#and he's too stupid to realize he just named himself Afraid

[lotus-duckies]

Gentar ironically means scared/afraid and i havent known peace since then

You're laughing, Gentar's gonna fxckin die and you're laughing /j

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

haven't been sad like this in a long time

[a-mint-bear]

You're Just What I Need

Male Yandere x Reader

You and your new... bedmate? Friend? Are starting to warm up to each other. But as safe as you're feeling, you can't help but wonder what his deal is. And if everything is actually okay here...

Parts: [ 1 / x / 3 ]

[content warning for depicted violence and mentions of violence/murder]

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It was an awkward silence while your mind seemed to run through what he’d asked you. Weighing every option, every pro and con. He wanted to try and say something, anything that would be the right thing that would win you over and make you want to stay, but something told him to stay quiet, to let you come to him.

You’d asked him his name, and he’d been all too eager. Which was… unusual for him. He had different names he used for different people, so no one really knew him. But for you…

“Colin. My name's Colin.” 

It felt right to tell you his real name, like he was starting to feel like himself again. He couldn’t help but smile when he heard you repeat it back to him. You were the only one who knew him now. And he wanted to know you too. 

After another moment of horrible silence and then you agreed. You would stay another night with him. You did ask if you were fine to stay for a few hours before coming back, and while he wanted to say you could stay as long as you wanted, he reeled it in. 

“Of course.” he realized he was still holding your hands, and he got it together, letting them go gently so as not to scare you off. “Take as long as you need.”

But you must’ve been exhausted because when he came back from the bathroom, you were asleep again. He wanted to lie next to you, so much that it hurt. It’d been so long since he’d wanted to sleep instead of desperately needing to. He wanted to hold you, or be held by you, lulled into the call of you until he was whole again. 

He wanted to be with you. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted someone. Beyond how their death could bring him that momentary peace. 

But if he was going to keep you around, he needed to get a few things.

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You didn’t remember passing out again that morning, but when you woke up, you were alone. You spotted a note on the bedside table that said he’d be back in a bit. 

You couldn’t help but be a bit afraid that accepting this strange deal was a stupid mistake. That you weren’t safe here. 

It would be… okay if you had to go back out on the streets that night. Either situation was less risky than staying at a homeless shelter. 

If you were recognized by the wrong person…

If you were found…

You shook off the sick, panicked feeling that hit deep in your gut. You’d kept yourself hidden so far. There’d been a couple close calls, but... you always got away. This place was safe, you kept telling yourself.

As you spiraled down, Colin came back. He had a few bags with him, smiling at you just as warmly as he had that morning. 

You weren’t scared of him, not exactly, but it was hard to trust him fully. 

“You’ve gotta be starving.” He laughed, setting the bags down on the dresser close by. He handed you one of the plastic grocery bags, his fingers brushing against yours. “Sorry, I got a few options, I don't know what you like.”

He’d brought you warm soup and sandwiches from a nearby corner store deli, he informed you. It was all heavenly and made you feel so toasty and warm. He made it a bit awkward, just watching you eat, but you were too hungry to mind much. He showed you some of his other purchases as you ate, calling them “supplies”. 

A few essentials, products for he bathroom you needed. Some snacks he put away in the mini fridge beside the bed. A pair of plush house slippers, he smiled, joking about how the bathroom floor was like ice in the morning. A plush, thick blanket. One much nicer than the motel linens. And a set of warm pajamas for the chilly nights. Better than the sweater and jeans you'd slept in that night. 

It was nice of him, really. But something about it was just a little…

In a motel/hotel-type setting, it might just seem like little things to make your stay more comfortable, but for this…

Did he hope you’d be staying… for a while? Not just a second night? Or was he just being nice?

You pushed it out of your head. You could cross that bridge when you came to it. If that bridge had even been built at all. 

“I got your clothes from your bag and did a load here before I left.” He admitted after a moment, seeming worried. “I’m sorry for going through your stuff, I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to do something nice.”

It felt oddly intimate, somehow more so than sleeping next to him. But laundry was an expense you couldn’t afford, and you had so few pieces of clothing to your name anymore. Not much more than what you had on at the moment. 

You told him it was okay, and again, he just smiled. That smile of his was too much.

It’d been so long since you’d gotten such a seemingly genuine bit of kindness, ever since you found yourself more or less homeless. It was almost too much, like you didn’t know what to do with it. 

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It’d been a long time since he’d felt so… here, this present for this long. 

The days and nights used to bleed together, one long suffocating bit of nothing, broken up by sudden fits and bursts of unspeakable violence. And again, on things went, as they always did. But here he was, with you, and he was feeling… okay. It’d been so long since he felt even close to okay.

The voices were still there, buzzing at the back of his brain. But they were calmer, almost… sated. The same way they were after he killed. When it wore him out enough to finally sleep.

Back when things made sense, back when he was still a person. With every part of him still there. It started with nights, one after the other where sleep just wouldn’t come. Or maybe it had been the voices that came to him first. He couldn’t remember anymore. 

Most days, he made money under the table at a seedy bar across town, cleaning up after the day drunks and ignoring the shady deals that went down in the back alley. 

He worked evenings at the front desk of the motel, sometimes he cleaned up too when the usual cleaner was off. He wasn’t supposed to stay all night, but sometimes when he was days away from another kill, he just stayed behind the counter and no one cared. The owner was a creep, who kept spotty records at best of who stayed so that he could look the other way when questionable folks stayed, jacking up the nightly rates.

Wanted men, hired guns, predators and perverts alike. Anyone who didn’t want police looking for them and would pay extra for the owner’s silence. And for his own silence, Colin got a hefty cut. It came with a free room, even if he didn’t sleep. Not paying rent left him with plenty of money for the people he needed.

And there had been a few times, it was hard to remember how many exactly, where he’d caught one of the guests doing something they really shouldn’t’ve been doing and taken them out instead of finding another victim. If he made a little extra by going through their things afterwards and maybe selling some of it to a silent connection or two, then that was his business.

Not to mention living in the motel made doing what he did a bit easier, doing it on his “home turf”. He knew all the nooks and crannies, all the blind spots and which rooms were occupied. It was isolated and under the radar, which was exactly what he needed.

He lived his life like he didn’t exist. No one knew him, and no one remembered him. He could move through the city without anyone caring he was there. He needed it that way, if he wanted to keep killing.

And he did. He needed to.

That’s the way it had to be, he used to tell himself. 

Until you answered his ad.

Every moment he spent with you made him so grateful that you’d found him. 

And now that you were here, with him…

He couldn’t go back to that.

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You settled into bed with him for the second night, wondering how long he would keep you around for.

But the night turned into day again, and again, you were still sleeping next to him. You were still here with him.

He left during the day for hours, though he seemed a bit reluctant about it, he needed to go to work. You didn’t know what he did, but he reassured you that staying another night and sticking around during the day was no problem for him. And each morning, you woke up to the same payment under your pillow. 

Did he have a good, steady job? Was he secretly loaded? Did money just not mean much to him? Or was this whole setup just that important to him that money was the last thing on his mind?

You tried not to think about if you were, in a weird way, taking advantage of the situation. Taking advantage of him. You pushed it all down, trying not to think about what would come later, just  trying to fall asleep as he snored lightly in your arms.

It still felt just a bit odd and awkward, but… kind of nice.

The way he looked at you, with that warm, almost intense stare that felt like it practically surrounded you when you caught him staring. And when he saw that you saw him, shied away, cheeks on fire. But after a while, he didn’t look away. Only smiled that warm smile, looking almost smitten.

When you’d first met him, he’d had such a hard time looking you in the eye. He’d been so awkward and anxious. And he still was, no question. But now it felt like his eyes never left you. And…

It wasn’t the worst thing… It felt like too much to admit out loud, but still. 

Colin had been kind to you, in this odd way of his. Maybe if you had somewhere or someone to call home, you’d find all this too weird and too intimate. You probably would’ve never even met. But here, now, he was slowly becoming everything. Your conversation partner, the person you shared your meals with, where you laid your head at night… 

Having someone who saw you, really saw you, after knowing what it felt like to be invisible? It was… comforting, to say the very least. Warm and inviting and...here. It pulled you out of a very dark place when that was all you knew.

And when his hands found you in his sleep, tucking his head to your chest, it was hard not to think of him as… yours.

You held back, because outside of the closeness you’d found at night in this cheap but oh-so warm motel bedding, you didn’t know how he saw you. If he didn’t want you… in that way, and he pushed you away? You’d be left with nothing again. And not even the money you’d earned so far would be worth going back to that feeling.

It wasn’t just the warm bed and the food, the shower, the money or the sense of safety you felt with him that you’d regret losing. 

It was him. 

You tried to convince yourself that you didn’t miss sleeping next to someone, but deep down, you knew that was a lie. Especially now when you’d had to isolate yourself so much. He was really the first person you’d been able to really talk to for a long while.

He stopped by for meals together during the day, and when eleven p.m. hit, he was in for the night. When you were alone, resting and alone with your thoughts, you would be tempted to leave, even if it was to go out for a bit to pick up something you needed. But when you touched the door handle to the room, you were hit with a wave of all that too familiar anxiety and helplessness.

No one knew you were here, except Colin. You were hidden here, safe. If you left, there was a chance they would find you. 

So you stayed. Just waiting for Colin to come back. Seeing him was quickly becoming the best part of your day, as embarrassing as that was sometimes. He was starting to become… more. To you.

You wish you knew how to feel about that. 

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You seemed to have these walls around you, he thought. 

You weren’t… afraid, not entirely. It was more like…

Like someone had hurt you. Like you were too hurt to let him in, beyond holding him at night. 

You had been with him for almost a week by then, and everything had been calm. 

Somehow… he trusted-... yeah... Trusted whatever this was. He wanted you to stay, and every time he came back to the motel, you were still there. Waiting for him with a smile that said you were warming up to him. Trusting him just a little bit more.

In the quieter moments, before he fell asleep with you, sometimes he would hear them again. He almost felt like something was clutching at the back of his neck, stuck in that moment as the paranoid, conflicting thoughts played in a nauseating loop.

That no one could really help him.

That you were his salvation. 

That the safety he felt was a fluke and whatever this was couldn’t actually last.

That you knew he’d brought you here to kill you. 

That the only thing that’d saved you was something he’d never expected to feel, and it could stop at any time. 

That you would hurt him.

That he would hurt you.

That you should run.

That he should do whatever he could to keep you close.

Endlessly, all of it hammered away at his reasoning, pushing on the back of his eyes. 

But as he held you, the tension left his muscles. His thoughts quieted and he just focused on your sleeping face. Whatever had a hold on him felt so weak with you near. You were his. And nothing would take you away from him. 

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He was getting ready to leave one morning when you asked him something he somehow hadn’t prepared for. 

Why were you here?

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, barely meeting his eyes. 

“Why, uh…” He stumbled over his words. “Is something wrong?”

You were upsettingly quick to tell him that you were grateful that he’d let you stay here. For the food, for the money, and for not asking questions. It made his heart hurt how guarded you still seemed, but he let you go on. You said you just felt like you needed to understand, even just a little. 

You wondered out loud if you were just here to literally warm the bed, that maybe that was all you were good for anyway. Not like you had anything else to offer anyone.

He was frozen. He’d never had to comfort and reassure anyone before, at least not that he could remember. What if he said the wrong thing? What if he made it worse?

You held yourself, like his silence confirmed your fears. Like you were so wary of everything. How long had it been since you could trust someone? 

He felt himself stop breathing when you laughed at your own worry, smiling up at him with tears in your eyes. You apologized, telling him never mind, that you were just being stupid.

He sat next to you, despite wanting to just hold you. He could see you were hurting, and he just wanted to make you... better.

“It’s okay, I just…” He wasn’t… this wasn’t him. But he needed to try. You needed this. “I can’t sleep. And…”

He hesitated, not knowing if it was right to say.

 “It’s… it’s a long story, but… I used to do… something else. To get to sleep. And if I didn’t…” 

He remembered every kill. When he couldn’t sleep, they were fuzzy on the edge of his thoughts. But now they were so clear. He remembered their faces. How they struggled. The burn in his muscles from the kill. How he felt the relief of exhaustion wash over him like nothing else could bring him. 

“If I didn’t do it, I wouldn’t get to sleep for days. Things got... bad. But then I found you! O-or, I guess you found me, ya know?”

Carefully, slowly, he took your hand in his, gauging if you were okay with it. You didn’t pull away, and he knew he must look so weak to you. So pathetic. But it was hard to let go.

“I really do need you, ya know?” His thumb grazing the back of your hand, laying his head on your shoulder. He closed his eyes, trusting you beyond everything that told him he shouldn’t. “With you, everything is gonna be okay.”

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He had a faraway look in his eyes, like he was remembering something unpleasant. You wondered if it was drugs or something else he might be scared or embarrassed to admit. 

He was being so vulnerable with you. And it should’ve made you feel so uncomfortable, like it was too much to put on you for someone you barely knew. But it didn’t. 

It didn’t bother you at that moment. It was an odd reason, if a real “reason” at all. 

When he finally left, all you could do was sit on the bed, your chin resting on your knees as you held your legs up against you, the position making you feel more alert, safer. You stared at the door, fearing every sound, every shadow that passed by the door as other guests walked to their rooms.

You were hidden away here, you told yourself. No one knew you were here. Except Colin. He’d be back for lunch soon and you could relax for a bit before he had to leave again.

He needed you. You weren’t a burden to him. It was weird, but it was enough to be useful to him, even if it was just for a bit.

Wasn’t it?

It weighed on you as you tried to get to sleep that night was a bunch of questions you’d pushed out of your head until then.

How long were you going to be allowed to stay here? 

How was everything going to be fine now when it wasn’t going to last?

He needed you? Who said that to someone they barely knew?

If he needed you to be able to sleep…

Would he find someone else once you were gone?

He was asleep in your arms as you layed there, wide awake with this anxious, enveloping worry. It kind of hit you then, that as comfortable as you were here, with him… as safe as you felt…

If he knew about you, what you’d been through… would he still want you around?

None of this could last forever. It had only worked out that way so far because you had nowhere else to go. 

What did you expect? You scolded yourself. It’s not like it was anything real. You weren’t dating, or lovers. You weren’t even friends, not really. 

You didn’t really know anything about him… It all started eating away at you. 

Him, depending so much on you.

You, just as dependent on him.

And you… making more out of this situation with him than it was.

Even then, with all those thoughts swarming in your head, you still felt his body heat on you. You still held him close and fell into the rhythm of his breathing. You still craved that closeness, that certainty that when you woke up in the morning, he would still be there.

