#and i need to figure out how developed the island is | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

foreverromanticising · 1 month ago

Text

renegade | ln4

(1) a sultry summer night pulls lando towards you, leaving your plans turned on your head but at least he ended up with you in his bed (smut, fluff, the lot!)

lando norris x fem!reader | wc - 3.3k | many parts to follow to perfectly prepare us for a lando summer aka the best sort of summer

masterlist<3

As much as Lando loved racing, there was no denying his true love that was summer break. He was given weeks on end with no responsibilties other than trying to figure out how he could develop his sun tan any further than it already was. Weeks on end filled with nothing but the sun, the sea, and of course, sex. Summer was sticky and sultry for Lando.

And who could blame him, summer break was the perfect time for this. He needed an outlet to relax after months of racing, this was the perfect escape, and what better way to do it than when he was tanned? So, every year, Lando and his friends would traipse out to some beach town with a night life he wouldn’t dream of leaving - whether it be a Greek island or the likes of Ibiza, which he could never grow tired of - and they’d drink away their summers.

Their days were spent on yachts out at sea or lounging by pools, their evenings were spent with extravagant dinners in lavish restauarants, and their nights were all spent rather differently. Sure, they would all head to the same nightclub, drinks swirling with every hour that passed but everyone would end the night in a different way. Lando’s best friend, Max, was always sure to have a few drinks before starting the campaign to head home - his girlfriend was back in London so he had no reason to be staying out later than two in the morning, he had no desire to try and pick up any girls on a night out. Entirely unlike his best friend as Lando’s aim was usually trying to see who he could get in his bed that night.

“On the lookout are you?” Max grabbed Lando’s shoulder to make him aware of his appearance, another drink in both of his hands for the two of them - not that they needed it.

“Don’t say it like that,” Lando scoffed but still accepted the drink nonetheless. “Don’t say it like I’ve got an agenda.”

“Well, you do, don’t you?” Max knew Lando could lie to their other friends, but he couldn’t lie to his face like that, like they didn’t know each other like the back of their hands. “Chat up a pretty girl for the night, take her back to your bed, hope she slips out by the morning - and do it all over again tomorrow with someone new.”

“I’m not that bad,” Truly, he had never paid that much attention to his habits. Lando just assumed the time to have fun and sleep around was now, there was no point in not partaking if he wasn’t anywhere near settling down. “Am I?”

“I mean, you still treat girls with respect so you’re not the bottom of the barrel,” A teasing lilt took over Max’s voice; he knew that when Lando was with a girl he was nothing but a gentleman, the issues would arise as soon as he was done with said girl. “Just keep it down once your back, I’d actually like a decent sleep this year.”

“Mate, it’s the first night-”

“Yeah, but you’re not exactly looking to be the most successful right now, are-” Max’s words were cut off as a body knocked into his own, subsequently then falling into Lando. Maybe standing in the direct path of traffic from the bar to the dancefloor wasn’t their smartest idea.

“Oh, my God, I am so so sorry!”

“Don’t be, totally my fault.” In that moment, Lando was eternally grateful for his racecar driver reflexes, his hands shooting out to catch your stumbling body as your drink sloshed out of your cup and down his linen shirt - instead of a fresh white, it was now sporting a purple blotch.

“That wasn’t your fault at all, no! I need to watch where I’m walking, I’m so sorry,” The words spilled out of your mouth quicker than Lando could pick up on them. “And your shirt! I’m so sorry, I’m gonna need a cap for these cups.”

“It’s okay, stop apologising,” Lando dropped his hands from your waist, tugging on the end of his shirt to inspect the damage, though he would argue to you there was hardly a stain. It wasn’t as though a white linen was hard to come by. “We probably shouldn’t be standing here anyway - I’m Lando, by the way, and this is Max.” He extended out his hand to you, shaking it to try and calm your thoughts, and your hand that shook with anxiety. You gave him your name in return, dropping his hand and trying to take a deep breath as you started to come down from the brief moments of adrenilane - you still felt horrendous about falling into him but he was quick to assure you that he was all right.

“I should probably go, it was-” You didn’t want to linger, wanting out of this awfully embarassing moment as soon as possible. However, just as you try to excuse yourself, Lando interrupts you.

“Can I buy you a drink? As an apology, of course.” He points towards the bar over his shoulder, as Max watches the entire situation unfold and knows exactly where it’ll end - in Lando’s bed. Thus, he excuses himself, muttering a quick goodbye to Lando as he slips past both of you.

“You have nothing to apologise for, I should be buying you a drink.”

“I can’t have pretty girls buying me drinks, doesn’t work like that.” His hand slips back around your waist as he leads you towards the bar.

The conversation flows as easily as the drinks do and you soon learn that there’s more to Lando than his name and his easily forgiving nature; he’s from England, though he’s curretnly staying in Monaco, he’s in Greece with his closest friends as he claims summer doesn’t begin until they head to the Greek islands, and his favourite colour is orange, although he does specifiy the shade you’ve had one too many drinks to remember what he had said.

Your legs were intertwined beneath the bar, knees pushed together, as you both tried to sit as close to each other - Lando claimed he could hardly hear you, but you would argue he just wanted to keep you close, as you did with him.

Soon enough, you begin to gather that the bartender was simply sick of the sight of both yourself and Lando, the constant glares and passive sighing don’t ease you of this ebbing feeling. Thankfully, Lando wastes no time in taking your hand in his, fingers laced between your own, and leads both of you out of the bar.

“Beginning to think you’re leading me to my death.” You try to play your worries off as a joke, a fake laugh masking your words, but there was no hiding the sudden change in the speed of your breathing as Lando walks both of you down towards the seafront. It probably wasn’t your brightest idea to blindly follow a man you had just met but his hair curled perfectly above his eyes and all you could think about was running your fingertips through the mop atop of his head so you had to admit you were feeling a little distracted.

“‘Could never murder you, babe,” He flashed you that god awful smile that had your knees almost buckling beneath your weight, reminding you exactly why you so stupidly grabbed his hand and followed the path he led. “Just wanted to hear you, ’s too loud in there.”

His speech was slurred ever so slightly, one too many drinks and a pretty girl in front of him - how could he possibly be expected to maintain his composure around you?

“So, Greece? What are you doing here?” He had perked up in the few hours you had known him, not that he wasn’t in a great mood prior to when you had bumped into him however alcohol significantly loosened the weight that was bearing upon Lando’s shoulders. He felt like he could float away, simply at peace as he swung your hands back and forth between your bodies - like walking along a beach at three in the morning with you was an entirely normal thing to do for him, like he had been doing this his whole life.

“I don’t really know,” You let out a laugh and shrugged your shoulders, as though the question was totally absurd. “I wanted to travel, I guess, so here I am.”

“Massively boring answer, c’mon, I wanna know you.” Perhaps Lando was more forward than he would’ve been with five less drinks in him, on a normal day and at a normal time, but that wouldn’t have been true to Lando.

“I mean it, I really don’t know - I’m just here.” You weren’t sure how much of an answer Lando was expecting but you were certain you couldn’t give him what he was searching for.

“Mmm’kay well, who’re you here with?”

“No one, just me.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” It was almost comical the way Lando’s eyes almost bugged out of his head, jaw dropping - he felt as though you were simply giving him these blunt answers in a pure attempt to wind him up, but his drunken mind trusted you enough to believe you. “You’re in Greece, on your own, and you don’t know why? Makes sense.”

“I wanted to travel and experience the world, and the people and the cultures it could offer me,” You didn’t have a particularly expansive answer for Lando but you figured you could tell him the truth - despite all of the friends you had promised back home that you wouldn’t tell anyone that you were solo travelling. “No one wanted to come with me and I didn’t want to waste anymore time sitting around so I packed a bag and here I am, following a strange man on the beach.”

“Strange man? This strange man bought you drinks all night.” Lando scoffed, a look of faux offence mascarading his face.

“Most strange men buy girls they want to sleep with drinks on a night out, Lando.” Though you could maybe guess what Lando’s intentions were for that night, you wouldn’t have fit him into the ‘strange men’ category your friends were so worried about. You felt incredibly comfortable around him as you continued following him.

“Who said I wanted to sleep with you?” He stumbled over his words as they fell out of his mouth, thankful for the dark sky and the lack of street lamps as he could feel the heat rise to his cheeks.

“I’m a good guesser?” You shrugged your shoulders, a teasing smirk pulling at your lips as you watched how flustered he became.

“Don’t change the subject,” Lando shook his head, trying to regroup his train of thought back to his original questions. “Travelling, you said? Where are you going? I don’t think you can count party islands as real travelling.”

“Well, this is one of my last stops,” You rattled off the lists of cities and islands you had trekked to over the last few weeks as Lando watched you with pure curiosity. “Then, in the morning, I’m meant to head to Albania but I don’t have anything booked yet.”

“That’s not very bright, why would you not book something so you know what you’re doing?” Lando couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t extremely organised in most aspects of his life, the thought of not knowing your next step stressed him out and he was only on day one of his own trip.

“I dunno, wanted to see where tonight would take me.” Before leaving the hostel you were staying in, you had packed all of your belongings into your backpack just in case you decided you were ready to leave the next morning. You liked to have the choice of where your travelling would take you, making sporadic last minute decisions was exactly why none of your friends had wanted to travel with you.

“And where did tonight take you?”

“Back to your place, I’m hoping.”

Those few words were enough to have Lando pulling your arm, immediately picking up the pace he was walking at until both of you were almost running back to his villa. You weren’t usually this bold when it came to boys but you knew you had no chances of seeing Lando after this so you let any worries roll straight off your back.

Any space between you and Lando had absolutely vanished back at the bar yet he kept trying to pull you impossibly closer once you made it back to his villa. He led you back to his bedroom, shushing you between kisses in fears of waking up any of his friends whilst you exclaimed over the grandure of his villa. “You gotta stay quiet, baby.” His lips travelled down your neck as he pushed you inside his bedroom, murmuring against your skin.

His hands dipped lower down your body, rough and calloused fingertips dragging the hem of your dress to your hips. Though, before he lets himself go any further with you whilst standing in his doorway, he soon redirects your bodies to his bed - not daring to break from your lips as he laid you down atop of his mattress. Soon, he hikes up your dress properly and lays the skirt across your stomach, leaving your white lace on show for him.

“Pretty girl.” He hummed against your hip bone, placing a gentle kiss on this lace that sits on your skin. Daringly, he darts his tongue just below your belly, teasing eyes looking back up at you. “Can I get rid of these, y’gonna be alright with that?” His breath is strikingly hot against your skin as he watches you nod your head above him.

The arch of your back combined with your nodding is enough for Lando before he begins pulling your panties down your legs, discarding them to the floor of the room. “Y’gonna let me make you feel good, darling?” This elicited a whine from your lips and you weren’t above begging Lando to touch you, to do anything. Again, this was enough for Lando as he ducked his head down and began pressing kisses from your inner thighs all the way to your clit - slow and steady kisses, as though he was scared you were going to disappear if this was over too fast.

His lips continued their assault on you, Lando acting like he was a man starved as his hands gripped onto your thighs. He wouldn’t dare break away from you for a second, not even for a breath of air. He closed his mouth around you, the pressure was almost too much for you to handle as a high whine left your jaw ajar and you wanted so desperately to close your eyes, to bask in the feeling, but you couldn’t dare take your eyes off of Lando. His sun kissed skin, the tip of his ever so slightly burnt nose kept nudging your clit and left you nearly squealing.

Though, before he could let you finish your hands were frantically grabbing at the collar of his linen shirt, pulling him up over your body as his arms caged you in below him. He was breathing just as heavily as you were but you didn’t waste a second in allowing him to grab a breath before you captured his lips with your own. Your fingertips tugged on the ends of his curls, involuntarily causing him to bite down on your bottom lip.

