trusting him. 

But Stanford couldn't go home yet. He had to find Stanley. Wherever they went, they went together. Stanley was the one who came up with their little mantra, and he really, truly believed it. 

…Stanley wouldn't run away because of me, would he? 

Did Ford do something wrong? 

His heart lurched. He just wanted to talk to his ma about this. Surely she would know, right? She had those psychic powers! Stanley didn't think they were real, and even Ford was beginning to have his doubts, but it was better than nothing, right? 

If nothing else, she'd tell him that Stanley didn't just get tired of him. Or she'd be able to help him figure out what he did to make Stan think that way. 

Nope, Stanford scolded himself. That's the bullies talking. Stanley wouldn't do that. It's us, together forever. He's always said that.

It just didn't make any sense.

He needed something to get his brain going again. He had his apples- one he had for breakfast this morning, but he still had two more! They were right here, in his-

Oh no. He'd lost the bindle. 

Stanford panicked for just a moment, before remembering he'd left it at the library. He hadn't been able to get it back because it was outside, right where Crampelter had been guarding the door. Shoot!

His stomach rumbled. Home was right there. He could just go there to eat. It was tempting, pulling him to go down the road and go back. 

He glared. Pointedly, he turned around and began his march back to the library. 

The sun was going down by the time he got back. And there it was, tossed onto the ground by the door by someone who didn't care, but otherwise untouched. 

He ate both remaining apples, and something in him was still hungry. 

He glared down at his notebook. He had two full days to look now, and nothing. Nothing, nothing, NOTHING! 

His stomach grumbled. 

If he was hungry, Stanley was also hungry. He HAD to find him. 

But sleep was tugging at his eyelids, and the Stan O' War was cozy. 

Maybe Stanley just got lost. Maybe a nice family was letting him stay the night. Maybe he was stargazing somewhere down the road. Maybe he was in the sky, looking down at Ford. C'mon, poindexter, he was saying, waving his hand in a "come here" motion, it's not that far!

Stanford curled in on himself, holding his notebook close, glaring down at the mess of leads and locations, and let himself drift off to a troubled sleep.

[perhaps-mr-collins-has-a-cousin]

Hello praying people, I'm not doing well and would really appreciate your prayers right now <3

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent game related things .. hrmm...

[shuicheese]

I'm thinking about my dreams again bc I might actually try to finally map things out (this post made me do it) and I'm realizing a trend;

there's too much water

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

whats the move for convincing my mom to let me play creature feature songs at her halloween party

[ko-eko-ev-go-ms]

I really really wish dreams were easier to understand/interpret

[leoascendente]

PAC/ Your destined person 💘

Hi loves and welcome to this new PAC! I'll be taking a time from this blog to focus on another projects, it doesn't mean that this blog will be unactive, it is just that I won't post that much pacs or astrology, I'll be more focused in my Spanish blog for a while. Anyway, private readings will still be open and from time to time I'll post something over here because Tumblr is and always will be my safe place.

Take a deep breath before choosig your pile and pick the picture you feel called the most, because this is a general reading it doesn't have to fully resonate, keep what does and leave what doesn't for somebody else, you can always choose another pile :)

For private readings click here

My blog in Spanish here

Decks: Romantic tarot, dark wood tarot, tea leafs oracle, romance angels oracle, love oracle cards

All pics are from pinterest, credits to their owners

Pile 1/ Pile 2

Pile 3/ Pile 4

Pile 1:

Who is your destined person?:

(Cards: 6 of swords, 3 of pentacles, 6 of pentacles, moon, hermit, queen of wands, king of swords/ hermit rev, death, wheel of fortune, 5 of pentacles, sun)

This person probably comes from a very different backgroud than you, it will seem like you don't have much in common at first, they have probably moved from the place they were born and are getting used to the new place. They are a hard worker, right now they are putting a lot of effort in this area of their life, probably to help financially their beloved ones, I'm hearing to help their parents, they are so focused in making money that they are not nurturing other aspects of their life like socializing, the good thing is that they don't seem to care about it. They got the hermit with two different decks, once upright and another time on reversed, it gives me the feeling that they feel very comfortable in their solitude but at the same time they are craving significative connections and a reason to get out of their isolation, for some reason they feel very exhausted but they can't sleep at night, they are like an owl, by night they seem to be more active even though they should be super tired because their work is exhausting (I'm writting this at 13:31 on my clock, maybe it's a relevant number for you or this connection). This person has some emotional issues that keeps them up at night, it's like they need these few extra hours of the day that they are taking from their resting time to relax when the rest of the world is quiet, maybe it's because they are far from home or because they miss their family, because this is related to their emotional world but for what I see here they are thinking too much about others and not about themselves and their mental peace. Anyway, this person is really attractive, for what I see in the cards, they have some not-so-secret admirers that are chasing them or looking desperately for their attention, whatever they are trying is not working with your person, your person seems to be an introvert or at least, they need to feel emotionally connected to something or someone to invest their energy fully on it, I could even say that they are a little shy when it comes to interact with other people. this person has an strong masculine energy, also I keep hearing the word resilient so this may be the most noticable trait about them, the thing here with the admirers is that they are chasing your person, like taking the masculine role but only for their outside appearance, your person seems to need something more to connect with someone and they prefer to court that to be courted. Right now they are closing chapters, there's a massive divine intervention in their life even if they are not aware of this, this is happening for their highest good because they need to get out of this hermit mode and start experiencing good things. They seem to be a little apathic and their lack of rest could be affecting their health too, even if they want it or not, a change is coming to align them, there will be a shift in their luck very soon, especially to help them financially because they seem to be struggling in this aspect. your person is really calmed and peaceful, very goal oriented and commited to what's important to them, you'll love the kind of person they are and the peace they'll bring to your life.

Your connection:

(Cards: deception, new love, this could be the one, playfulness/ girl with a snake, heartbroken, the phoenix, heart with a key, wedding rings)

Okay, your person had a very tough relationship with a toxic person that played with their heart and left them in the dust, this might be one of the reasons why they are avoiding so much human contact, especially with romantic interests, their heart is still recovering from this heartbreak. When you appear in their life, everything will trasform, it will be so magical and unexpected that they won't know what to do, you'll catch them off guard, everything will feel different with you, it's like they've been in a grey and clouded place and you appear to make the sun shine again in their life. This past relationship marked them but knowing you will make them realize that not everyone is the same, you will make them gain hope in love again, it will happen naturally and your relationship will be blossoming peacefully but with certainty, from the first moments they'll know that you are meant for them and will work to make you know it. This is a soulmate connection so you'll feel very comfortable with eachother like you know the other from a very long time, I see a lot of funny dates together, like an exhibition of some kind (I'm translating directly from google but I mean those places wih a ferris wheel, bumper cars, cotton candy and those places where you get a teddy bear if you drop all the bottle from the shelf, something that sort, please comment me the correct name of this lol). An important thing I see here is that your person might be shy at first and will try to make things the right way, not forcing anything, but what I like the most is that even though they have their heart wounded, they won't pay this pain with you, in fact, you'll be a reason to stop thinking about the past pain and focusing on the precious future you could share together, you'll ignite them faith in life, they'll find motivation again, they might even realize that they weren't as comfortable in their solitude as they wanted to project. I see a fast commitment, I also see that they will leave you the key of their home so you can stay there even when they are working, they'll try to make you part of their day to day life and will be very honest with your from the start, you can ask them anything and they will respond with all the truth, even if the truth doesn't leave them in good place, they want you to know every detail about them, you can also trust in them to share whatever you want, they will be super understanding and compassionate.

Signals:

(Tea leafs: sunrise, woman, feather, bull, desk, scissors, caterpillar)

By the moment you are about to meet your person, you'll be finding out the true intentions of a woman in your life, I don't know why but the energy of this woman gives me really bad vibe, like a two faced person, is someone that you should put distance with in order to protect your energy because in terms of love she could often have bad experiences and she will not be happy for you when you find your soulmate. There also this message of not sharing your ideas about the future, not just in love but about your goals or plans in work too, if you are thinking about initiate something by your own just keep it private for a while, or at least just share it with your closest ones because this woman or femenine energy around you don't what you to thrive. The good thing is that you got the card of the sunrise, so you'll be having a lot of new ideas that will lead you to find success, I'd suggest you to write down those ideas,take time to organize them and start implementing them in aries season, at the beggining of the spring, energies will be at your favor. For your person they'll be working really hard, there might be a chance for a rise or getting a higher position in their work field and they'll be focused into that, for others of you there might also be the chance that your person will be getting another job with a better salary, I'm getting especially this second option because your person seems to be very unhappy in their current job and they need better conditions, it also seems like there is some opposition from someone in their work and your person has to keep themselves in a defensive position to deal with it and they don't want this no more, they know they deserve a healthier work enviroment, maybe there's an abusive boss here. There's the possibility that you are really close to meet eachother because of the cards on tarot and this message so be aware of your surroundings because your person is closer than you imagine :)

Channeled messages: a puppy, sexy but don't know it, romantic dates, strong arms, meet them in a public place like a park, a market or a place with art or literature involved like museums or book stores, gift giving, a soft pink or white dress, night dates, overthinking, financial struggle, 999, 1333, virgo, scorpio, cancer and leo, might be seasons for you two meet or your person's sign.

Pile 2:

Who is your destined person?

(Cards: 9 of wands, 4 of swords, 7 of pentacles, 10 of pentacles, justice, death, world/ devil, justice, queen of pentacles, judgement, king of wands)

Okay, lets start saying that you know this person but never had anything romantic with them besides a crush for some of you, they are someone that is familiar to you, maybe you have talked at some point or is simplier than that and you follow them on social media or something that sort, you know eachother but there's almost any interaction between you two. I usually say on private readings when I see that the consultant know their person that Universe has a wicked sense of humor and sometimes, this person can be so random as your crush on primary school, someone you talked once in a party, a friend of a friend and those kind of things, so don't be dissapointed when you see that you know your person because many times, even though you know them, they can be the most random person you could ever imagine. Right now your person is going through some legal issues, it can be a divorce for some of you but for others it might be more related to an spiritual awakening where they are taking resposibility over things they have done in the past, like paying some karma and realizing why they are paying it. The good thing is that your person is closing a chapter, this awakening can be hard, because of the devil card, but it also will bring them a big relief and a change in their reality for the best, there's also a change in their way to face life. For what I see in the cards, your person is wealthy or well positioned in life, probably has a high position in their work field, for some they can work in something related to laws but is an enviroment with a lot of competition and stabs in the back, you have to be a little ruthless to thrive in that area, there's also a chance that they already have a child or kids near them, if you have children, your person will get along very well with your kid too. Your person has an strong temper, the good part of it is that they are very protective of what they love and don't mind getting into trouble if that means keeping their beloved ones safe. The not so good part is that they can be too impulsive and irrational when angry, their passionate spirit can take the best from them sometimes, they will be your total opposite so if you have a natural calmed and peaceful temper this pile is for you. Your person is someone brave, a natural extrovert with a lot of charisma, they can draw all the attention of a room to them just with an smile, they are also very sexy, physically they are extremely attractive, they could also be a Libra or Sagittarius sun sign. Your person hasn't been an angel in their past, even though they are a nice person with a good heart, it seems like they did ot take the best decitions in their past and now they are regreting some mistakes. They are really handsome and charming, I see they haven't faced rejection in their past and that has led them to be too confident, they are the kind of person who always gets what they want, do you know Dexter from the show One Day? your person reminds me of him in the good and the bad traits. Anyway, they recently had an experience that made them realize the path they were taking and they want a diferent direction, they don't feel fulfilled and knows that can get something better for themselves, they are also facing the consequences of their actions si they might need some extra time to get into your life.

Your connection:

(Cards: this could be the one, trust, children, worth waiting for/ talking, golden mirror, sword and rose, self indulgence, love call)

You'll share a very special bond, I see trust issues from both of you but at the moment you start something together those issues will fade, it's like your souls will recognize that you both are meant for eachother, feelings will bloom naturally. I see different scenarios for your pile so take what resonates with you, for the people who already know who this person is, the cards invite you to keep hopeful but patient, just trust the Universe and focus on your bussiness meanwhile your person puts their life in order and solve the issues they are currently dealing with, you deserve to enjoy their best version. For others of you who can't figure out yet who your person is, the cards have a similar meaning, to stay optimistic visualizing your ideal relationship, you'll have to wait a little more than the other piles because your person is dealing with issues they need to resolve before meeting you, again, you deserve to enjoy their best version, your vibration is very high so having your person right now in your life with their current circumstances could affect negatively your energy, so this wait is a divine protection for you. Things will start by flirting between both of you, maybe some casual dates at first but for what see in the cards, there's a lot of communication here and it makes sense because through communication trust gets reinforced and that's what you both need. You both will be very different but will have so much in common, your experiences in life or even your tastes or hobbies, your favorite artist or the kind of music you like, it will start by something simple but then you'll realize how similar you truly are, you will mirror eachother in every aspect, for some with an spiritual development I see this person is your twin flame. A nice thing a like about your person is that they will allow you to stay in your femenine energy, the card of self indulgence gives me the feeling that they'll provide for the things you like, just as an example, if you are into a saga of books but you don't have enough money to afford everyone of them so you go buy it one by one, your person will buy you all the saga so you can enjoy your hobbies. For some of you I even see that your person pays for your beauty treatments like getting your lashes or nails done. I see that they'll like to take a protective role with you, if you are easilly stressed, especially in regards of legal matters or burocracy, your person will take care of it so you don't have to worry, if you have any dream or goal you want to achieve your person will also provide you a safe space so you can develop it, especially for those of you who are into arts or something that involves creativity

Signals:

(Tea leafs: teapot, mule, wreath, shield, stork, wedge, heart)

Your signs to know when your person is about to enter your life will be a dissapointment with a friendship of your same sex, you might have an idea of who this person is because you have been seeing red flags from them in the past but you have turned a blind eye with them, especially in terms of stubborness and not wanting to change their habits. I'm getting that they are the kind to mourn and complain over things that they could easilly change, even you could have given them advices in the past but this person is unwilling to change for the better so you'll have to take them out of your life before your person comes. The tea leafs say that this won't be easy for you because you love and appreciate this person but by having them in your life you have to stay in a protective state, the shield warns you that you need to protect yourself from this person because they are consuming your energies. For your person, they'll be in a process of creating something new, I'm getting that it will be related to work, they'll be moving in silence because there's someone near them that don't want your person to be successful in this new project, anyway the project will thrive regardless of what other people try to mess with it. Your person will be just about to get their victory when they get in a deeper contact with you, they'll feel like things are getting better for them after everything they had to go through, you'll be like their ultimate victory. They'll know it's you because they'll feel safe by your side, having in mind that they are surrounded by snakes, getting in contact with you will feel for them like being in precence of angels.

Channeled messages: protect yourself from evil eye, black turmaline, long term relationship, karmic debts, late night conversations, a lot of sexual energy, love letters, release the old so the new can enter, the goddess Kali, law of attraction, subliminal audios, stay in your femenine energy, the bee and the flower, trust the process, 1111, 222, sagittarius, libra, scorpio

Pile 3:

Who is your destined person?