Deep down, you wanted so badly to stay. But you couldn’t open up to him like that…

You couldn’t get hurt again. 

If you stayed too long… 

It would be better for both of you if you just left.

. . .

“I have to go out again.” He sighed, grabbing his shoes and sitting on the edge of the bed to get them on. “It’s my day off tomorrow, so we can spend the whole day together.”

You felt guilty for what you were about to do, but you didn’t know if you could do it if he was around. Either he’d want you to stay and make it harder to leave or he’d smile and wish you well. 

You weren’t sure which one would hurt more. 

He left with that sweet, warm smile, and just for a moment… You wished he would kiss you goodbye. 

That was as much as you were willing to let yourself feel. 

It was for the best.

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His hands shook, the note tearing suddenly under his panicked, unsteady grip.

“No…” He was hit by a wave of revoltion and panic, tossing it away like it’d burned him. “No… no, fuck fuck fuck FUCK-!!”

He held himself, trying to steady the lurching unease hitting him deep. His shirt rode up as he curled forward into the old, shaggy carpet, the pain let him focus as his nails dug into his skin just above his hips. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay…” he tried to soothe himself, but it was already hitting him. 

You were gone. And he had no clue where to find you. If you never came back…

. . .

“If I knew where they went, I would be with them!!” he shouted back, hating how clear the voices were already. He needed to calm down. “I have to… have to…”

His legs felt weak. You couldn’t be gone… He still needed you. If you were gone… it wouldn’t be long before everything fell apart again. Not long until the voices would be all he could hear, tormenting him until he could finally find sleep again.

Killing again was one thing, it didn’t matter how many people he needed.

He needed you more.

Desperately clawing at the blanket you’d left behind, like it would keep him from losing himself entirely. Pulling it close, it still smelled like you. He knew it was in his head, but he could swear it was still warm, like you’d only just left.

There was a deafening pounding on the motel room door. 

“Ryan! You piece of shit!!” A loud voice from the door called to him. “You were supposed to be at the front desk a half hour ago!! I’m gettin’ money somewhere else! If you’re spacin’ out again, I’m gonna wring your fuckin’ neck!!”

Ryan… That was the name the manager knew him by. It sounded like he’d been drinking, he’d probably come straight from the bar when he got a call that no one was at the desk to check them in.

He stood up, moving wordlessly over to the door, opening it to his furious boss.

“I knew you were here!!” he shouted in “Ryan’s” face, his breath reeked of cheap whisky. “You been cryin’ or somethin’?? Fuckin’ answer me!!”

He stuck his head out, looking around outside the door. One way. Then the other. 

No one was around.

“What?! Got nothin’ to say to me you little-”

He grabbed the man’s shoulders, driving his knee under the bottom of his ribs with all his strength. The drunk doubled over, gasping and wheezing, dropping to his knees. 

He was suddenly dragged by his shirt collar to the bathroom, and before he could rasp out in confusion or anger or fear, He felt the dull ache of being grabbed by his hair. But it was quickly replaced by the pain of his face being repeatedly bashed into the granite bathroom countertop. He quickly went limp.

When Colin finally stopped, it was only because his hands were too slick to hold on any longer. 

“Gone…” He panted. “You’re gone. Where… where are you…”

He had to find you. 

When he did… 

It wasn’t how he wanted to get closer to you. He wanted you to open up to him, to tear down those walls you had built to keep him out. He wanted to make you think of him as yours, as someone you could hold on to. Someone you needed, like he needed you.

You always seemed so... on edge.

If you needed to feel safe, then…

Colin would make sure he was the only safe place for you to go.

Even if he had to make you see it.

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hello everybody! would ya believe i rewrote this like four times?? but i'm really glad i did, as this is the best version so far.

hope it lives up to part 1, and that you all like it c:

once again, if you know and hate/are repulsed by a Colin in your life, i'm so sorry

can't have a romance without stupid, avoidable misunderstandings, ya know? but in this case it just seems smart on the reader's end. don't answer sketchy internet ads, kids

originally, this had just as many words but nothing really happened. it was more of a chapter where we learned all the same information, but he emotions explored felt, idk flatter? like it was saying all the same stuff but it was just not quite right.

Colin started off being very vague about his killing, but it didn't really fit his character. as much as he'd rather not kill, he doesn't feel guilty about it. to him, it's just something he does. like an annoying chore. but he's present enough to know you'd get scared off if you knew.

so as a result, there are some cw tags on this post

don't know how specific i should be about the reader's past, if getting too specific would make their side of it take the reader out of it.

just know they're basically in hiding, and they don't just leave town for a reason, i promise

haven't thought of what little yandere pet name he'd use for the reader yet, but it's in the works

i had some backstory stuff for Colin too, but it just felt out of place, so if you wanna know some stuff, send an ask ✌️

part three is where he really gets to be an all-out yandere, so here's hoping y'all come back for that (eventually lol) this part was originally going to be the last (or at least where everything happened) but then it just turned into more and more until i was like screw it, part 3

i'm sure i'll spot some typos or unfinished sentences in here somewhere when i re-read this later so bear with me please

i got laundry to do, peace out y'all

eta: i forgot to make them kiss!! def in part 3, it didn't quite fit here.

i can't remember if anyone asked me to tag them for part 2 and i can't find any mentions, but something tells me i was supposed to and i dropped the ball...

im not entirely happy with the header, but it was last minute and ive been rewriting this all day and just wanted to move on with my day lol might replace it? but im lazy so probably not *shrug*

[eph3merall]

can you write something abt loser!reader x fratboy!chris, where reader starts seeing someone else and chris gets jealous. I love your writing sooo much !!!

it's been radio silence from you to chris for about a week now. he's confused, because what the hell? last time he noticed, he was the only guy who ever gave a shit about you. so to see you posting a picture on your instagram with you and another guy made his face twist into some disgusted expression while staring at his phone.

you looked happy. like, happier than you usually were with him. which he found fucking ridiculous, considering for a good chunk of time chris was the only one who put up with your rambling and annoying habits. the post didn't get many likes, barely up to 150. it was mostly just some of your friends who probably thought your new boyfriend was hot and some random people who thought you were pretty, based on the comments.

he doesn't notice the swirl of jealousy unfurling in his chest, a second later and chris is banging on your dorm room door only to be met with silence. his knuckles bang against the wooden door unsteady on it's hinges, jaw ticking and teeth grinding together subconsciously. only again, you don't peek your head out in the crack of your door like normal, you don't come to answer and smile almost immediately as you spot chris.

he's standing awkwardly in front of the door to your dorm, either no one's home and he looks like a fool right now or you're ignoring him. he knows that 'friend' of yours who shares a room with you is out at a frat party tonight, and you don't even go anywhere��so why the fuck aren't you answering?

he's about to blurt out your name but thought against it as the hallway was deathly silent right now, especially so late at night. he'd probably get complaints from whoever roomed here. his knuckles rap against the door again, shifting around awkwardly. a swirl of frustration and annoyance bloomed in his chest, because you couldn't possibly be busy.

he tries the knob—obviously nothing. until the sounds of shuffling are heard inside, and a second later you're standing in the doorway with messy hair and weary eyes. a yawn mixes in with your words, too tired to even realize this is chris. you've been ignoring him for a little now, afraid if your new boyfriend found out he'd call it cheating or something.

chris doesn't say or do anything before shoving you inside and closing your door, met with dim darkness and the only lighting provided from the warm lamp on your desk. your dorm room is a cluttered mess of trinkets and work and textbooks, tabletop a pile of studies and some clothing items littering the floor.

"what's your fuckin' problem, kid?" you stare at him. it's like this for a little, the two of you staring as chris impatiently waits for his words to register in your thick ass skull. you don't really know how to respond, truthfully. lips tugging into a frown and shoulders lifting up and down a little, you take a seat on your bed. the sheets are everywhere, having just woken up.

chris is standing there looking so out of place. he keeps on thinking about that stupid post of you and that guy, forcing himself to try and calm the fuck down. "what, gonna sit there in silence? fuckin' heard me, know y'did. what the hell is goin' on? you've been ignoring me like i have the flu."

the little space is silent, and you kind of hate it. normally, silence comes as a comfort to you. it relaxes your head and makes you much less anxious, but this time it felt uncomfortable. it felt deafening, as you gnaw on your bottom lip until it's started stinging from the constant abuse. "i dunno. i, uh, i got a boyfriend," you shrug, like it wasn't a big deal. because it technically wasn't, you and chris weren't even together.

"oh, alright. whatever, then, so you go n'give me the silent treatment? that's some childish shit n'you know it," he scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest lazily, obviously upset. but why? he was more so upset at you not telling him and forcing him to jerk off into his hand for the past week, than the boyfriend part. he couldn't give a shit if you started dating your best friend.

chris isnt good with feelings. he'll play everything off, ignoring the way his chest burns as you justify what you did. he's barely listening to a word you say, the particular label 'boyfriend' stuck in his head. he couldn't believe someone like you pulled.

"so.. y'know," you've crossed your legs together on the plush mattress of your bed, eyes darting around your littered floor and practically refusing to look chris in the eyes. "sorry. didn't mean to ignore you.." and that's the truth. because chris has stuck with you, while your life turned to practically shit and everyone started becoming someone you couldn't trust. chris just rolls his eyes, scoffing under his breath and starting towards you. he stands in front of you, lip curled in annoyance as he looks you up and down for a second.

"whatever. y'should pay me back for all that lost time though.. so uh," chris' hands are gravitating towards his belt without another second, unsure of how to deal with what he's feeling in his chest every time he hears you mumble the word 'boyfriend' in his mind. it makes him feel sick. he wont ever admit it though.

—

@conspiracy-ash @sturniolosfavkayleigh @lvrsturniolo @st7rnioioss @meatballlover10 @ashlishes @ferdzom @55sturn @chriseatingmeoutin4k @unknvhx @mattslolita @chaossturns @slut4brunettes

©eph3merall 2024

[uncannydevotion]

a/n: this is kinda based on my creepypasta boyfriend scenarios that i sorta abandoned after quotev died fgdjksfgs i miss it but it's kinda bad so i might just start over one day. idk. anyways bc of tht it'll include all the characters i had in tht story so <3 this is gonna be pretty short btw!!

includes: slenderman, jeff the killer, eyeless jack, homicidal liu, the bloody painter, and brian thomas.

warnings: mentions of injuries nd murder in slender's part, thoughts of harm against reader in both jeff and ej's parts, depictions of murder in jeff's part, cannibalism in ej's part, i can't think of any warnings for liu nd helen, post-mh canon that im making up for brian where he lives, some vague depictions of the sickness in brian's part.

SLENDERMAN

Truth be told, Slender found itself feeling very confused after its encounter with you. It isn't sure if it has ever met a human that didn't flee at the mere sight of it. Even after all the static it forced upon you, you wanted to help it.

Not that it needed your help, really. It was used to people trying to hunt it. No human would ever be able to kill it, even if it did end up getting injured.

A mild injury, at that, but one you tended to nonetheless. Like it was a normal person. Like it couldn't tear you apart in the blink of an eye if it so desired.

And the weirdest thing is...

Slender doesn't want to kill you.

It was never fond of people trespassing in its forest, truthfully. Humans were annoying creatures. Expendable ones, at that. But you're the first one to ever worry about it. It found that to be interesting.

And it rarely ever found a human interesting. Perhaps that's why it didn't have any interest in killing you. Rather, it wanted to study you. Surely there must be something wrong with you to not be afraid of it, right?

Something it could exploit, something it could use to break you down and turn you into another proxy.

Hm...

Why does the thought of you becoming its proxy make it feel strange? How... interesting. Annoying, even. A feeling it wishes to study further, given the opportunity.

When it no longer felt your presence in the forest, Slender found itself hoping to meet you again soon. Preferably when there's not someone trying, and failing, to kill it.

JEFF THE KILLER

Jeff was feeling pretty damn frustrated, to say the least. He'd been eyeing you for weeks, planning out the perfect time and perfect way to carve you up so you'd end up on the news. He was never supposed to interact with you.

But then some drunk bastard had to get all up in your business on your walk home, and he was not going to risk some other guy killing you before he got the chance to.

Even worse, Jeff had given you his name. All because of your damn frown when he had tried to ignore you.

What the fuck was wrong with him!?

Really, the only way to vent his anger and frustration was by brutally murdering the man who had harassed you.

But even as the blood stained his clothes and his hands, you never left his mind. You, and your stupid fucking smile, and your stupid gratitude.

He knows you're not an idiot. You know that he's been watching you for a while now, and yet you spoke to him so easily. You thanked him like he was someone who deserved it. Maybe you were an idiot, actually.

The knife sunk into the drunkard's chest, and Jeff sighs in mild annoyance when he realizes the man had finally died.

It all ended far too quickly for his liking, and it looks like he went a little overboard this time.

This was all your fault.

He needed to see the life leave your eyes. Maybe then this annoying feeling in his chest will go away, and you'll finally leave his thoughts.

EYELESS JACK

Jack was feeling rather pleased with himself.

When he entered that neighborhood tonight in search for some dinner, he had made a pretty decent meal out of some guy. He was still feeling pretty hungry by the time he had finished, so it felt like fate when a light shined through the window and illuminated him.

He met your gaze across the street from the safety of your own home, blood staining his hands as he lowered the mans lung from his mouth.

You'd be his next meal, he decides.

And as soon as you looked away from the window, Jack was discarding his forgotten dinner and sneaking his way across the street to your home. It wasn't hard breaking in, your window to your bedroom having been cracked open.

It didn't take him long to find you either, sitting in your kitchen staring at your coffee machine, looking as if you were going to fall asleep right then and there.

You had acted so calm at the sight of him, and it didn't take him long to realize that you thought you were hallucinating from some form of sleep deprivation.

So, obviously, he was going to use that to his advantage. He asked to eat you, and you had agreed. Well, you set some conditions. Something about being on your deathbed. That's neither here nor there.

All he cared about was the fact that he was going to be able to make a meal out of you in the future, he just had to wait for you to drop dead.

He'll make sure to pay a visit to you again soon, to keep you healthy. He wants you to taste good, after all.

HOMICIDAL LIU

As soon as you left Liu alone in the church, he could practically feel the excitement coming from Sully, the man basically crowding his mind asking if they'd see you again soon.

He's not sure what you did, but you certainly made a lasting impression on his alter. Which was shocking, in all honesty, because there's not many things that can keep Sully's attention.

Maybe that's why you were still alive. He can't remember a single time Sully spared someone, even if it meant getting his ass beat and leaving Liu to tend to the wounds.