“Didn’t think you’d be into that.” You laughed against his lips whilst your hands made their way down his body, trying to unbutton whatever buttons were still done on his shirt so you could pull it over his head.

“I’m into whatever you’re into.” Lando truly wasn’t kidding; he knew he had only met you a few hours ago but he was certain he would lay down the world for you. Or maybe he was just drunk, but he loved the feeling of being in love without any strings attached. It was a bad habit of his.

Lando hadn’t even taken your dress off properly before you were begging for more than just his mouth; his trousers shucked off and thrown into the corner of his room with your panties. Whilst your dress wasn’t totally gone, it didn’t stop Lando from slipping his hands beneath the fabric to feel every inch of your skin with every thrust.

Something broke with every push Lando gave you; everything about this touch was just right, calculated like he had done this a million times before, but you couldn’t complain as you lay entirely blissed out below him. He fell apart moments after you, holding you close as he finally lay down on the white sheets beneath both you. His lips trailed from your temple to your collarbone, not one part of him caring that you were sweaty and sticky from the night you had both just had from the bar to his bedroom - he was sure he was in a much worse state.

You didn’t bask in his affection for long before you were sitting up, fixing your mussed hair and pulling your dress back down to an appropriate length. Your sudden movements left Lando confused, a perplexed look taking over his face as he watched you.

“Are you not staying?” Usually, he was quick to haul girls out of his bedroom so he could return back to his normalcy but he assumed you would stay. You two had actually clicked beyond the sex, Lando didn’t want to give this up straight away.

“Albania, Lan, I leave in a few hours.” Your time with Lando had gone from the late night into the early hours of the morning, and whilst you had had great fun, you were determined to make your travels for the next day.

“What? C’mon babe, just stay,” Lando leaned towards the end of his bed, hand outstretched as he grabbed yours, pulling you back to his bed. He was quick to noticed that you didn’t put up much of a fight against his movements. “You said it yourself, nothing’s booked.”

“I dunno, this was fun and all but-”

“But, we could do it all over again tomorrow,” He hovered his lips over your own, forehead pressed against yours with his voice low and tempting. “You don’t have to go, you should stay.”

“Do you always get your way with girls?” You rolled your eyes as you were certain this man had never been told ‘no’ once before in his life but you could understand why - you weren’t sure you wanted to be the first person to tell him ‘no’ when he looked at you with those shining eyes.

“I don’t think I’ve ever asked a girl to stay before,” He confessed to you, lips finally connecting with yours. “Albania will always be there, even just stay for the night - we can sort everything out tomorrow. But, please, just come to bed with me.”

“I’ll have to be up early to grab my stuff from the hostel, I can’t leave it there all-” You couldn’t help the bubble of worries that were slowly taking over you at the change of your plans, but you couldn’t deny the subtle excitment you felt with how desperately Lando was clinging to you, begging you to stay.

“Shh, I’ll set an alarm and we’ll be up,” He pulled you to lay down with him, his hands grabbing your thigh to tug your leg in between his. He felt a sense of contentment when your head rested on his shoulder, the white sheets pulled up to your shoulder. “Jus’ wanna hold you tonight.”

#formula one #formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris x reader #f1 #lando norris blurb #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris summer #f1 fanfic #f1 blurb #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris angst

396 notes · View notes

honnelander · 2 years ago

Text

go fish! part 2

guyssss i did NOT expect this little series to blow up. y'all are amazing! i'm turning into a Sanji writing blog and am i mad about it? no lmao i received a couple of requests and i'll work on them as soon as i can. i'm really in the zone rn so i'll ride this wave as long as i can. if you want to be a part of the taglist for whenever i post new Sanji content, lmk. i hope you enjoy!

WARNINGS: none

word count: 2.8k

pairing: opla!sanji x fem!reader

summary: after being humiliated by Usopp earlier, reader stays in her room to decompress. however, she gets a visitor.

prequel part 1 part 3 part 4 masterlist

taglist: @smolracoon25 @mischiefmanaged71 @jovialcat123

Mortified. That’s how you felt. Still.

Ever since you ‘forfeited’ from finishing your Go Fish card game with Usopp a couple of hours ago, you had taken your glass of water that Sanji had poured for you and boarded up in your shared room with Nami, refusing to come out due to “heat exhaustion”.

Poor Luffy, ever the golden hearted captain, was immediately worried for your wellbeing as soon as he heard that but after multiple reassurances from you and getting up off of your hammock multiple times to prove you were in fact, just fine, he relented from wanting to stop by the nearest island so he could find a doctor for you. Usopp had managed to convince him as well that all you needed was some water, alone time, and that you would be fine by dinnertime.

You rubbed your eyes as you let out a sigh, vowing to yourself that the next time you wanted some time by yourself, you should just take a bath or something, since any other excuse would cause someone on the crew (Luffy) to lose their mind at the thought of someone not feeling well.

You readjusted yourself, sitting more upright, as you downed the last of your water, it being warm by this point since it had been poured by Sanji hours ago.

Sanji. Ugh.

Your heart fluttered once again at the mere thought of him, but that flutter was immediately replaced by a wave of crashing embarrassment at the thought of the afternoon’s sequence of events. What had happened earlier wasn’t even anything that groundbreaking or special, but to you? It was everything. It wasn’t common practice in your life for the object of your affections to be so kind towards you, so thoughtful, to read and anticipate your needs before you even knew they were even there. But Sanji? He was all of that and more. And you didn’t even know him for that long! You’ve all been a part of the straw-hat crew for 5 months at this point and it felt silly to admit to yourself that you had developed a crush on one of your crewmates in that short amount of time.

And having feelings for your crewmate? Someone who you literally couldn’t get away from since you all were trapped on a ship together (not that you would ever want to be away from him or anyone else for that matter, besides Usopp, but still), it felt morally wrong. You guys were all a team. Sure, you all were off to sail around the world and chase dreams, but achieving all of that required teamwork and trust, and that was hard to do if two of those people were caught up with matters of the heart every hour of every day.

Like, what if things didn’t work out in the end? Would you really want to put the crew’s dynamic at stake just because you thought the blonde guy was cute? No, you wouldn’t. It would be selfish so you would never dare to put yourself or Sanji in that position. No matter how much you liked him.

So as much as it pained you, you could never tell Sanji how you feel. You would never cross that line of being a ‘professional pirate’ into something more, like a pirate wife. Or a pirate chef’s wife.

It definitely didn’t help that freaking Usopp of all people on the crew knew about your affections for Sanji. Ugh, you groaned. He was the absolute worst person to know about it too. Why did he have to figure it out? Why did he have to be the one that had put two and two together to equal four? That your random bouts of awkwardness and shyness plus ‘heart eyes’ and blushes whenever Sanji was around equaled to you having a forbidden crush on the crew’s chef? It was embarrassing. And complicated.

He loved to stir the pot too, so whenever he could tease you for it when you both were alone or in front of a clueless Sanji, he would. You remembered the kiss he had shared with Kayla back when the straw-hats had acquired the Going Merry, so you definitely jabbed him right back when you had had enough, since part of you felt guilty for it since Kayla was thousands of miles away and Sanji lived on this ship with you. Your situations were slightly similar but completely different.

Also, completely different in the way that him and Kayla were basically dating at this point, albeit long distance, and had shared a kiss while you could barely sustain eye contact that lasted more than 5 seconds with Sanji.

You were hopeless.

“Knock, knock,” a familiar accented voice came through the closed door. “Y/n? Are you awake?”

"Sanji?” you blurted out in complete surprise.

Shit. You weren’t mentally prepared to see him just yet. At all. You were still replaying the interaction you both had earlier in your head, your overthinking mind going over every minute detail to figure out if Usopp’s careless teasing had given away your affections.

Usopp, you mentally ground out. You were going to kill him. Sanji had never stopped by your room before so what on earth was he doing here now?

Suddenly, a thought struck you like a bolt of lightning and made your stomach drop fifty miles below sea level: if Sanji had specifically stopped by your room just to gently let you down, that no, in fact he did not feel the same way about you, that he only thought of you as a member of the crew and nothing more....then yeah, you were definitely going to kill Usopp and throw him overboard.

Before you could mentally plot out more details on Usopp's murder, the door opened and the straw-hat chef’s blonde head appeared. His eyes quickly scanned Nami’s empty hammock on the room’s left side before turning his head to the right, his blue eyes immediately finding your surprised ones, a (relieved?) smile lighting up his face at the sight of you.

“So, I take it you’re awake?” Sanji asked in a light, teasing tone but not making an effort to move himself away from the doorway.

“Uh, y-eah,” you stuttered out in surprise as you just stared at him dumbfounded. You still couldn’t figure out why he was here.

Sanji continued to lock eyes with you, making your cheeks flush the longer you both stared at each other, and your palms sweat as the silence stretched on, making the tension in the air become thicker by the second. He blinked, his eyes darting to the side in confusion, raising an eyebrow as he asked, “May I come in?”

“OH! Yes, of course- sorry,” you stuttered as you waved him inside, sitting up in your hammock and mentally face palmed yourself. Of course, Sanji was waiting on you to invite him inside. Like always, he was acting like a true gentleman. “Please, come in. Have a seat. Sorry, that was rude of me. Make yourself at home.”

Sanji stood up to his full height and walked into your room with an easy smile and a small laugh, closing the door behind him. “Ah, don’t ever apologize y/n. You could never be rude to me,” Sanji rebuttalled and waved off your apology as he looked around and took in your very plain and basic shared room with Nami.

Your room, or side of the room more specifically, wasn’t much to brag about considering you really didn’t have much to your name but for now, it was home to you. Your side consisted of your hammock, a wooden barrel next to it to act as a makeshift nightstand that housed your only book, a journal, and a lamp, along with an empty wooden crate to act as a makeshift seat and another to hold some of your other clothes and small travel bag. Nami’s side was similar to yours but had a touch more personality as she hung up some maps she found at various markets and drew up herself on her wall.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling a tad self-conscious about the lack of things in your room considering your current guest was dressed, as usual, to the nines in his signature black suit and blue and white striped shirt complete with a skinny black tie. “Sorry for the sad state of my room-”

“Sad?” Sanji stopped admiring your room and snapped his gaze to look at you. His eyebrows pulled together as another confused smile adorned his features. “Why would you say that? Your room isn’t sad, I like it. It’s a reflection of you,” his next words came out softer, “and I think that’s beautiful.”

You could feel heat crawling up your neck at his words as you busied yourself with placing the empty glass in your hand on your barrel nightstand. There was no way Sanji was calling you beautiful, he was just commenting on your room. With Nami. On your shared room that owed any ounce of ‘personality’ to the ship’s navigator because it was obvious you literally brought nothing special to this room whatsoever.

You stopped yourself from spiraling into ‘I don’t bring anything special to the straw-hats, I don’t know why they keep me around’ thoughts because now wasn’t the time to think about any of that. Those dark thoughts were reserved when you couldn’t sleep in the middle of the night.

As you placed the glass on the nightstand, you asked, “So, what brings you all the way to my room? Aren’t you usually prepping for dinner around this time?”

Sanji’s eyes followed your hand and lit up when he saw the sole book on your nightstand. “Oh, a book? I didn’t know you liked to read.” His megawatt smile lit up a couple of notches as his eyes sparkled, he looked like he had just learned one of the universe’s greatest mysteries as he took a seat near you on an empty crate. “What book is that?”

“Oh, that?” You mentally deflated at the fact you now had to tell Sanji about your favorite book, “It’s Pride and Prejudice.”