(Cards: queen of cups, king of pentacles, queen of pentacles, 3 of wands, fool, king of cups, 10 of pentacles/ ace of wands, 8 of pentacles rev, 5 of swords rev, judgement, emperor)

This person is your soulmate/twin flame, they are your divine counterpart so you will notice it from the very first moment you meet them. Getting into who your person is, they come from a wealthy background, their family seem to be very rich to say the least, they have been a pampered child all their life, in fact, if they work is because they want to not because they need to. Your person has been raised by parents that are soulmates so they know what true love is and knows that they want that type of connection for them too, they are a romantic and are not afraid to express it, they are also very well mannered so expect them to be chilvalrous with you, they are a true gentleman. They are so open to love that is overwhelming, they fantazise an daydream a lot about you, how you look, your way to walk and your smell, they have you so much in their head but they feel frustration not knowing who you are and when you will appear, they look for you everywhere they go and in every person they meet, yu cold even feel their energy calling you, if you have romantic dreams with someone but you can see their face clearly it is your person calling you in, you can intuitively feel them, I'm also getting that if you are able to see the face of someone familiar to you in dreams like a famous person just check that person you dream about because they might reselble the characteristics of your person. They have a melancholic soul, like a poet from another century, they are very deep and emotional, they have so much love inside they want to offer but they feel frustrated because they don't find the right person to share it with, they don't want only to share love they want someone to share all their life with, they feel like they already have it all to live a happy life but there's this missing peace of wanting to share all their abundance with someone else. There's this phrase of the movie 'into the wild' (my favourite movie ever <3) that says 'happiness is only real when it's shared', I feel that your person resonates a lot with this phrase, they have people they love around but they crave a romantic connection to create a family with, btw, they are really into marriage and family, they also like children and animals and they love your person too. Your person has a sensitive heart and the pain of their solitude has led them to get involved with people with superficial intentions or toxic behaviors, mostly because of your person's money, they had a relationship in the past that left them feeling empty and that's why now they are giving themselves time to be alone and with their family, I see they have siblings that are playing a major role into your person's emotional healing. Idk if you'll know about this book, it's called fallen hearts by V.C Andrews, it is part of the Casteel saga but the character that reminds me of your person appears on the second book, his name is Troy Tatterton, I suggest you to read it or let me know if you already know them :). I also see that your person has traveled a lot, for some of you, you could even live at distanced places where you'd had to travel to see eachother, it may be in one of your person's journeys where they finally meet you.

The connection:

(Cards: true love, getting to know eachother, playfulness, wedding/ casette, hammer, camera, separation, twin flames)

Oh goddess, this is so beautiful it makes me want to cry! If it was up to your person they would marry you as soon as they meet you, after all their painful journey, when you appear in their life they'll feel like the skies will open up only for them, they'll know it's you and will court you from the very first moment, they will be flirty but charming at the same time, I see you'll feel the same too. Even though that feelings will be intense at first, you both will make the effort to get to know eachother on deeper levels to check your chemistry and compatibility, everything will feel light and easy, you'll get along super well, they'll make you feel like you are in a safe place, if you are naturally introverted they'll make you feel protected and, in case you are an hyper independent person, you'll feel like you can finally relax and release some of the weight over your shoulders. At some point you'll have distance between you two but it won't separate you, I see you will make the best of every moment you spend together and, after a little time your person will offer you a seious commitment so you can start your life together as a couple, it might also be a soon engagement. I see that you'll be watching the pictures and videos you make together, especially if decide to travel, I see a fancy cabin near a forest where you are staying together to spend some alone time with nobody else there to bother you. The time you spend separated will play a major role for you two to decide that you want to be together forever, I see that your person will have a harder time being away from you, that's why they won't hesitate at the moment of offering you commitment, probably they give you a promise ring or tell you to get married, it will happen sooner than usual but both of you will feel certain about this relationship and what you want from it, you'll fit like puzle pieces and you'll both will understand why things didn't work with anybody else in the past.

Signals:

(Tea leafs: gong, key, shark, caterpillar, dagger, camel, unicorn, carriage)

For you, you'll be receiving good news about something you have done, it will be something exciting for you, a successful outcome for something you put a lot of effort in, you could even celebrate it with your close ones because this will make you very happy. There's a little warning for you about being responsible with your money but also I see you could loose something important like a jewel or something with big material value like a phone or something that sort, so if you suddently loose soemthing important take it as a sign that your person is about to enter your life. For your person I'd confirm what I said before about the trip, the carriage means a journey either be a mental or physical but I feel that it's a trip for vacation. This journey is because they have been through a period of worries and stress, they just have solved a problem before making this trip, this solution will involve some changes in their life that will align them with their highest good so, overcoming this obstacle will finally lead them to you, their most desired wish. They'll be taking a time to release all the tension they've been holding, it is surely oon holidays so check the calendar just in case, they'll be with more people in this journey, probably their siblings, your meeting will be something spontaneous, neither of you will be expetiing it

Channeled messages: Water sign, earth moon sign, family money, colors red and green, divine counterparts, white doves and sunflowers, many options in love, send you romantic phrases or pictures that reminds them of you, settle down, a midset change, aries season, 777, 1818

Pile 4:

Who is your destined person?:

(Cards: knight of wands, 10 of cups, moon, queen of pentacles, 8 of pentacles, knight of swords/ 7 of cups rev, 9 of swords, queen of pentacles, fool, empress)

Your person got the queen of pentacles repeated with two different tarot decks, this gives me the feeling that they feel plenty with the current direction of their life, with the 10 of cups I'd confirm that they feel happy and fulfilled and everything is working out for your person. Besides that luck is on their side naturally, your person has fought to be in the place they are right now, they are following their passion and vocation and being loyal to their heart has lead them to success and recognition, they are also very optimistic and knows how to see the good side of things at every situation. Your person reminds me of Eli from Boy swallows universe (please watch the show, it's awesome and you'll love Eli), your person is brave, independent and resourceful, even daring sometimes, they are loyal to their truth and their heart, in fact I see they can be a little obsessed with finding out the truth of things so they could even be into conspiracy theories or things that sort. Your person is a wanderer, a curious soul but with a grounded spirit, they can be wild sometimes but they know their own limits and knows when to stop, they are really down to earth and mature on the important matters but very lighthearted and spontaneus when the ocassion requires it. They have been through seriouus things in the past, they may have some unresolved heavy trauma they didn't gave themselves the chance to solve it so they might act reckless sometimes, but the good thing is that they have an strong moral compass and value system they keep loyal at every moment, betray their values would feel like betraying themselves and that's something they don't want to go through. Your person can be an unintentional heartbreaker, they don't want to hurt anybody's feelings but it's easy for people to catch feelings for your person, is something about their aura or their energy, they are so warm and gentle that everybody feels drawn to them and can't help but develop feelings for them, they are easy to be loved. Your person is really smart, they could be air dominant in their chart because they also seem like having a talent with words or being a great communicator, they are also very funny so expect to laugh a lot with them, they might be younger than you or it's simply that they have a youthful energy, whatever it is they have this childlike energy that makes them lovely. Your person has this golden retirever energy that everyone likes, they are also very friendly and seems to have it easy to create friendships with other people, their sense of humor is a plus on this aspect too, they are a sweetheart with a loving heart but they are also very hard working and commited to what they think is right, you'll feel super comfortable by their side, even though they could be younger they will give off very mature and reliable energy.

The connection:

(Cards: Keep an open mind, retreat, flirt, love yourself first, chemistry/ the sword and rose, girl talk, cupid's arrow, sunglasses, engagement ring)

Okay, at first they might not be your usual type or the kind of person you would be interested in, for some, your person could be younger than you and that could be a turn off for you. Your connection will bloom progressively by creating a friendship first, besides the fact that your person will be very into you from the very first moment, they'll prefer to respect your times and show you they are worthy of your love, they will feel like they are out of your league for some reason. You might run from them at a certain moment because you get confused with your emotions, especially for those of you reading this that are a water moon, you'll need some time to reflect on your emotions and realize that there's an inmense chemistry between you two, maybe this distance you take serves you as a reassurance of how drawn you feel to this person, they'll have a bad time with this retreat but for you will be very healing and enlightning. I see that there's a female or dominant femenine energy in your life you trust so much, that person is very reliable and wise, don't doubt to ask them for advice because she will bring you clarity about the situation, I'm glad to say that you have an amazing support system, count on that female friend when you need mental clarity because she will be very honest, for some of you this person could be a sister. During this separation you might think that your person is focused into their bussiness but they'll be into stalker mode (positively, of course), checking up on you, they might even ask someone close to you how you are doing just to know about you, they'll also be checking your social media to know about you, they won't do it in a creepy way, they'll feel the same pull to you but they have a harder time trying to contain their emotions, the good thing is that you seem to be very intuitive so you'll know when their energy is trying to approach you. They'll be so in love with you, it feels like they fell first but you'll fall harder after a while, you both are soulmates so, even though you'll try to fight your feelings, you can't help but fall for this person, and after you see how much they are willing to offer and their true esence you'll fall for them (I'm writting this at 15:15 on my clock in case it's a relevant number for you). They'll wear their heart on their sleeve, they'll be very protective of you and won't allow any disrispect to you, they can be cutthroating if anybody tries to mess with you, tey'll feel so honnoured by you focusing on them that they will try to make you the happiest person ever everyday of your life, they can't believe their luck by finding a person like you and receiving love from you, this connection will be an equal give and take, you both will do everything for the other to make them happy.

Signals:

(Tea leafs: dolphin, windchimes, fox, broken ring, bull, needle and thread, ant, table)

For you, you'll be in a very nice moment of your life when you are about to meet your person, you'll be receiving a big amount of money because of something you did in the past, like a material reward. This material abundance will give you a feeling of peace and relief, you have the chance to have some vacations or free time by yourself, I see you a little secretive about this, like you don't want anybody to ruin this good time, you may also be silent about the amount of money you receive. For your person, they'll be dettaching from someone or something, the broken ring is usually associated with romance but I feel it more related to bussiness so they might be changing their job for a healthiest enviroment (if you felt called to pile 1 I suggest you to check it), it seems like their current work field is forcing your person to sacrifice themselves and keeps them in a defensive position. They'll have to work hard but it will bring them stability and security.

Channeled messages: Acts of service, getting a pet together, a cat person, sleep problems, full moons affect their mood, white horses and moths, vivid dreams, sitcoms, a lot of laugh, mental fog, meditation, 1212, 444, taurus, gemini, aquarius

[sashiavi]

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this has been rotting in my documents since October </3 abandoned kinktober prompt I just couldn't get out of my head :((

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♡𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗♡ Wriothesley x Reader - wrio finds you stuck in a wall

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: | ¹⁸⁺ | ˢᵐᵘᵗ | ᵃᶠᵃᵇ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ | ᴾʳᶦˢᵒⁿᵉʳᵎ ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ | ᵖᵘⁿᶦˢʰᵐᵉⁿᵗ | ˢᵗᵘᶜᵏ ᶦⁿ ᵃ ʷᵃˡˡ | ᵖᵒʷᵉʳ ᵈʸⁿᵃᵐᶦᶜˢ | ᵈᵒᵐ/ˢᵘᵇ | ⁿᵃˢᵗʸ ⁿᵃˢᵗʸ ʷʳᶦᵒ ˢᵐᵘᵗ | ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ ³.⁵ᵏ

→ᴰᵃʳᵏ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵂᵃʳⁿᶦⁿᵍ←

ᵀʰᶦˢ ᴾᶦᵉᶜᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃᶦⁿˢ ᵀʰᵉᵐᵉˢ ᴼᶠ ⁻ ᴰᵘᵇᶜᵒⁿ|ᴰᵘᵐᵇᶦᶠᶦᶜᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿ|ˢᵗᵘᶜᵏᵃᵍᵉ| ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ᴰᶦˢᶜʳᵉᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᴵˢ ᴬᵈᵛᶦˢᵉᵈ

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Well, well. What an amusing predicament. Wriothesley certainly didn't expect his morning to turn out so… Interestingly. 

The Duke makes his rounds through the Fortress of Metropide twice a day. Once in the morning and again during the young hours of the night, right when the sun sets. Not that its rays could be seen so far down under the surface of the sea, but the sentiment was there. Wriothesely would often be seen passing through the establishment's pleasantries, always making a stop by the inmate sleeping quarters, he ought to have an idea of exactly whom he had in his Fortress.. Right?

He ventures further than the guards are assigned, boots clicking coolly against the metallic flooring, echoing through the high domed ceilings of the holding pods. The Duke makes an effort into personally peeking a look into each isolated cell, sometimes striking up a small conversation with an inmate or two. The man knew all-too-well just how lonesome time in prison was, he could at least acknowledge their existences. 

Speaking of, his mind wanders as he approaches a specific cell, isolated and cold - Away from the rest, segregated by the Fortress’ rule of separating cases, depending on their verdict - Wriothesley flitters back to a conversation he held the night before -

- “Now, what's a girl like you doing here in my Fortress?” Wriothesley leans himself upon the bars of your cell. The area was quiet, isolated with little inhabitants, even more so during the day time, while inmates congregated within the public area of the fortress. You jump slightly, whipping around to face him. 

“Oh, you know.. Stuff..” You reply, looking a little shameless towards him. He had an inkling that you were up to no good. But he’d bite.

“How’s the Fortress treating you? Despite the whole prison aspect,” He chuckles to himself, earning your own laugh, dancing in his ears.

“It’s.. a little boring in here,” He watches your eyes wander around the cell.

“Well- At least you have that poster there, plenty of fun to stare at, I’m sure.” Wriothesley lets his eyes crinkle. The poster was large, stuck to the wall haphazardly, crooked and torn on one corner. “That thing could cover up anything,” He side comments. He watches your interest pique, head tilting in what he could only describe as thought - A stupid one he thinks. 

“I wouldn't try it, you just might escape. I can't have that happen, now can I?” He winks, finally continuing his evening round throughout the section of the fortress.

All of that circles back to the now, as Wriothesley approaches your cell on his morning patrol. Something stirs in his chest, a tickling inkling. He nearly half expects you to have followed his gracious ‘advice’ - If you could even call it that. 

Lo and behold, the Duke spots a special individual poking out from the cracked cell wall. Your lower half nearly dangles from the partition, practically on tippy toes, ankles surely close to giving out from the awkward position. The poster from the night before lays perfectly on the floor next to your frame, comically outlining just how bad you had messed up. He nearly chuckles at the sudden jolt of your body as he unlocks the cell door, craning it open with an obnoxious creak.

“Well.. Aren’t you something?” His heavy boots resonate through the near barren cell, echoing as he makes his way towards your predicament.

You helplessly squirm, whining out of your throat as you fruitlessly struggle in your impromptu confines. Wriothesley stares down at you in utter bemusement, his face cracking with an audacious downturned smile; not that you could see his face through the thick prison wall. Poor You. All lodged and stuck.

"Y-Your Grace! It's not what it looks like-" Your voice manages through the wall, a little muffled to the ear. However, Wriothesley was sure you hadn’t even broken into the adjacent room.

"It's exactly what it looks like. Who knew you'd actually try it." He almost laughs. It wasn’t like you were going to go anywhere - Last he checked, the Fontainian Ocean was right outside their door.

“Seemed like a decent idea..” Wriothesley has to strain to hear your mumble.

“We’re far under the water dear.. Or did you forget in your haste?” This time, he makes no effort to stifle his laugh, chuckling out loud when your form visibly slumps - Whether out of embarrassment or defeat - He was thoroughly amused.

“Hmm.. Now, what do we do with you?” Wriothesley teases. He cranes his body, bending his back with purpose, inspecting the damage you had added to the already faulty wall. How you had managed to wiggle your way in this far, he hadn't a clue. Your body noticeably tenses, you make an attempt to find a proper footing, easily failing from the height of the hole.

“P-Please Your Grace- I’ll do anything, really! Anything you want just- please don’t add time for this..”

“You’ll do.. Anything…?” Call him confused, what were you on about?

“Yes, anything- ch-chores? Solitary? I’ll be good I swear, really- Or you could..” You trail off, leaving the Duke to sit with his whirring brain for a moment. “You.. Can take me… Use me how you want- Please~ Y-You’re stressed right? U-Use me.. Do whatever you wanna-” You sounded nearly delirious. Your pretty ass shakes, brushing up against the front of his pants, a feeble attempt to press back into him.

Were you trying to bargain with him? Wriothesley was more than ready to pull you out, maybe give a little slap on the wrist and send you on your merry way. But now? The Duke couldn't help but indulge in the feeling of his pants tightening around his groin. The idea of taking your pretty self, stuck helplessly in the wall. He couldn't refuse your offer, right? Not when you sounded so eager. Not when you begged for him, for his body, for his thick aching cock, threatening to burst the seam of his trousers. 