Of course, just the fact that you had tried to kill him left Liu with many questions. You seemed... trained. Like a professional, almost. Sorta like a hitman, honestly. Which made him wonder... did someone put a hit on him?

Crazy line of thought, honestly, but given the way his life has turned out, it's not all that shocking.

Sully is the one who comes up with the idea of searching for you. If you were a hitman, then they could employ you to help find Jeff.

And while Liu didn't like the idea of getting an outsider involved in his... family drama, if that's what you want to call it, it wasn't a bad idea. He had reached a dead end, so an extra set of eyes could be useful.

And lucky for Liu, he was pretty good at tracking people down. He'd see you again in no time, surely.

THE BLOODY PAINTER

Helen had joined this art class mostly out of boredom. He didn't need anyone to teach him how to draw, he just... needed something to do when he wasn't searching for a new person to make a project out of.

Honestly, a few weeks into joining the class, he had considered dropping out. But then you showed up, and you started interacting with him.

It was never anything major, just a small greeting every time you crossed paths. It was enough to make Helen aware of you, and that was enough to draw him in.

He knew you weren't interested in art. You were probably only there out of boredom as well. You rarely ever tried when it came to drawing, but he could see the potential in you.

So when the teacher of the class presented an optional project to participate in, Helen was already getting up from his seat to ask you to be his partner in this project.

He didn't need you to draw, he just needed you to be his model.

Not to mention you were the only person in this whole class that he felt remotely comfortable working with. The other people who attended this class were all... reminders.

They made him think of people he'd rather not think about.

But you were different. Special.

He'd make sure to paint you the perfect portrait.

BRIAN THOMAS

Brian was completely out of it when he had first met you, honestly. He was still trying to process that fact that he was alive, somehow. Memories of his death making his head pound, confusion the only thing he can feel other than pure and utter nausea.

Truth be told, a part of him thinks you're someone he conjured up in his mind to keep himself alive a little longer.

It's not until he takes a long shower and pops some pain meds that he's able to gather some of his thoughts and come to terms with the fact that you were one, very real, and two, he was... far away from home.

He's not even sure what town he was in right now, let alone what state. All he knew was that he had been taken to some shitty motel by someone who probably should've dragged his ass to a hospital instead.

And when Brian no longer felt like he was going to die from the world's worst migraine, he found himself revisiting the place you had found him.

Some abandoned and overgrown park in the forest bordering this weird town where the locals pretended he didn't exist.

Partly because it was the only secluded place he could think of where he could look through footage on the camera he had been carrying with him for some reason.

But mostly because he wanted to see you again. To thank you for helping him out when you had.

Not to be dramatic, but he probably would've actually died if you hadn't been there, so.

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: You're a stupid drunk and James Potter is very very bad at dealing with his romantic feelings.

Genre: Angst (happy ending), fluff, hurt and comfort (a little bit of everything honestly)

Warnings: jealous!james, stupid!james, swearing, screaming, arguments, crying, injuries, punching, blood, protective!James, protective!marauders, platonic!best friends!marauders, confessions, dangerous activities (reader puts herself in danger), mentions of dying

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

You look towards the ground and your ankle bends a little in your winter boots as you try to control your movements. The cherry liquor you had drank earlier lingers in your mouth and in your drunken haze, the tower you're currently balancing on feels secure as you move forwards and the onlookers below continue to cheer. 

"Please don't stay out too late," Remus warned you.

You blush, shaking some snow from your hair as you outstretch your arms for better balance, biting your lip. You look up at the sky, the stars prominent this evening.

"And don't drink too much," James reminded you with small smile. 

"We'll see you there," Sirius promised.

What the hell did they know? You pout, now staring down at the snow on the ground. They hadn't even shown up!

You hear someone call your name and you look down to see Arthur Brown, a Ravenclaw boy you'd been talking with at a party. He's handsome with a charming smile and as you wave to him, you almost fall over. 

Arthur just chuckles and encourages you to continue whatever nonsense and liquid courage inspired you to walk on the castle roof in the snow this late at night. 

"Y/n?" you hear Remus's strained shout and when you turn your head, you're surprised to see Remus, James, and Sirius rushing over. They aren't dressed for the cold weather and they look extremely shaken and confused. "Come down from there," Remus shouts. You wonder how they'd known.

Sirius looks pale and James is frantically looking around to find some way to help you down safely. He looks more distraught than the others and Sirius has to calm him.

Your eyebrows knit together. You're afraid James might make a scene. Only, why would he? You know he'd let Remus, Sirius, or Peter do this in a heart beat, and he'd find it funny.

Bloody hell, James would probably do it himself so why does he look so worried when it's you?

"Bugger off, she's fine," Arthur interrupts as you take another step. Your boots slip on the snow again but you laugh as you move your arms out further to catch yourself. "See, she's fine. So, stop being her little guard dogs for one second and let her live a little," he says with unnecessary venom. 

"What did you just say?" Sirius barks, grabbing Arthur's collar. He looks furious now. 

"Y/n, come down, please, honey," Remus calls, occasionally telling Sirius to drop it and to concentrate on you.

You frown as Arthur's teasing riles up your friends and the crowd underneath you. Wind swirls around you and you gasp, feeling suddenly even more unbalanced and you start to realize maybe this wasn't the smartest plan.

"You fuckin' prick, don't talk about her like that, you hear me?" James suddenly swears loudly. Because you hadn't been paying attention to the boys under you, when you hear James and look down at him, you see that he'd pushed Arthur into the snow and was pinning him down.

Alarmed by their shouts, you accidentally slip as you turn around to make sure James's is okay.  

You let out a shriek and all the students suddenly look up, seeming to remember your presence. Momentarily distracted by your scream, Arthur slams his elbow into James's cheekbone and sends him falling off him. Chaos ensues as everyone rushes to crowd around both you and James separately. 

Remus kneels next to you, his hand coming behind your head to support you up. You're clutching at your ankle as you wail uncontrollably from the way you had fallen onto the snow. With nimble fingers, Remus cuffs your jeans and sees how swollen your ankle looks. "Oh, honey, that looks like it hurts," he whispers and caresses your cheek with his knuckles. 

From next to you, Sirius and other students are standing around James; James, who has scrambled up from the ground. His nose is bleeding and the crimson liquid stains the snow as he curses at Arthur. Sirius is holding James up by his shoulders and he uses his hand to pinch James's nose as his best friend winces in pain. Arthur, who has a prominent bruise under his eye, is pulled away by his friends. 

"What happened here?" The low drone of the Headmaster, accompanied by an anxious looking Professor McGonagall, is heard and you all turn your heads around.

* * *

Around an hour later, as Madam Pomfrey takes the time to heal your ankle, a disheveled looking James sits on the bed opposite of yours. He's holding a handkerchief to his nose and Madam Pomfrey hasn't tended to his injury yet. To her defense, James still looks extremely pissed and you wouldn't want to approach him either. You won't have that same luxury as the moment Madam Pomfrey is gone, James is staring.  

"What were you thinking?" he whispers, his tone quipped. Still a little fuzzy from how drunk you'd been, you blink at him and shift uncomfortably. 

"What was I thinking? What were you thinking?" you counter, defensively.

"What?" James drops the handkerchief and glares. 

"Why would you jump Arthur like that?"

"Why the fuck do you care?" James hisses, his eyes narrowing. He's your best friend, he knows you hate it when he swears but that doesn't stop him now. "You're fucking reckless, you know? How could you have been so fucking stupid?"

You stare at James as your eyes water painfully. No coherent words form in your head. You're grateful for an escape when Remus and Sirius pile into the room. 

Sirius rushes to your side. "Aw, poor sweetness, does it hurt terribly?" his sentence dies when he sees your tears and he wraps an arm around you so you can hug him. "Y/n, what's wrong?" 

Remus, always more intuitive than Sirius, looks at James and sees James's furious expression. He frowns and quickly walks over to his best friend and holds onto his arm. James pushes him away and you see Remus whisper something in his ear. 

However, Sirius pulls your attention away from them as he wipes your tears with his thumb. 

"I am not!" Your attention is pulled again and you hear James shout as Remus shushes him.

You sniff, and look at Sirius. "James hates me," you say and Sirius's expression falls. He looks behind and sees Remus and James's shushed argument. He turns to you and holds your chin in his hand as his gaze softens. 

"James couldn't hate you even if he'd been cursed to," he says so simply.

You shake your head and bite your lip. "No, he's really mad…like really mad, Pads."

Sirius chuckles and sighs, "Oh sweetie, James isn't really mad at you. He's mad at himself. Merlin, you should have seen him when he first saw you on that roof, the poor bloke looked about ready to faint." 

Sirius continues and turns to Remus and James only to see they've moved further away from you and Sirius, and James looks like he could burst into tears at any moment, "Jamie is madly in love with you, Y/n. Just the possibility of you and another guy makes him go absolutely bonkers. And listen, if he hadn't hit Arthur like he did, I don't know if you would have fallen, doll. James knows that too and he's simply mad with guilt."

You try to concentrate on Sirius's entire story but your mind stays stuck at the words; "James? In love with me?" 

Sirius's lips curl in amusement but he doesn't have the time to answer because he hears Remus shout an exasperated; "Prongs!" as James, his nose still very much broken and bloody, storms out of the Hospital Wing without a second word. Your chest tightens as you watch him and if you could, you'd run after him.

* * *

James has been avoiding you. Or more accurately, he's been avoiding everyone for the last three days. He's never in the common room anymore and he has evening detentions with Professor McGonagall so you don't see him at all outside of classes. Remus, Sirius, and Peter all tell you he's been quiet in their dorm too and that they don't know what's happened with him either. 

Remus won't tell anyone what he spoke to James about that night in the Hospital Wing.

By the fourth day of complete silence, you've had enough. You manage to catch James on his way to detention. You speed walk over to him and cut his path, spinning around to look at him. You gasp when you see him. His face is bruised and his lip is split. "James!" you gasp and stop him. James's brown eyes narrow and he looks angry. 

"Get out of my way, Y/n," he hisses as his fists clench. 

"What happened?" you insist. His burises look horrible, and you think that he hadn't got his broken nose healed properly since he'd stormed out of the Hospital Wing. Why handn't the boys told you James looked like this?

"Are you a bloody insane? What he fuck happened?" your voice comes out stern and James pauses at your curse word, his frustrated expression faltering for a moment. 

"What?"

You hold onto his sleeve and push him into the nearest girls lavatory. James almost trips as you make him lean against the sink. His eyes widen when you pull out your wand and firmly grasp his chin in your hands. You ignore his whinning as you point your wand at his wounds. "Episky—shush be still," you mutter sternly as you heal all of his wounds. "What is wrong with you, James Potter? Tell me who you've been tousling with this instant!"

James scrunches his nose and touches where his wounds had been. He leans away from you. "Nobody," he says, his voice high so you know he's lying. 

"James," you warn. You move away and shove your wand in your cloak. "Please, tell me."

James has never been able to deny you a thing, even at times like this. "Fine, just don't lose your head over it, bird," you scowl at the nickname with an eye roll. "Brown keeps pushing my buttons, is all," he says. 

"Arthur? The same boy who broke your nose?"

"Yeah, that little fucker, I'm pretty sure he's in love with you—or he has some weird obsession because he can't keep your name out of his fucking mouth," James suddenly pinches his nose and shuts his eyes, "Shi-sorry I keep curing, I know you don't like it when we curse." 

Almost like he's sulking, James leans against the sink and stares at you. He doesn't speak. 

"You're such a wanker," you mumble and look at him more closely, "Why are you acting like such a prick since that night?"

"Oh, since the night you almost fucking died?" James raises his eyebrows, his tone sarcastic and you ignore the curse word again. 

"Horrible exaggeration considering all I did was break my ankle."

"Could have been your neck," James deadpans. 

"Well, it wasn't my neck and that's certainly no excuse to be a such a prat," you say seriously. James considers your words and sighs. He runs a hand through his shaggy hair and looks away. 

"What do you want me to say?" he asks. 

You stare at him like he's absolutely mental. "That you're sorry?"

James laughs and you swear you've never met a boy as stubborn as he is. "Why would I be sorry?"

"Are you serious, James?" you whisper and press your finger accusingly on his chest, "Listen to me, I know I shouldn't have been on that roof, that's my mistake, but you know damn well I wouldn't have been on that roof if you'd all come with me to the party like you'd promised!" your voice comes out rushed, "And I wouldn't have fallen if you didn't have to knock down Arthur Brown and make me worried for you!"

James's cheeks are flaming. "You think I, out of everyone, don't know that?" he says, straightening up and moving closer to you, his voice harsh, "do you think I don't lay awake at night, going absolutely insane over every possible scenario that prevents you from falling?" James's voice cracks and he steps forwards again. 

You look up at him, slightly breathless. For someone so angry, James looks undeniably handsome. "I know we should have gone to the party with you, but Merlin, I couldn't bear another one! Another party I would have had to spend watching other boys fawn all over you! Fuck, Y/n, how could I have known you would decide take a drunken nightly stroll on a roof because we hadn't shown up!"

You listen to him, eyes wide, "You don't like it when boys fawn over me?" you whisper. 

James frowns. He bites his lip and squeezes his eyes closed. "Of course I don't," he says, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. 

"Why?" 

"Because you should be mine," James's voice is smaller now, less authoritative, less angry. 

You stare at him and take in his expression with an inhale of breath. "But, James, I am yours."

James shakes his head quickly and tugs at his curls. "No, no. You aren't mine. You're ours. Sirius, Remus, Peter—you're our best friend. And I was okay with that, until I wasn't anymore and now everytime Arthur Brown says he wants to kiss your lips all I want is to punch something." James's fists clench and he looks away from you. 

"You're scaring me," you look at him, whispering honestly but you don't move away from him.

James looks down and this time he looks really remorseful, "I'm sorry, Y/n, I don't meant to scare you. I—"

"So, Sirius was right," you inquire, taking his sudden remorse as a widow for a civilized conversation. 

"Sirius was right about what?" 

"You're in love with me," you don't say it as a question, more like a statement and James's eyes round so wide you're almost afraid they'll pop out of his skull.

James tries to escape but as he backs away, he bumps into the sink and his heart sinks. His eyes are moving so rapidly around the room and his cheeks have turned a less aggressive crimson and into a more lovesick pink. 

"Why does everyone keep telling me that?" he mumbles to himself, feeling warmth on his cheek. 

"What?"