You weren’t ashamed of having that book specifically, you loved it and it was your favorite book of all time, you had lost count at how many times you had read it at this point, but it was the fact that you now had to share this part of yourself with the guy you fancied. Guys normally scoffed and turned their nose up at romance book and romantic things, so you were bracing for Sanji to scoff and laugh at you like all the other guys did (like even Zoro and Usopp did when they first saw you reading it) but it never came.

Instead, Sanji’s smile remained bright. “Ah, so you’re a lover of classic romances? Pride and Prejudice? Romeo and Juliet?”

Immediately, you smiled, finding yourself instantly comfortable suddenly whenever you got to talk about one of your favorite things. “Absolutely. I don’t think there’s a problem big enough out there that love can’t solve. Family backgrounds? Wealth and status? At the end of the day, none of that stuff matters. What matters is if two people love each other.”

Sanji stayed quiet for a moment, looking into your eyes with a twinkle of an emotion that you couldn’t decipher. It made your heart skip a beat. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly, never breaking eye contact. “I agree.”

You swallowed. “You like this stuff too? Have you read Pride and Prejudice?”

Sanji blinked and that indescribable emotion he had in his eyes was gone. His smile remained, however, and became sheepish as he held up his hands, “Ah ok, you caught me. I’ve never read the full thing, but I know the main parts of the story. My favorite part that I did read though, was the first dinner with Mr. Collins and he complimented the Bennets on their ‘excellent boiled potatoes’.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking your head slightly as you teased, “I should’ve known that the chef of the Going Merry’s favorite part of the book is when food is discussed!”

The blonde cook held his hands up again with a good-natured laugh, “Ah, you got me!” His face softened as he asked, “What about you?" He nodded towards the book. "What’s your favorite part?”

You paused for a second as you mulled the question over. “Well, I'm not sure if you know about this part since you never read the book...”

“Try me,” he encouraged softly.

Your face turned to the side, your eyes looking at the wooden wall to your right, unable to bring yourself to look at Sanji as you told him your favorite part of your favorite book. You took a deep breath to steady yourself and calm your nerves, your voice becoming quiet as you told him, “My favorite part is...when Mr. Darcy barges in on Elizabeth for the first time, while she’s at her friend Charlotte’s house writing a letter. He had come to practice ‘conversating’ with her since he admitted that it wasn’t something he was good at and she had told him to practice it. So, Mr. Darcy just barged in and they had one of the most painfully awkward conversations ever...and he did all that just because he loves her. He did something he hated and was bad at, and opened himself up to embarrassment just because he wanted to improve and be better for her. It’s so romantic and beautiful.”

The air was quiet after your mini monologue and for a moment, nothing could be heard except for their quiet breathing and the occasional crash of the ocean from outside your small window.

Part of you worried that your little rambling had bored Sanji, so when you finally looked at him, imagine your surprise when you found him leaning in towards you, hands clasped, elbows resting on his knees and his eyes watching you, completely engaged. It was like he was hanging onto your every word.

Sanji scanned your face for a moment, the corner of his lips curling upwards as he said, “Yeah, you’re right. I’m not familiar with that part in the book,” and before you could open your mouth to bring yourself down, he continued, “but, that doesn’t mean your answer is wrong.” He leaned back and slapped his hands against his thighs, “Hell, it’s a much more insightful answer than mine!” He laughed. “I just liked how they were poking some fun at boiled potatoes.”

You laughed with him because yes, that part in the book also made you laugh as well. But at the mention of food, you realized that you still didn’t know why Sanji was here in the first place. Wasn’t he normally prepping for dinner at this time? He had to be running behind schedule at this point.

“Why are you here, Sanji? Isn’t it almost time for dinner?”

“Yeah, it is actually but I heard you weren’t feeling well so I wanted to check in on you, make sure you’re feeling alright and see if you have any special requests for dinner?”

You couldn’t help the slight smile that overtook your face, trying to hide the blush at the fact that he was kind enough to check in on you and offer to practically be your own personal chef for the evening.

You hummed for a moment, acting like you were deep in thought before asking with a raised eyebrow, "And what would you say if I requested some boiled potatoes?”

The smile that lit up the chef’s face was priceless. He had never looked more beautiful. “To that, I would say ‘Absolutely. If that’s what the missus wants, then that is what the missus will get.’”

Missus. There it was again. You felt all warm inside whenever he called you that, it made you feel like he was your husband and that you were his wife. But that wasn’t the case. Sanji definitely must have called other women that before. You weren’t special to him, he was just being polite.

You swallowed down your emotions, putting your sudden wave of sadness away for later, putting on a small smile. “Then that sounds perfect. I would like to formally request some ‘excellent boiled potatoes’ as a side for dinner, please.”

If Sanji noticed your sudden change in mood, he didn’t show it. Instead, he grinned as he said, “Excellent choice, Madam. Boiled potatoes, coming right up.” As he stood up and made his way towards your door, Sanji did one of the most unexpected things that nearly knocked the wind out of you. With his left hand on the doorknob he said, “And don’t worry, Madam. I’ll sprinkle in a little bit of extra love in there,” he turned and winked at you, “just for you.”

With that, Sanji left your room, gently closing the door behind him, leaving you completely dumbstruck in your room, your mouth agape and body frozen.

Did Sanji just say he loved you?

You shook your head, because there was no way he did, right? He said he’d ‘sprinkle in some extra love’ into your potatoes, not 'I love you". You weren’t a chef, maybe that was a euphemism for something.

You sighed.

Those better be some good boiled potatoes.

4K notes · View notes

zyafics · 10 months ago

Text

PLAY FAKE | 12

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs.

You had no choice. Newly orphaned with two acquired guardianship, on the brink of homelessness, you caved into desperation. You started to steal; pick-pocketing unsuspecting tourons and swiping valuables at island parties.

The latter is how you came across Aaron. He saw you stole from one of his clients and struck up a conversation. You thought you would be arrested, or done worse as retribution, but he gave you his number to contact. Said you could call him if you were strapped for some cash. When you learned more about him through JJ—and how Luke owed him money once, leading to a bad dispute that ended in the loss of his job and a black eye—you realized you were dealing with a bad guy.

The consensus was to stay away from Aaron because of his shady conduction of business and excessive use of violence. But you were in a deadlock. No one would offer you a loan because of your bad credit and you were on the cusp of losing your family's legacy. So, you did it.

Now, it's back to bite you in the ass. The reason why loan sharks are dangerous is their exorbitantly high interest rates and lack of regard for the law. If you're unable to pay them back within strict deadlines, they will double the initial amount you owe and go to extreme lengths to threaten friends and family for payback. It's a tactic that works best because you can't turn to the police.

When you finish your anecdote, the atmosphere falls into an eerily silence. You can hear the sound of a pin drop or the soft laughter of your sisters three doors down. You're perched on the end of Rafe's bed while he's leaning against his desk, back pressed against the counter, digesting your words.

Your throat feels dry. It wasn't even a long explanation but something about the way Rafe's watching you, his eyes never straying, and the lack of response afterward. You feel like you're burning under his gaze.

This must be how he felt when you were silent.

"Say something," you urge, voice smaller than intended. His eyes shift and observes the look on your face with an indiscernible expression.

"How much did you borrow?"

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth before answering. "30K."

"Jesus Christ," he mutters under his breath, exhaling sharply. Guilt gnaws at your stomach and your eyes pinch with a wave of sodden emotions. This is one of the reasons why you hesitate to tell him; you don't want him to take your burden as his.

You sigh tightly. "I told you it's bad."

"Does this mean you owe him sixty grand now?"

"No." You shake your head. "I paid back ten."

The numbers still aren't optimal. "So forty then?"

"No," You blurt out, before retracting. "I think. I–I don't know. He hasn't contacted me..." You trail off, not wanting to imagine your debt doubled. If you had paid the required amount, as scripted in your contract, within the due date, you would've been fine. Now, you're in an ambiguous grey zone with no clear direction on where to go next.

"But when he does?"

You look up from your crestfallen gaze to find Rafe's jaw set, his eyes searching your face. Frustration rolls off his strong demeanor, and you take it as a sign of his irritation—at your negligence—that you can't help but feel obligated to alleviate the feeling. "It's fine." You say evenly. "I'll figure it out."

"It's not that." He declares roughly, pinching the bridge of his nose, and exhaling another deep breath. Recognizing his own turbulent emotions are flaring, he doesn't want to take it out on you. "I offered you money. We could've avoided this. At the start of our deal, I offered you—"

You cut him off. "I know."

His expression is sharp. "Then why didn't you take it?"

"I—" You draw in shaky breath, fingers grabbing at the sheets beneath you and tightening them into fists. "I had a plan."

"You had a plan?" Rafe repeats, his voice dripping with disbelief. While he's trying to be patient with you, he can't gauge how your mind works. How it's so set on an independent mode that now—even now—you seem to want to do it all alone. "Does it look like your plan is working?"

This time, it came harsher than he intended, and he wanted to take it back immediately but it was too late. His words were laced with a certain venom that spewed onto you.

But instead of being upset, your own anger erupts.

"Were you going to drop 20K for a couple of fake dates?" You snap, standing from your own seat. You knew what you had done was moronic and you can't take it back but you did have a plan. When Rafe doesn't give you a proper answer, you take his silence as complicity. "Exactly. It would've been stupid on your end and I would've never agreed to such a ridiculous deal. I've already made that mistake once."

He knows you just called him stupid, but Rafe can't stop the rising smile on his lips. In your scorn, you're almost back to your old self.

"Why are you smiling?" You cross your arms, attempting to maintain your level of authority, but his grin broadens. "Stop it."

"I miss you."

Your heart stutters and all your momentum drops. Rafe uses the opportunity to cross the small distance and capture your face in his palm and you lean into his touch, shoulders sagging. You can't believe you're reduced to putty in his hands.

Trying to regain some sense of control, you avert your gaze from his face, and both your palms flatten against his chest. "You're mean, Rafe."

"I'm sorry, baby," he murmurs, running the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone. "What was your plan?"

Part of you didn't want to tell him, to withhold the information, but when he tilts your chin up to meet his eyes, the earnest look behind them shatters that desire. With your heart leaping in your throat, you explain slowly. "When you get Cameron Development, the plan was that I was gonna get a steady income as your regular caterer. Therefore, when payments were due, I would have a reliable source of income."

His breath hitches at the implication behind your words. Rafe's expression hardens. "That's dependent on me getting the company."

You keep his gaze. "I know."

"You based your entire plan on me?"

You can't exactly decipher the tone behind his sentence, and you feel the need to lower your gaze to his chest, grabbing a handful of his shirt. You mumble, "You make it sound like it's stupid."

"It's not—" He grabs your chin again, forcing your gaze up to his. Your eyes are soft and big, while his darkened one scans your face, trying to read your intent. He asks lowly, "You believe in me that much?"

Your voice is gentle when you answer. "Of course."

His heart sings. Rafe can't believe what he's hearing, or rather what he's not. It's the same subtle underlying language he's used to translating; the unspoken. Your entire plan is contingent on his success. That means your trust in him started since the beginning of our arrangement.

He never had someone who had that much faith in him that they would bet it all. It's an indescribable feeling, that's first met with doubt, before transforming into something else. To know someone is always in his corner, always rooting for his success, always believing in him.

Fuck.

He's in love with you.

His eyes stray to your lips and the urge to kiss you overwhelms him. His actions have always been better at demonstrating his emotions than his words ever can. But he resists with a couple of measured breaths. Then, he nods once. "Okay. We'll figure it out."

You're in a dazed state. "We?"

He doesn't want you to think you have to do this all alone. You have him now. "Yeah, but later. I can't focus right now."

Before you can seek clarification, his other hand cradles your cheek and Rafe slams his lips onto yours.