Before he can properly stop himself - Not that he was really going to - Wriothesley finds his hands on the soft swell of your ass, squeezing the flesh in his palms. You jolt under his touch, footing slipping slightly against the floor that barely brushed against your toes. Wriothesley breathes hard from his nose, hooking his fingers into the cut of your waistband, pulling the fabric over your form. He hears a whimper from beyond the wall.

“Y-Your Grace…The wall..” Your voice wobbles, body tensing against the brush of his hands.

“What? Having second thoughts?” He can’t help but tease you, squishing his fingers into the soft meat of your ass, digging his hands into your half-on pants. You did say anything. You gasp out, voice cracking with muffled little pleas. ‘Never’ you say ‘Want it bad - so bad’.

Your pants come off quickly, thrown to the floor in a crumple. Wriothesley’s hands are on you again, spreading the fat of your ass apart, marvelling at the pretty swell of your pussy hugged against your panties. He watches your plush thighs squish together, rubbing and squirming in his hold, he couldn't tell if you were wiggling away or keening into him. Not that you could go anywhere. The thought irks a chuckle out of Wriothesley. His fingers wander again, caressing over the soft skin of your ass, digging them in and jiggling cheekily. His thumbs slide over and hook into the elastic of your panties, hugging around the thick of your legs. He meanly tugs at the snappy material, pulling it up and taught, forcing the fabric to cling achingly against your cunt. His tongue instinctively pokes from behind his lips, itching to lap at the pretty wet spot that had formed over the fabric. 

Wriothesley swallows thickly, eyes locked on your pretty cunt, head swimming with the short, hiccuped whines that cut through the wall. You babble and cry, repeating his title over and over - Your Grace, Your Grace - begging him to just touch. To do anything - Anything. 

Your pretty voice gets to him and he finds himself nearly ripping your drenched panties off of you. He pulls them down, leaving them dangling off of your legs, showing off your wet cunt just for him. Gods, he wasn't disappointed. Your pretty pussy peeks from behind the swell of your thighs, already dripping wet, all over yourself. He swears he twitches, breath hissing through his teeth, cold on your core. The sweet jump you make - as best as you could - sends him reeling. 

Wriothesley’s thick fingers tentatively poke at your dripping pussy, catching your sweet, dribbly slick on his fingertips. He awes at how it webs between his fingers, how you’d managed to work yourself up with your own babbling. Perhaps the wall aided a little - Showing off your bottom half, on full display just for him to enjoy, your own vision obscured. You wouldn't see anything coming. The thought runs straight to his cock, making itself well known again against the fly of his trousers. 

Wriothesley licks against his lips, enamoured at the pretty string of your slick on his fingers, sticking between his digits like a lattice. He needs more. He wastes no time, easily slipping in two of his fingers, knuckle deep right into the doughy swell of your hole. Gods, you felt so soft. Silky to his touch, pussy pretty and plushy and warm. The squeal that muffles through the wall forces him to sink his teeth into his own bottom lip. Toying with you came to him naturally. Ever so easy with you all snug and stuck, silly enough to try and swindle him and escape your commitment to the Fortress. 

“W-Wriothesley… your g-grace..” He ignores you, fingers digging into the sweet, supple curve of your cunt. He curls them downward, earning the prettiest, muffled cries through the wall. He releases a breath he didn't even know he was holding. Wriothesley thrusts his fingers hard. Pressing meanly into the achy swollen bump in your core, getting a kick out of the lewd suckling squelch of your pussy on his fingers. Your poor legs practically give out, ankles going limp, your body holding itself up thanks to the wall hugging your body. Your voice crackles through the cement, whiney and keening, babbling dumb nonsensical begs and pleads to him. Your slick pools against his knuckles, threatening to overturn the snug fit of his rings on his fingers. He can't help but stare, locked in, mind reeling with the way your cunt wrapped around his digits. He couldn't help but wonder just what that pretty little thing would look like, all red and puffy, hugging on his thick cock.

He shamelessly lets out his own groan. Finally managing to remove his fingers, watching in awe as your slick drips off of them, connecting him to you with a thin, dribbly line. 

Just a taste…

The thought zaps through his brain, tongue shamelessly poking its way past his teeth, running over his lips with a quick tilt of his head.

Wriothesley wastes no time. Wrapping his lips against your slick cunt, eyes rolling hard into the back of his skull. Fuck. Your taste on his tongue, sweet and tangy, oh so decadently coating his throat. Archons, he laps and suckles, nearly sinking his teeth into the heat of your core, into the puffy swell of your pussy lips. You keen back into him, whining never-ending, absolutely ceaseless, voice managing to pierce through the heavy material of the wall you’d stuck yourself in. That thought charges through his mind again. Poor little you, all stuck and lodged in the wall all for him to play with. The man was sure he would cream in his own pants if he kept up. He barely registers his knees beginning to ache under the heavy pressure of his own body meeting the floor. Since when had he managed to sink down? Finding his hands back on your plushy ass cheeks? Chin dribbling slobber and slick, sticking wetly to the scratchy stubble shadowing over his face? He couldn't take it anymore. 

Wriothesley stands with a start, ignoring the stiff crack of his knees in favour of unbuckling his godforsaken pants. His hands are clumsy, large palms pawing at the metal of his trousers, his belt suddenly too intricate for his rough, fervent body to figure out - Not with how his mind reels, with the sight of you stuck in the wall, pretty pussy drooling, on display all for him. He barely shoves his pants to his thighs, the material wrapping around his legs in a mess. His cock weeps as it's free, slapping up into his stomach, heavy balls hanging over the waist of his trousers. He leaks beads of sticky pre, messing up the surface of his dress shirt. Wriothesley groans out loud, hand coming up to wrap around the base of his cock, squeezing it up and down to ease the hot tension pulsing through his thick cock vein. 

He was sure you heard the cold clink of his belt, the only inkling of what was to come for you. He can't help but jerk his length off to the sight of you, shamelessly stalling just to mess with your head. No matter how much you squirm and beg, crying out as best as you could, stupidly asking for a reply to gather any kind of indication of what he was about to do to you. He stays silent.

Wriothesley meanly slaps his cock over the sticky, wet folds of your achy cunt, he chuckles when you jump again, going absolutely crazy for your every little reaction. Your pussy sounded so pretty on his tip, all wet and sticky as he slapped and rubbed against it. His fat tip slides over your warm, slick folds, craning his hips forward, catching against your sopping hole, earning him the softest gasps from within the wall. Your little jumps all but spur him all the more on.

“M’ not even in yet.. Pussy’s already tryin’ to suck me in,” Wriothesley pokes his tip against your hole, catching it against the warm, supple squeeze of your cunt. He growls through his teeth, head quickly draining of any cohesive decision making. Your babbling continues through the wall, your hips crane up into his own, wiggling and catching back on the thick head of his dick. Gods, that does it. You were insatiable, all stuck waiting for him to come along and ravage your pretty cunt with his cock. 

It all urges him to dive in, give your poor cunt no warning for his thick, dribbling cock.

And so he does.

“Fuuuckk” Wriothesley can’t help but groan, finally feeling the sweet swell of your cunt enveloped the fat length of his cock. He has to bite into his thumb, just to slow himself down, let himself relish in the sweet squeeze of your cunt on his cock. Gods the way you wrapped around him, silky soft walls hugging on his length. He can't help but awe at the way your achy pussy squeezed on him, all puffy and sore from neglect. His hands find your hips, one of the only parts free from the wall.

“Your Grace~.. So big- so biiig… Filling me up- please please… please” Your silly voice cracks through the wall. Wriothesley digs his fingers into the flesh of your hips, purposely lifting your poor legs off of the floor, leveraging your body just for him to use. You squirm in his hold, easily forcing him to grip you tighter.

“Fuck, stay still. Gonna make me go crazy..” Wriothesley finds himself mindlessly rocking his thick cock into your silky cunny, humping his hips against your ass like some kind of dog in rut. Archons, he could get used to this. His own personal little wall slut, always there for him to use and abuse. His eyes roll at the idea, his snapping hard, earning a loud hiccuped cry from within the thick wall. The hot squelch that follows has him nearly drooling, mouth dropped open in a soft frown, eyes locked on to his heavy cock sliding in and out of your dumb cunt. He fucks his hips hard again, cock head smacking into the deepest parts of your pussy.

Wriothesley doesn't remember speeding up. But he sure as hell won't be slowing down - not anytime soon. Your gushy pussy squelches on his cock, dribbling down your thighs, messing all over your poor aching legs. Wriothesley’s fingers keep a hold of your hips, rocking them slightly to meet his brutal pace. He doesn't have to crane his ears to hear your pretty moans, effortlessly reaping through the solid wall, barely muffled by the sheer loudness of your voice. 

Fuck, he didn’t care about the noise. Let everyone hear them. What were they going to do about it? What were you going to do about it? About getting all stuck in this wall, going against the Fortress’ protocol? Seducing the Duke of the Meropide, forcing him to fuck your dumb brains out to teach you a lesson? A growl resonates from his throat, hips snapping hard, clapping into the sweet swell of your ass cheeks as he fucks up your cunt. 

Wriothesley’s eyes wander, locking down on the sweet jiggle of your ass and the puffy red throb of your cunt on his cock. A heavy breath makes its way through his nose, eyes hyper focused on the pretty, creamy ring around his length as he fucks his hips against you, slowly leaking its way on to his pants. An ache builds in his pelvis, thick vein pulsing on the underside of his cock. Your moans don't stop, legs continuously squirming in his grasp, body stuck in the juncture of your silly wall. He thinks you beg, maybe you scream, crying out for him to keep going, to fill you up to cum hard and deep and mess up your insides. 

Wriothesley drops your legs, forcing you to dangle, his hands press into the wall above, grinding his hips upwards, stabbing your pussy impossibly deeper with his length. Sweat beads off of his nose, his calves cramp and ache with every thrust he makes, but Gods, he wasn't going to stop. He finds himself moaning out loud, complementing the pretty noises that creak through the wall. Your pussy hugs on his length, squeezing nice and tight, wrapping around his fat tip every time he slams it back into you. 

His teeth grit hard. Eyes still locked on to the messy slide of his length, in and out, in and out. He was coming close. So fucking close.

Wriothesley’s brow scrunches, relishing in the aching squeeze of your messy pussy on his cock. He couldn't take it anymore. The creamy ring he’d fucked out of you, the pretty ripple of your ass on his hips, how juicy and gushy your cunt was on his length. Gods, it was all so much. His hips snap, pace faltering, clapping his hips in heated staccatos, dragging his length out and slamming right back in with a hard smack. You cry with every thrust, silky cunt squeezing on his tip, babbling his name over and over and over. 

He finally spills with a deep, hard fuck. His thick tip spurts hot rivulets of cum into your silky pussy. He messes your insides with white, fucking himself through his orgasm, humping up on your cunt, mounting your pussy with his cock. His throat growls with every fuck, sweat beads off of the tip of his nose, he watches his hot spurts leak steadily out of your hole, leaking around the base of his length. He can’t help but nestle right into your cunt, relishing in the sweet squeeze of your milky walls on him, he cranes his hips every so often, teasing his aching tip with your soft insides.

You kick and whine as eventually, he pulls out, dribbling his hot white cum down your thighs. 

“No~ need more! More more!” Your muffled voice cries, pitifully wiggling within the hug of the wall, attempting to squirm your way out.

Wriothesley chuckles hotly, eying off the sweet gush of cum that drools out of your puffy pussy. His mouth waters, salivating like a dog. Surely he could take you out of the wall a little later? You’d understand. You’d been a great little wall slut for him so far, so why not indulge for as long as he wanted? Maybe he'd let you cum, spray and mess all over yourself - He could even let you out as a reward.

His finger comes up to caress over your spent hole, scooping up the leaking slick that coated your poor pussy. The cry he earns makes his half-hard cock stiffen, bobbing to life with a flex.

Archons, weren’t you something?

hnnnnnng gg g wrio wooof wOof - my longest fics are always wrio </3

Idk what possessed me to create this- I hope you enjoyed ;3

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Thank You For Reading! Comments Are Always, Always Appreciated! Ilysm <333

♡ᵀᵃᵍˡᶦˢᵗ♡

@madsw9 @pvbbyb0y @heath-sama @shiningpaint-marbleheart @the-massive-simp @tericula @a-random-weeb @mechalily @mydarlingdahlia @finnie9479

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Do Not Translate Or Repost - Property Of SashiAvi ♡

[nottswitch]

— 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥.

summary: you had finally convinced Tom to take you to the Restricted Section. however, the outcome might not be something you had originally planned.

pairing: tom riddle x fem!reader

cw: 18+ smut, cockwarming, oral (m receiving), throatfucking, gagging, mentions of nausea (no actual vomiting), slight choking, orgasm denial? ignoring?? I think that’s all, if I missed anything, let me know!

wc: 3.3k

a/n: listen. listen. this man has been in my head for the last month, and recently he decided to come into my dream? that’s just rude, so that’s what you get as revenge. this fic is also a result of my pent up frustration at life rn, so do with that what you will. also, this is my first time ever writing smut and writing for tom, so pls let me know if it’s any good and if I shall continue on the path. enjoy <3

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You had finally done it.

You had finally convinced Tom to take you to the Restricted Section with him. After the whole month of begging almost every day, he agreed, albeit awfully begrudgingly, but you were on cloud nine nonetheless. He told you some stuff about his late-night visits to the library from time to time, but you were always burning for more information, considering your own striving for knowledge. He always said the same thing, that he appreciated your effort, but if you could stop trying to make him abuse his Prefect’s power and possibly lose himself the position, it would make both of your lives easier. But you persevered and were finally reaping the rewards, sitting next to him at the table, with a stack of ancient books in front of you, sometime far after midnight.

What you didn’t expect, though, was how absolutely fucking irresistible he would look merely existing. The books were taken out, the first one was flipped through and now they sat on the table, long forgotten, as you just stared at Tom, almost devouring him with your eyes. To be fair, the sight of him was truly divine – his face calm and concentrated, hovering over a particular book he had been studying for the last week, distracted simply to switch to his journal and take another note. His hands resting on the table, holding a quill, scribbling down lines with his exquisite handwriting… They were sinful, those hands. You had to get ahold of at least one. His left hand was in the process of mindlessly caressing the corner of the book with his middle finger when your hand slowly creeped towards it. You lightly brushed your fingertips along the outer part of his hand. No reaction. You started drawing circles along the whole area, skimming along his wrist and thumb. Nothing. You decided to go further and began intertwining your fingers together.

Finally. A sigh.

And he didn’t even look. His hand grabbed yours and put it away, back on the table. And nothing, absolutely nothing changed about the focused expression painted on his face. That was really annoying, but also… hot, in a way? Almost as if he was playing hard to get. You were already aroused just by looking at him, but his silent rejection made you nearly desperate. Your panties were pretty much soaked, and he, quite literally, barely lifted a finger.

Before you could gain control over your hand, it moved dangerously close to his thigh. You put your hand a little above his knee and gradually advanced higher and higher up his leg. Only when you were caressing his inner thigh did you hear another sigh. Tom raised an eyebrow and turned his head a couple centimeters in your direction, his eyes still on the book.

“What?” he asked, the tone of his voice only ever so slightly irritated. His composure remained intact. He wasn’t even fazed by the fact that you were so close to grabbing him through his pants.

“You look so handsome like that, you know?”

You made your best attempt to lace your voice with saccharine seduction. Your hand kept stroking his inner thigh, inching further and further up with each stroke. The only thing he did was thoughtlessly nod, as if he forgot about your existence immediately after asking the question.

You started getting frustrated and even more turned on. You moved your chair closer to his and began caressing his shoulder, brushing your fingers along his neck when they reached it. You slowly moved down to his back and arm, your nails applying some pressure on his body so that he could feel them scratching his skin even through the fabric of his shirt. It had always been one of the rare things to grab his attention, and it worked this time as well. He sighed, closed the book with his finger between the right pages and turned his head to you. His expression was that of mild annoyance, his eyebrow raised again.

“What exactly was the reason you’d been begging me to bring you here? Would you care to remind me?”

You lowered your gaze and your hand on his shoulder stopped, but just for a second. Then you continued, thinking that there was no return at that point and at least you had a chance, now that his attention was on you.