James rubs at his nape and looks less angry and more nervous. You smile. You had been right to strike this conversation now. "Moony, in the Hospital Wing. He said I loved you—which was why I was acting like a prick and I don't," he backtracks immediately, "I mean, I love you as a friend and n-nothing more."  

You expected to feel pain at the rejection but instead, you laugh. You stare at James and laugh harder. So hard, you clutch your sides and James's eyebrows crease with worry as you hyperventilate in front of him. 

"Because you should be mine," you repeat his words through your laughter, "That's what you said and now you want me to believe you aren't in love with me?!"

"What?!" James's crimson cheeks have returned and he sounds annoyed now, "I- listen, sorry to disappoint but I-I am not in love with you!"

"You aren't?" you look at him, your eyes flickering to his lips. 

"No!"

"Then why do you want me to be yours? What does that mean, hmm, James?"

You walk a little closer and your arms rest on the sink behind him. You ignore the way your heart is pounding your chest and screaming at you as you stand so close to him. James is staring down as you look up at him through your lashes. You expect another protest, maybe another incoherent defense, but instead he mumbles, "Fuck it," under his breath and takes your cheeks in his hands as he kisses you. 

Without a second thought, you kiss him back. Your hand tangles in his hair as you press your lips to his. It's almost animalistic the way James is kissing you and it only lasts a few seconds before he's disconnecting your lips and resting his forehead onto yours. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he pants, shaking his head, "I shouldn't have kissed you without asking you—"

     "Oh, shut up," you grumble and kiss him again. He accepts the kiss and spins you around. He uses his arm to hoist you onto the sink and deepen the kiss. You hold onto him and wince when your hip accidentally hits the faucet. James pulls away and looks at you like he can't believe what just happened. 

"Okay, so maybe I am in love with you," he finally admits and his chest is heaving from all the emotions. 

You crack a smile, "I'm in love with you too, James," you admit and touch his cheek. "Only, you can't act like a prick to me when you can't deal with your emotions. You should have told me all these feelings instead of sulking like a child." 

James nods and squeezes his eyes shut, "I was just so angry at myself," he whispers.

"I know, Sirius said that was the reason."

James chuckles with a roll of his eyes, "How does Sirius suddenly know my emotions better than I do? He's usually the emotional wreck!" 

You adjust his glasses a little, "He's just observant," you say, "and you're stubborn."

James pulls you in, holding you close to him as he dips and kisses your neck. He hums against your skin and whispers, "I'm such a fool, can you forgive me?" he asks, basically pleads, "I'm just, I was jealous."

You laugh, "Oh, I know. But, James, you know you have no reason to be jealous of anyone."

James whines and looks at you with his famous doe eyes; "I have every reason to be jealous. I'm jealous of the way Peter laughs at your jokes, or how Remus bonds over books with you. I'm jealous of Sirius and how he makes you laugh, and I'm jealous of every boy that looks your way. And worst of all, I'm jealous of the sun because it shines on you every day and I can't," he sounds like a lovesick idiot. He's barely making sense. 

You look at him seriously, "James. You are the sun. You're my sun." 

James looks into your eyes and bats his eyelashes innocently. He says, "So, you forgive me for being a wanker?" It's obvious he wants to make you laugh and he succeeds as you chuckle and playfully and lightly swat his cheek. 

"I'll forgive you," you say, "for now."

James pouts but he also lifts you and spins you around. He drops you on the ground, his hands at your hips and kisses your forehead. "I'll take it, love. Now, let's tell our friends we aren't mad at each other anymore."

"I was never really mad with you," you point out with a snort as James takes your hand. 

James squints, and looks behind his shoulder at you. "Yeah, you were," he says but when you shake your head he decides not to argue with you and just smiles, "Okay, fine, then let's go tell our friends I'm not being a baby anymore."

"Much better," you beam with a giggle and James realizes with a hopeless smile that he wants to be the only reason you ever giggle like that again. 

Merlin, he really is madly in love with you.

[bokutosbiceps]

don't be afraid to catch feels

eustass kid/monkey d luffy/roronoa zoro/trafalgar d water law/usopp/vinsmoke sanji  x gn!reader | fluff | ~2k words

warnings: some suggestive/18+ themes but nothing explicit

a/n: idk i just really wanted to write so THIS was born !!! how some of the one piece boys realize they have feelings for ya !!  might do this for other fandoms too…actually yeah i will LOL probably if i don’t forget

NOTE: i end them after their confession on PURPOSE so you can choose your own adventure 😆 also there’s more dialogue for luffy’s + usopp’s so they’re a bit longer !!

18+ MDNI | under the cut for length

eustass kid is angry. he's angry that he developed a crush on you. it's so stupid, he thinks. so outta character.

everyone on the victoria punk knows it, including you. and much to kid’s dismay, so does killer. killer talks to him about it everyday, trying to coax a confession out of him in the most gentle yet firm way he can. he wants his captain to be happy, and he knows that you can make him happy, because you already do without knowing it.

kid is completely docile in your presence, and protective. he’s more quiet, because he wants to hear what you have to say. he’s around more, because he wants to keep an eye on you. and maybe because he likes being in your presence.

kid tells (threatens) the rest of his crew that, even though they’re like brothers to him, they’ll be ripped to shreds if any of them so much as glance at you the wrong way.

luckily for you and unluckily for him, you’d heard his very public threat to the kid pirates, save for you. 

you ask kid what the hell all that was about and he simply shrugs, rolling his eyes and trying but failing to keep his cool. you scoff and chuckle at his indignance. you continue to press him till he finally gets annoyed and locks eyes with you, his pupils dilated and his lips spread out into a crazy grin.

“jus’ claiming what’s mine.”

monkey d luffy is seeking out the smartest person he knows, and once he sees her, he’s barreling toward her at lightning speed. hands appear, arising from the wood of the sunny’s deck and forming a net right in front of robin, effectively catching luffy and recoiling him flat onto his butt.

“robin! what was that for?” luffy whines, adjusting his straw hat and tilting it back so that he can look at robin.

“i’d prefer to not be crashed into, captain.” robin shuts her book and gives luffy a gentle, almost maternal smile. “now, what has you so excited?”

luffy is thoughtful as he opts to lay back down on the deck, tilting his straw hat over his face to shield his eyes from the sun. he’s not excited, kinda confused, actually. 

he’s good with his feelings, because he knows his feelings. he's familiar with them. but these feelings—the ones he's been feeling for the past couple of weeks or so—are new. he doesn’t know them, but he wants to learn about them. so here he is, ready to learn with the smartest person he knows.

“well…i wouldn’t call it excited, ya know?” luffy stretches his arms overhead before folding them behind his head. robin chuckles quietly, already aware of luffy’s feelings before he'd even realized them himself.

“what would you call it then?” robin asks patiently.

“like…i dunno! it’s different! it’s different with ‘em…” luffy trails off, sinking back into his thoughts.

“different with who?”

“y/n!” luffy chirps, feeling himself smile at the mention of your name. “i’m really happy they’ve joined the crew!”

“happy like…you’re happy that i joined the crew?” 

“nuh uh, like…i always wanna be near ‘em. i like when they laugh, when they’re happy. their smile’s real nice, too.” luffy pauses. “it’s a lot of fun to be alone with ‘em! makes me feel good…”

robin takes her time explaining what these feelings mean, that that bubbly, queasy feeling in his stomach was not, in fact, indigestion. once robin’s words seep into luffy’s thick, rubber skull, he jumps up off the deck and wraps robin in a tight hug, grinning the whole time and whisper yelling i gotta go tell ‘em!

luffy finds you instantly, almost like his body contains a homing device that always leads to you. you notice way too late that you are in the direct path of the tornado that is luffy, and he tackles you, causing you to fall back. luffy is quick to catch you, stretching an arm around your waist and bringing you to his chest, looking at your face with such intensity you can’t keep your face from heating up.

you’re breathless. due to the adrenaline from almost cracking your skull against the wood of the ship, and from the i’ve got feelings for ya! robin says they're love feelings! do you feel the same? that rushed out of luffy’s mouth.

roronoa zoro is confused. honestly, more confused than he’s ever been in his life. then he’s annoyed. why did he have to develop feelings for a crewmate, let alone you? it would just get in the way of everything. he wants to focus on his dream, on luffy’s dream, and sometimes even on sanji’s dream.

he doesn’t consider himself a particularly selfish person, but he wanted to focus on himself first. 

but then he sees you smile. he hears you laugh. he watches you work and hone your craft, a look of ecstatic determination on your face and the tip of your tongue peeking out between your pursed lips as you focus. suddenly, he realizes it’s really not about him anymore. it’s about you.

he starts to avoid you like the plague—he figures that if he can’t see you, you can’t see him. but he’s oh so wrong. 

when you decide you've had enough of this, you stop zoro, your hand gripping his shoulder and pulling as hard as you can. zoro raises an eyebrow at you and turns around, crossing his arms and waiting for you to explain yourself.

“you’ve been avoiding me.” you state, leaving no room for disagreement or excuses.

“says who?” zoro is very good at playing dumb.

“says me. and luffy.” you huff a bit as you remember your encounter with your captain. how his lips had twisted to the side and how his eyes had shot up to the sky when you’d asked what zoro’s problem was.

“luffy doesn’t know—”

“know why you’ve been avoiding me?” you step closer to zoro, your eyes locked on his and staring into his soul, searching for answers. “i’m sure we’d both love to know.”

zoro scoffs and rolls his eyes, taking a step back from you and turning his face to the sea. the cool ocean breeze feels nice against his burning face. he grimaces as he turns back to you, figuring he might as well get this over with.

“ilikeyou.” zoro mumbles, the words rushing out of his mouth and stopping quickly as they had started.

you shake your head and lean closer to zoro, turning your head to the side so his lips are inches away from your cheek. 

“can you repeat that, please, roronoa?”

“i like you.” zoro says the three, short, quipped words. he’s frowning and his arms are crossed and pulled tightly against his chest, in hopes to dampen the hammering of his heart.

trafalgar d water law is no stranger to stuffing his feelings deep inside of his chest and leaving them there to rot. so he’s wondering why in the fresh hell these annoying feelings for you keep resurfacing. they crawl up his esophagus and reflux into his mouth, leaving a bitter taste behind and making him scowl every time he feels them. 

and to you, it seems as though every time the two of you lock cross paths, he narrows his eyes at you and stalks away. he rarely talks to you anymore, although the conversations you'd shared before were usually very short, yet somehow still meaningful.

you decide to confront him about it, byway of bepo, who happened to know exactly why law was seemingly scarce around you. 

“c-captain? our captain?” bepo stutters, bringing his paw up to his mouth and feigning surprise. “wow! i have no clue why he’d do something like that!”

you frown at bepo. it’s painfully obvious he knows everything about the answer to your question. “spill it, bepo.”

bepo starts to make gestures with his hands and little struggle noises with his mouth. he has no clue how to get out of this one. so he does, indeed, spill it. 

a few minutes later, after bepo was done with his rambling and law’s confession, you approach law with a smug smile on your face.

it doesn’t take a genius to be able to tell why you’re smirking like that, and law immediately pinches the bridge of his nose and tilts his head down.

“that damn bear…”

usopp is sweaty. he’s sweaty, he’s wringing his hands, twirling his hair around his fingers, readjusting his goggles on top of his head. he can’t sit still. he’s been thinking about how on earth to deal with his feelings: does he just shove 'em deep down inside or does he shout 'em from the crow’s nest? he hasn’t had romantic feelings for anyone since he left kaya, and he simply cannot deal. 

“usopp…” nami says softly, touching usopp on the shoulder. he jumps, then flinches at his overreaction to his best friend’s simple and gentle gesture. “can you just tell them, please?”

“n-no! why should i?” usopp frowns at nami and furrows his eyebrows, knowing full well that it’d be best for his health and the crew’s sanity to just come out and tell you.

“if you don’t…” nami grins at him, slowly and mischievously, “i’ll tell them myself.”

usopp immediately springs up from his chosen sulking location and mutters an okay, okay! behind him as he leaves nami. he’s back to sweating, wringing his hands, playing with his hair, and fidgeting with his goggles.

you notice usopp looking particularly dreadful and wait for him to get closer to your position on the deck. you reach out and catch his hand, giving it a light tug so that he’s moving closer to you. he seems so deep in thought that he doesn’t even notice.

“usopp?” you tug on his hand twice, trying to get his attention. usopp meets your gaze and stares at you blankly before shaking his head and becoming aware of the situation. he tries to withdraw his hand from your grip but you’re holding on tightly, and he realizes he’s trapped.

“y/n! fancy seeing you here!” usopp laughs loudly, trying to mask the way that he’s absolutely crumbling and melting.

“what’s on your mind, usopp?”

“you.” usopp covers his mouth with his free hand immediately after the words come out of his mouth. what was he thinking, being so forward? he quickly looks away from you, directing his eyes to the clouds above. “i mean, nami was talking about you earlier. that’s why i’m thinking about you. no other reason!”

a small smile spreads across your lips. “oh, yeah. she told me something super interesting about you earlier today…” you say, drawing out the last few syllables and relishing in the way usopp looks at you in utter horror.

“nami told you that i like you?” he breathes.

“no, but you just did.”

vinsmoke sanji is aware that he actually likes you. that you're not just another pretty face he admires. he’s always known you were gorgeous, the apple of his eye, the object of his affection. you never noticed that it different, though. thinking back on it, you’re glad that you didn’t notice, because you might’ve thought it meant something bad. quite the contrary, in fact.

sanji knows he loves you when he feels calm in your presence. when he’s not acting like a fan boy and when he spends hours talking with you while he cooks or does the dishes or plans the crew's next meal. you’re always around, and yet, he’s never nervous. 

when he really realizes it, though, it’s when he catches a glimpse of nami’s naked silhouette through the crack in the bathroom door and he doesn’t even flinch. not a tingle, not a single palpitation. it’s not you, and his heart knows it, so he’s calm. this is when he knows he has to confess.

“y/n…darling…” sanji says, grasping your hands in his own and looking you in the eyes. “i have to tell you something—something i’ve never told anyone before.”

you look at him, an eyebrow raised in skeptical curiosity. sanji looks worried, and he almost never looks worried. your mind is going a mile a minute, your brain flipping through pages and pages of things he could possibly say to you within the next minute. because of this, you miss the way sanji squeezes your hands, and the way he sucks in a deep breath.

“i’m in love with you.”

taglist: @usoppsstar (i literally can’t remember anyone else rn lolol, i just knew i wanted to surprise ya coco) | @kingofthe-egirls | @pileofmush | @anemptypuddingcup

[romana-after-dark]

Dirty Old Man

Dark!Old Man!Logan x fem!reader

Main Masterlist : Logan Masterlist

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Summary: Logan is your driver, and one day he gets tired of keeping his hands to himself. Logan's POV.