It catches you by surprise and a small moan slips out that Rafe swallows. He wants you. Mind, body, and soul. All of it—the taste of you, the feeling of your skin on his, your words against the column of his throat. He wants to feel you writhing beneath him with pleasure, to save all your best memories for him, and to know that you're completely and unequivocally his.

Rafe parts, just a breath of distance, and whispers against your swollen lips. "God, I miss you."

Your fingers thread through his hair. "I've been here."

His eyes are hungry. "Not what I meant."

He silences any reaction by resuming the kiss, forcing you backward against the bed, and your back lands on the mattress with a soft thump. Rafe hovers over you, his weight pressed comfortably against your body while he kisses you like a starved man.

Even if you don't say it, you missed him too. The feeling of him against you, your heart meeting his at precise beats. When Rafe moves to plant kisses along the curve of your neck, a small whine escapes you. You want to feel his lips on yours, to feel his warmth on your tongue, but he wants to satisfy every inch of you.

His hand starts to caress the hem of your shirt—his shirt—pushing up the fabric to reveal more of your exposed stomach to your bare breasts. With little words spoken, like a coordinated dance, you move enough for Rafe to pull the material completely off of you.

"Shit," he swears, taking a moment to take you in, "I'm never going to get used to this." Then, he descends to your nipples and captures one between his teeth.

You let out another moan, feeling his tongue swirl around your sensitive bud, clashing with the metal barbell. Your legs spread wider, allowing Rafe to slot between your thighs. The boxers he let you borrow are thin, and you feel his hardened erection rocking against your heated core.

Your fingers find the button of his jeans. "Rafe," you whisper, aching with desire. "I need this off."

"Need, huh?" He teases, his hot breath fans against the valley of your breasts and you shiver. "Tell me how much you need me, baby."

He wants to hear it all. Even if it's fake, even if it's just dirty talk spoken during sex. For a brief, fleeting moment, he wants to pretend you need him as much as he needs you.

You draw your hands up to cup either side of his face, forcing him off your tits and tilting his gaze to yours. "Rafe Cameron, I need you inside me. Badly."

Hearing the desperation behind your voice—and his name rolling off your tongue, Rafe removes his clothes and helps you out of yours. Before you have the chance to say anything else, Rafe's fingers are between your folds, spreading them apart, and a sound of satisfaction is heard from the back of his throat. "God, you're wet."

You are. Your arousal coats his digits, and with a slow stroke of his hand, your hips buck into his palm that rest against your clit.

"Rafe," you whine, knowing he's toying with you. His fingers stroke your pussy, but not enough pressure to give rise to your climax. "Inside, please. I'll be so good."

He grins and retracts his hand. When he lines his swollen cock against your entrance, he pauses for a moment. Rafe's eyes connect with yours. "Did you take your pill?"

When Rafe went out this early morning, with your sisters, he went to the pharmacy to pick up some birth control for you. It currently sits on his desk, opened and with one missing tablet. "I did."

"Good, I need to feel all of you."

Without another word, he thrusts into you, causing your back to arch off the mattress.

Rafe doesn't go hard and fast like normal but instead bends forward to capture your lips against his teeth. Your heart is hammering in your chest regardless, the feeling of your walls wrapped around him, the way he fills you—like a puzzle finding its missing piece—makes your head spin.

"Feel so fucking good," he whispers against your heated skin, his hand reaching out to take yours, intertwining with your fingers. "Can't believe I almost lost this."

You can't believe it either, but you couldn't say it. Rafe angles himself where his cock hits right against your cervix, causing your head to tip back and dig into the sheets, moaning wildly at the pleasure. Rafe easily kisses you to swallow the noise of your open mouth, reminding you that your sisters are just a couple of doors over.

You should care. You really should. But you don't. You need him. Closer. Harder. Faster. Your legs wrap around his torso, trapping him. "Need you," you whimper, as each thrust grows more choppy. "Need you so fucking bad, Rafe."

He can't control himself. Removing his constraint of trying to keep it sentimental, to keep it sweet. He loves how desperate you need him. How rough you want it. His pace quickens with the rut of his hips, and you feel the familiar white-hot pleasure searing through your body, climaxing.

"More," you beg, arms wrapped around his neck, fingers clawing against his back muscles. You're removing all the space between him and you, until there's nothing but skin-on-skin. "Please, more."

"Baby, I'll give you everything," he grunts breathily, scraping his teeth against the curve of your neck, hitting a sensitive spot that leaves you whining. "Everything and more if you'd let me."

Something about his words twists inside you and you come hard. Rafe feels you clenching around him, so tight, that it causes him to slow his thrust but the pleasure is unbearable. Easily, he follows after, coming inside you with the familiar hot cum filling you up.

Rafe lands on top of you, careful not to crush you under his weight. You welcome it, nonetheless, liking the way he presses against you. Both your breaths are heavy, clambering to catch up on missing air, and Rafe's still inside you. You like that too.

Your hands are still intertwined, and you're the first to retract from the hold to place your warm palm against the side of his profile, causing his head to lift to meet your gaze. He's settled between the valley of your breasts, his stubble tickling your skin, and you take the moment to lean forward and plant a chaste kiss on his lips.

It feels sentimental. Vulnerable. Almost too real.

"Okay, now get off," you say jokingly, undercutting the tension in the room. Rafe scoffs but listens, rolling off, slipping out of you. The loss of him makes you frown, but you quickly wipe away the expression as you turn on your side, facing him.

Rafe studies you. This time, the sex felt different. More. He'll never say it, in fear of it scaring you away, but he truly never felt as vulnerable as he did moments ago when he was inside you. The memories flooding through him could easily get him hard again, but he tries to distract himself, taking a strand of your hair between his fingers.

You smile softly, noting how mesmerized he is with your hair. Of the color and the texture. It draws you into your thoughts, and you're suddenly reminded of a question that's been stuck in your head for the past twenty-four hours.

You say his name, causing him to stop and look at you. "Why were you with Leila the other night?"

"She called me." He answers truthfully, and before you can question him further, he adds. "I was coming over anyways."

This surprises you. "You were?"

"Couldn't leave you like that."

"You didn't stop me."

"I know, I fucked that up," Rafe admits, eyes scanning over your face, trying to express his sincerity.

You study him, recognizing his truth, but you still have some doubts. Another question about your relationship hangs in the air, and as your lips part, Rafe recognizes the question before you even have the chance to ask.

"We're not broken up."

A sense of relief fills you, but there's also the remnant of heartache.

Your voice is soft. "I said a break."

"We're not doing that either."

You don't know if you can separate from him. You don't know if you want to. But you wanted this extra layer of protection, just in case. "If you were worried, I was still committed to doing all the things you needed with Ward—"

"I don't care." He sharply cuts you off. "If someone asks you who you're with, don't answer that it's complicated. It's not. You're with me, got it?"

He's addressing the moment when Kelce asked if you were in a relationship with Rafe and you answered vaguely. It must've been stuck in his mind. Rafe never set perimeters on who knows the truth behind your little farce, only that his father remains oblivious, but you guess it also extends to the rest of the Kook public.

You don't answer him, not wanting to taint the aftermath of good sex with discussions about logistics and labels. You want to enjoy the fleeting moment, even if it's all you get.

Rafe sees your silence and softens his voice. His hand cups the side of your face, brushing his thumb across your cheek. "You're mine, you know that?"

You do, but you don't think it's in the way Rafe realizes. The lines are so blurred, you don't know what's real or fake anymore. You don't know if this is a sentiment shared during intimacy or a parade with the public, or if he does want you. Asking for clarification has burned you twice and you'd rather not put yourself in that situation again.

You're silently asking Rafe to tell you more. To give you more words. To speak. If he reveals that he has feelings for you, telling you he wants you—truly wants you—beyond this arrangement, you would be his. All his.

But Rafe's never been the one to willingly talk and reveal things. You have to break an arm and a leg for him to consider giving you the time of day. You rather not break your heart too.

A banging on the locked bedroom door absolutes you from answering him. "Rafey!" Amara screams from the hallway, "You promised you'd see my dress!"

"Dress?" You turn away from the door. "What dress?"

Rafe says nothing, but the small smirk on his face reveals everything. "Rafe. What did you get them?"

You didn't go with your sisters on their early morning excursion with Rafe. You were too tired and were catching up on sleep. When you woke up, they were already back and had been gleefully locked away in the guest bedroom the entire afternoon.

"Don't worry about it."

Rafe slips off the bed and gets redressed while you watch. You admire the planes and ridges of his chest, and when he finishes, he picks your clothes off the floor and throws them at you, telling you to get up too.

You do, and after you're no longer bared and exposed on his king-sized bed, Rafe unlocks the door to reveal an impatient Amara standing behind the door. She's carrying a foreign doll between your arms; something handmade and name-branded, something she definitely didn't have before.

"Rafe..." You warn lowly, but it lacks the critical threat behind its tone. He just grins at your attempt, grabbing your hand and dragging you out of his bedroom. Amara leads you to the living room, where the registration of how much Rafe bought your sisters comes to light.

Scatters of large shopping bags, of various shops and boutiques you never heard the name of, litter across the floor. Leilani is sitting on one of the couches, messing with something in her hands. A phone. Amara’s ruffling through one of the bags, trying to find her dress.

You turn back to Rafe. "You got to be kidding."

"Just because you won't let me buy you nice things doesn't mean you should deprive your sisters of that opportunity," Rafe shrugs, taking a seat on the closest couch, and tugging you along. There's plenty of room on the cushioned chair, but Rafe decides to pull you onto his lap.

You don't even mind; you like your spot on his lap. His arm lazily wraps around your waist while your legs dangle off the side. While Amara recruited Leila along to search for their dresses—because they have that much stuff—Rafe playfully bites your exposed shoulder.

Finally finding their princess gowns and diamond tiaras, Amara grabs Leilani's hand and drags her off to the nearest bathroom. They're giggling while they skip away, bouncing on their feet, behaving the exact opposite of what you expected them to be after a traumatic experience.

"They're happy."

"Of course they are." He scoffs, "We spent the entire morning ransacking every store downtown, buying everything they set their eyes on."

You chuckle softly, and gratitude passes through you. "You didn't have to do that."

"Nah, I had to," Rafe slides you closer. "Got to stay on their good side, you know?"

You shake your head, hiding a smile. The sound of a door opening is heard and you turn to the source of the sound, expecting to see your sisters return with their costumes, but instead find the sudden appearance of Sarah Cameron standing in the middle of the foyer.

"Sarah." Rafe stiffens under you, surprise evident in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

"It's my house, Rafe," She says with the roll of her eyes.

"It hasn't been your house since you ran away three months ago," he snaps, a hardness to his words. "Where's your Pogue boyfriend now?"

She ignores her brother, shifting her attention to you. "Who are you?"

You feel like you're caught in the crossfire of their rivalry. Before you get the chance to answer, Rafe cuts in for you.

"She's my girlfriend," Rafe sneers, his arm tightening around your waist. "Which is none of your business."

"Gee, Rafe, really a great welcome home party," Sarah says sarcastically, adjusting the large bag over her shoulders, which you presumed is stuffed with her things. She looks back at you. "You're the Pogue my dad mentioned, right? The one who owns the bar near the docks?"

Something about the Cameron siblings minimizing you to a social class. Nonetheless, you nod. "Cool. Nice to meet you. I'm sorry you have to deal with that one," she points to her brother, who's shooting daggers at his little sister. She ignores the look. "Well, I hope you had a good... shopping trip. I'm going to go unpack."

Before you have a chance to correct her, she walks away, and Rafe shouts after her. "Don't unload too much, just in case you wanna run away again," he reminds, to which Sarah responds with a flip of her middle finger, turning onto the stairwell and disappearing.