“Knowledge,” you admitted.

“And what kind of knowledge are you trying to soak up right now?”

His eyes flicked towards your hand still massaging his shoulder. You rolled your eyes and shifted in your chair at the mention of the word “soak”. But it was time for drastic measures. You stood up to crouch next to him, so that your mouth was right at the same level as his ear. Your hand moved to his inner thigh again, traveling up to his crotch and back. You felt him harden under your touch and the mere fact brought you immense amounts of satisfaction.

“Come on, Tom, love, we both know what I want right now,” you started whispering, your lips nearly touching his ear. “You. I want you. On the table, on the floor, against the wall, it literally doesn’t matter. If you don’t take me right here, right now, I will die.”

The look on his face didn’t change in the slightest when he grabbed your throat with his right hand and guided you from his left to his front, tightly squeezed between him and the desk. You stayed in your half-crouched position, trying your hardest not to tremble in the knees. The corner of Tom’s mouth lifted ever so slightly while he silently studied your face and body. His grip on your throat tightened when he lifted up his hand, causing you to straighten your half-bent legs. He shot a commanding look at his lap and, guided by his hand, you climbed there, sitting down and sighing as you could finally relax your already aching knees. But your state of relaxation didn’t last, as he abruptly spread his legs, causing yours to shoot open as well and your ass to be left hanging in the air. In order not to fall to the ground, you had to lean back on the desk, propping your front upwards, towards him.

His hand moved from your throat to the hem of your skirt. With quick and methodic movements Tom rolled it up, tucking it behind the top part of the skirt, and spread your thighs even further with a firm press of his thumbs. You felt a heatwave of embarrassment wash over you as he evaluated the state of your panties, an amused smirk tugging the corner of his mouth. A spot of wetness was wonderfully visible and on display. His eyebrow went up and down as he looked up at you, brushing his thumb in a feather-like touch along the still covered surface of your cunt. You threw your head back, partly because you didn’t want to meet his eyes, partly because your own eyes rolled to the point you couldn’t see in front of you and you could barely hold in a moan as myriads of goosebumps spread throughout your body just from this simple touch.

“Look at me.”

Tom clearly didn’t appreciate the lack of eye contact. You clenched your jaw and looked back, met by the sheer intensity of his stare. The stare that had all the power in the world to melt you into a puddle at any given moment. He brushed his other thumb over the same place again, watching your face carefully as you tried to keep your composure. Didn’t help. Your bit your bottom lip, but a sound escaped you nonetheless. Tom’s smirk widened.

“Let’s see,” he quietly muttered, pulling your panties to the side. Your cunt was already slicked and throbbing, which was even more embarrassing, because he looked like he was an inspector evaluating the goods. The smirk faded from his lips as his finger rubbed against your folds, barely spreading them apart and not reaching the clit to provide the much-needed sensation. You couldn’t help throwing your head back again, almost drawing blood from the pressure of your teeth against your bottom lip.

“I said. Look. At. Me.”

Tom uttered every word in a clear, emotionless voice, but it was the very thing that meant trouble. You looked back and the intensity of his stare only grew exponentially. He reached your face with his hand and grabbed your cheeks between his thumb and index finger, squeezing them, so that your lips formed into some sort of a pout.

“Don’t make me repeat myself. Keep looking until I say you can stop.”

You quickly nodded, intimidated by his frigid dominance. His hand went back to your cunt. He slid his fingers deeper between the folds, lightly brushing against the clit. Your hips jerked up as they tried to follow the path of his fingers, but his other hand held you firmly in place, not allowing a single extra bit of pleasure. He slid them back once more and then the middle one slipped inside you, up to the very base. A jolt of pleasure shook your body, as strong as the feeling of disappointment when he quickly removed the digit. You tried to whine but another look from him quickly shut you up. Tom raised his hand, rubbed his index, middle finger and thumb together and then separated; a sticky string of your wetness was a connection between them and a blatant manifestation of your arousal.

“Soaked. Just like I thought.”

The slightest hint of a smirk returned to his lips as his fingers reached your mouth.

“Open.”

Each of his words was stern, not leaving room for any disobedience. You opened your mouth and Tom pushed two fingers inside, pressing at the entrance of your throat and instantly making you gag. He kept his fingers there for a moment while you clutched the desk behind you to stop your body from shaking as you kept gagging, but not daring to push his hand away. A couple seconds later, when he saw you were on the verge of giving up, his fingers slowly traveled back out of your mouth. You tightly wrapped your lips around them and sucked your slick off, knowing that it was exactly what he wanted you to do. After leaving your mouth his fingers cupped your chin, as his thumb glided over your lips, covering them with the rest of your wetness.

“Now,” Tom leaned back on the chair, looking you up and down, his voice suddenly smooth and enticing, but his gaze still intense, “I see you are rather bored here with me, doll.”

When he said the word, you knew that the next part wouldn’t be so much for your pleasure as it would be completely for his. It wasn’t a meaningless pet-name for him, no, it held value. It meant that you would be treated exactly like a doll: mindless and limp. He saw your eyes widen at “doll” and a faint smirk was on his lips again: he was aware of the connotation and so were you.

“And to save you the trouble of a wandering mind, I am pleased to announce that I have a much better use for a doll like you.”

He waited to continue for a minute, letting you absorb the information and your thoughts fill with speculations. His hand brushed a stray hair from your forehead, him seeming just like a caring boyfriend for a moment.

“Kneel.”

You slowly stood up from his lap, feeling your stretched out limbs relax and almost fail to hold you up, and lowered down to your knees in front of him. From this point of view, he was even more attractive, compellingly so; it was worth it standing on your knees on the cold stone floor of the Restricted Section just for this sight alone. He slowly started unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, almost as if he wanted you to enjoy the show. You drank up every single movement of his slender fingers as he pulled down his pants and underwear just enough for his cock to bounce right out, against his lower abdomen.

“You like what you see, doll?”

You fervently nodded, your mouth salivating just at the thought of being able to suck him off right then. He saw the fire in your eyes and scoffed, shaking his head.

“It is no ordinary pleasure that I want from you now, doll.”

He beckoned you to move closer and you eagerly did, your face just mere centimeters away from his length. Your breath quickened as you thought about the implication of “no ordinary pleasure”.

“Now, give me your hands, doll.”

You lifted your hands and he wrapped his belt around them, tightening it to the point when it started to hurt and you knew it would leave deep marks on your wrists. Then, you tried to position yourself in a way that would allow your hands to support you, but you could only reach the floor with your fingertips.

Tom ran his fingers through your hair, in a touch almost gentle and soothing, and then suddenly yanked you up and forward, straight onto his cock, thrusting his whole length into your mouth, the tip reaching the very back of your throat. You lifted on your knees and violently gagged at the feeling, your hands inadvertently flying up, trying to push back, but the belt didn’t let you make any substantial impact. He held you firmly in place while you kept quivering and making gagging sounds, him clearly enjoying seeing you in this state. Slowly, you adjusted to his cock filling your whole mouth and your body went weak as you lowered back down, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. You tried to look up with just your eyes, not being able to move your head; it hurt too much, so you lowered your gaze, the only thing in front of you being his lower abdomen. As you tried to shift in your place, you felt a whiff of the chilly library air against your soaked panties and the sensation drove you nearly through the roof.

“Now, doll, you have to stay like that while I keep going with my work. A fair warning out of the goodness of my heart: it might take a while.”

You blinked, trying to wrap your mind around the fact that this could continue for another hour or two. Your head was held back by the edge of the desk cutting into your nape, so you weren’t able to move at all. You were completely at his mercy, he could do literally whatever he wanted, but he chose not to do anything. As soon as he let go of your hair, he went straight back to his book, taking notes as if nothing had happened.

Time went by painfully slowly. The constant feeling of him in your mouth and throat overwhelmed you to the point when you started to twitch at times, shifting your weight to get any semblance of friction against your aching core. The position you were in didn’t allow that at all, your head being stuck firmly between the desk and his body. The most irritating thing about the whole ordeal was the fact that Tom ignored you completely, fully absorbed in whatever kind of studying he was doing. You tried to get his attention a couple of times by producing incoherent sounds and trying to tighten your lips around him, but you quickly understood that there was no use. You tried counting seconds and minutes, but your mind gave up when you reached fifteen. The only things you could think about were his cock and getting something, any type of pressure on your clit. Your wetness soaked through your panties and, you were pretty sure, was dripping down your thighs, creating a small puddle on the floor underneath you.

You didn’t know how much time had passed before you finally heard the book shut. You almost shuddered at the sound, your pupils dilating and your breath accelerating, probably close to the speed of light. Tom leaned on the back of the chair, looking down at you with one of his smirks of the devil himself. His hand ruffled your hair, pulling at it to slightly lift your head up and shove it back down, as if he was trying to gauge if you were still alive. At the sound of your muffled groan he raised his eyebrows, amused.

“The doll has some life left in her. What a pleasant surprise. You look perfectly splendid like that.”

You groaned again, the sound coming from somewhere inside your chest. You desperately wanted to look up, but your head was still pressed in its place. Tom scoffed, messing with your hair once again.

“The time has come for some more… customary activities of ours, don’t you think?”

As if you could answer. You tried to nod, but the edge of the desk only further cut into your nape, making you wince in pain.

“The doll seems to agree. Pleasure.”

He moved the chair a bit further from the desk. With more space you could finally properly breath, so you shifted in your place, your stiff legs aching as you had to follow the movement of the chair. Tom’s hand gripped your hair and pulled you upwards, releasing almost the entirety of his length from your mouth apart from the tip. The sudden emptiness made your throat clench and you felt nausea building up rapidly, although the feeling had no time to develop as you were quickly shoved down again, your nose nearly crashing against his body. Tears gathered in your eyes sprayed all over, your lips stretched even more than they already were and you prayed the corners of your mouth wouldn’t crack. The tension building up in your core was begging to be released as you were being thrusted up and down again and again, the tip of his cock stroking the back of your throat again and again, causing you to produce the most sinful gagging sounds known to man. You tried to balance on your tied up hands, but your fingertips just barely brushed against the floor as your whole body moved in unison with your head. Tom barely made any sound, a heavy breath occasionally escaping his lips. He threw his head back, his eyes closed, while you took him whole at the mercy of his hand.

At last, you felt his thrusts speeding up, sensing his release. After a couple of especially violent ones he let out a quiet groan, and you felt his hot semen filling you up and spilling down your throat as he pressed you all the way down. Your breaths were heavy but barely audible, his cock still stuffing your mouth to the brim. Tom heaved a deep sigh as you felt his grip on your hair loosening. You didn’t dare to move until he pulled you up, lifting your head with his finger on your chin, looking straight into your eyes. Your vision was blurry from tears, more of them running down your face and dripping down to the floor as they slid off your jawline. Your lips were swollen and you couldn’t properly close your mouth yet, panting in quick and dry breaths. Tom smirked, taking in the sight of your utter destruction.

“A broken doll. Truly a sight to behold.”

He leaned back on the chair again, pulling up his underwear and zipping the pants. Then, he bent down, taking your hands gently in his and undoing the belt. His fingers made their way across the deep red marks on your wrists, caressing them with utmost attention.

“You have been a very good doll for me tonight. Now, what do you say to spending the night in my dorm? The doll has to receive her rightful reward.”

[finalgirllx]

thunderstorms

took some heavy liberties with week 3 of @thatdammchickennugget and i's jinxed july challenge to write the forced proximity mattheo riddle fic of my dreams. i hope you enjoy it just as much as i do. and also big thanks to @pizzaapeteer for proofing, i love you! 2.5k words | fluff? i think | f!reader implied

Snap. Another twig breaks underneath the tattered soles of your shoes while you continue the trek along the less-traveled grove. The air is thick with the scent of wildflowers and earth, and sunlight filters down on you through the leafy branches, casting shadows on the greenery that litters the forest floor. It is pristine, seemingly unaffected by too much human activity. 

That is until Mattheo and you embarked on an increasingly futile mission imposed by your one common interest - your mutual friend Enzo. He had eagerly insisted that it be the two of you that forage for an ingredient native to the area, claiming that adding it to a drink mix can get you wasted quicker than any brew sold in shops.

The pair of you had done well not to stumble too far from Enzo's parents' summer home. A generous invitation had been offered to your friend's group - a chance to relax and kick back there over the long weekend. A relatively secluded area, it is sparsely populated by second homes of the upper class or rickety cabins so old that not even magic can prevent them from slowly succumbing to the elements. Everyone tries to enjoy the spoils of the location's offerings, as it is a sweet spot to spend the few warmer months in Britain.

"Y'know, I am not an outdoorsy guy," Mattheo complains after another branch scrapes his forearm. "This is the dumbest mission Enzo could have sent us on."

"At least we can agree on one thing," you mutter exasperatedly. "I should have known you'd have no sense of your lefts and rights."

Two steps ahead of you, Mattheo pauses and looks back, his expression suggesting, 'You want to go there?' His brows raise, and his chocolate curls still fall perfectly over his forehead despite endless collisions with twigs and branches. Honestly, you were unsure if his looks or personality irked you more. You glare back so he knows exactly how you feel about the situation.

"Right, take no accountability for being one-half of why we are still out here," Mattheo responded in kind, then turning back to continue leading the way.

"You are rid-"

"Ridiculously handsome? I know. Come up with some new material, sweetheart," Mattheo interrupts with his unending cocky attitude. Preparing to unleash more insults, you are startled by the feeling of a cold drop on your head. Then another. And another.

A loud clap echoes above, booming in the sky, followed shortly by the rapid motion of overcast clouds moving in, blocking out any remaining sunlight. A second roar of thunder bursts, sending out another warning that a storm is fast approaching. The sudden singular drop quickly builds into a consistent shower, and the panic sets in over the both of you. Mattheo takes charge, gesturing for you to follow him and for once, you decide to take his lead without talking back, which might have been a mistake as you continue deeper into the forest and further away from the house.

Minutes felt like hours under the increasingly ceaseless downpour as you and Mattheo scrambled through the grove. Finally spotting an old cabin structure, you make a break for it and dash underneath the awning for some reprieve. Mattheo vigorously jiggles the knob of the dilapidated door, seeming to forget his wizarding abilities. Propelled by a clash of thunder, you watched Mattheo resort to brute force, managing to barrel through the door and get you two inside. 

Solely focused on escaping the pouring sky, you follow him in while heaving from the chaos.

"Nice going, genius," you admonished Mattheo while catching your breath. "Forget a first-year unlocking charm?"

"Ungrateful as ever," Mattheo responds gruffly, his amusement overshadowed by temporary exhaustion as he steps over and shuts the door that is barely held up on its hinges. "See? I got you out of the rain, and the door still works." 

The two of you take some time to shake yourselves off in a meager effort to eliminate that soaked feeling. Squeezing out your top,  you silently curse at the unpleasantness of your damp hair that now clings to your face. You looked over and watched Mattheo shaking his head, his hair splattering leftover water all over the vicinity.

"You're like a wet dog," you feign disgust, unable to resist a chance to tease.

"What else am I expected to do?" Mattheo countered, brushing his hands through his hair and hoping for the best.

"Be more tasteful with it," you suggested, suppressing a snort afterward at your own poor choice of words.

"Tasteful? You seriously went with tasteful?" Mattheo caught on, his disgruntled look from the uncomfortable wet transforming into a grin. "Bloody hell, sweetheart, I know you love my perfect curls, but that really is the least of my concerns." 

You coped by turning away to continue drying yourself off, hoping he did not see your disconcerted expression.

Once Mattheo reached a state of dampness he could live with, he stepped toward the intact windows to watch the storm outside. It was miraculous that a cabin as worse for wear as this one held its own against the onslaught.

"Well, we might be stuck here for some time. I suggest you get comfortable," Mattheo announced with a resigned sigh, glancing back to the room for potential spots to sit or, more accurately, the lack thereof. "The floor. The floor will do."