Warnings: NON CON! DDDNE!!!!! Alcohol consumption, breeding kink but reader is on birth control. slapping. big, girthy, throbbing, rock hard age gap. crying, dirty talk. Absolutely wild slut shaming and misogyny in Logan's head. Seriously yall he's bad here. Theres nothing redeeming about him.

1.5 K words

Minors DNI, DEAD DOVE!!!

Support writers and artists, reblog and leave comments

He’d been watching you for longer than you realized.

Logan was used to taking odd jobs, having just enough to get by and when he tires of one place or another, he quits and finds somewhere else. But this right here? Yeah, he was sticking around for a bit.

You were a stupid little thing, silly and bubble head with a great pair of tits and a niave view of the world. He was your driver, taking you all around the streets of New York, anywhere from fancy gala’s to Sex and the City style luncheons -wait no it’s called brunch-, Sex and the City style brunches, to sleepovers with friends. Every time you hoped in the pretentious car, you slid in the back with a hello, and hopped out with a goodbye and a thank you. Today was no different.

A little crisp out for such a small dress, don’t you think?

Fall was coming, even if it grew later and later every year for the leaves to turn yellow and the wind to cool around you. Still, it never stopped dumb girls like you from dressing in the skimpiest little things, just tempting nasty old men like him, testing, teasing, until there was a consequence. You really needed to learn a lesson, didn’t you? One by one, Logan dropped off your slutty little friends, all dressed in an aray of orange and red and black and all the fall colors that were fashionable for bimbo’s like them to pay attention to. This wasn’t all your friend he’d driven to the club, some of them probably went off to get railed by some horny college student who just had to compliment them once or twice and they were sliding their underwear to the side.

You weren’t like them. You were wearing white, as pure as the day you were born, your sweet little head too filled up with thoughts of sunshine and flowers to be someone who’d let a man touch you like that. That’s why Logan wasn’t going to be ‘let’, he was going to take.

Drunk like your father every evening trying to drown out your nagging mother, you babbled on about the evening to him after your last friend left, filling him in on all the innocent fun you had at the club. You weren’t like the others, you didn’t grind on men or kiss your friends for attention or snort coke, you were happy with a several drinks and a good time.

“Back home, bub?” He asks you, looking through the rearview mirror.

“Yes, please, Mr. Smith.” You replied with his alias. He wanted to make you scream Logan, Logan, Logan. A pause. “Where are we?”

Logan had pulled into an empty alley, smirking at the knit of your eyebrows in confusion. “Gotta check the back tire, bub. Seems off.”

You were too drunk and stupid to question him. Naive girl, so trusting. He went to the back right tire, near wear you sat, and bent over pretending to look, knowing you well enough to know you’d open the door and peek out.

“Wha- *hiccup* what is it, Mr. Smiff?” 

He chuckles at you slurring his faux name. 

“You can just call me Logan, kid, I told yuh that.” Logan stands, bracing his arm over the car frame, leaning over you. “Everything, I’m afraid.”

You blink up at him in confusion. “Everything?”

“Yeah baby, looks like we’re gonna have to kill some time.” He makes his move, pushing you onto the leather seats and shoving you down. For a moment, you don’t struggle, just a yelp of surprise but Logan can see the realization of what's happening dawn in your eyes. Then, you slap him.

“Big mistake, kid.” Two slaps, one after the other in quick succession, are delivered to your sweet face, letting you know that however you fight, you’ll be punished. “Won’t help yuh to fight, sweetcheeks, only gonna make it worse.” He watches the tears well up in your eyes, your pretty lip quivering, but you don’t fight. You give in. He chuckles. “Well that was easy.”

Logan spreads your legs, grinding his clothed erection over your white underwear, making you whimper. “P-please don’t… I’m sorry, I-I I don’t-”

“Shhhhh, princess…” Logan wipes a tear from your face, nuzzling his beard against your neck. “Just be good for me, this will all be over soon, okay? But be that sweet girl I know you are.”

A dizzy, tired ‘okay’ and Logan leaned back to undo his pants where his crisp white shirt was tucked in. As expected, you simply stayed laid back and didn’t fight or try to get away. Such a good girl. “Take your panties off for me.”

You shake your head. “Don’t make me…”

All he had to do was narrow his eyes at you and you were scrambling to do as he said, making you complicite. 

“See? I knew you wanted this.”

Sliding into you was heaven, feeling you clench around him in fear, the tension of your body manifesting in squeezing him cock even as you got wet around him. He was your first, he knew that. Inside himself, he knew that, even if you hadn’t said. Because of course you hadn’t? Who would share that with her driver?

“Fuck princess, look at you…” Logan grunted as he began to thrust, watching your tits in that braless dress bounce. “Taking this old man cock so good, aren’t’cha? Yeah, just look at you…” He grabbed your hair harshly, yanking you up so you were bent over. You scream in pain, but quickly quiet yourself with little sobs instead as he forces you to watch him violating you, entering and withdrawing and entering again until he lets go, letting you flop back once more.

Logan’s cock slams inside you, and Logan bets you can feel him inside you, feel him prodigy at your womb, ready to be bred like a good girl like your deserves. 

“Are you on birth control?”

“Y-yes” You cry, covering your face in embarrassment. Are you lying? No, no he can see the little rod in your arm. He grab your tender flesh, and you cry out briefly again as he feels the stupid fucking implant in you, thumbing over it as he growls in frustration. He wanted to get you knocked up, make sure you were the stupid girl who got herself pregnant after he ditched town, but there was nothing he could do about it now. 

He gropes your tits through the dress, slapping at the side to make you yelp before moving on downward. You were awfully wet for someone who was crying. 

“Poor girl… is the mean old man taking your virginity? I know, I know, I’m the worst.” He swirls a finger over your slicked up clit, making your body jolt. “Fuck, such a sensative girl around you. Been years since I fucked someone so sweet and innocent, you’re -fuuuuuck, princess- you’re every dirty old man’s dream, you know that?”

He felt your cunt tighten at that, and he barks a laugh. “Ha! Don’t think I didn’t feel that, sweet cheeks. That make you hot? You like knowing old creeps think of our naked body while fisting their cocks?”

You cover your face. “No!”

“Princess, don’t fucking lie to me. Come on.” Logan touched your body, knowing he could bring you pleasure, wanting to feel your first orgasm gushing on his cock. “Give it to me, come on this old man cock, be the dirty whore I know you wanna be.” 

Your cry into your hands as your body betrays you, orgasming hard enough it pulled his own climax out of him. Even though he knew you wouldn’t get pregnant, Logan loved knowing that he was pumping load after load of his hot seed into your virgin pussy, knowing it would leak out of your for days. Morning after morning you wake up to his cum sliding out of your, reminding you that you’re nothing but a dirty old man's whore.

The whole ride to your penthouse, you laid in the back of the car, never moving from where he left you. When Logan pulled up to the building, he put his arm on the other backrest, looking down at you. “You tell anyone about this,” He let his claws fly out of his fisted hand. You could only flinch, your eyes drooping heavily. “I’ll end you, and whoever you tell. Got it?” Logan waits until you nod. “Good. Now get the fuck out of my car.”

Later…

You lay in bed, staring at your phone though the tears in your eyes. A shower couldn’t wash off the feeling of him in and on you, so you just gave up, stumbling into bed with your most comfortable clothes.

Your screen showed a message your forgot to respond to before getting drunk.

Remy Boo <3: Bon soir, cher. Text me when you’re home so I know you’re safe.

 You couldn’t tell him. Logan said he’d kill you and whoever you told… but if you didn’t respond, Remy would pull up to the penthouse and check on you. You did give him a key, and you owed him a response. He was your boyfriend, after all.

You: I’m home!!!! Had a great night with the girls. Im tired. Ttyl.

*************

Thanks so so so much for reading!!!! I might do a part 2 IDK. I kinda wanna see remy finding out what happened and that it was logan of all people.

If you like dark logan, check out my masterlist!

Our Gentle Sins is my logan series rn! I also wrote a lot of joel miller if thats your thing!!!!

Every single like, reblog, and comment means the world o me!

if you want to be tagged in my dark logan, check out my tag list!

If you want more logan bt not dark, check out @romanarose for my normal stuff.

@del-ightfulling @miraclesabound @oldloganslittleslut @shybluebirdninja @hornystan

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Part two of this Worst!Logan request

A/N: Thank you for all the love on part 1; I hope you enjoy part 2 just as much! I have a lot of request that I am currently working on but request are still open for both Logan and Bucky!

Where we left off:

Logan was left standing in his room with wide eyes. Wade was trying to convince you that he loves you…why would you need the convincing? Obviously Logan knew that he needed convincing, like look at him? Hundreds of years older than you, from a whole different universe than you, full of a dark past and trauma…but you loved him too? Or at least you did before he threw a hissy fit tonight. 

FUCK! Logan yelled out when he realized that he had to go fix this now! 

*********************************************************************** 

Logan had to fix his stupidness. After the realization hit him like a truck he rushed out of the apartment with no shoes on. You only lived down the hall, something Logan was always thankful for, and he was even more thankful for it tonight. He reached your door in seconds and knocked on your front door with such force that he was slightly afraid that he might’ve broken the door. I’ll fix it later. He thought to himself as he tried to catch his breath and fix his hair before you opened the door. 

You opened the door far too quickly for his liking, yet way too slow. He was already in his head trying to convince himself that it was probably better for you to be mad at him, for you to not want him around anymore. That’d keep you safe…it would keep him safe. Feelings can be dangerous, relationships and getting close to someone can be dangerous. But he would die if he didn’t have you in his life anymore, he’s gotten greedy, selfish, he’s gotten comfortable for the first time in a long time and he isn’t ready to lose that yet. He won’t lose you, not when he knows you love him back. 

He was in the middle of fixing his hair when you opened the door, embarrassment flooded his body and he quickly ripped his hand away from his hair. “Logan?” You croaked out weakly, your voice thick with tears. His heart breaks in a way it never has before when he looks you in the eyes and sees the redness, the puffiness, the tears falling freely. “Oh. Oh darlin I am such a fool.” His shoulders fell and his own voice thickens with tears. The shame he felt when you started to reassure him made him want to dig his own claws into himself, he shook his head interrupting you and started going into a rant before he even realized what he was doing. 

“I am a fool! I was so wrapped in my own head that I convinced myself that for some fucking reason you were already taken and I didn’t want to get in between you and Wade-” You cut him off quickly, “Wade!?!” Logan winced when you exclaimed his roommates name, “I know okay! I know how ridiculous I’ve been, I was so blinded by you being close to Wade and all of the whispers and the sharing of clothes and the touching that I didn’t even notice the way you would get up early to make my coffee or stay up late when I had to work a closing shift even though you had to be up at 5 in the morning, I didn't notice that you always asked me how I was doing and never took okay or fine as an answer. I didn't even realize that you only cleaned my wounds and allowed Wade's wounds to get infected if he didn't clean them himself! I didn’t allow myself to see how much you cared about me because I still don’t think I deserve that; I don’t deserve tenderness, the soft caresses and whispers…I don’t deserve you darlin I just don’t.” He ended his rant with a whisper, nearly ashamed of himself for feeling this way and for admitting this aloud to someone as caring as you. 

He knows how much you care about him, he knows you won’t judge him or be mad at him for long, but he is so ashamed that he ever doubted you, there’s still a part of him that’s upset with himself for being so mad towards Wade when he thought you were with Wade. Wade deserves someone as kind and loving as you, Logan just wants to be greedy and keep you to himself.  You could tell that Logan was starting to get back into his head, he was starting to get that dazed off look in his eyes, it was like he was in another word when he started overthinking like this. “Logan” You called out to him before slowly touching his arm. “Why don’t you come inside? I’ll make us some coffee or tea and we can talk about where you’re taking me on our first date.” He looked at you with clear shock on his face, he was fully prepared for you to tell him to fuck off. Your laugh ringed through the air making his heart mend back together again. “Come on you fool” You teased him with a smirk and a quick roll of your eyes, he stumbled over his feet and ended up on your couch quicker than he could notice. 

It was the first time he had actually been in your apartment, and he never wanted to leave. Looking around it looked very you, very lived in, very homey. Your warmth surrounded him, your scent enveloped him, it felt like home. It felt like peace. 

You came back with two mugs and handed him his with that soft smile that he fell in love with. You sat next to him and started listing ideas for what the two of you could do for your first date; “We could go to dinner, we could watch a movie, we could go to a museum, we could–” You ended up sitting your mug on your coffee table in front of the couch at some point during your ramble, Logan wasn’t sure when it happen but he is positive that it did happen because he’ll never forget the feeling of your head on his shoulder as you finally decided where the two of you would go this weekend for your first official date. 

Tagging:

@userchai

@mahi-tamashi

@100percentlazybonez

@lanassmarty

@western-pyro

@misscrissfemmefatale

@marit332

@navs-bhat

@fluffy-b33z

@chaimshelii

@aoi-targaryen

@eyes-ofhell

@sad0ni0n

@fries11

@squishyfruitloop

@negan-morningstar

@p3ryt0n

@ayamenimthiriel

[mncxbe]

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭...

ೀ๋࣭ ⭑𝒄𝒘: pwp, needy/pervy? men, backseat activities, creampie, pet names, not proofread

the 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲, 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 who watch you from the distance, not daring to interact with you in any way. their life is messy, dangerous– violence and death leaving no space for love. and even if he could afford such mundane affections, an angel like you would never turn their gaze on them, right?

well, that's what he thought until you hit him up. walking up behind him and tapping his shoulder with the most innocent smile plastered on your pretty face. "Hey there, stranger. You look a little lost" it's all you say, your voice barely audible over the loud music and chatter in the bar. he thinks you look prettier up close and finds himself unable to reply with any witty or flirty remark. "Not really, it's just not a place I usually go to".

'stupid idiot–' it's all he can say to himself, the fear of coming across as uninterested and pushing you away rooted deep in his bones. but his comment only makes your smile widen. you lean in and he feels his cock straining his pants when you brush your fingertips against his thigh, moving them upwards, tempting him "Then why don't we go somewhere more comfortable for both of us?"

That's how you ended up in the backseat of his car with his hand cupping your panty clad ass "Please baby take 'em off for me, will you?" he pleads and you indulge him, sliding off the lace trimmed panties to grant him access to your cunt before climbing back on his lap.