You don't know how to deal with a Rafe post-Sarah, especially because you've heard of his long-winded rambles about the golden child. You don't even want to step into it, because what Rafe feels for his younger sister is none of your business. It's his complicated family. You can't fix that.

Instead, you pull him back to Earth, turning his head away and tilting his gaze back onto you. His heated eyes, darkened and full of resentment and anger, soften upon meeting yours, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

Leaning into him, the both of you say nothing, doing nothing, until Amara and Leilani emerge from the dressing room with glamorous princess gowns and a crown over their head. Then, they did a little show for you.

The moments spent with you make him forget about his issue with his sister. With her return and what it means to the company. Who earns in favor with their father.

She’ll be a problem for another day.

Not realizing how true those words will be.

IMPORTANT INFO ABOUT TAGLIST AND UPDATES: if you want to be notified about all my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications! however, if you want to be added to this specific taglist, let me know (but to remain tagged, you must interact with the posts).

TAGLIST FOR PF: @uraesthete / @maybankslover / @trshngyn / @irides-solstice / @groovycass / @emmalandry / @rivaiken / @outlawedmando / @ditzyzombiesblog / @mattyskies / @sunshinepanic / @too-deviant / @rafesgiirl / @vvvhack / @rafestaurusgf / @cami-is-reading / @peachesmilk / @whore4fictionalman / @artemiswinnick / @janediazwindsor / @pandora-rosier1 / @solanathascientst / @itshellie / @grace-sully / @loveyouok / @tayrcse / @mysteris-things / @ella131989 / @starrkissezz / @sanriobuny / @chopshopcheesecake / @fentyxmalik / @fleets-world / @supernaturalwriter / @taylorsmissamericanna / @hehelollmao / @lac0nically / @elysiasshit / @kravitzwhore / @tommysaxes / @ma-yang / @carolinaxvz / @bandsbooks / @sourjoonie / @rafemotherfuckingcameron / @mintforadollar / @ihe4rttwd

Navigation — Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

901 notes · View notes

demonpiratehuntress · 1 year ago

Text

the only one

Portgas D. Ace x F!Reader

summary - Ace was always a flirt in whatever bars you went to, but once he's in love with you that changes.

warnings - none

a/n: i forgot to add this part in "marry me" so i just decided to make it its own fic. it was haunting me

When you first met Ace, he was perhaps the biggest flirt you had ever come across in your life. Anywhere and anytime, if you were in a bar he would be chatting up almost every local woman he met. It never used to bother you when you were just friends, but once you developed a crush on him it became a bit of a problem.

Most nights you would end up going back to the ship alone, and even though he wouldn't do anything with them - as evident when he returned to the ship after you alone - it still ate away at you. Made you feel things you didn't want to feel, unpleasant emotions that had you crying and sobbing into your pillow late at night when no one could hear.

Or at least, when you thought no one could hear.

Ace's room was next to yours, and every night he was absolutely crushed to hear your sobs. He was never sure what caused them, but he knew you wouldn't tell him. So he set out to discover the cause himself, and did as such on another island trip.

Noticing the way your face fell when he left the table to go talk to some girls at the bar, it instantly hit him that you were hurting because of him. And that was his first sign that you liked him.

That's when everything changed.

Once Ace was sure you had a crush on him, he stopped trying to suppress his feelings for you. They came out in full bloom, and his behaviour in bars and pubs completely changed, noticeable to everyone who knew him.

When Ace decided to show he was deeply in love with you, you noticed.

Every bar you went to after that involved him sitting right next to you the whole time, drunkenly flirting with you and you alone. Telling you how pretty you are, how cute you looked when you were so red, and how sweet you always were to him. No matter how many pretty girls were in the bar that day, he was glued to you.

"Ace," you would giggle and push his head off your shoulder. "Those girls in the corner are eyeing you out, they're pretty."

The raven-haired commander pouted, not even shooting them a glance, "But (Name), no one is prettier than youuuuu." He smiled, dropping his head back onto your shoulder. His breath reeked of alcohol, so you just dismissed it as drunken rambling, your face bright red.

But then there were times when he didn't drink at all, and still ignored anyone other than you trying to get with him.

"Sorry, can't talk right now."

You watched him dismiss yet another pretty woman as he made his way back to the table, handing you another drink. He plopped down in his seat next to you, offering you his goofiest grin yet.

"Ace, you just-"

He shrugged, still grinning at you, "I didn't do anything."

"But that girl-"

"What girl?"

He was staring at you, awestruck by your beauty. His eyes were only ever on you these days, and nothing changed that. He didn't look at anyone else, never finding the need to, since he was so hopelessly in love with you. Even when you went to go get drinks for the group, Ace would watch you go and come back, his eyes stuck on your figure. He would stare with the most loving, adoring gleam in his eyes, feeling butterflies each time you returned his smile.

You were still oblivious, "Ace, I think you should talk to one of them. They seem to like you, and you need a girlfriend."

"Well I don't like them," he replied, suddenly leaning forward, "And I already know who I want as my girlfriend."

"Oh." Your face fell, but he was quick to make you smile again.

"(Name), you're so dumb."

"Am not!"

"Are too! I stare at you in every bar and all you think about is me talking to other girls!"

You blushed hard, stuttering and stammering out a nonsense reply, but you found it difficult to argue with that.

"Ace, you deserve better than me. And they're prettier."

"If I really thought that," he leaned in so close that your lips almost touched, "I wouldn't be sitting here with you, would I?" He grinned again. "You're the most beautiful woman in this bar, and every other bar, so I'm happy right where I am."

Then you started dating, and all Ace would do in bars was show you off. To both men and women that approached him, even if it had nothing to do with the conversation.

"Did you see my girlfriend?" He would ask them, drunkenly. "She's the HOTTEST-" Marco would usually have to drag him away before he spilled something more explicit.

Any time a woman would come up to him, Ace would hightail it out of there and do one of two things. One, he would hide behind you and grip you so tightly as he points you in the direction of the daring woman. Two, he would perch himself on your lap and kiss all over your face with his arms around your neck. Each one depends on how drunk he is.

"No thanks, I have a girlfriend."

"My girlfriend's right over there."

"My girlfriend is prettier than you."

"(Nameeeeeeeeeeee), come and tell them that you're my girlfriend!"

He's so in love that he doesn't even pay attention to anyone but you wherever you go. If you tell him to drink less than last time, he will. If you tell him to stay at the table, he will. He will sit you on his lap and lock you in his arms, not allowing you to move for the rest of the evening. He usually falls asleep against your neck, but you don't mind.

But, generally, when Ace is with you in a bar he will keep you glued to his side so everyone knows that he is taken. The brave ones who still approach will usually have to deal with you, and he loves to watch.

Once you're married, you best believe this man is going into every bar yelling to anyone who will listen that he's married, that he has a wife, or that his wife is the hottest person in the universe. He clings to you and makes sure people know you're married, even if they are just passing by and have no intention of talking to either of you.

"How times have changed," you teased him one day, sitting on his lap in yet another bar. "A while back you'd be flirting with every woman in this bar."

"That was before I knew you liked me!" He protested, blushing in embarrassment. "And anyway, that's what happens when you find the one."

"The one?" You blushed.

"Yessss," he smiled happily, pecking your lips. "You're the one. My one. The only one I will ever want and ever need." He peppered your face with kisses. "To me, you're the only woman in these bars."

"Good."

#one piece #op #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace x you #portgas d ace #ace x reader #ace x you #one piece ace #one piece portgas d ace

1K notes · View notes

traumadumpwriter · 3 months ago

Text

JJ Maybank X Reader ~ Relapse and a Half

My first OBX fic. I hope y’all like it.

Summary: The Pogues feel betrayed by the readers sudden relapse into hard drugs, but they’re unable to be angry at her for too long as something terrible leaves her needing their support more than ever.

Trigger warning for: drugs (obviously), guns, sexual assault, violence

Masterlist - Part two

Word count: 5.1k

Part One:

You'd been on the edge for a while now. The relapse should've been seen from a mile off. Your uncharacteristic quietness, the way you'd get lost in your thoughts, the distant look in your eyes. Everyone could tell that something was up, but even when they questioned you about it you had no real answers to give - uncertain yourself of what was making you feel so withdrawn.

When you'd first moved to OBX with your busy mum, you'd instantly found a group of friends - a really good group of friends - the Pogues. And they'd been quick to suss out that you were hiding things - particularly JJ. You were practically never sober, for starters, and though he wasn't either, you had a way of taking it to the next level. This was fun most of the time, but sometimes it got to a level that was concerning - even to the most problematic Pogue on the island. Whenever he'd pushed you for answers, trying to figure out what exactly you were self medicating for, you got extremely annoyed and so he never really got a straight answer. You couldn't bare to be so vulnerable with anyone - let alone the boy you'd started to develop feelings for - so you remained somewhat of a mystery.

Sure, there had been nights when you'd shared a bed - both of you very drunk. You'd convince yourself that maybe JJ liked you, maybe the sex meant more to him than just sex, but then when he'd continue to treat you like just a friend the morning after, your hopes would be crushed. It’s not like you ever gave him any reason to think that the sex was anything other than casual, but that was because you didn’t want him to be able to reject you. And besides, could he not tell that you wanted more? Kiera could and she wasn’t even in the bedroom.

Then the overdose happened. The Pogue's had suspected that you'd been taking something other than just alcohol for a while. The night that you'd almost died at the Chateau their suspicions became a painful fact. You'd taken a few too many pills - benzodiazepines to be exact - and though you'd known that you were reaching a point of no return, after hearing all about the gorgeous touron that JJ had been obsessed with, you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

That night had been awful for everyone, and you'd ended up tearfully promising that you would get clean after that, unable to bear the hurt on the Pogue's faces. So you'd been almost a year clean now, blossoming into a new person that the Pogue's liked even more than the old you. Yours and JJ's relationship remained just as complicated though - still having the occasional hookup but largely seeming as if you were just friends. Now that you weren't on pills and you could actually fully remember the sex, it hurt even more in the morning after. Still, you continued, desperate to feel wanted even if it was just for a night.

You hadn't realised how much this routine was actually bothering you until in a night similar to the one you'd overdosed on, JJ had been making out with another gorgeous touron.

*Your POV*

I'd watched jealously from across the party, ignoring the sound of Kie in my ear telling me that "I was much prettier than that touron."

I appreciated the sentiment, but I knew it was a lie, and so in a split second decision, I told Kie that I was going to go home. "I'm going to have an early one." I said, knowing it was a lie. "I'll see you tomorrow."

In that split second decision, I'd decided that all of my progress didn't matter if I still felt this worthless. What was the point in being clean if it meant that I wanted to die? JJ's insistence had been one of the things that had motivated me to stay away from the pills, but he hadn't been interested in me for a while now. He hadn't even asked me for a fuck. Had he grown bored of me? Or maybe I had gotten uglier without realising it. Maybe I had put on some weight or he didn't like my haircut. Maybe he’d developed feelings for a different girl - a better girl.

Kie nodded worriedly, clearly not sure whether to believe me or not. I hadn't even directly confessed to her that I liked JJ, she was just the only one in the group who wasn't too stupid to see it.

"Okay. Be safe." She smiled, pulling me into a hug, and though I felt bad, I still hopped on my bike and headed straight to Barry's as soon as the coast was clear.

Kie would be devastated if she'd known where I was actually going. So would John B, and Pope, and maybe even JJ, but they would forgive me quicker than her. At least, I thought that they would.

Blurred memories of the night I'd overdosed filled my mind; the sound of shouting, someone's fingers down my throat, a muffled sob, flashing lights. A shiver of shame ran down my spine as I struggled to push the images from my mind.