He follows through, eyeing spaces on the rickety floorboards to settle down. You roll your eyes at the idea, though the increasing weight of your legs after all that running starts to wear on you and beckon you down. So you give in, finding your own spot to settle, a perfectly reasonable distance from him. His eyes bore into you with an unreadable expression, a bit too analytical for your comfort. You are not too fond of him watching your every move. Not at all.

"Could you look elsewhere? I am not your prey to stalk," you finally snap. 

"What? This is just how I look at things. You cannot blame me; it is either you or the rotting walls," Mattheo retorts, emphasizing his point with a gesture of his hands.

"Your eyes are… they look too hard!" you complain amidst a struggle to find the right way to explain why his gaze ruffled you so much.

"Too hard? She thinks I look too hard, whatever the hell that means. Salazar, help us, a true wordsmith in the midst," Mattheo complained to himself, ensuring his frustration was loud enough to invite further squabbling.

"I am just saying! Look elsewhere!" you insisted.

"I can't help it. You are more interesting-looking," Mattheo justified through gritted teeth, his increasing annoyance evident.

"Interesting-looking? And you accuse me of being unable to talk today. Is that meant to be a compliment?"

"Tell me you would not have my head if I called you pretty, so interesting it is!" Mattheo growled in a harsh but earnest tone. He shook his head, jaw clenched to the point of discomfort over what he admitted. Just to add to the pettiness, he scooted to face even further away from your direction.

This development undoubtedly took you by surprise, silencing you momentarily in your conversation. You always had a comeback for Mattheo, but this was the first time you had absolutely no clue how to retaliate.

"Pretty?" you repeated, pushing aside your dignity to clarify you had heard correctly.

"Yes, pretty," Mattheo confirmed, his voice huskier than the bellowing moments prior. "Is that such a shock to you?"

It honestly did feel like a shock. In all the time you had known each other, the words you exchanged were cheeky at best and plain disrespectful at worst. A more tender way of describing you was not something you expected to come from Mattheo at all.

"It is. I thought I was just your favorite punching bag," you admitted. 

"Oh, please. Do you honestly believe I would answer you at all if I really could not stand you? Perhaps you are more dimwitted than I initially presumed."

"I just thought—"

"And given that I have seen you quite literally punch some poor bloke who truly bothered you, I assumed you fell into a similar train of thought, no?"

Hell, you hated it when he was right. Something about Mattheo kept you coming back for more in a way that couldn't simply be attributed to the proximity of your friend group. The feelings creeping up inside you now had less to do with being stuck in a cabin with him through a storm and more with how this predicament forced you to come to terms with how you truly felt. You visibly shifted where you sat as feelings you had no clue how to handle washed over you more intensely than the rain still pouring outside.

Mattheo rose again without warning and stalked around the cabin, this time on a mission.

"What are you doing?"

"A blanket, a towel. Something to warm you up," he replied, his attention fixed on his newfound goal, which was an insatiable need to help and protect you in your wetted state. 

"You do not have to! It will probably be full of mildew should you even find one," you protested through your sheer surprise at his kind gesture.

Initially written off as too damp to use, the fireplace centered on the cabin's back wall was suddenly vital to Mattheo's mission. Finally remembering that he was a wizard, Mattheo reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wand, and crouched in front of the fireplace.

"Incendio…" he spoke the incantation, causing a flame to spout from his wand toward the firewood on top of the grate, hoping they were not too far gone from the elements.

To your shared relief, a small fire came to life before your eyes, its glow brightening your dampened spirits which was soon followed by an embrace of its much-needed heat. 

"Yes!" Mattheo hissed excitedly, hurriedly gesturing you to come closer, and you did. The previous distance you had created no longer mattered, as you were now shoulder-to-shoulder with him for a chance to enjoy the warmth provided by the lit fireplace.

With the both of you too focused on warming up by the crackling flames and learning to ignore the blaring storm outside, peaceful silence hung in the air. A mutual respect arose between you as you ruminated over the afternoon's events.

You glanced at Mattheo, whose shoulder you were now definitely pressed against, and seized the opportunity to check him out shamelessly. He was right; that penetrative gaze remained even in his resting state. The light from the fire highlighted the warmth in his eyes that usually matched the dark of night, and his brown locks that had dried into bouncy coils perfectly suited his chiseled structure. The last remaining baby fat on his cheeks softened his enigmatic look, especially in more calm instances such as this. Few were treated to such a view of him, let alone have the capacity to appreciate it like you did. Wait - appreciating him? He seems to catch on simultaneously, the corners of his lips twitching in satisfaction over your turn to gaze.

"I am not your prey to stalk," he abruptly spoke up in a high-pitched, mocking tone to mimic your previous dramatics. You pushed your shoulder against him further as a hollow threat to get him to quit his teasing.

"You look too hardddd."

"Stopppp," you plead, pressing against him again, which causes him to turn to you finally. That stupid, intense gaze again was now much too close for comfort.

Mattheo scoops your hands into his larger, calloused ones, suddenly enclosing yours. He begins rubbing them, his touch creating a friction that warms your fingers, and despite your confusion, you don't immediately pull away.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to warm you up."

"It is still summer. They are not that cold, really…"

"Let me just have this excuse to hold your hands," Mattheo says hushedly, shutting down all of your protests. His touch is comforting, so you allow it.

"Forward this evening, are we?" you still can not resist asking with a raised brow.

"Maybe. But when else will we be trapped for a night like this?" Mattheo was right again, blasted. The bubbling chemistry was now utterly unavoidable, and this night was simply the catalyst for this new beginning.

Still, it was so recent that you likely would not change your behavior towards each other once you returned to your friends, who were probably worried sick about your whereabouts. The storm was still raging, so you just accepted that it would be easier to call it a night instead of waiting for it to pass or even worse; risking your safety by trudging through it. You silently agreed with Mattheo to let this evening run its natural course, showing your reciprocated feelings by allowing him to continue creating friction with your hands via a similar technique used to make a fire.

The rest of the evening went by uneventfully as you cozied up to each other, finding yourself leaning more into him as your lids grew heavier with tiredness.

Mattheo took on the role of a pillow, pressing his back to the floor and letting you lay against him, going as far as draping your leg over his and resting your head on his chest. The resistant part of you wanted to claim this was merely to survive the night, but Merlin, he was easy to sink into. No longer fighting the call of rest, your last conscious moment was the feeling of Mattheo pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before sleep took over.

—-------------

The chirping of birds and light rays seeping into the small windows of the cabin signaled it was time to wake up. You two had stayed wrapped up in each other for the night, which was probably the sole reason you felt at all rested.

The warm embrace of Mattheo kept you tucked cozily into his arms, providing a warmth that was now overwhelmingly hot in the morning summer heat. Suddenly, the chatter of approaching voices traveled around the hollowness of the cabin before the distinctive voice of Enzo called out. "It only took a dangerous thunderstorm to bring you two together," he remarked, a wicked grin matching his chirpy tone. You looked up to meet his gaze through the cracked window, which illuminated your intimate position with Mattheo. The cheeky disturbance startled Mattheo awake with a jump, groaning at the loud intrusion of his mates' voices.

You observed through squinted eyes as Mattheo and Enzo began quarreling. Amidst the light-hearted chaos, you heard snippets like 'It's not what it looks like!' and 'The ingredients search was a load of bollocks, wasn't it?' The goal to save face came second to your relief at rejoining your friends.

A ruse that had gotten way out of hand landed you in the last place you would have expected this morning, but the possibilities it offered left you nervous but hopeful. You watched a bit longer before stretching and getting up to join, armed with your own silly defenses over why you were caught in Mattheo's arms as the lot of you made your way back to the summer home.

[ssahotchnerr]

Ok I just got this image in my head of working out at the FBI gym to unwind after a particularly bad case, and Aaron had the same idea and so you're just there getting distracted because you can't help but stare at him and maybe he finally notices and he's amused - I would die (a happy death)

distractions

you and me both <3 cw; gn!, bau!reader, mutual pining, suggestiveness, your basic cm case descriptions, aaron being hot per usual

your first priority after the jet touched down - the bau's gym.

the case had been unsettling; a not-so-happy ending. sure, you had gotten the guy, but not before he had taken out his most recent victim. he had known it was only a matter of time until he was caught, he had known police had shut down the surrounding area, and managed to complete his endgame before being apprehended.

it happened, sucked when it did. and rather than going straight home, a distraction was in order; to move your body instead of laying in the dark internalizing what could have been done differently.

at the late hour, you expected the gym to be empty, and you had been correct, until aaron walked in about ten minutes after you did.

he seemed just as surprised to see you as you did him, silently nodding a hello at you, heading for the treadmills.

you had been on a yoga mat, stretching and warming up your muscles before doing anything strenuous. but at the sight of him, your impending workout plans were far gone.

you were used to seeing aaron in his usual suit, you'd seen him in casual clothes a few times due to team outings, but nothing could have prepared you for the skin-tight black shirt he was sporting. it was clinging in the all right places - his torso, biceps, and yup - you could've sworn he did have the faintest of abs.

you've always been attracted to him, but this. your mouth had immediately gone dry, your body felt warm despite your lack of movement, and no pure thoughts were in your mind in any capacity.

you tried your hardest to not look, but you couldn't tear your eyes away. how could you not? first reason being, it was him. and then the longer he ran, the sweat caused his shirt to stick to his skin more if it were possible, his chest rose up and down the heavier he breathed. as he jogged his calves flexed, and god were his thighs sexy. his shorts were on the longer side, mid-thigh to be exact, leaving more to the imagination than you would have preferred. but the slightly, newly exposed skin was still, well, new.

so you stayed put, choosing to just admire the view before you. but hopefully to not be too obvious, you performed sit ups; lingering upright to grant yourself the visual before laying back down.

well, at least this is one way to forget about the case.

give or take another five minutes, aaron adjusted the treadmill's settings, slowing to a stop.

"that's it?" you teased, a soft laugh leaving you as you straightened your legs out, reaching for your toes.

as if you were the one to speak, barely moving an inch.

"yeah," he took a swig of his water bottle, panting as he caught his breath. "it's a bit hard to focus with you here."

caught.

"oh my god," your face burned with embarrassment, scrambling to your feet. "i didn't mean to- i mean, you just looked so..."

aaron laughed handsomely, approaching you as your words trailed off. "i meant i don't want to trip over my feet. especially not with you here. it wouldn't look very good for me, i don't think."

oh? "oh."

"but go on." aaron teased, his lips pulling into a smirk as his eyes met yours, dropping for a moment. he was studying you this time around - the light sweat coating your skin, and not very subtly staring at your lips. his breath picked up again, his gaze returning to yours. you also realized, he was dangerously close. "i looked...?"

you swallowed, blinking up at him and managing a soft, "what?"

"i saw you staring. now c'mon, don't start something you can't finish, sweetheart."

[suugarbabe]

omg ok ok ok, I love your Sirius, so, I'm wondering if you could write a sirius x fem!reader who is maybe the grumpy to his sunshine? he's the one who is always super flirty and outgoing and the life of the party, and she would sort of rather die but begrudgingly puts up with it for him? OH but maybe one day she has a bad day and he gets to see a softer side of her 🥹 IDK idk I'm too excited to request this is so bad sorry my love xoxoxoxo kisses for youuuu

I am *living* for this okay. l i v i n g. because Sirius is my sunshine to my grumpy. I am the grumpy reader. okay let’s do this baby. kiss kiss kiss yoooou <3

Opposites attract right? At least that’s what others seemed to deem as the explanation for your relationship. Sirius was in a category all his own as far as you were concerned, but that category was nearly the opposite of where people would place you. Sirius was a people person, it came so easily to him it was like he never even had to try. It annoyed you to no fucking end when you first met him.

Being a descendent of the most noble and ancient House of Black had its advantages. Like incredibly sharp cheekbones, beautiful alabaster skin that contrasted perfectly with onyx locks and eyes so deep and blue you could drown in them. Sirius exuded this energy that seemed to pull people towards him; like he had his own force field. He could walk into a room and everything shifted, like he breathed extra life into the area and everyone was desperate to live.

Most people when asked about you would say you were…short-tempered. Your housemates tended to steer clear of your presence. Which was fine with you because you were easily annoyed by most of them. Ravenclaws were known for being know-it-alls and truthfully you found it rather repugnant. Thankfully you had Pandora as company. Usually her overly sweet demeanor would drive you insane, but you knew more than the rest. Being a Rosier sorted into Ravenclaw essentially meant she was the black sheep of her family. But that seemed to be your soft spot.

Pandora would tease that this was why you started falling for Sirius. Despite your more grumpy demeanor, you were never quite as grumpy when it came to Sirius. Hearing the ins and outs of what was going on over breaks from Pan made you want to take care of him.

The first time Sirius brought you around the rest of the marauders it was not without sideways glances. “Er, Pads, you seemed to have picked up a shadow,” James nodded towards your frame just behind Sirius. “Sod off, Potter,” you’d grumbled, Sirius’s palm big and flat against your back moving in slow circles. “S’alright love, he’s just teasing. Be nice, Prongs or she’ll hex you into next week and I won’t be able to stop her.”

“Not that you’d try to stop her, would ya mate. I’m Remus, but all these miserable gits call me Moony,” Remus gave a small fingered wave as he plopped onto the couch ceremoniously. He would eventually turn into the one that’d help you gang up on Sirius, if ever needed.

On this particular night, though, you were feeling just…down. It wasn’t often you felt like this, despite outward appearances. However when this feeling did hit you, there was only one person that could fully get you out of it. You knew that the Gryffindors were having their annual Halloween party. Which meant if you wanted to find Sirius that’s where he’d be.

You had of course agreed to come to the party ages ago; much to do with Sirius begging and pouting his pretty pink lips and sucking you in with his pretty blue eyes. Sirius had insisted that costumes were required, “Even for an angel like yourself” which earned him a particularly large eye roll. Thus, you threw on some fishnet tights and a black minidress with your signature black boots. Atop your head a small pair of black cat ears, thanks to Pandoras charm work.

She was dressed as an actual angel, charmed halo floating above her nearly white blonde locks. Any muggle would think they were truly hallucinating if they would have seen her. You greeted the fat lady with the password, “Hiddlypunks,” and she swung open. Within the first few steps one would be none the wiser. But two steps into the commonroom and the barrier was broken, music and singing and murmuring filling the room.

“Drinks yes? Please yes,” you nodded at Pandora who found her way to to the drink table to create what you were hoping were very strong concoctions. You didn’t need to look around in order to find him. That magnetic pull leading you closer and closer until you heard the boisterous laugh of Sirius Black. You were quiet in your approach, not drawing any attention to yourself on purpose. Even though you yearned for his touch you knew how much he enjoyed entertaining and didn’t want to interrupt.

Remus spots you of course, the observant bastard. He throws a playful wink in your direction; you responding with a middle finger and a forced smile. Sirius is in the middle of recalling “a truly amazing play, great play” from the last quidditch match, but Remus’s low chuckle from your display of affection towards him causes your boyfriend to turn around in search of who could have possibly pulled attention away from him.

His furrowed brows disperse as you catch his sights and smile lights his face, “Well, hello there, Kitten.” You give a weak smile in response, “Hi Siri.” His brows are furrowed once more. The others try to greet you but immediately you’re swept away to a farther corner of the room. Sirius swirls his wand around you both, muttering a quick muffliato, coating you both in silence. “Okay, out with it what’s wrong?” Sirius’s hands were laid gently on your waist, head dipped down to force your avoidant eyes to keep contact with his. “Come now, pet. You know I can’t do anything without knowing what’s wrong,” he urged, giving your waist a small squeeze.

You met his eyes and yours immediately began to brim with tears. In an instant Sirius has engulfed you, one hand grasping your head and holding you close to his chest while the other wraps around your back, squeezing you as close to him as possible and hoping the pressure of his pull is soothing. His heart breaks ever so slightly at the muffled sobs against him. Your emotions seem to be everywhere but embarrassment is toping the list as you begin to pull away, aggressively wiping your face with the heel of your palms, hoping no one but Sirius is noticing you in this state.