It feels good, too good, the way you grind on his hand– his fingertips shoved snugly against your sweet spot, causing moans and mewls to spill from your glossy lips as your hands find his belt, skillfully unbuckling it. his cock slides inside you easily, stretching your gummy walls and fuck– you feel just like he imagined.

it doesn't take too long for the windows to fog up– not when he's messily bucking his hips to meet your grinds, panting like he'd just run a marathon. "that's it pretty girl just keep bouncing on me ah fuck— feels too good. y'er sqeezing me so tight–" he whines between shallow breaths, completely lost in the feeling of your walls clamping down on him. he never thought a man like him would ever reach heaven but there he is, buried deep inside your pretty little cunt.

he's not used to the pleasure, really, so it doesn't take him long to reach his high. an unfamiliar warmth pools in his core, making him feel dizzy. he closes his eyes and doesn't even realize that his hands are fiercely squeezing your hips– keeping you nice and steady as he ruts inside you, his leaking tip hitting your sweet spot with each thrust. "fuck, fuck, fuck baby 'm close" he groans and it's like music to your ears.

the feeling is overwhelming, so many emotions swirling inside him all at once– it's like you dug deep inside his soul and opened Pandora's box. guilt, need, shame, bliss, adoration. if it weren't for the tears spilling from his eyes you wouldn't be aware of the effect you had on him.

you smile and gently wipe his tears away, placing little kisses on his cheeks as you cup his face with your hands, encouraging him to keep going "make yourself feel good for me, okay? you deserve it you're doing good. c'mon cum for me, handsome"

and he does— and it feels like heaven. his vision blurs as his cum spurts inside you, painting your gummy walls white. it takes him a while to regain his breath and composure, but even when his calm-and-collected mask is back on the grip on your hips doesn't falter. he keeps himself sheathed inside you as you lean against him, your combined juices leaking down to his base.

"so..." you eventually speak up, your face still buried in the crook of his neck. "you feeling better now?" he only hums for lack of a better response, kissing the crown of your head and wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you flush against his chest. he can't bring himself to tell you he's afraid to let you go, that he wants to stay like this for one more minute– to indulge himself the pleasure and comfort of normality and intimacy. because in the end he's still a stranger to you. still... things may change between you and this luxury he rarely affords could become part of his routine– if you want that too. for now he can only hope for something more and let the rough edges of his soul soften up in your embrace.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈, 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀, 𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀, 𝐉𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐎, 𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀, 𝐀𝐊𝐈, (𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫) 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐄 ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡

[aleskie]

GOT MY HEAD IN THE CLOUDS, COUNTING ALL MY STARS | Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: As the two of you get closer, Lando begins to realize that the more he cares, the more afraid he becomes—of losing you, of not being enough, of being truly seen.

HELL & BACK MASTERLIST PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER WARNINGS: None. A lil swearing. There's a kiss.

It takes him an almost embarrassingly short amount of time—one day, to be exact—to ask you when you’re free to hang out.

He texts you the very next noon, still a little dizzy from last night’s alcohol, from the high of the race, from the adrenaline of you. He stares at his phone for longer than he’d ever admit before finally typing out a message. Nothing too eager, nothing too desperate. Just casual. Cool.

Or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

‘Are you busy?’ You write back first, catching him off guard.

He replies instantly. No.

And then, his phone starts ringing.

He stares at the screen for a second longer than he should, blinking at your name, before he scrambles to answer. “Hello?” His voice is almost hesitant, like the moment is too delicate, too tangible, and could shatter if he breathes wrong.

“Hey!” Your voice is bright, chipper—like the sun, like something warm and inviting. He can practically hear the smile in it, and for some reason, that does something to him. “So?”

“So…what?” He winces the second it leaves his mouth. He thinks he sounds dumb. Stupid. God, it’s a miracle he got your number in the first place.

You laugh, and it’s light, teasing, but not unkind. “Why don’t you tell me when you’re free, and I’ll adjust to that?”

His heart does this weird little thing in his chest.

You’re interested. You want to see him. And instead of playing games, instead of making him chase in circles, you’re just…saying it. Straightforward, simple, easy.

He exhales, smiling to himself before answering. “How about now?”

“Now?”

“I mean, if you’re not busy, of course,” he adds quickly, suddenly feeling like he might be pushing his luck.

You chuckle, and the sound is enough to make his shoulders relax. “Well, I do have a pretty long lunch break.” There’s a playful lilt to your voice, like you’re enjoying this just as much as he is. “Pick me up from work?”

He lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, relief and excitement crashing into him all at once.

“Send me the address,” he says, already grabbing his keys, already moving like this is something he’s been waiting for.

Maybe it is.

“I'll be there before you know it.”

He takes you to this quaint little restaurant he frequents. A small, family-run spot tucked away from the tourist traps and prying cameras, the kind of place that feels like a secret. He likes it here. It’s quiet, warm, normal. A pocket of peace in a world that rarely slows down for him.

The moment you step inside, the scent of fresh herbs and slow-cooked sauces fills the air, mingling with the soft hum of music—some indie-folk track playing low in the background. The interior is simple but welcoming, all whites and beiges with rustic wooden accents.

“Welcome back, boy!” A gruff but familiar voice calls out.

Franc, the owner and head chef, grins when he spots Lando, wiping his hands on his apron as he approaches. “Brought someone special, eh?”

Lando clears his throat, suddenly aware of the heat creeping up his neck.

Franc shifts his attention to you, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. “He’s usually by himself, you know. Always eating alone. So if he’s brought you here, you must be a very nice lady.” He chuckles before waving you both off. “Go on, pick a seat. Menus are on the table—just call out when you’re ready.”

You laugh, offering a polite thank you, and Lando’s relieved you don’t make a big deal out of it.

Not that Franc is wrong.

He knows you are special. He knows he wants you in his life, in some way, somehow. But it’s too early to say that out loud. Too early to let you see just how insane his world can be. Too early to know if you’d even want to stay.

But God, he wants to let you in.

He does. 

He just doesn’t know if you’ll like what you’ll see.

Lando pulls out your chair—he went to a fancy prep school, he has sisters, all that definitely drilled some manners into him—and waits until you’re settled before sitting down himself.

He already knows what he’s getting—his usual, the one Franc always starts making the moment he walks in—but he watches as you pore over the menu like it holds the answers to the universe. Your brows knit together, your teeth lightly tugging at your lip, and he finds it almost ridiculous how adorable you look, analyzing the options with a level of focus even he reserves only for race day.

You glance up, catching him watching, and raise a brow. “I take my food very seriously.”

Shit. Did he say that out loud?

His hand instinctively goes to the back of his neck, rubbing the warmth spreading there. “I just…you’re beautiful.”

You laugh, soft and sweet, and something in his chest eases.

“I’m glad you think so.”

And maybe—just maybe—he catches the faintest hint of a blush dusting your cheeks. He grins to himself, already knowing this is a moment he’ll replay in his head later.

Lunch is easy, he realizes. Comfortable.

Like something he could get used to, something that’s been waiting for him his whole life.

You opt for today’s special—some kind of soup and filleted fish covered in herbs. It looks nice, probably tastes even better to the right kind of person. 

But he fucking hates seafood. 

Still, he figures he’d deal with it. 

For you, he’ll deal with anything.

Franc, ever the little shit, swings by your table with the tray in hand, that usual knowing smirk tugging at his mouth. “You fine with her getting fish, Lando?”

You blink, confused. “What’s wrong with fish?”

Before he can come up with something half-decent, anything to salvage the moment and avoid looking like an idiot in front of you, Franc beats him to it. “The lad’s a picky eater. Stays away from seafood.”

You glance at Lando, a laugh threatening at the corner of your mouth.

“For you, it wouldn’t be an issue though, right boy?” Franc grins, teasing.

Lando chuckles, trying to play it off. “No, it’s not. Order whatever you want. I hear their fish is pretty good.”

“Damn right. Best thing on the menu,” Franc calls as he walks off.

So that’s what you get.

And when the plate arrives—crusty bread still warm from the oven, soft fish that flakes apart with the slightest touch, sauce rich and deep like it’s been simmering all afternoon—it’s basically perfection. He watches you take your first bite, eyes fluttering shut, a pleased hum escaping as you do a little shoulder wiggle that might just kill him.

Lando swears his heart skips a beat.

“This is amazing,” you say, eyes shining. “How have I never been here before?”

He shrugs, twirling pasta around his fork like it’s nothing. “Well, now you have.”

Conversation flows between bites, easy and unhurried. The kind of talking that feels like slipping into your favorite hoodie—familiar, comforting. You share stories you don’t usually tell. Little things that matter more than they should. Memories that shaped you, moments that left bruises, and the quiet parts of you that most people never get to see.

“We live right by the sea,” you say, placing your utensils neatly together, your plate scraped clean.

“Yes?” he asks, tilting his head, already sensing where this is going.

You grin, a soft laugh escaping. “We live right by the sea and you hate fish.”

He scoffs, all mock indignation. “I just think they’re gross and creepy—”

“And you don’t like how they taste because the texture is weird,” you finish for him, clearly amused.

“Exactly,” he says, pointing at you like you’ve cracked some great mystery.

You laugh again, the sound light and unfiltered, and he can’t help but smile as he tells you about the dumb bet he lost to Max—Fewtrell, not Verstappen, which, as he points out, is a very important distinction. They’d both throw a fit if you mixed them up.

Then you ask about the places he escapes to when it all gets too loud, and he tells you. About hidden pockets of peace, about early mornings when no one else is around. He tells you how, even now, even after everything, he still gets nervous before every race. Every single time. Like clockwork.

And you don’t just listen—you listen. You lean in, elbow on the table, chin resting on your hand, eyes never leaving his. You ask thoughtful questions, not out of politeness but out of genuine curiosity. You make him feel seen in a way that’s rare. In a way that’s true.

Somewhere between shared laughter and the last bites of dessert—something sweet and warm and a little too rich—he feels it.

He doesn’t want lunch to end.

But eventually, it does.

The drive back to your office is quieter, but not in a bad way. It's the kind of silence that sits comfortably between two people, unbothered by the lack of words. Music hums low through the speakers, barely noticeable over the soft sounds of the city outside. Lando steals glances at you at every red light—your fingers absently toying with your bracelet, your lips pressed together like you're caught in thought, somewhere halfway between content and reflective.

He doesn’t quite pout when he pulls up to your building—but it’s close. His hands rest on the wheel, fingers tapping a slow rhythm like they’re stalling for time. He shifts the car into park but doesn’t move to unlock the doors just yet.

“So,” he says, casual but hopeful, eyes still on the windshield, “Was that a one-time thing, or do I get to steal you away again?”

You glance at him, a small smile tugging at your lips, head tilted just slightly like you’re deciding how playful to be. “If the next place is as nice as this one, you can take me anytime.”

“Really now?” he asks, grinning despite himself.

“Anytime, Lando.”

He lets out a quiet, breathy laugh, shaking his head like he can’t quite believe his luck. “Anytime, then.”

You don’t lean in for a hug or a kiss, don’t try to turn the moment into something it’s not. You just give him one last look, soft and steady, like it means something more than it says. “I’ll see you around?”

He nods, heart thudding just a little faster. “Yeah. You will.”

As he watches you disappear through the front doors of your building, he finds himself gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, already counting down the seconds until you two meet again.

“Lunch was great, by the way,” you tell him over the phone, voice warm, a little sleepy at the edges. “Am I wrong to assume you’d want to do it again?”

He knows you can’t see him, but he swears you must hear the smile in his voice, the way it curls at the edges of his words, gives him away completely. Like someone just handed him something fragile and precious, and he’s still not over the fact that he gets to hold it.

You’d called a little after your shift ended, your voice lighting up his screen just as he was getting home. He answered without even thinking, and somehow, neither of you ever hung up. The conversation drifted without a plan—talking about your day, his favorite movie as a kid, the kind of place you'd both run away to if you could, and whether sushi is overrated or not. 

(“You can’t say something is overrated if you refuse to try it,” you argue, playful but firm.

“The world is free,” he counters, grinning even though you can’t see it. “I can say whatever I want.”)

He’s sprawled across his bed now, phone pressed to his ear like it’s anchoring him.

“No,” he says, soft but certain. “No, I…” He pauses, breath catching a little as he tries to say it right. “I want to do it again too. With you.”

It’s not some grand confession. Just a truth, said plainly. But it feels like more. Like a door opening. Like the beginning of something he doesn’t quite have the words for yet—but desperately wants to keep exploring.

Phone calls with you have become his lifeline—something he holds close to his chest, sacred and quiet, moments carved out just for him. No cameras. No chaos. Just your voice on the other end of the line, soft and steady, like an anchor in the middle of everything.

Conversations flow easily, like they always have. Familiar. Uncomplicated. The kind that sneak up on you, stretching well past midnight without either of you noticing. Or caring.

He loves hearing about your day—about the minor disasters at work, the dumb thing your coworker said that made you roll your eyes, the sandwich that wasn’t as good as you hoped it’d be. Loves that you tell him about the small things, the ordinary things, the kind of details people only share when they feel safe.

And he likes telling you about his day—about the long meetings, the brutal workouts, the endless travel. About how he somehow ends up eating more quinoa than any one person should. About how he still gets nervous before qualifying. About the tracks he likes, the ones he hates, and the places he wants to take you to one day.

Somewhere between the calming rhythm of your voice and the way you make him laugh without trying, he feels something settle in him. Something that feels suspiciously like peace. Like home.

Some nights, you talk until one of you trails off mid-sentence, lulled into sleep by the comfort of the other. Other nights, it’s just a short check-in, a low, “Hey, thinking about you,” before hanging up. But it’s constant. Steady.

There’s always something.

Something in the way you say his name. In the way you ask how he’s really doing. In the way you make space for him, without asking for anything in return.

And it makes him feel like he matters. Like he’s seen. Like maybe, for once, he’s not just Lando Norris, the driver, the name.

He’s just Lando.

Yours.

And the dates—God, the dates.

There’s a simplicity to it that he appreciates. No five-star restaurants or private jets. Just him stealing you away for a little while before the race week starts up again, the two of you tucked away in quiet cafes and late night walks through parks and laughing in parking lots eating copious amounts of junk food that is definitely not in his diet, your hands brushing as you sit side by side in his car with the windows rolled down. 

​​Once, he takes you to this quiet neighborhood in Nice—a little over half an hour from your area—just because he heard about a café that supposedly serves the best pastries in the region. No occasion, no reason beyond the simple “thought you might like it.” The two of you end up parked along a quiet street, pastries stacked in paper boxes, and his laptop propped up on the dashboard to stream a movie that turns out to be absolutely awful. The kind you both roast aloud while eating flaky croissants and laughing with your mouths full. The pastries were worth it though.