The ride to Barry's was short, though it felt like a lifetime as all the things I hated about myself bounced around in my head like a torturous broken record. Of course JJ didn't want to be with me. I wasn't beautiful enough. I wasn't cool enough. I wasn't good enough. I would just continue to be his slutty friend that he could stick it in whenever it was convenient for him, and he didn't even seem to want that anymore. The thought made me even more ashamed, remembering all the times I'd let him fuck me, hoping that he'd found me beautiful, thinking that maybe he liked me, just to realise in the morning that I was easy to him.

Yet I knew, that if he were to approach me in that moment and ask for a fuck, I wouldn't say no. I wanted to be wanted so badly, even if it was just for a fleeting moment, and the feeling was unbearable. It ate me up inside, making my chest tight and my eyes water. I was quick to blink any dampness away from my eyes though, focused instead on the high that I would soon have - the comfortable numbness that it would bring me. My clean streak meant nothing, a stupid concept when compared to the internal anguish I felt. From my low self esteem to my repressed trauma, I had no fight left in the battle to stay clean. Sure, the Pogue's would be upset if they found out, but I wouldn't let them find out. I would keep it low-key, unlike I did before.

When I knocked on Barry's door, I was relieved that he was the one to answer and the house was seemingly empty, meaning I only had to speak to him. His friends were annoying, and though I didn't particularly like Barry, I found him funny sometimes.

"Well shit, Y/N. Been a while." He grinned.

"Yeahh. Well I'm back." I said with a mock smile.

"Come inside."

The transaction had soon been completed; a pot of pills in my hand and some cash in Barry's. I leant back into the sofa and took one immediately, swallowing it down with a beer handed to me by him.

"Bad night?" He questioned with an amused scoff.

"Something like that." I answered. "How about you? Place ain't usually this empty on a Friday."

"Want my own company sometimes. That a crime?"

"No. Just strange is all." I murmured, taking another swig from the beer.

Paired with my already drunkenness, the feeling of the pill was starting to hit - hard and strong - and I felt my body slump comfortably into the sofa. My head felt light whilst the rest of my body felt heavy, creating a strange, cosy sensation. It was a feeling I'd missed.

"Well what happened with you, party princess?" He scoffed, cracking open a beer for himself.

I let out a light chuckle at the question, now feeling as if it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

"Dumb shit."

"You looked pretty upset when I opened the door. Boyfriend troubles?"

I raised my eyebrows in mock offence.

"Why would I have a boyfriend?" I questioned with a laugh "Who'd you hear that from?"

Barry laughed too.

"Cus a girl like you - you're pretty. I'm surprised some Kook hasn't swiped you up."

I snorted at that and rolled my eyes.

"Well thanks I guess."

I thought about having sex with Barry in that moment, just to hear him call me pretty again. But I decided against it, slightly sickened by the idea, and pulled myself off the sofa.

"I should go, see you around?"

"You sure you can ride that thing safely?"

"Yeah. I'll be fine." I chuckled before heading out the door and throwing myself back onto my bike.

The ride home was perilous, and though I did almost crash a few times, my body went into autopilot and I was soon safely in my bed, mind too numb to pick myself apart for the first night in a while.

For the next week I was able to keep the pill-taking to a minimum, only popping two a day at most. I only did it to make the thoughts stop - to bring on the comfortable numbness so that I could actually bare to be awake. So that I could actually bare to be around my friends.

I'd always managed to keep my feelings for JJ locked up and manageable, but for some reason seeing him with that touron had bothered me in ways I hadn't been bothered before. Perhaps it was because she was so gorgeous, or maybe it was how pleased JJ looked to have pulled her. Either way, it just reinforced to me how worthless I was. He brought her up one day at the Chateau and it instantly made me feel hot with annoyance.

"That touron from the other night just texted me, should I go there again?" He said with a proud smirk, looking around the room.

I rolled my eyes and picked up the half smoked blunt from the ashtray, relighting it and sucking on it in hopes that it would make my jealousy fade.

"Didn't you steal like a hundred dollars from her purse?" Pope scoffed, eyes focused on the television. Adventure Time was playing with the volume on low, and both Pope and Kie seemed more interested in it than the conversation that JJ and John B had been having. I'd been drifting lazily between the two, too high to properly contribute to anything, but now JJ had my full attention.

"Yeah. Obviously didn't notice though. Girl had too much cash for her own good." He mused, eyes on his phone screen. "Ooh! And guess what she just sent me."

"Tit pic?" John B asked, a grin crawling onto his lips.

"Tit pic." JJ confirmed, chucking his phone over to John B.

"Nice." He chuckled, looking at the phone before chucking it back to JJ.

"You guys are disgusting." Kie scoffed. "I mean like really JJ? Did that girl send you that picture for you to show your friend? You have no respect for women sometimes."

"I respect women very much, actually Kie. I respect you and Y/N. I respect your mums and Pope's mum. I just don't respect easy, spoiled touron's like her." He said defensively, and I loudly scoffed at that. He didn't respect me.

"What? You think I don't respect women too?" He asked me with furrowed brows, crossing his arms.

He was sat across the room from me; myself, Kie and Pope spread out across the sofa whilst him and John B sat in chairs. I looked him up and down, pleased that there was no lump in my throat to swallow, no butterflies in my stomach to squash and no loving gaze to hide.

“Sure, you really respect women JJ. Whatever you say.”

He looked surprised by that response, probably expecting me to get defensive, then continued on a rant about how he wasn’t misogynistic. Kie argued with him for a little bit, and John B and Pope eventually joined in too. Usually I also would’ve joined, just for the amusement of it all, but no words came to my mind. Instead I just watched, chuckling at the occasional insult being thrown and smoking my blunt.

Two weeks later and I’d upped the dose to at least four pills a day. The thoughts had gotten harder to crush, growing a tolerance. Much to my relief though, none of the Pogue’s seemed to suspect anything.

It was a hot day and we’d decided to go swimming, using the inner ring of a tire as a floaty - which we all fought over.

“I stole the tire, so I should get it!” JJ proclaimed, and though he was right, I wanted the ring.

“Okay well if you’re not a woman hater, prove it by letting me and Kie have the ring!” I grinned.

“Yeah! Prove it!” Kie added, high-fiving me.

JJ groaned and rolled his eyes, but eventually gave in with a slight smirk to me.

“Okay fine - but we’re sharing it!”

I giggled at his childish nature, feeling the butterflies rise up in my stomach that I’d been managing so well to suppress. The second that I realised what I was feeling, I knew that I needed to take another pill.

“I’m gonna go pee. Don’t wait for me.” I said, heading back indoors.

Once I was in the bathroom, I dug through my bag to find the orange pot, irritated when I realised that I didn’t have a lot left. I’d have to go back to Barry’s soon. That was annoying. I swallowed one of the pills with some water from the sink and looked at myself in the mirror before heading back out. I looked tired and unattractive and I sighed at that, thinking of how good the girl that JJ had been dancing with at the boneyard this week looked.

I reached into the fridge and took myself out a beer, cracking it open and downing half of it before stepping out of the kitchen. I didn’t expect to see JJ stood on the porch waiting for me, a slight furrow to his brow. I purposely hadn’t been alone with him in weeks and it sent a pang of anxiety into my chest.

“Starting this early? Haven’t seen you do that in a while. You feeling alright?” He asked, his voice soft.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. You just seem.. different.” He was wording himself carefully, I could tell, which was very out of character for him. What could he possibly want from me?

“I’m just tired.” I said with a huff and tried to walk past him.

He suddenly put his hands on my waist, which was exposed in a bikini, holding me still. At the initial contact, I felt electrified, but I was quickly reminded of what I had missed - and the reasons why. I worried that my flesh felt too squishy under his fingers, that there was too much of it, or that the dip of my waist wasn’t defined enough. Compared to that touron I probably felt like a whale.

“What’s going on Y/N? Are you mad at me?” He asked, his eyes wide with concern, but I couldn’t think about his words - only the crippling self hatred his hand on my waist was making me feel.

I stepped backwards so that he was no longer touching me, something that only seemed to deepen the crease between his eyebrows, and blinked a couple of times before I could speak.

“I’m, uh- I’m going to grab a shirt.”

And with that I paced back inside, finishing the beer and pulling one of John B’s oversized vests over my bikini. The pill hadn’t kicked in yet and I could still see JJ stood waiting on the porch so I decided to go into the bathroom and take another. Then I grabbed another beer from the fridge and downed it, relieved when I felt the relaxing effects kick in almost immediately.

“Why are you downing beer? Since when do you do that?” JJ’s voice from behind me made me jump, his face critical.

“I’m just having a good time.” I smiled at him.

“Really? Because you don’t look like you’re having a good time. You look miserable, Y/N.”

Was it that easy to see through my charade? It irritated me that he cared now when he should’ve cared a couple of weeks ago. Now it was too late.

I huffed and shook my head, managing to walk past him this time undisrupted and lead the way to the water.

“I’m fine. Come on, let’s go.”

He didn’t bother me for the inflatable ring at all. In fact, he didn’t speak to me for hours after that. I wasn’t bothered by it though, the mix of booze and benzos that had finally hit making me entirely unfazed by everything. The comfortable numbness that I craved so badly.

I lay floating in the ring for what felt like hours, my eyes closed as I felt the waves move me freely around. The water was so cold compared to the beaming sun, but the two extremes together made me feel more relaxed than I had been in a while. Maybe I had fallen asleep, I wasn’t too sure, but when someone was suddenly directly next to me, interfering with the natural direction of the waves, I jumped up at their presence.

“What are you thinking about?”

It was Kie, her tone lighthearted though her face was concerned.

“Not much. The sound of the water mostly. You?” I answered truthfully.

“Honestly, right now I’m thinking about you.”

“Why? You into me or something?” I teased, not expecting her tone to change to match her face.

“No Y/N I’m serious. What’s going on with you? You’ve been acting weird ever since that party with the blonde touron.”

Kie was catching on, which was bad. It wouldn’t take her much to figure out what was really happening, so I had to come up with a lie, or maybe not a lie but a distraction.

“Yeah. Okay. I’m sad about JJ… But it doesn’t matter. I’ll get over it.” I confessed, relieved when I saw the stress in Kie’s face relax.

“He’s a total idiot. You can do better than him anyway.” She said with exasperation, stroking my hair.

“No I can’t.” I laughed. “But like I said, it doesn’t matter.”

Kie sighed.

“I wish you weren’t so harsh on yourself. If you could see what other people could see you wouldn’t be.”

I smiled at her, feeling appreciation for the girl buzz through me.

“Love ya Kie.”

She smiled too, but it was weaker than usual.

“Love you too… Now give me the floatie.”

When it got dark some hours later we all piled back into the Chateau and put on a movie, squeezing onto the couch. I sat on the edge and much to my displeasure, JJ sat next to me. That displeasure only lasted a second though before it was washed over by a tidal wave of carelessness, and I was able to relax my body against his like he was anyone - not the most problematic Pogue on the island.

The movie went on for a while until JJ shifted positions, wrapping his arm around me and placing his hand on my leg.

This had been a fairly standard position for us, his fingers creeping up my thigh in the darkness of the room and our friends none the wiser. Now it felt different though, and instead of being excited by it I was annoyed. Was I only good enough to touch in secret? Was he touching me now just because I was there and it was something to do? Could he only bare to touch me when he was drunk? I needed to take another pill.

With a wobble, I flicked JJ’s hands from me and pushed myself up, grabbing my handbag and heading to the bathroom. Pope and Kie had passed out on top of each other and John B was too engrossed in the movie to look up. So when I heard a knock on the bathroom door, I knew who it was before it even opened.