"I-I'm sorry Siri, 've just..." you trailed off, choked breaths causing your intake of air to stutter. Sirius's touch has yet to cease, one hand cupping your cheek gently while the other finds solace in the dip of your waist, "Rough day, love?" You nod once, looking to the ceiling and willing any tears to fall back into your head instead of trailing down your face. "Alright, let's go," his head tilts towards the spiral staircase that would lead to his dorm.

You sniffle quickly, shaking your head, "N-no, I'll be okay. I'm not going to take you away from the party, Siri. Not gonna steal you from your friends like that." Sirius can't help but scoff, "Fuck my friends." You laugh a little at his brashness and the sound makes Sirius grin again, "There you are, love." He takes a quick peek over his shoulder, "Now. Let's just go tell the others we're going up, Remus will make sure we're left alone for a good few hours then, hmm?"

You nod, agreeing, knowing that there's no use in arguing with Sirius when he's made up his mind. His fingers laced with yours and the cool feeling of his rings are such a contrast the the heat in your body that it's calming. He gives your hand an extra squeeze as you approach the group. You decide to try and stay hidden behind Sirius, almost burying your face against his shoulder blade, barely peeking one eye out to see the others.

Sirius explains that he's feeling tired and wants to go back to the room with you. James does not look convinced in the slightest. He looks even more confused by your seemingly shy and reserved demeanor. He doesn't think he's ever seen you look so...vulnerable. Remus is the only person you make eye contact with and he gives you a simple wink and a nod. The reassurance from the smallest action making you sigh in relief.

It's almost like Sirius can feel you relax slightly, turning to you and asking if you're ready to go. You give a feeble nod and a shy wave to the others, most of which look a little skeptical but say no protests in return.

When you make it to his dorm Sirius immediately goes to his trunk, pulling out his favorite concert tee and handing it to you. You take off your outfit slowly, pulling his shirt over your head and letting it consume you, the additional scent of Sirius now enveloping your body and adding to your relief. Sirius changes himself and then pulls back the duvet, "In you go, pet."

You oblige, going and getting comfortable on your back. Sirius climbs in after you, crawling over your form and placing two soft kisses on either apple of your cheek before giving you the most gentle yet firm kiss. He rests his head against yours, asking you almost in a whisper, "D'you wanna talk about it?"

"No," your response so soft it would've been missed had it not been only you two in the room, "Will you just...lay on me?" Sirius kissed you softly once more, scooching down just enough to lay his head on your chest. He wrapped his arms around you, relaxing himself and allowing his full weight to now lay on top of you. The weight of your boyfriend was the grounding you needed, your breathing now finally able to even out.

[badly-drawn-doflamingo]

Brook’s Past, Military and Everything Between [ An Essay kinda ]

Brook’s past is not a thing many people seem to mention or think about, at least in full, however it’s something that's plagued me. Not only as a Brook fan, but simply out of the odd implications it has towards the future, if any. Oda’s planted too many seeds for it to utterly be nothing; there’s so much odd and seemingly out of place comments and facts stated by Brook and others towards this missing history. However, knowing that the show is beginning to near it’s end, due to time, I am unsure of what exactly will be done.

I believe however, for folks' interest and so we can have everything in one place, that compiling everything found so far can be beneficial, so, I have.

Starting with what we know for sure, Brook is from the West Blue, born 90 years ago to a certain kingdom, the same kingdom he was a military convoy leader from. We know this due to a few factors, however it’s still open to debate if it *is* the same kingdom, however seeing as he was shown as a child to already know what fencing is, practicing moves with his bow, I am just going to say he probably was. In any case, other things worth noting, on the topic of childhood, is that Brook seems to have had money. At least, stability.

Compared to a lot of the other strawhats, Brook is shown dressing very nice. No tatters, no tears, shined shoes and a full violin and bow. He also, as already stated, seemed to be exposed to fencing enough to mirror the moves. If this comes from his kingdom, it means he was exposed to it at a young age. Knowing that he was a military convoy leader, this could be taken that perhaps there were military demonstrations, perhaps the kid saw castle guard or other displays; it’s really up in the air.

We know Brook, again as stated before, became a military convoy leader. Now, the definition of what exactly that means can differ.

Wikipedia states; A convoy is a group of vehicles, typically motor vehicles or ships, traveling together for mutual support and protection. Often, a convoy is organized with armed defensive support and can help maintain cohesion within a unit. It may also be used in a non-military sense, for example when driving through remote areas.

This could mean Brook’s job could’ve been accompanying ships for protection, being a knight for his King, mediating information and goods that come in and out of the kingdom. This would make sense on why his speed was needed, a 9.2 ft man being a great choice for a leader.

His weapon also would make sense for this kind of mission, perhaps secrecy being important or at least the ability to be discreet. His cane sword, a ‘Shikomizue’, is not unique however to just him in the show, one other man using one that has been confirmed so far, that being Fujitora. The pair also share a sea, the west, and both utilize iaijutsu (quick draw techniques.) Fujitora blinded himself with said sword because of something apparently so cruel and inhumane that he rather not see anguish. This may be related to Brook’s departure from his kingdom, which is addressed later in this essay. (Fig 3-5.)

Another thing that’s worth mentioning here is Brook’s attack patterns, being unique even for his kingdom apparently. Once again, during the Ryuma fight, Brook states, and I quote;

“Ryuma: “Now tell me, what part of that wretched excuse for a body would you like me to severe with my special ‘Arrow Notch Slash?’ Brook: You don’t know a thing about that move, so do not use it’s name. I use to serve in my kingdom’s raider squad. The quick draw attack that I was most skilled at was ‘Requiem Lebanderole’. My comrades-in-arms renamed it in regards to my fighting technique.”

(Fig. 1, Brook explains his raider squad and move names. A banderole mind you is a long flag for BATTLE crusades. )

This sets up a few interesting facts. 1. Brook was in a raider squad, a kingdom’s group of marauders, as well as if not the same job as convoy leader. 

2. His techniques were unique to him, or at least specialized to a degree of having a nickname. 3. As expected, he seems to have been close to these men he commanded, adding another layer over Brook loosing the Rumbars. Being in both a raider squad and being a convoy leader at one point, if not the same point, implies either Brook was simply versatile, acting in both in separate years or periods. Or, the most likely, that he was higher ranking than expected, making him a CO, or commanding officer. (Lieutenant Colonel is another equal rank for scale, making Brook just below a Major.) This makes him quite the important figure, especially for a kingdom that seems to value its military so much, so much so that a child of Brook’s age would already know about their style of fencing, as expressed already. Brook’s devil fruit is worth mentioning here, the revive-revive fruit not likely to be found by a crew like the Rumbars. It is spoken about as if he has always had it amongst the crew, being a fact of life. However, when did he get that fruit and why? I propose where it would be useful; in combat. If your military convoy leader, your best swordsman could be shot and come right back to protect the king, would he not be utterly invaluable? You would never let him leave… But he DID leave. It’s not said why, however we have some extra tidbits of information that may tell us why, and that ALSO may tell us the answer to what kingdom he means.

( Fig. 2. Brook states his leaving of the military for unknown reasoning, the word certain being used in an odd way, establishing his bounty.) This bounty mind you all is in fact, using inflation method, 297,000,000 berries. That is a MASSIVE bounty for just a pirate. Perhaps a certain blond stole a treasure a kingdom could not replace; their convoy leader. Lets rewind for a moment and cover something that may be seen as off topic however I will come right back to the subject at hand; Calico Yorki. Yorki is an odd bird, pirate wise. He makes his crew read his bounties and information, is never shown to play an instrument/sing but makes his crew preform/they all do, and makes Brook make him dinner. (Steak, and Brook continues to be able to make it as confirmed by an SBS.) What is oddest yet, other than his large crew and shirtless habits, is his nature. A man that set to sea to play music for “orphans and crying children” as stated by himself; a crew made for “any men who love music.” Now, I could be reading into this too hard, however from his speech patterns, to this apparent need for a large family, it seems that singing to orphans may be a very personal goal. An orphan turned pirate perhaps, with lofty dreams and a heart of gold, it reads to me that Yorki may have been just that. Knowing this, orphan or not, we now can compare these facts to Brook’s life up until their meeting. A child who probably grew up being taught to fight, being around access to education, expenses and the kingdom’s training. Why would a man like Brook ever join a man like Yorki, and if it’s only music, would that not make Brook a deserter? I do not think that is the case. I will now bring forward some interesting evidence regarding Brook’s kingdom and WHY he would leave. Germa 66. During Zou to Whole Cake, a few mentions of Germa are made with Brook around, garnering interesting reactions indeed.

( Fig. 3. Brook listens but chooses not to add anything utter than silence, his music pausing as well.) This silence could be take as simple ignorance, however Brook later admits he knows of the kingdom, in fact, he knows a lot. A lot more than anyone else did, Reiju admitting interest in his knowledge and once again, Brook brushes it off.

(Fig 4, 5, Brook speaks about Germa 66.) He seems to underplay or simply not elaborate a LOT on his kingdom, as if something happened. Perhaps joining Yorki was not out of simple cowardice or need to be free, (which again if he did would both reflect poorly upon his entire character and not be in character for him what so ever,) but in fact, out of necessity. It could have been Germa 66, it could have been some other grouping, however I believe this will come to be something important. The kingdom possibilities are interesting as well, and I will list the following LIKELY possibilities. (Other options are known to not be military, like Ohara, or literally places like Thriller Bark itself.) - Toroa - God Valley - Illsia Kingdom - Soja Kingdom The most likely candidates, because again, it is labeled as certain kingdom (Fig 2.) is Toroa or Soja, however I will personally lean into Toroa. This is because of a man by the named of Byron.

(Fig 6. Byron and his information.) His nose and face shape vaguely resemble Brook, however honestly that is a stretch. What is NOT however is his familiar attire, family line and the placement of his kingdom. This could easily be Brook’s home, however again, this is just speculation. Brook very well could belong to God’s Valley, or the same kingdom as Issoh, fleeing because of something he did not agree with or literally could not stand any longer. But, that falls under possibility, not fact. This concludes the facts section, now comes the final question; What does it mean for the story? And, honestly, that can be debated. What Oda has done is plant odd seeds of information about the man, similar to Sanji and his ties to Vinsmoke, that have not been addressed nor talked about in full, or so I’ve found sufficiently. These seeds MAY bloom into what I hope will be a tie into some huge reveal, perhaps aid from a past member of his convoy or kingdom, or perhaps this will only spark conflict. Perhaps it will be minute, Brook being able to aid due to his knowledge, the man already in Thriller Bark showing his prowess by being able to command the strawhats into defeating zombies via salt and tactic. In any case, we can only hope these things mean anything, tied into some huge story that could explain why a man like him would quit for a redneck like Yorki, other than perhaps love, and what kingdom would let a man like him go willingly.

Updates:

Confirmation that he’s educated! Perhaps in military or just as a whole, but confirmation nonetheless!

[funlovinzara]

“Speechless” Turbo!ken and Okarun x reader

I didn’t know id cause so much trouble, but in the end i met someone who touched my heart…i don’t know if I’ll ever be able to love him.

Warnings: none really

A/n: im back divas 💜 IM SICK AGAIN

______

Okay, lets not start off with “im just a normal person, who attends a totally normal school.” Because its stupid and dumb and i really really just want to explain this whole situation. This school is weird. Ive been experiencing some supernatural things happening to me and i dont feel safe wherever i go and i think something bad might hurt me. I walk home after school one day and i notice the air getting thicker and thicker and i just feel the tense pressure of something following me

I rush home and all i can do is ponder about whats going on with me, am i mental?? Is this some of condition?? Im having nightmares and i cant take it anymore. I cant even talk to anyone about this because i hardly talk to people at this stubborn school…

Besides all the crazy things happening to me, theres this guy I’ve had my eye on, not romantically or anything i just keep seeing him wherever i go and he just sticks out like a sore thumb. I think his name was Ken….im going to talk to him, he seems like the only person who wouldn’t judge me.

I walk up to him and before i could even mutter a “hey” a girl comes first and speaks to him, it seems like they’re close. Suddenly everyone must have a friend besides me, thats so annoying. I’ll speak to him at lunch then. And as i expected, that girl was there again. So i guess i’ll just speak to him afterschool.

“Hey..” i tap his shoulder while walking out the gate of the school. He swiftly turns around looking at me in surprise and quickly blushing. “O..oh hello!”

“I wanted to know if you’d like to be friends…you look really cool and i thought it would be nice.” His face flushes even more “Cool..? Me? Oh- yeah s-sure we can be friends thats totally awesome! Yup! Cool!” He was geeking out, and it was really cute

“Can w-“ before i could speak again he cuts me off. “How about we talk together at lunch tomorrow or if we have the same class..? Its s-super nice to meet you. Im Ken takakura!”

“Oh im y/n l/n, sure we can talk tomorrow” he bows and runs off home, i mean at least i’ll be able to actually talk to him. I start to walk home and the sun starts to set, i really don’t want that feeling to come back again. But it’s not my choice is it..

While i walk home i start to feel it again, the feeling that im being watched. But no it’s way worse this time. My ears start to ring, and i hear footsteps slowly pick up behind me. I start to run home, it wasn’t far anyway, i could make it! I run into a neighborhood I’ve never seen before, but I’ll do anything just to get away.

A blue light appears above my head and i turn around to see 3 large men with a horrifying smile standing behind me. I turn again to sprint for it until they catch me in a millisecond. “What a fine specimen!!! We shall take your banana for inspection.”

“What the heck does that even mean??? Let me go!!” I hear another pair of footsteps and i see..Ken? And that other girl..

“Get em okarun!!” The girl exclaims, and before my own eyes i see okarun leap forward to one of the men holding me, transforming into something so unknown. The aliens are caught off guard and unhand me while i see that other running behind us, a big set of translucent blue arms emerge from her back and grabs on hold on one of the men and slams him.

“Okarun!! Take the girl somewhere else!! I’ll be safe i promise!” This new…person that is ‘okarun’ sighs in laziness “such a drag..” he picks me up bridal style and starts to speed away into a secluded area where the strange men were sure not to search. He lays me down on the concrete floor and i think i recognize this area, this is a part of my neighborhood thankfully!!

I look up at him in disbelief, “your…ken..?” He was prepping to sprint back to where the other girl was but he looks at me instead “in the flesh.” What was up with his lingo..

“..how are you able to do that?” It’s absolutely incredible, i was totally mesmerized, he’s beautiful! “Dunno, i gotta go. Stay safe babe.” He pats my head and then gets into a crouching start position to run, he sprints off and into the night he goes. What just happened, and he called me babe? How am i going to even talk to him tomorrow??

It takes me a minute to get back up and into shape, i make my way back home and i was later than usual. I make myself comfy, shower and change, and hop right into bed. I shut my eyes and start to recap.

‘Alright, what the hell was going on today. Ken is some secret transforming boy, and i guess his nickname is okarun? This other girl has magical powers and i almost got kidnapped by some disgustingly terrifying ‘men’. Based on what I’ve seen today, were those even men?? Im speechless..’ I continue to yap on in my head until i drift off into slumber.

—

I wake up the next morning trying to figure out if i should just stay home today, but then again i need answers. I quickly hop out of bed and get myself ready while having something small to eat for breakfast. I make my way to campus and i see Ken and that girl again, i really need to get her name..

“Hey Takakura.” While he was speaking to that girl he turns around to look at me, she gives me a glance and her face brightens, it seems like she recognizes me. “Hey y/n, is everything alright?”

“Um yeah no, what even happened last night?? That was totally insane! Do you guys know what was going on it freaked me out, and you turned into some creature and that girl had big arms coming out of her back-“

The girl giggles and cuts me off “okay i know it’s crazy, and I’m momo! What you saw yesterday wasn’t normal i know, it’s a long story. But those men you saw were aliens, thats why they looked so weird. Okarun here has this new ability to transform into something completely new, i have psychic powers.”

My face must have been absolutely confuzzled because they both started to giggle “Don’t worry, we’ll talk more about it at lunch! By the way whats your name?”

“It’s y/n l/n, nice to meet you.” She smiles and rests her arm on my shoulder “Sweet! Cmon okarun, let’s head to class!”