The fanciest it ever gets are small boating trips on a nearby shoreline—just the two of you, drifting far away from everything that feels heavy. It’s slow and quiet, the kind of peace that feels earned. There’s a soft breeze, sunlight dancing on the water, and an assortment of fruits and good wine laid out like a little secret picnic between you. He sneaks kisses on your cheek, playful and unhurried, like he has all the time in the world to adore you.

You lie back, head resting in his lap, one arm slung lazily across your stomach as your other hand fiddles with the buttons on his shirt—undoing one just to redo it again. He runs his fingers through your hair without thinking, the motion slow, affectionate, like he never wants this to end.

And for a moment, it feels like maybe it won’t.

Everything is good. Uncomplicated. Safe.

You’re safe.

Maybe the first crack happens because of him.

Because deep down, he’s still learning how to let himself have something good without breaking it. Because he lacked the resolve to protect you from the storm he lives in. Because, if he’s honest, he was selfish—wanting you without knowing how to keep you.

“So, like… what are we?” you ask one night, voice soft but steady. “Or where do you see this going?”

You’re curled up in the passenger seat of his car, legs tucked under you, wearing his hoodie like it was made for you. The kind of image that should feel ordinary, but doesn’t—not when it’s you. The soft hum of the stereo fills the silence between questions, and the glow from the streetlamps spills across your face like it’s trying to memorize you.

He looks at you and forgets how to speak.

Because he’s thought about it. Of course he has. He’s thought about a future where he doesn’t have to say goodbye after every date, where you’re there when he wakes up, where home isn’t a place but a person. He’s thought about a ring. About a house with shoes by the door that aren’t just his. About kids, maybe. A quiet life when the chaos and adrenaline of the track fades away. He’s imagined all of it.

But how do you say that without scaring someone away?

So instead, he says the truth—just a piece of it, the part he can admit out loud.

“I want you. However you’ll let me.”

Your lips part, a little surprised, but your eyes stay locked on his, soft and searching. “And if I said I wanted to be yours?”

He swallows. His voice is low when he replies, almost like it costs him something.

“Then that’s what you are.”

You smile, slow and sure, like something inside you just settled. You reach out, thumb brushing gently along the edge of his cheek. And then you lean forward, pressing a kiss there—close, warm, grounding.

“Let me in, Lando,” you murmur. “Let me see you.”

He hesitates. Barely. A fraction of a moment, where all his doubts claw at him from the inside out.

“You won’t like it,” he whispers, barely audible.

“Give me a chance.”

So he does.

He cups your face, thumb trembling just slightly against your skin, and leans in—not rushed, not forced. Just quiet. Vulnerable. You meet him halfway, closing the space between you with a kiss that feels like something more than a kiss. Like trust. Like hope.

It’s electric. But not in the loud, fireworks kind of way. It’s something steadier. Something that settles into his bones.

You’re perfect for him, he realizes.

And that’s what terrifies him.

Because perfect things never seem to stay.

Because nothing perfect ever really belongs to him.

[snickerdoodie]

“Sugar and Spice”

Summary: Everyone knew Jake Seresin was a charismatic player. Whether it was flirting with girls at the bar or charming his way out of any situation. But what happens when the blond pilot finally meets his match?

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x f!reader

A/N: hey guys..I’m not even gonna lie I completely forgot to post this lmao, I got a liiittle busy with everything and it completely went over my head. But here it is! Finally! After two months. This also isn’t proof read, per usual, so sorry if anything sounds off. Enjoy!

Jake’s chatting along with Rooster and the gang when the door suddenly chimes open, taking a quick glance as any human would, but what he sees isn’t what he’s expecting. In comes you, dressed up in a simple white tank top and probably the shorted daisy dukes he’s ever seen, not that he’s complaining though . His eyes rake over your body before he travels further upward, smirking to himself when you accidentally make eye contact. Giving him a nod and a classic small smile, you make your way over to the bar, soon getting into a quick conversation with Penny.

“Well I’ll be damn,” He says into his beer, taking a long sip before wiping his lips with a grin. That causes Rooster to quirk a brow at the unexpected comment.

“What’s up with you? Find a new pair of tits to ogle at?” He quips, noticing Hangman’s intense stare across the room. Seresin shrugs, a smirk still plastered on his handsome face.

“‘Could say that. Could also say I might have just found myself my girl tonight.” And with that, Hangman scoots himself out of the booth he was sitting in and makes his way across the room, gaze dead set on you sitting at the bar, drink in hand. He ignores the unwanted calls and shouts narrowed to him from his friends, too caught up in his next words. Taking a seat on the empty stool next to yours, leering on your exposed skin before continuing.

“Hey there, what’s a pretty thing like you doin’ here sittin’ by yourself?” You turn your head to the sound of the voice, not even hearing him come up beside you. At first, you do a once over at the man, taking in his striking green eyes and Hollywood smile. Then you take notice in his uniform, his sunglasses perched on the fold of his shirt. Must be one of those pilots you keep hearing about. Turning your upper half to him, you smile.

“Doesn’t seem like I’m sitting alone now, does it?” You quip back, setting your drink down on the countertop. The man’s smirk grows wider as he rests an elbow on the wood.

“Aw, no need to thank me, just doin’ what’s needed of me.” You just now realize his country accent, standing out in certain phrases; it makes you fight back a blush. You raise a brow nonetheless.

“Is that so? Did you magically think I wanted you here, Blondie?” You know he wasn’t expecting the nick name when his brows raise for a split second before shooting back down to their original places.

“Eh, I don’t need’a think, I just know by heart. Y’know, with my magical powers ‘n all.” He imitates quotations at the end of his sentence. You huff out a laugh at his words, eyes cascading down to your watered down drink. Taking a sip, you focus your attention back onto the man in front of you. That stupid grin still plastered on his lips.

“Well can your magical powers tell you the name of the lady you decided to make your next target?” It came out a bit harsher than you intended, almost regretting your words. Truth is, you *were* enjoying his company and that southern drawl of his. He honestly was making your night a bit better than just sitting there alone, drowning in your drinks and mind while some overplayed Toby Keith song played on the jukebox.

“I’m afraid that’s somethin’ I can’t do. Care to help me out here?” Relieved he didn’t say anything about your earlier statement, you bite your lip with a smile, nodding.

“(Y/N),” you state, almost missing the way his eyes light up more at your declaration. “What about you, G.I. Joe? Got a name to the face?”

“As a matter of fact I do, gorgeous. Most people call me Hangman but I’ll make a special case and let you call me yours.” He winks with that cheshire grin. You fight back both a blush and a large smile this time at the cringy and overused line.

“Is that so?”

“I’d sure so hope so, ma’am.”

You both stay silent as you stare at each other. While you bite the inside of your cheek, he scoots himself closer to you, knees brushing against each other. You can smell his sandalwood cologne and the beer he’d been drinking previously before coming up to you. Hangman notices your lack of response and licks his lips, eyes flickering from your glass to your hair then to your lips before continuing.

“Tell ya what, sweetheart” he starts, catching your attention, “You name the game. If I win, you’re buying me dinner. But if you by some miracle manage to beat me, you won’t have to endure my charming company ever again.” He finishes, looking very confident in his proposition. You tilt your head and fully face your body towards him, your legs scooting between his as he widens his stance to make room. You swear you could have seen his adam’s apple bob harshly at the movement but you payed no mind.

You narrow your eyes slightly before a small smile stretches across your lips. With the confidence that this man passed on, you carefully lean forward so your palms are resting against his firm thighs. Bracing yourself as you lean in closer. Hangman bites his lip before tilting his head down, his chest heaving in a breath before he speaks,

“You gonna take up on that offer, darlin’?” He drawls out, voice raspy, almost sultry. You look him in the eyes as you lightly squeeze his skin, his smirk growing.

“Y’know what? I will, s’not like I’ve got anything to lose now is there, cowboy?”

I also tried to make my format for my fics a little more..interesting looking. I felt like they’re too boring so tell me your thoughts. Feel free to comment if you liked or disliked something! :)

[huxhsz]

— weightless paradise

transmigrated non-mc!reader x caleb

prev ch: 16 - confess┆series masterlist ┆next ch: 18 - silence

This isn’t how the game was supposed to go. You're not supposed to be here. You're an anomaly. But if you’re already here, then… can’t you just enjoy it for now? Just for a little while? Before the main story begins? Before everything inevitably falls into place? ...Right?

cross-posted on ao3! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

CH. 017 — DESTROYER

Caleb is 15 when he realizes he’s in love with you.

He knows it’s stupid. He knows it’s selfish. But the truth is, it’s been building for years. Ever since the lab. Ever since the shelter. Ever since you took his hand and told him he wasn’t alone. Ever since you called him Caleb before he even knew what it meant to have a name.

You made him feel real.

And now… now you’re slipping away from him.

It’s not new. He’s always felt it—like you’ve been trying to keep him at arm’s length, like you’re making peace with the idea of leaving him behind. But this… this is different. He can feel it. Every time you smile at someone else. Every time you sit too close to someone else in class. Every time you brush him off with that soft, distracted smile.

It makes his skin crawl.

And when he sees you laughing with Andre at lunch, he can’t breathe.

You’re sitting across the table from him and Eden, Mira and Rina on either side of you, and Andre’s right there, leaning in, saying something that makes you laugh.

Not the small, polite laugh you give to strangers. Not the distant, careful laugh you use when you’re humoring someone.

No—this is your real laugh. The one that makes your eyes crinkle, the one that used to be just for him and Eden.

Caleb’s fingers tighten around his drink. The plastic warps beneath his grip.

“Caleb?”

Eden’s voice cuts through the haze. He blinks, and her sharp gaze flicks between him, his clenched hand, and you across the table. She sees exactly what’s happening.

Her mouth quirks. “You okay?”

He forces himself to relax. “Yeah.”

Eden hums knowingly. “Sure.”

But Caleb barely hears her. His gaze is still locked on you and Andre. On the way you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, on the way your shoulders shake with laughter.

It’s irrational. He knows that.

But he wants to rip this feeling out of his chest.

Because Andre doesn’t know you like he does.

Andre wasn’t there in the lab, locked in a cell with you. He wasn’t there in the shelter, watching over you while you slept. He didn’t see you break down in the middle of the night, didn’t wipe your tears, didn’t swear that he’d never let anyone hurt you again.

Andre doesn’t know half of what you’ve been through together.

And yet—

And yet—

Andre’s grinning, leaning toward you, talking with that same easy confidence he’s always had. Like he’s never been afraid a day in his life. Like he doesn’t remember how, when you were thirteen, he stood right in front of Caleb and confessed to you.

You rejected him, of course. But Caleb still remembers the way Andre looked at you that day. Like he would have waited forever if you let him.

Caleb’s grip tightens around his drink. The plastic warps beneath his fingers.

"Caleb?"

Eden’s voice cuts through the haze, and he blinks. She’s watching him carefully, her gaze flicking from his hand to you and Andre. She sighs, already reading him like an open book.

"You okay?"

Caleb exhales, forcing himself to relax his grip. "Yeah."

Eden hums knowingly. "Sure."

Mira and Rina are still talking about something, but Caleb barely hears them. His attention is locked on you and Andre—the way you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, the way you laugh at something he says.

It’s irrational. He knows that.

But he wants to rip this feeling out of his chest.

Instead, he rests his chin on his hand, voice light. "What’s so funny?"

You glance at him, and Caleb feels it immediately—the way your expression shifts. Lighter. Softer. Like you’re relieved to see him.

But you don’t answer. You just shake your head and turn back to Andre.

Caleb’s jaw tightens.

He doesn’t say anything. But the gravity in the room feels heavier now. Just a little. Just enough to make Andre pause mid-sentence, shifting like something in the air just changed. Rina rubs her arms like she suddenly feels cold.

Andre frowns. "Weird…"

Eden’s eyes narrow.

She looks at Caleb. He knows that look.

"Caleb," Eden says slowly.

He shrugs, smiling. "Didn’t feel a thing."

Eden doesn’t believe him. But she doesn’t call him out—not here, not in front of the others.

And you—

You don’t even notice.

…Or maybe you do. Because later, when you’re walking home together, you suddenly stop in the middle of the sidewalk and turn to him.

"Don’t do that again."

Caleb stops mid-step. "Do what?"

You cross your arms. "You know what."

"I don’t."

Your gaze hardens. "Caleb—"

"Do you like him?" Caleb asks suddenly.

You blink. "What?"

"Andre," he says. He should shut up. He should smile and let it go. But the words just spill out. "You seemed pretty into him."

You stare at him, confused. "Are you serious?"

Caleb’s stomach twists. He hates the way you’re looking at him right now.

"I was just talking to him."

"And laughing," Caleb says.

You make a sound of disbelief. "So?"

"So?" Caleb’s voice sharpens. "So it’s annoying."

Your eyes narrow. "Annoying?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Caleb opens his mouth. Stops. He can’t say it. He can’t tell you that he’s scared. That he can feel you slipping away from him. That he’s terrified that one day you’ll realize you don’t need him anymore, and you’ll leave him behind.

He doesn’t say any of that. He just says, "It’s weird, that’s all."

Your expression hardens.

And then you say it:

"Stop it, Destroyer."

The name hits like a gunshot.

Caleb’s breath catches. His chest tightens.

You’ve never called him that before. Not like this.

Not like it was a name.

You see the way his expression drops, and something in your gaze falters—like you regret it. But you don’t take it back.

Caleb looks away. "Sorry."

You sigh.

"I just…" Your voice softens. "I’m not mad at you, okay? Just… don’t do that again."

Caleb’s heart is still hammering. But he nods. "Okay."

You smile faintly. "Good."

You start walking again. Caleb hesitates, then follows.

You’re beside him. But Caleb can feel the space between you now—a small, thin line.

And he’s scared that one day, that line will turn into a chasm.

You don’t call him Caleb again that day.

But Caleb stays up that night, lying awake in bed, remembering the sound of his name on your lips.

And knowing, with awful certainty, that he would do anything to hear you say it again.

[asce-of-hearts]

Hi! Can I request Aokiji and Sakazuki sharing the same darling oneshot.

said darling is a civilian who was rescued?

Awaken

contents: Yandere!Aokiji and Yandere!Akainu sharing the same civilian darling they rescued. (GN!reader)

more Akainu and Aokiji content here

TAG LIST

Word Count: 1.7k

WARNINGS: YANDERE, OBSESSIVE AND POSSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, ABUSE OF POWER, DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE AND DEATH.