“I didn’t say you could come in. I could’ve been taking a shit.” I teased.

JJ’s stoney face didn’t offer a crack of amusement as he stepped closer to me.

“What’s going on with you? It’s like you can’t stand to be around me. Have I done something?”

“No. Everything is fine.” I answered with a fake smile.

He didn’t buy it, becoming visibly annoyed.

“You’re so full of shit Y/N. Don’t try to play dumb with me right now. I know you’re pissed off about something.”

“Why do I have to be pissed off about something?” I said combatively, crossing my arms.

“Because you’re acting like my touch is gonna make you sick or something and you clearly can’t stand to be around me! Is this because of that tit pic I showed John B? I don’t get it. Are you jealous or something? Or do you just think I’m a sexist pig too?”

“My world doesn’t revolve around you. Have you ever considered that I just stopped giving a shit about what you do?”

I usually felt horrible about lying to my friends, but looking at his beautiful face, thinking of how he didn’t want me, the lie came out easily. He clearly didn’t buy it though.

“Oh really? Is that why you don’t want to fuck anymore? Because you stopped giving a shit about me? Yeah right.” He scoffed and I felt my face start to angrily heat up. “What the fuck is going on? Did someone tell you some bullshit about me? Do you have a boyfriend now or something?”

I scoffed right back at him, widening my eyes in disbelief.

“Would that make you jealous? If I had a boyfriend?”

“Do you or do you not?” He demanded with gritted teeth.

I didn’t answer for a moment, enjoying the stressed expression on his usually uncaring face. Did he really care if I had a boyfriend? Surely not in any way that mattered. Just in some stupid male ego way. I sighed at that and uncrossed my arms as I answered.

“Obviously not. Who would want to be with me? Don’t be stupid, JJ. Now what did you come in here for?”

He looked at me incredulously, as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. I didn’t understand why he seemed so stressed for and it was irritating to me.

“For this conversation, right now! What do you think I came in here for?” He said exasperatedly and I rolled my eyes.

“I don’t know but can you leave? I need to pee.”

“No, I can’t leave until I know what the fuck is going on with you. Jesus! How much have you had to drink?”

Had I been slurring? I couldn’t tell.

“Not enough for this.” I tutted bitterly.

He sucked in his lips and took a deep breath, eyeing me like he was trying to work something out.

“Wait, look at me straight for a second.” He muttered, reaching his hand out to touch my face, angrily repeating himself when I questioned why.

His thumb stroked over my bottom lip and I straightened my back, trying to match his stare but unable to stand completely still. He hadn’t looked at me with such intrigue in a long time, and I was glad I was so high or else I would’ve completely submitted under his blue gaze. His next words instantly shattered any fantasies that could’ve been playing in my head though, instead filling me with unreasonable rage.

“You’re high aren’t you?”

I knew it wasn’t a question. The steely look in JJ’s eyes and his flared nostrils made it abundantly clear that he’d already figured out the answer for himself. But I couldn’t let him think he was right.

“I mean yeah, I’ve smoked a lot today, you have too-”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” He hissed, dropping his hand from my face. “I can’t fucking believe you. This is why you’ve been acting weird. I should’ve known.”

I rolled my eyes and mumbled “You’re overreacting, I’m just drunk” to which he quickly shot back “Oh yeah? Why are your pupils the size of mars then?”

“They’re not.” I felt my footing slip slightly as I lied, and I had to quickly lean against the wall to stop myself from falling.

“And now you’re just lying to my face. Nice one Y/N. How long had you been clean? A year, almost?”

I thought of the hours that he’d spent with me when I’d first gotten sober; looking after me when I was being sick, bringing around food, washing my hair. I’d felt so loved. I’d felt like there was no reason for me to ever pick up a benzo again.

The betrayal in his voice told me that that would never be happening again. With a huff, I picked up my bag from the side and shoved past the blonde, gasping when he grabbed my arm.

“Where are you trying to go now?” He laughed humourlessly.

“Get off me, JJ. I’m going home.”

“What because you’ve been caught out?”

“No. Because you’re being a dick.”

He wouldn’t loosen his grip on my arm despite my desperate pulling and so I started to speak louder, hoping someone would intervene and give me a chance to slip out.

“Get off me!”

“I’m not letting you go.” He said with gritted teeth, tightening his grip. “What have you taken?”

“Get the fuck off me!” I repeated louder, relieved when John B appeared in the doorway.

“What the hell is going on?” He looked between us with a concerned expression and JJ loosened his grip.

“She’s on fucking drugs again, John B.” JJ hissed and though I wanted to argue and try to prove him wrong, I quickly slipped out of the bathroom and paced out of the house, ignoring JJ’s shouts from behind me.

“What the fuck is going on Y/N?”

“Do you just not give a shit about yourself? About your friends?”

“How could you do this? You were clean for so long.”

His words stung, and though I rationally knew he was right, I was too ashamed to feel anything other than anger and embarrassment. The Pogue’s would hate me now, and rightfully so.

I understood why JJ was so annoyed. I’d listened to him seethe about his dad, about how he was an abusive drug addict - but yet, when the blonde came home and he was passed out on the sofa, JJ still always checked if he was breathing. I’d seen the bruises, and met the man who left them, begrudgingly shook his hand and tried to forget what he’d done with them. Was I reminding JJ of that? Was I like his piece of shit father?

In a rush, I picked up my bike and went to get on it but instantly fell over, dropping the bike as I did.

“You’re gonna ride home like this? Seriously?” JJ’s voice came from behind me, loud and aggressive.

I struggled to pick my bike back up, almost falling over it again, and his hands were suddenly on top of mine, holding the handles and stopping me from going. John B was quick behind him.

“Are you really on drugs, Y/N?” John B questioned, eyes wide.

“I’m just drunk.” I hissed, trying to pull the bike out of JJ’s grip.

“Right, she says she’s just drunk, let her go JJ.” John B said harshly but JJ scoffed.

“She’s lying! Look at her! She can’t even walk properly!”

Then he turned to me, his voice suddenly pleading and face full of pain. It caught me off guard and I felt another pang of guilt ripple through my body, tears attempting to escape my eyes but being successfully pushed back by the Xanax.

“What have you taken, Y/N? Please don’t lie to me. I know you’ve taken something.”

I wanted to tell him the truth so bad. The whole truth. I wanted to break down and beg for his forgiveness, to tell him I loved him and that I would get clean again.

But I couldn’t do it.

There was no point.

I’d ruined everything now anyway.

“I’m just drunk. Leave me alone.” I slurred and tried to pull the bike from his grip again.

It didn’t work. I fell backwards onto the ground, landing on my butt with a groan. I laughed at my fall instinctively, forgetting the situation I was in for a second, but when I looked up and saw my friend’s distressed faces my laughing stopped. Even John B looked suspicious now, his eyes snapping from mine to JJ’s. He bent down and pulled me up with ease, though he huffed after he’d done it.

“Y/N, can we look in your bag?”

My heart leapt into my throat and I quickly jumped to defence.

“No way you fucking pervs. Let me go home.”

He turned to JJ with an straight face and both of them exchanged a short look before looking back at me.

That was it. He believed JJ. He knew.

“I’m not letting you ride home. I’ll drive you.”

His voice had been so monotone, so void of any real offering, that it caught me off guard. He was angry. I looked at JJ. He was angry too.

“N-No. I’m fine. I can ride-”

“I’m fucking driving you home, Y/N. Get in the Twinkie.” John B cut me off sharply and I jumped backwards, almost falling again until he caught me.

They both looked so disappointed and I was so ashamed at that point that all I could do was nod, following him silently to the van. JJ said nothing and I didn’t dare look back to see if he was looking, though I felt that I could feel his stare on the back of my head. This was the worst thing that could’ve happened. Why did I have to take it so far? Why did I have to lie to their faces like that?

The short drive back to mine was agonisingly silent, all John B said was “Look after yourself” before I stepped out of the van.

My voice got caught in my throat and all I could force out was “Y-Yeah” before closing the door and stumbling towards my house.

Had I destroyed my friendship with the Pogues? It certainly felt like I had.

327 notes · View notes

ready-to-read7 · 4 months ago

Text

Prompt #2

this prompt is something I really enjoyed writing, I really like the concept of wonder woman/Diana being a mother figure to Danny and I also really like the prompts were Danny along with Dan or dani/Ellie are de-aged ( also you can decide if Danny is the ghost King or not but I think he would be at this point)

so in this situation a bad Fenton parents story where Dan, Danny and Ellie/ dani are badly injured and clockwork wanting to save all three of them would de-age them and ellie /dani is a few months old, Danny is two years old and Dan would be around five years old, and clockwork wants to give them a responsible mortal Guardian and will for some reason, goes to Pandora and will ask her if she can think of any strong independent women to give the de-aged King along with his siblings/clones to and Pandora would be like yes because she is a dead Amazonian and would think wonder woman/Diana is the perfect choice for this

she would then contact Diana (I would say through her dreams but you can decide how) and would ask her to go back to Themyscira so that she can ask her a favour, when Diana reaches home she goes to one of the beaches where a portal opens up to reveal Pandora is holding a de-aged Danny, Dan and dani/ ellie and would ask her if she would be willing to be a mother to these three, explaining to her without giving too much information that these are three powerful young beings that need a strong and stable figure to raise them and Pandora would also elaborate that two (or only one of them if you decide to make Danny trans ) is male but she still wants the members of the Amazonian’s to treat him/them with respect, Diana’s mother would be close by listening and Diana would agree to raise the three little ones asking for their names and anything important she needs to know, Diana’s mother would agree with her daughter’s choice and would inshore Pandora that they will not discriminate against Dan and danny ( if you don’t go with the trance Danny thing) just because they are boys, if they are raised by Amazonian’s they are just as much a Amazonian as any other, Pandora would be relieved and would continue explaining that as they get older they will develop abilities that will be hard for them to control at first but with practice they can control them easily, she would also tell Diana that it would be in the best interest of the children if no one found out that they were actually powerful beings and it would be much safer for them if people believe that they are her biological children and Diana would agree.

So Diana and her people would come up with a story explaining that the three children were being raised on Themyscira for their own safety since Dan and Danny or just dan is the first male Amazonians so they needed a bit more protection for the first few years of their lives, (just know I did not research anything about the Amazonian’s so if any of the information is wrong I apologize also technically they wanted to do it in a way so the they are not lying so keeping the children on the island for a year before they introduce them to the rest of the world is their way of bending the truth ) and Diana would then move back to Themyscira for a small bit to sell the story along with being able to get to know her new children

One year later Diana decides that it’s about time she takes her children out to the world of man, and she would decide to introduce her children to the Justice league on bring your sidekick/children to Work day (do remember she had not told anyone about her kids mostly because it never was brought up and no one asked if she had kids so she was technically not keeping it a secret) so she would get to the watchtower early and would sit in the meeting room with her kids, and somehow no one saw her walk in and go to the meeting room (yes she was announced on the coms but there were not many people in the watchtower at the time so no one really noticed or paid attention)

She would sit in the meeting room as she listened into the coms as heroes and their children/sidekicks started coming to the watchtower she would then place dani/ Ellie down and would tell her brothers to watch her as she went to go fetch snacks for them, Dani and Dan would end up getting into an argument and dani / ellie being the little Explorer she is would wander off,

She would crawl into the main room where all the children and sidekicks of heroes were running around playing and talking as the adults were talking with each other and as she was crawling around someone tripped over her I would say one of the Robbins or one of the speedsters and because of her much greater resilience she wouldn’t get hurt but she would get startled and started crying which would alert all the adults and children who would wonder why there was a one-year-old in the watchtower and whose child was it, due to her black hair and blue eyes people would immediately assume she’s either Superman’s or Batman’s but both of them will deny this while Batman is holding her trying to get her to calm down, then Dan and Danny would run in calling her name and Superman would ask them if this was there little sister they would say yes and he would ask who their parent is and before they can respond wonder woman would run in with a speed that is quite frightening and would yell out to Danny and Dan ask them why they weren’t watching their sister and why did they leave the meeting room and everyone would then realize that the children were Diana’s and many of them were utterly confused

(I hope this kinda makes sense of what I’m trying to get across I just love seeing Diana as a mom it just feels right because she would be like the perfect mother)

#dc x dp prompt #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp crossover #dc x dp #dpxdc #Wonder woman would be a great mom #mom!Diana

170 notes · View notes

moonmaiden1996 · 4 months ago

Text

Sanji as a Romantic partner to a reader.