He follows right behind us and my smile fades a bit, that person okarun was…i can feel my heart start to strain. This isn’t good, i think i might like him but every-time i see Okarun and Momo together, they just seem like an unbreakable bond that stays together forever and i might be tinkering and getting in the way of that. I want to go home already.

“Hey y/n, matter of fact how about you come to my place after school? Then we can totally go over everything you’re confused about.”

“Oh, yeah sure! I don’t mind.” They day goes on as it fades into the mist of night. Her house is more larger than i thought, i enter and it has this calming feel to it. I spot Ken taking off his shoes and my hear starts to race a bit, this is making me insane. “Alright Okarun, show em!” I watch him transform again and i see that boy…wow he is so alluring. His droopy sleep eyes and tall slim frame would have anyone at campus falling head over heels

“So this is what you saw yesterday, this form is when he blah blah blah blah…”

I really should have payed attention but i was lost in his thoughtless eyes, and he was staring right back at me. I wonder does this form have the same mind as Okarun or is it someone else? While momo continues to talk, without her noticing he nods his head up at me in a “sup” motion, with his hands in his pockets. He was trying so hard to be cool and he really was. I feel my brain melt to my toes as i nod my head back at him.

“So do you understand?”

I snap back into reality, “Yeah..so what can he really do?”

“Well he can only run really fast, he has no good fighting skills yet.” “Wow, harsh.” He said while leaning back on the wall. Momo takes out her phone and looks at the time, she jumps and shrieks “its really late! Hey how about this, you can come over again tomorrow and we can go over how you’re able to see things like this. Okarun since it’s dark outside and you’re a fast runner, take em home!”

“whatevs, I’m the fastest yo.”

We head out the door and he lets me get on his back. “later y/n!”

Ken gets into the crouching start position again and speeds to my neighborhood “quick, where do ya live” I whisper my home into his ear and he quickens the pace all the way until the destination. He slows and gets down, allowing me to step off his back. I was hesitant to walk into my home and i turn around right before he was going to speed back to momos place.

“Cya on the flip side babe.” Seriously does he call everyone babe…but then i realized he was leaving and as he took off i managed to shout “See you tomorrow!!” I see him wave his hand in the air while he ran, this wasn’t so bad. I lay back in my bed ready to disclose for the night, this is crazy.

Will he be someone i can love or am i just going to be a nuisance..?

—

GUYS I JUST finished watching dandadan please i had to write something y’all idk it set something off in me for real!! bye DIVAS 💜

[viixenvi]

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 | 18+

Summary: You have been planning to steal some information from the Avengers compound. You successfully break in but what happens when the one person you never wanted to see again ends up catching you?

Characters: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark

Warnings: Torture, fighting, reader gets caught and tied up, heavy make-outs, slight flirting, some oral (Nat receiving), reader leaves Nat high and dry, villain fem!reader (Reader and Nat hate fuck whenever they catch each other guys)

This was not my best work, actually kinda bad and not proofread so forgive mistakes and like forgive me if it's bad I just had this idea weeks ago and decided to actually write it at 3 AM

Minors DNI

It was only a matter of time before you could escape. Sneaking into the Avengers compound was hard, it took weeks of planning and landing a job as a maid.

Stark was always hiring and it was just perfect when you got a call back that you had been selected for the job. Of course, this job came with risks to your plan. If you were suspected at all by any of the avengers you'd be finished. Which is exactly why you had a disguise.

Shape shifting was your specialty. It had just happened oneday, you woke up with powers of some sorts. You had no idea how to control them or how you even got them.

You were hoping this hard drive you were planning to take had the answers to some of your problems. You could only change your appearance, make others see you differently.

The only person you had to avoid at all costs was Natasha. She knew things about you that you hadn't told anyone else. You and her had a long history, one that you prefer not to think about. You had fought her previously, working with Loki. That went down hill fast and you managed to stay low since then.

Now you were definitely going to set off their radars. You have a plan though, you always have a plan.

"Can you get the lab too while you are at it?" Tony asks me as I mop the floor. I look up and nod, giving him a shy smile. He walks away, his phone in his hand.

Perfect excuse to be in his lab. You walk towards the lab, your heart racing. It was time, finally. You felt relieved, it was finally going to be over and you'd never have to see the avengers ever again.

"You are not authorized to enter this area." The voice startles you slightly. J.A.R.V.I.S was a pain to deal with.

"Mr. Stark asked me to mop the lab," You tell him. You hear nothing or a minute before the card scanner beeps with a green light and the doors click. That was surprisingly..easy?

This was too easy, you hesitate for a moment. You glance around the lab before your eyes land on a hard drive. It's the hard drive. No way Tony would just leave this out conveniently, not when he knew there was a chance it would be stolen by anyone.

But it's right there, and you don't think you have another chance. So you slowly walk up to the table, pretending to mop and swiping the drive off the table.

It swiftly makes the journey to your pocket and you walk out of the lab, leaving the mop on the floor. You have no idea how you can get out without at least being detected.

Stark was far from stupid, but your powers deceived him enough. Now all you had to do was fake an emergency and leave. You pick up the phone, pretending to get a call and panicking.

You find Steve in the living room, cleaning his shield off. "Can you please tell Mr. Stark I have to leave? There's a family emergency!" You spit out before he can really react. You are in the elevator as he says he will.

Something about the way he looked at you was confusing. He didn't even ask if everything was alright like you thought he would. If Steve was one thing, he was compassionate.

You knew they knew about your plans, or at least that you were there to steal the drive. As if on cue, the elevator doors open and Natasha is staring right at your face.

"Hello милый," her voice is sweet, just like how it used to be. You stand there for a moment, drinking in her features. You had spent the past weeks avoiding her and you never got the chance to really see her.

"Natasha, any chance you can let me go?" You say, one hand on the back of your neck as you laugh awkwardly. She tilts her head and raises an eyebrow. So it's a no.

Her fist raises to your face and you block it, swiping your leg under hers. She falls back and manages to flip onto her feet. You land a punch to her face, which angers her.

She kicks your stomach, causing you to stumble back. Before you can even think, she punches your face. You can feel the blood gushing out of your nose. You wipe it away with your hand while Natasha stands in front of you. She's focused on your face and movements.

You could tell she was analyzing you. You both hadn't fought each other in a while and it was obvious you were holding back. You couldn't get yourself to hurt her.

Natasha runs past you, jumping up off the wall and wrapping her legs around your neck. You pin her arms back and lean down, flipping her over in front of you. She breaks free from your grasp and jumps, spinning and kicking you directly in the face.

You fall over and close your eyes, consciousness barely hanging on. Natasha is a damn good fighter and you could admit it. Natasha hovers over you, pulling the drive out of your pocket.

"Some things don't change," She says just before you black out.

When you finally wake up, pain surges through your body. The familiar metallic taste of blood in your mouth reminds you of what happened.

You move to pull your hands free but it seems they cuffed you with some heavy metal cuffs. They definitely seem to be stopping your powers from being used. You are in a bedroom, which seems to be weird for the team as they have their own interrogation room and cells.

A figure comes into view and you know it's Natasha. "It's funny, you always end up in front of me bound by something," She chuckles. I sigh and close my eyes, the headache pounding in my head is not helping the pain.

"If you are going to kill me, just do it."

Natasha pulls her knife out, pushing the tip under my chin and lifting my head. "Aw, you wound me, baby."

"Don't call me that," You spit, clenching your jaw. You and Natasha always had a love-hate relationship. You were a villain and her job was to kill them.

"Tell me why you need the drive and maybe we can have a little fun," She whispers in your ear. You decide to play along, long enough for her to get you out of these cuffs.

"If I tell you, will you take these cuffs off?" You ask, giving her a defeated look.

"Yes."

"They paid me to take it, said there are plans on it they need. I didn't get any other information. I just know that they can kill me easily." Natasha sits on the chair across from you, spinning her knife in her hand.

"Who?"

"I have no idea. Some alien guy, he's weird looking," You tell her. You try to steady your heartbeat and avoid actions that will tell her you are lying.

Natasha seems to like this answer because she gets up and walks behind you. A moment later, the cuffs are no longer clasped on your hands.

You feel Natasha's hands on your shoulders, gliding down your arms. You almost shiver at her touch. You don't want to play into this, but she has given you no choice.

There's a smile on her face when you spin around, your hands on her waist. Your lips meet hers and the kiss is almost electric. Her lips are soft and you taste the cherry lipgloss.

She pushes you onto the bed but you flip over and get on top of her, unzipping her suit. Her belt is thrown onto the floor, not before you take something out of it.

"Fuck, I need you so bad," You whisper against the skin of her neck. You kiss down it, your warm lips sending shivers down her spine.

Her hands roam your body, pulling up your shirt. You stop her before she can fully take it off. "No, let me take care of your first, baby."

She pulls you into a kiss before you descend down her body, leaving trails of kisses. You pull the rest of the suit down to her ankles, kissing up her thigh.

You reach her lips, kissing them before spreading her legs and pushing your face close. Your tongue glides over her clit, circling it. Natasha moans, lifting her hips up and throwing her head back.

You wanted so badly to finish what you started, but you needed the drive and Natasha wasn't going to distract you again.

So you pull away, crawling on top of her and grabbing her face to kiss her. You carefully place a tazer disk on her neck and get off her before activating it.

Natasha gasps and falls unconscious from the tazer and you cover her up with a blanket. This was payback for the last time she caught you. This was your thing, always leaving the other wanting more. It kept up the attraction.

This time you may have gone too far, but your life depended on getting this drive and you didn't care what you did to get it.

You won this time.

[whoreforsexymen]

Strong Drinks & Broken Links 🍺⛓️‍💥 CH. 1

Gray Hair & The Absence of Care

(Gif creds: me <3)

Pairing(s): Vander x Reader

Pronouns: GN!Reader (for now— please see this post for details)

Rating: SFW, except for strong language and consumption of alcohol (drink responsibly, people). Reader is old enough to drink, despite what Vander thinks.

Word count: 4.7k (the rest are going to be far longer, so be prepared)

Tags: Slowburn, Reader is implied to be 21+ years old, Age Gap, Heavy Use Of Language/Alcohol, Reader might be a little too angsty (I’m sorry), Tense Situations, Vander being the caring mentor type he is but in a poorly thought out way.

Notes: I don't think I've ever posted a fic on this account. So, welcome to my only outlet for the brain rotting obsession I have for this man. ALSO I SWEAR TO GOD NO ONE MENTION ANYTHING ABOUT SEASON 2, OR I'LL FIGHT YOU.

((If any of you want to be added to a tag list for this fic, please lmk!! Ask box is also open for requests/suggestions/comments 🤍 feedback is always appreciated 🤍🤍))

It had been a terrible night so far.

Not only had you been shortchanged more than two-thirds of the agreed-upon pay for a job you’d completed—but that paltry sum had quickly slipped from your grasp entirely, taken by a gang of thugs.

You had to give the undercity credit—it had an uncanny ability to remain a perpetual cesspool. You’d managed to take down two of the muggers, but the third—the one who’d made off with your coin—had slipped away while you were dealing with the others. Just your luck. The payout had been pathetic to begin with, and now you were left with nothing but the bitter taste of failure. It looked like you’d be scraping the dregs of the city to find enough for your next meal, yet again. 

That is, unless you decide to drink your dinner. As well as your sorrows, in the process. The idea struck you as you neared the central bar of the undercity, still sulking as you were making your way back to the shack you called home. The Last Drop. A name that said it all. If there was any place where the undercitizens of Zaun gathered, it was here. No doubt the owner had to be the wealthiest man in the area, though that wasn’t exactly saying much in a place like this. 

You made your decision. A warm meal might be out of reach, but liquor could suffice—if you drank heavily enough, that is. Or at the very least, it might dull the sting of the night’s failures. 

The bar was an eyesore, a hulking building among the rundown structures of The Lanes. A garish neon sign blinked above the entrance, buzzing like an angry fly, casting sickly light on the grime-streaked pavement. Inside, the din of loud music and the clatter of drunken chatter spilled into the street. It was a haven for folks with any background, no matter if they sought business or pleasure within its walls. 

You pushed through the door, noting how no one even bothered to glance your way. That was how you liked it—under the radar, always out of sight, always out of the mind of untrustworthy beings. 

Then again, you didn’t trust anyone anyway.

You duck and weave through the crowd of rowdy patrons, eyes scanning the bar for a table or booth at which you could hunker down and nurse your drink in peace. Your frown deepens beneath the hood of your jacket when you come up empty-handed. Typical. No matter, though. You’d have to order at the bar anyway, regardless of where you sat.

It’s when your eyes settle in the direction of the bar that luck seems to briefly shine upon you—there’s an empty stool. Without hesitation, you make a beeline for it, not wanting some drunken fool to snag it before you could. You practically dive-bomb onto the seat, landing with a small grunt, air knocked from your lungs. After the night you’ve had, this stool feels like an oasis, despite the new absence of oxygen beneath your chest. You settle into it like it’s the only thing left in the world, clutching the seat as if someone might try to commandeer it if you let your guard down low enough.  

The realization dawns on you that, in order to get a drink, you’d have to interact with the bartender. You hold that fact in high regard with contempt. 

Chit-chat? Not tonight– or truthfully any night. You’ve never been crazy about casual conversation. The events of the evening have only soured your mood further, and the last thing you need is some eager bartender trying to make nice. Normally, you’d avoid sitting at the bar for that reason alone, yet here you are.

Thankfully, the bartender pays you no mind, his attention fully set on the patron he’s currently tending to. That is, until said patron leaves and the barman finally turns to you, his new source of focus. 

The sheer momentum with which you rolled your eyes almost knocked you out of your seat. 

“Welcome to The Last Drop. What’ll it be?” His voice is deep, and heavy, garnering a thick accent that clung to every word. 

He’s an older man, though exactly how old is hard for you to pin down. His hair’s gray, his eyes tired, the lines of age having etched themselves into his face long ago. However, there’s something youthful about him—something that makes it hard to tell whether he’s an old-looking thirty or a young-ish fifty. Frankly, you don’t care enough to continue your mental evaluation of him. Age shouldn’t matter when it comes to bartenders. They either know how to pour a decent drink, or they don’t.

You don’t waste time with pleasantries.

“Something strong.” You mutter, your voice mostly flat, but with a hint of irritation that danced along the edge.

The bartender scratches at his graying beard, his gaze thoughtful as he considers your request. You grit your teeth, hoping he won’t try to scam you by giving you something weak and overpriced, just to line his pockets with your hard-earned coin. You’d seen it happen to others, and you’d be a damned fool if you let it happen to you. 

The bartender studies your face, or at least what he can see of it beneath your hood, before his gaze shifts to the shelves beneath the counter. After a moment of deliberation, he selects a bottle with thoughtful ease, pulling the cork out with his teeth. With his free hand, he grabs a tin cup and pours in a copious amount, sliding it toward you with a swift flick of his wrist. You’d almost call it a generous decision on his part, considering the fact that you hadn’t even paid your dues first. His choice to serve you first goes a long way in easing your suspicion, at least for the moment.

You dig into your pocket, retrieving the few gold coins you’d managed to hold onto when dealing with the aforementioned thugs. They weren’t enough for one measly meal, but they were enough for a drink or two– or three, but who’s going to keep track? Certainly anyone but you. You’d only stop once your pitiful wealth ran out. Without a second thought, you toss them onto the bar top, making it unspokenly clear to the bartender that you were hoping for much more than just this one drink. You grab the cup, lifting it to your lips and downing the lot of it in one quick, greedy gulp. The warmth spreads through you almost immediately, and it feels like a small victory over the obnoxious turn your night has taken.

The bartender watches this with a faint chuckle before you slam the empty cup back down onto the counter. He takes it without a word, refills the tiny tin chalice, and begins passing it back. Without missing a beat, you grab the cup from him, draining the contents in a second gulp before he even has time to set the bottle back down. 

“You look like you’ve seen better days,” he remarks casually, his voice low and steady as he finally reunites the bottom of the bottle with the countertop. 