You're definitely going to die.

Pirates are always bad news, maybe you're just unlucky, managing to end up cornered and alone in the back of the bar. They're ready to pounce, to tear you to shreds and not leave a trace of you behind. You're an easy target, weak and stupid enough to hide in the place they always search for booze to steal.

You're fucked, and you're going to die.

A hit to the rib, and then the eye, and you think you're getting kicked on the ground. You don't know, everything hurts and you're dizzy and afraid. You can't see a thing, did you pass out or is it just the swelling and blood over your eyes, all over your face. You try and cover your head, to scream, but nothing comes out.

You manage to make a choked sound as you wake up on a soft bed. The sound of the waves and the light side to side motion the surface you are does makes you realize you're on a boat. Have you been kidnapped? Oh, this is bad, this is incredibly bad. Now you're not only going to die but going to get trafficked as well. You try and get out of bed, but a warm hand prevents you from doing so.

"Finally awake." A man murmurs, your vision is still a little blurry, but you can make out the faint silhouette of his marine cap over his head. You almost cry in relief, at least you're safe now. "Easy now. You're not gettin' out of bed with those injuries." He gently pushes you down, his hand is so big, completely covering the area from your stomach to your chest. "Specially not with that." His eyes travel to your leg, where a dark red stain covers the bandages. You hiss as the pain hits you.

"What happened to me?" You ask, your voice is hoarse, from sleeping and from screaming. You lay back down over the bed, trying to breathe.

"You almost got killed, that's what happened. You don't need to know nothin' else." The smell of the cigar he's smoking invades the room you're both in, and he sighs. "And we saved you. So try to rest now, because it's a long ride to the marine headquarters."

"We?" you ask, confused as you look for the other person.

"Speaking of the devil..." He rolls his eyes as the door opens, a tall man with dark skin entering the room. "Where the hell were you?"

"Outside." The other man says, and walks over to you to examine your injuries, his touch is cold, freezing actually, it soothes the ache over your eye when his cold fingertips press against the nasty swell. "Do you need to see a medic?" He asks bluntly, his eyes fixed on your slightly bloody lips, you avert your gaze quickly.

"Ah- me? No, I... I don't think so. It hurts the, uhm, the normal amount..." You whisper, looking at the ground.

"There's no normal amount for pain, specially for you... such a tiny thing would probably get hurt by anything." He grumbles to himself.

"Maybe you're just too tall." You answer, and the warm man chuckles. Aokiji freezes, ironically, for a second before he processes it, then smirks.

"Maybe they should've kicked a couple teeth out too, smart ass." He squeezes at your nose, making you lightheaded. Akainu pushes him away quickly.

"Are you trynna kill 'em, idiot? All the work we did to make sure they didn't die and now you're fuckin' it up." The cigar consumes again, and he blows out a big cloud of smoke all over Aokiji's face.

"I overstepped." Aokiji relents, not wanting to fight in that moment. He's too tired, so he just plops down on the bed next to you, you scoot over closer to Akainu, who seems far more... rational, even when his perpetual frown makes you shiver. "Anyhow... name and age?"

"Oh! I- I'm ___." You clear your throat, still feeling soreness from the nights prior. "___ ____."

He hums in approval.

"Well, ___. You're not leaving our side for a while, that's for sure.

"Eh? B-But... my house-"

"Your island was destroyed by pirates, sweetheart." Akainu interrupts, blunt, not even flinching at the way your expression shifts to anguish as he continues to speak. "No survivors, you were a lucky one. You almost slipped out of our hands out there. Medics had to perform some real miracles to save your pretty ass."

Your breath hitches, and you only stare at the wall as you realize just in what situation you were in. They skipped over some details, over how actually most of the destruction was caused by Akainu, who moved by your bruised and beaten body in front of his eyes had gone on a furious rampage and made fire rain from the sky, ending whatever pirates were left on that island. Or how Aokiji, too lazy to ask questions, just ended the lives of whoever seemed suspicious enough to him, civilians or not.

You just... awoke this sense of deep protectiveness from both men.

"Were takin' you back to the marine headquarters to sort your situation out." Aokiji speaks with disinterest, his eyes already closed. "So, as I'm sure my partner here suggested earlier, you should get some rest. Because there's still three or four days left of travel."

You tremble in place, hugging your knees, tears rolling down your cheeks.

"How long was I asleep?" You ask in a whisper.

"A day and a half." Both men answer.

Both of their clothes are too big for you, but it's either that or an unwashed marine uniform. You'd rather wear the big shirt like a dress or a nightgown.

There's not much to do inside the little room. You can't read the books Aokiji brought since the swelling in your eye makes it impossible for you to focus your gaze on anything for more than a few seconds before starting to ache badly. In response, said man presses his cold palm over your eyes until you stop hurting and crying, sharing anecdotes to make the passing of time less painful.

And you can't get out of bed much because like Akainu pointed out, the wound on your leg makes standing and walking barely possible, it feels as if somebody is trying to bury a thousand knives inside your skin. And again, in response, the marine grabs you by the waist and helps you walk around the room by using him as leverage. He's not that talkative or humorous, but his warm hands soothe the ache on your back and ribs, and when you get too tired, he carries you to bed with a surprising tenderness.

"How long until we arrive?" You ask, your throat not hurting anymore. Aokiji is happy to hear your voice unfiltered, but he won't say anything, only offer you a lazy smirk.

"Couple days more. Bored already?"

"I don't like lying." You answer with a sigh. And he chuckles.

"How's the swelling going?"

"Better, it doesn't hurt as much. I can't feel it... pressing on my optic nerves anymore." You grin. He smiles back as well.

"Happy to hear that."

"I promise I can walk." You try and stand up for yourself despite your shaky legs, and even if the pain is a little less unbearable, it's still enough to make you cry a little.

"Don't make promises you can't keep." He says gruffly, exhaling a cloud of black smoke as he helps you stand. "There's dark circles under your eyes, you can't even sleep because of the pain."

"There's a black bruise over my eyes, sir." You bark back, and feel his grip tightening around your waist, threatening to burn through the thin cloth you're wearing.

"If you fall, I won't pick you up." He growls, and a shiver runs down your spine. You don't say anything, and he smiles to himself. "That's what I thought. Now, baby steps, sweetheart."

He can be so condescending at times. You resist the urge to imitate him just to make him mad, but that's probably a bad idea due to the fact that he's not only thrice your size, but also preventing you from putting your whole weight over a leg that had threatened to fall off and necrose a couple of nights ago.

"Where are you dropping me off when we arrive to the island were going to?" You ask, trying to walk slowly.

"Droppin' you off? Well... at the marine headquarters obviously." He says, almost surprised at you not knowing. "You think you can go anywhere else without my help? Or Aokiji's? Don't be absurd, ___. You would barely survive out there without us. Or me for that matter." Before you answer, he turns you around, a big hand gripping at your jaw and forcing you to look at him in the eye. "Or do I have to remind you what happened to you out there on your lil' island?"

Your breath hitches, and you slowly nod however you can within his grasp.

"Good, good. You understand." He grins. "I will keep you safe by whatever means necessary. Anything I need to do I'll do to make sure you won't leave my sight. Got it?"

"I'm scared of mister Akainu." You say to Aokiji, who has allowed you to see the waves for the night, the islands that seem so far away from one another.

"As you should... as the majority of people are." He agrees, nodding, his brows furrow for a moment. "Wait, why? He saved you, we both did. Shouldn't you be grateful?"

You nod, your eyes wandering through the stars over the clear sky.

"I- I am. It's just that... he said some disturbing things the other day."

"Which are?"

"That he won't let me leave. That I'm stuck with you both."

Aokiji's expression relaxes, his cold hands caress your naked thigh.

"And does that really sound that bad?" He asks, almost amused. "Because it's the truth. You're not leaving, ___." He yawns.

"What?" His grip on your thigh tightens, his fingers digging into your skin, little crystals of ice digging painfully over your bruised legs.

"What he said, ___. You're not leaving."

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[opentanie]

I'm still thinking about these two paragraphs, wondering, whether Suzanne Collins is aware of the implication here. That these nameless Seam girls are simply too naive, too stupid than to know better, and they fall for their opressors, chickens dating Colonal Sanders, if you will... But Lenore Dove? The only way she could get intimate with Peacekeeprs is by force, to humiliate her, to break her.

And I'm not saying that Haymitch is wrong to be afraid of Lenore Dove getting assaulted, while under arrest, but

those nameless, unimportant girls were never graced the benefit of the doubt about their willingness to get with literal armed hand of the regime

which gets even more offensive, when you realize that Haymitch's fear implies that such occurances already happened in the past. Even now, when thinking about risks of getting arrested, most people don't think about the potential rape from police officers, simply because these cases are making less headlines, so for Haymitch to even think about that, he must be aware that it is a possibility

And it doesn't even make me dislike how Lenore Dove is written more, because sigh of course the perfect lost Lenore is the victim of Madonna-whore complex.

If anything, it just makes me sad for all those girls with no names and no significance for the story, existing merely for a world building detail, which isn't bad on itself because such things happen (although mostly in Catholic Church, iykyk). Because if Haymitch thinks this way, how many others do as well? And for how many of these girls this simply isn't true that they were the ones to get smitten? How many said 'no' before the child was conceived?

This is merely a throw-away line, but it creates such a grim reality, in which these girls are not only helpless against the system that will protect their rapists, but also against their own community, who is more eager to label them as class traitors rather than victims. And sure, such things happened in history, but from both Katniss and Haymitch's pov we have this narration that people in districts know their enemy, that they're sceptical about what Capitol tries to sell them - so wouldn't the natural assumption be that a Seam girl, your neighbour, your classmate, a girl you know since she was a child, with whom you stood hand in hand through each Reaping, didn't got smitten with one of the armed men, who made sure none of you escape? That she was simply unable to defend herself when he decided that she's just one more thing he can take for himself because nothing in districts really belongs to districts?

And what's even more offensive to me, in a way, is that this is the only mention of extramarital intercourse in the whole series, which isn't also a forced sex work (or implied one, re @ Lucy Gray Baird). Like I said many times already, yeah, this is a series targeted at middle schoolers, I don't expect Suzanne Collins to admit that teenagers in districts have sex or whatever, but Jesus fucking Christ, this is the admition that people in her series have sex before marriage willingly? Really?

Again, I know I'm thinking about it wayyyy more than Suzanne Collins ever did, but bruh. Bruh.

[zroronoas]

juno!

a/n: i was gonna write this for ace but i felt like i already had a similar fic for him :( but i need to do him next bc i miss him BAD!!! heavily inspired by juno by sabrina!!!

-

-zoro isn't used to people being so straightforward and brave around him. usually others see him and immediately run off. so he has no idea how to react when you come up to him one day and just shamelessly flirt (terribly) with him.

"hey," you say cheerfully as you pull up a chair next to him at some random bar. he just grunts and doesn't even spare you a glance.

you frown, but decide that you're gonna get him to talk to you no matter what.

"what's your name, sexy guy?"

this definitely catches his attention because no one has ever said anything so absurd to him. and he does give you attention, it just isn't the kind that you expected. he's making this face at you, and on top of that, he doesn't even answer the question. he isn't sure if he's bothered more by the fact that you were being so direct or the fact that you called him sexy guy.

-imagine the shock on his face when you come back the next day with your friends and high-five each other when you point zoro out to them.

"hey again!"

"get out of here."

at least he actually spoke this time.

"you know," you start. and there's a mischievous look on your face that makes zoro's stomach churn. "my house isn't far from here."

"good, then you should go home."

-he's actually furious and kind of afraid the day you show up on the ship with luffy right next to you.

"we have a new crew member!"

all the color drains from his face and he feels like he's on the verge of passing out. he couldn't believe that the newest crew member was another weirdo.

-you follow him around the ship all. the. time!! and at first zoro is super irritated with it. sometimes he'll yell at you, at times he'll even pick you up and take you into a different room himself.

and of course, the entire time you're in his arms you're just squealing about how you just knew zoro was so in love with you.

but one day zoro just gets used to it. he just lets you follow him around and sometimes you'll even have actual conversations with him.

-he still thinks you're insane though, especially when you're winking and making eyes at him when he's just trying to eat his meal in peace. or when you're constantly trying to invite him to your bed, and suggesting doing a certain activity on it.

"you know who you remind me of?" he asks you one day, while he lifts his weights.

"who?" and you're 100% expecting him to name someone incredibly beautiful.

"that stupid love cook."

your heart shatters. you can't understand why he would say you remind him of sanji, when you find that idiot unbelieveably annoying.

-and zoro honestly thinks that you aren't seriously into him, you're just weird and crazy. but!! that's not true at all. following him around the ship, learning more about him and seeing how caring he is underneath that gruff exterior lead you to really catch feelings for him. you still wanted to take him to bed though!

-one day you're sitting next to robin while she reads her books, sulking and complaining about zoro. "why isn't he in love with me? am i ugly, robin?" and she's giggling and thinking about how stupid the both of you are, because she thinks that zoro clearly has feelings for you too. she doesn't tell you this though, just to mess with the two of you.

-he'd realize how he feels about you when you come back from a mission with usopp, nami, and chopper and you're badly injured. as you're getting rushed into the ship, you hear zoro yelling at the other three. despite being in serious pain, you can't help but feel your heart swell. he was worried about you.

"why are they the only one injured? what the hell were the three of you doing?" zoro barks. he can't even bring himself to come in the room that chopper was treating you in. he didn't want you to see him that angry while you were already in pain.

-when he does show up to visit you, he's surprised to see you already sitting up. and you have a goofy look on your face, one he knows the meaning of all too well.

"i knew it zoro! you love me so much!"

"what the hell are you on about? you should be resting right now!"

you wrap your arms around him, surprised when he doesn't immediately push you away. he's extremely stiff and he has a mean look on his face, but he lets you hug him. and he's never done that before.

and you're used to him rejecting you every day, so now you're not sure what to do when he allows you to show him affection. the two of you sit in the quiet room, with only the sound of the waves and soft breaths filling the air.

"why aren't you pulling away?" you ask him softly. it's the quietest he's ever heard you speak, and he feels a little bad that you're even asking him that.

"don't die," he grumbles. "i'm gonna be annoyed if you do."

"oh my god, zoro," you gasp. "you are in love with me!"

"i'm not in love with you!" he snaps as he removes your arms from his body. "i'm just telling you not to die."

"so does this mean you want to go on that date tomorrow?" you ask hopefully.

he huffs and starts making his way to the door, but you hear him mumble a yes before slamming the door shut.