“I’ve seen a lot of things.” you mutter, your eyes fixed on anything but him. The words come out flat, though there’s a weight to them. It’s more than just a refusal to talk—it’s a refusal to let anyone look too closely. You avoid eye contact like the plague. Eyes, after all, are the windows to the soul. And letting someone peer through them is a risky gamble you’ve never been apt to take.

You were clearly beyond uninterested in the beginnings of this conversation. The lack of willingness to be friendly reigning clear as you shove the tin cup towards him yet again. He grabs the empty cup and refills it once more—your third drink in under five minutes. He seems reluctant to hand it back. He maintains a grip on it as he eyes you again, this time much more thoughtful.

“Care to chat about it? Might be healthier than drownin’ yourself at the bottom of a bottle,” he offers plainly.

You give him a sidelong glance, not even trying to mask the edge in your voice. 

“Doesn’t sound like a good business strategy, encouraging your paying customers to cut back.” You fire back quickly, the sharpness of your words outpacing even your annoyance at the unwanted conversation.

The bartender chuckles again, a spark of amusement flickering in his tired eyes. There’s a glimmer of understanding in his smile—maybe he’s seen more than a few like you in this dive. Or maybe, he knows in the same fashion as you, that sometimes it’s more palatable to fill the silence with alcohol than with words.

“Fair point, but I’d prefer to keep my patrons alive. Helps me sleep at night, y’know?” The bartender shoots back, his eyes fixed on you, all too curious about what’s hidden beneath your hood. The conversation quickly turns uncomfortable, a painful reminder of why you’ve never liked bartenders—they always talk too much and ask too many personal questions. As far as you’re concerned, they should stick to the charade for the sake of their regulars, and leave all unsuspecting customers alone. 

The momentum of yet another roll of your eyes causes your head to bob ever so slightly— your hood creeping back towards the line of your hair. The new, incredibly subtle, view of your face made the barman clench the cup in his hands with rigor. 

His eyes narrow slightly, the amusement fading from his voice. 

“Where’re your parents, kid?” He asks, his voice low and in demand of an answer. 

The question hits you like a slap, and for a brief second, you find yourself caught off guard. You’re not someone who’s usually thrown by imbecilic remarks from the residents of The Lanes, but this one? It’s different. Not just the audacity of asking such a personal question, but the clear assumption of your age being made so boldly. 

Your head snaps up, and before you can stop yourself, you push your hood back, breaking your own rule about eye contact. Why? Who knows. Today has already gone off the rails, and you’re too far gone to care. The liquor’s sudden grip on your senses began to cloud your judgment, and honestly, it was far from shocking. To be fair, you had asked for something strong… Not to mention having no substantial food in your belly to dilute the potency you sought after. All in all, there was no ignoring how the liquor was starting to pummel you like a brick to the face would. 

You meet his gaze, eyes scanning his face for any sign of what he’s gunning after by asking such a question. But there’s nothing obvious behind those gloomy eyes of his. No clear motive. You can’t tell if he’s purposefully trying to get under your skin or if he’s just another fool with a quick tongue. 

“Rotting in their graves,” you mutter, voice sharp and, in addition, spiteful. 

“Which I’m sure you’ve got one foot in, yourself, Gramps.” You make a mockery of the decades that are clearly stacked against you, hoping to push him back into his corner.

He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he practically snorts, running a hand over his silvery beard as he crosses his arms; resting them across his stomach with the casual authority of someone who’s seen it all. He’s not rattled by your quips—no, not in the slightest. 

“How old are you, kid?” His voice is flat now, a hint of something more serious creeping in, though you can’t figure out why. You’re even more unsure now about his intentions. Constantly expecting the worst from people was your lot in life. 

“Too young for you.” You snap back, pushing forward with your usual sharpness, trying to regain some control over this ridiculous conversation. You reach for the cup he had refilled for you, but before you can even graze it, he snatches it away, clicking his tongue like a disappointed parent.

“Tsk, tsk,” he tuts at you, as if you’ve done something wrong.

“I asked how old you were.” he repeats, his voice now devoid of any amusement. 

He watches you carefully, his gaze inspecting your face as if he’s trying to peel back layers you didn’t even know were there.

You roll your eyes, irritation growing, and narrow them at him, unwilling to back down. You can’t tell if he’s probing for something deeper, or if he’s just getting off on making you uncomfortable. Either way, you’re done playing his game.

“Why are you so curious, huh?” you scoff, leaning in and making a bold decision to double down on your irritation. “I’m just another patron here to drown in my sorrows and drink them away. Not to mention, I’m paying for the privilege.” Your words are bold, and with that same boldness, you reach across the bar and rip the cup from his grasp.

You try to bring the drink to your lips, intent on finishing it off. But just as the cup nears your mouth, the bartender’s large, rough hand slips over the opening of the cup like a solar eclipse. 

He glares down at you, his eyes narrowing as he sizes you up with a look that could strip paint. In that moment, something clicks in his mind. The defiance in your voice, the way you’re carrying yourself—it all reinforces his suspicion. You’re not old enough to be here. When you walked in, your hood had obscured most of your face. But now that it’s gone, he can see it clearly: you’re just a kid, trying to score some alcohol. The only thing that kept him from throwing you out on your ass, was your cadence. You looked young, and spoke carelessly, but you sounded grown. If you were in fact grown, he’d ease up. 

However, with the way you look—bloodied and bruised, no less—he’s convinced you’re in some kind of trouble. The kind of trouble he doesn’t want being drug through his bar. He doesn’t know where you’ve been, who you’ve pissed off, or what kind of people you run with. But this? This is his bar, and he’s fought too hard to maintain the fragile peace that reigns here. He won’t let you ruin that for him and his loyal patrons by dragging your poor choices in with you. 

“Seems I’ve struck a nerve,” he says, his voice no longer playful but flat and serious. “Either tell me your age, or you’re cut off.”

The room seems to hush around you. The muffled chatter of patrons behind you fades as the bartender’s tone sharpens, leaving no room for argument. It’s a quiet threat now, the kind that lets you know exactly how much leverage you have—and how little he’s willing to tolerate.

“You didn’t strike shit,” You hiss. “and I don’t need to answer to shit.” You add. 

The bartender bends over the counter, his face inches from yours. The bitter scent of smoke hangs thick on his breath, hot and rancid, and it presses against your skin like a physical weight. The damp air in the bar swirls around you, brushing your cheeks with an uncomfortable warmth that feels suffocating, as if the room itself is closing in.

“Keep talkin’ like that, and I’ll have no problem lettin’ my loyal patrons cut your tongue out for us to hang above the bar.” He says fiercely. 

You glance over your shoulder, catching the eyes of the dozens of patrons who have fallen silent, their conversations and business abruptly halted. It’s clear—they’re waiting for a signal, ready to back up their beloved bartender if things escalate.

“You can call off the cavalry, Gramps. I was just leaving,” you retorted, swiping one of your coins from the counter, as if to refund yourself for the drink you’ve yet to have. You release your grip on the cup, almost slingshotting it backwards from the sheer force you two had each been bestowing upon it. 

“Sit down.” the bartender commands, his voice low and final, as you attempt to abscond. 

You don’t reply, instead moving to shoulder through the row of patrons who are standing like silent sentinels, waiting for the slightest nod from their bar’s gatekeeper. It’s not like you expected them to part, but the way not a single person dares budge makes your blood boil. The crowd might as well be a wall of stone. 

“Sit. Down.” the bartender demands again, his tone sharper this time, a razor edge cutting through the haze of the bar.

You grind your teeth, your patience wearing thin.

“I’ll take my patronage elsewhere—”

You don’t even finish your sentence before a hand, seemingly out of nowhere, pushes you roughly back. You stumble, barely managing to stop yourself from falling flat on your ass. The sudden movement sends a rush of heat to your head, the anger spiking through your veins like fire.

You seethed at the touch, the anger burning hot in your chest, every muscle in your body coiled with frustration. But you knew better than to keep pushing your luck. Not today. Not in a situation like this, with dozens of hungry eyes watching, their hands twitching near their weapons of choice, waiting for the slightest excuse to make a move.

Biting back a torrent of curses, you forced yourself to swallow your pride, choosing to stay quiet—at least for now. It wasn’t worth the fight. You could practically feel the heat of their glares digging into your back as you turned on your heel, eyes locking once more with the bartender’s. You reclaimed your seat at the bar with deliberate flair, each movement oozing a sense of defiance and attitude. It was a performance, one you were used to. To you, it felt like you were playing the part of someone tough. But you knew, deep down, that to anyone else—especially the bartender—you probably looked like nothing more than a naive, immature idiot who didn’t know when to shut up. It wasn’t a great look, but at least it kept people from getting too close.

“I’m sat,” you muttered, voice brimming with the remnants of your irritation.

The bartender shook his head slightly, a hint of amusement creeping back into his expression. You could feel the tension in the room dissipate, the energy shifting as the crowd behind you resumed their rowdy conversations. The noise began to swell again, and for a moment, it almost felt like the bar was returning to some semblance of normalcy.

He grabbed a dirty glass from the counter, handling it with practiced ease, and pulled a rag from beneath the bar. As he began polishing the glass, he didn’t so much as glance your way. His focus was on the glass, and for a few moments, it felt like you were nothing more than a background detail to him. You could feel your impatience growing with each passing second. If he had something to say, you wished he’d just say it already. At least that way, you could get out of here—and maybe keep some of your pride intact.

The bartender continued his slow, methodical motions, running the rag around the rim of the glass with an almost exaggerated calmness. He didn’t bother to look up, yet you could feel the weight of his gaze on you through the silence.

“I’m gonna ask you again,” he said, his tone neutral, almost too much. “How old are you?”

You weighed your options. If you didn’t answer, you had no idea what would happen next. If you did answer, you still had no clue. It was a gamble either way.

“(Insert age here),” you muttered, the words slipping out begrudgingly, each one like a weight lifting off your chest.

The bartender scoffed lightly, a soft laugh escaping him that made your skin crawl. Your fingers began tapping impatiently on the bar’s edge, the rhythm a soft counterpoint to the growing tension between you.

“____ years old and still so naive… You really are just a kid, eh?” His words hung in the air, his eyes still locked on the glass in front of him, but you could see the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“There are worse things I could be,” you shot back, your voice laced with a mix of defensiveness and defiance.

“S’pose that’s true,” he replied, finishing up his polishing with the air of someone who had all the time in the world. He set the glass down next to the others—clean, polished, and waiting to be used. With a fluid motion, he slung the rag over his shoulder, then placed one hand on his hip and the other on the edge of the counter. He shifted his weight, leaning just slightly into the bar, his posture relaxed yet somehow still imposing.

“But on the other hand,” he said, his voice dropping to a more serious tone, “what you already are ain’t too good either.”

It wasn’t a threat—more of an observation, one that hung heavily in the air, like the smoke in the room. You felt the weight of it, but you couldn’t quite tell if it was a warning or just another way to mess with you. Either way, you could tell this conversation wasn’t over.

You could feel the first few bubbles of anger rising in your chest, the heat creeping up your neck as your blood threatened to boil. You’d always been quick to anger—an unfortunate side effect of your temper and stubborn streak. They were the crosses you’d carried for as long as you could remember.

You scoffed again, the sound sharp and biting, as if it were the only defense you had left. You had already rolled your eyes a dozen times tonight, but it felt like you were on the verge of an explosion.

“What’s your goal here, Gramps?” you spat, your voice dripping with sass, every word a little jab. You didn’t care to hide your bitterness. You liked to fight with words just as much as you did with your fists, and the bartender was starting to see that loud and clear.

“You got the answer you were looking for. Whether you believe me or not, you’ve already served me twice. If my age was such a concern to you, you would’ve kicked me out long before I even sat down.” Your words hung in the air once more, and you could see the gears turning behind his eyes, but he didn’t speak.

He just let out a quiet laugh, as if your logic amused him. And he didn’t bother to answer, not even in the slightest.

The silence stretched, thick and tense, and it was clear he wasn’t going to explain himself. He wasn’t about to give you the satisfaction of an explanation. He simply leaned back, eyes flicking over to the rowdy crowd behind you.

It was infuriating.

You stayed silent for a beat, but only because you knew you’d have more to say. And damn right, you did.

“Do you do this with every new customer?” You snapped, your voice rising now, the frustration boiling over. “’Cause if you ask me, I’m not sure how this shithole’s still in business. You discourage your customers from drinking, even though this is a fucking bar, and that’s all people come here to do. You make it impossible to drink peacefully, just like you make it impossible to drink at all!”

The words spilled out like fire, each one more forceful than the last. Your temper was no longer something you were trying to hold back—it was running rampant, and it felt good to let it out, even if it was in the form of a scream. You weren’t about to let this bartender—this stubborn old man—have the upper hand. Not when it felt like he was deliberately pushing your buttons.

“So if it’s alright with you, Gramps, you got your answer, and I don’t owe you shit. I’m leaving.” You actually raise your voice purposefully this time, slamming your hands down onto the counter as you push yourself off of the stool once more. 

The bartender wasn’t fazed by your outburst. In fact, he’d dealt with feistier, louder, and much more difficult people than you—people who could out-shout you or out-punch you if they had to. He wasn’t bothered by your temper. He had raised four kids on his own, after all. He’d learned a thing or two about handling stubborn personalities, whether they were kids or grown adults who carried themselves like children. And you, in his eyes, were just another brat testing his patience.

“You’re not going anywhere.” His voice was steady, calm, and authoritative, with an edge of finality that cut through the noise of the bar.

Before you could react, his hand shot out faster than you expected, grabbing your shoulder with an unexpected gentleness. He tugged you back into the seat with a kind of effortless force that made your breath catch in your throat.

You shot up from the bar stool in a flash, but his hold was stronger than you anticipated.

Instinct kicked in, and your own hand shot out like a snake, grabbing his wrist with a quick, almost violent motion. You shoved it off your shoulder, irritation flaring up like wildfire.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, your chest heaving as you glared up at him, the heat of the moment burning in your eyes.

You huffed, your fists clenching at your sides, teeth grinding. The room seemed to close in around you, but you weren’t backing down—not now, not after all of this. The tension between you and the bartender was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. You could feel the weight of the crowd’s silent attention being drawn to you once more as they waited for your next move, but you weren’t afraid. You didn’t have time to be.

The man let out a heavy sigh, the sound thick with disappointment. 

“Look, kid—”

“By the fucking god’s, I’m not a kid!” you snapped, your eyes flashing a level of ferocity that sliced straight through him.

He pressed his lips into a thin, hard line, his gaze cemented on you still as he took a long, steadying breath. Patience was his virtue, and he was willing to endure this sparring match for as long as it took. 

“It’s clear you’re in some kind of trouble,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Maybe, just maybe, instead of lashing out, you could let someone help—”

You cut him off mid-sentence, your words an unpleasant interruption.

“Help? You want to help? Surely that’s the wrong word. Surely, I heard you wrong, cause, from the way I see it, you’ve done nothing except cage me in here, threaten me, and withhold what I paid for. So if it’s with any consolation, take your ‘help’ and fuck off.” 

Enough was enough. Without another word, you climbed atop the stool, bracing yourself for what came next. You steadied your balance, then launched yourself toward the crowd with calculated precision. The dismount was quick—intentional, forceful. You tucked your legs in, soaring over their heads in a perfect flip, and extended them just before hitting the ground behind them. Without pausing, you bolted for the door, heart pounding in your chest.

To your surprise, you made it—flying through the door and slamming it shut behind you with a satisfying crash. Finally, you were free, never to be seen within a hundred yards of this bar ever again. 

The patrons had made a half-hearted attempt to grab at you as you rushed past, but a sharp, deafening whistle from the bartender stopped them in their strides. He shook his head softly, a silent message that it wasn’t worth the chase. That it was better to let you go. If you were in trouble, it would catch up with you soon enough.

Deep down, the bartender hated seeing someone so young seal their own fate in such a way. But, in the end, there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t save them all—no matter how badly he wished he could.

He couldn’t help but wonder— if maybe, just maybe, he’d been a little too assertive, or downright impetuous with you after all.

But it didn’t matter now. You were gone. All he could do was hope you’d survive out on those streets. 

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