Okay, hear me out. Sanji is a flirty, chivalrous man with a tendency to be, well, a little extra. Some might call him a pervert because of his over-the-top reactions to women, and yeah, there’s definitely a pent-up side to his personality. I mean do I need to mention him nearly dying in the Fishman Island arc from lose of blood due to the near constant nosebleeds (not to mention *willingly* ready to die just to look at Shirahoshi) . But let’s take a step back and explore why he’s like this. I believe Sanji’s loving (and sometimes dramatic) nature stems from three key things:

His Respectful Nature

Sanji’s respect for women is unmatched. He’d rather hurt himself than raise a hand against a woman, no matter the circumstances. This isn’t just a quirk—it’s a deep-seated principle rooted in his past. Growing up with an abusive father and witnessing the mistreatment of his mother (which ultimately led to her death), Sanji likely developed a powerful desire to treat women with kindness and admiration. It’s his way of rejecting the cruelty he grew up around.

His Romantic Idealism

Let’s be real—Sanji is a hopeless romantic. He sees the best in every woman he meets and isn’t afraid to express his feelings, no matter how grand or unreciprocated they might be. One of the best examples of this is his dynamic with Charlotte Pudding. Even when she intended to deceive him, Sanji still saw her goodness and treated her with compassion. His romanticism feels like a shield against the harsh realities of his past—a way of holding onto hope and beauty in a sometimes-ugly world.

His Need for Love

Sanji’s childhood was, to put it lightly, rough. Between his family’s cruelty, the loss of his mother, and the trauma of being shipwrecked and adopted by Zeff, he’s been through a lot. It’s no surprise that these experiences left him craving connection and love. Sanji’s unwavering adoration for women is his way of forging those relationships and filling the void left by his turbulent upbringing. Does he have issues? Maybe a few. But underneath it all is a guy who wants to love and be loved in return.

So, Who’s Sanji’s Ideal Reader?

When it comes to the type of person Sanji would fall for, there are a few things to consider.

First off, as we’ve seen with Nami and Robin (especially Nami), Sanji gravitates toward women who can handle his enthusiasm. He’s not oblivious—he knows when people are using him. But because of his overwhelming need to serve and be useful, he doesn’t mind. In fact, he leans into it. Sanji is, in essence, the dictionary definition of a Golden Retriever Boy: loyal, eager to please, and full of boundless energy.

With that in mind, I think Sanji would pair perfectly with someone who has a soft-but-bossy vibe. Someone who exudes no-nonsense energy but can still appreciate his devotion. Aesthetic matters, too. Sanji loves beautiful things—not necessarily perfect things, but things he finds beauty in and he see beauty in most things (apart from Zoro). While many might imagine him with a girly-girl type, I think he’d be drawn to someone more unique—maybe a goth girl, a reserved librarian type, or anyone with an unconventional charm.

With that Sanji’s desire to worship someone comes hand-in-hand with his longing to belong. He wants to be someone’s, but he also wants someone to be his—someone who’ll let him dote on them endlessly while appreciating the loyalty he brings to the table but at the same time someone who is going to keep a firm hand on him and make him feel just as loved and wanted. Also, let not forget the reader will be pampered with endless butler serve.

And that reader is going to be in for a handful of trouble as Sanji is defiantly going to have a new dream ''Opening a restaurant on the all blue run buy a very noise and load family that he has made with the reader, theirs or adopted doesn't matter. He gives me wanting to a daddy figure vibes (especially with how he looks after Chopper)

So what do you think? I would love to hear you opinion!

#sanji x reader #one piece sanji #one piece #straw hat pirates #opla x reader #opla #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #straw hat crew #strawhats

188 notes · View notes

storiesofsvu · 14 days ago

Text

Rituals

Rita Calhoun x fem!reader Warnings: language, minor angst/hurt-comfort. Anxiety, general like, sadness I guess? This is a post-SSS update. There will likely be more in the future as I cannot leave this world alone and it all fits so well together and I love it so freaking much. 4.2k

Rita was always anxious on the days you were scheduled to come home from an undercover operation, never knowing what the actual outcome was going to be. She hated the days that all she got was a quick phone call, an update that the op was extending and she wouldn’t be seeing you for another month. Worse were the days you’d come home with lingering bruises marking your skin, or the one time she had to meet you at the hospital, your Captain forcing you for a full work up and observation after a concussion and other injuries. But today was different.

Today she woke up feeling jittery, the usual excitement about getting to see you vacant from her body, nerves tingling through her instead. She felt so off she even refrained from coffee until nearly noon, managing her first cup alongside delivered lunch as she took a break from laundry. Rita always wanted the house to be clean when you got home, fresh sheets on the bed, things tidy and neat, a hinting smell of cleaning supplies lingering through the kitchen and a nice candle or two burning in the living room. It was something she started doing for you not long after the two of you moved in together, prior to that she didn’t really notice or realize just how much of an impact going undercover had on you. Having to be on and ready to go twenty-four hours a day, sometimes stashed in crappy little apartments with barely any fresh air in the same clothes for a week on end. Sometimes you were thrown in so quick you didn’t have time to do more than prep for the case, coming home to rotting vegetables and no clean laundry. Those days you started going straight to Rita’s place, your body aching to relax, finally able to let go of all the tension you’d been holding for however long. It didn’t take her long to figure out what you needed and how to combat any lingering stress and anxiety, how to welcome you back into your real world. Now it had become part of her routine, a ritual to make sure things were as perfect as they could be for the person she loved the most.

Rita stabbed her fork into her salmon salad, forcing herself to chew another bite at the island as her eyes searched through the living room. It wasn’t too bad, a blanket bunched up on the couch, a personal development book her therapist recommended left abandoned beside it, the novel she’d picked up instead tucked in the cushion. There were a few case files and obviously a collection of coffee mugs scattered across the coffee table, a handful of dishes in the sink. She doubted it would take her that long to finish everything so she took the opportunity to open her phone and place a grocery order while she battled her anxiety and attempted to finish her lunch. She was adamantly trying to shake out of it, continually telling herself that she was being ridiculous, that she had no reason to be this stressed about seeing her literal wife again. It wasn’t some weird gut feeling that something was wrong, it was her apprehension about a few changes she had made while you were gone, the worry about how you would react to them, the fear churning in her gut that you were going to hate them or not understand.

As she finished stashing the cordless vacuum in the hall closet she let out a sigh of relief, pushing her hair back with her hand, still finding it jolting when her hand was free so much faster than it had been a week prior. She found herself fiddling with the ends of the bob as she wandered the apartment, making sure everything was ready for your arrival before she finally headed to the shower. Warm water cascading across her body mixed with the lavender soap seemed to be helping calm her down, her eyes softly shutting when she washed her hair and her heart didn’t seem to be pounding so hard in her chest. Wrapped in a towel she blow dried her hair, taking the time to style it a little bit, putting on just the bare minimum of make up to feel a little more pretty before slipping into cozy clothes. She had a text from Olivia on her phone, saying you had offered to run the last of the paperwork over to Carisi on the way home, but she’d officially kicked you out of the precinct.

Rita took a breath, taking one last look in the mirror to survey herself, her hands smoothing down her shirt before she tugged on a cardigan, scooping up her phone and grabbing her glasses before wandering out to the living room. She tucked herself into the corner of the couch, eyes flitting between her book options until her pulse kicked up again and she opted for the self care one, tossing the blanket over her legs. She got halfway through her chapter by the time she heard someone in the outside hallway, her ears pricking up at the sound. She knew it could be a neighbour, but the book gently lay open in her lap as she looked over the back of the couch toward the door, hope surging through her that it would actually be you.

A tinkling sound echoed through the wood, the lock moving a second later and she couldn’t help the warmth bursting in her chest as you half toppled through the door. Your hands were full, a large Tupperware in one, go bag tossed over your elbow with a plastic bag in the other. You’d obviously changed out of whatever your UC look had been in, leggings and an NYPD tee clinging to your frame, your work issued windbreaker draping from your shoulders.

“Hey, sorry I’m so late.” You started, while kicking off your shoes, crossing to place the items in your hands down on the island, “got caught up at Carisi’s with the girls and ‘Manda. But he did send me on my way with homemade chicken piccata and a bottle of pinot so neither of us can really be mad.”

“It’s alright.” She laughed softly, slipping off the couch to properly greet you.

“I’m just happy Liv wasn’t a drill sergeant about finishing paperwork, I—” You stalled suddenly when you actually looked up at her. Rita felt her heart leap into her throat at the way your eyes widened and for a moment she was scared until a smile burst onto your face, “oh my god, you’re blonde!” Three very quick steps later and you were directly in front of her, your hands combing through her hair as you admired her new look.

“I take it that reaction means you don’t hate it?” She asked timidly and you laughed, your hand cupping her cheek.

“Are you kidding me? You look absolutely gorgeous baby.” Still caressing her face you leant in, pressing a tender kiss to her lips. One that Rita utterly relaxed into, all the jitters in her body melting away at the feeling of your embrace, both incredibly happy to have you home and the relief she hadn’t done something drastic that you despised. You took a moment to hold her close, letting out a soft sigh as you nuzzled your nose against hers before kissing her again. “I missed you.”

“I missed you more, believe me.” She huffed gently, her hands raising to cup your cheeks before they slid down your neck, squeezing at your shoulders.

“I’m sorry I had to go; I know the timing was shit. Last thing I wanted was to leave you on your own.” Your thumb brushed across her cheek and she leaned into the embrace before shaking her head, fingers wrapping around your wrist and turning your hand so she could leave a kiss on your palm.

“You have an important job, I understand. Just the way you do about mine.”

“Mmhm.” You nodded, a soft smile on your cheeks before your hand raised again, continuing to comb through her hair, playing with the ends. “I never thought I’d see you with hair this short. It’s kind of a drastic change.”

Rita chuckled softly, “Liv and I got to talking, she said a drastic change really helped her after everything.” Her gaze drifted to the kitchen island behind you, “that it took some of her control back. She couldn’t change what happened, the things she experienced, but she could control what happened going forward. She mentioned how we’re the ones who make decisions about our bodies, appearances, that we can alter them whenever we want and that can remind us of who’s in charge.”

Your fingers twirled a strand of her hair before trailing down her cheek and curling under her chin, redirecting her gaze to you, “I love that.” You pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, “I didn’t realize you and Liv were hanging out.”

“Darling, Liv and I have been hanging out far longer than you have been a part of her squad.” She teased and you laughed, squeezing at her hand.

“I’m sure.” You reluctantly slipped out of her grasp, “I need to change. I showered at the precinct but I’d much prefer my own clothes.”

“Please tell me you weren’t covered in blood this time.”

“Would it help if I said it wasn’t mine?” You suggested and Rita grimaced, her nose crinkling in the way you adored so much. “If you haven’t eaten, the food should still be hot, if you don’t mind plating it up, cracking that bottle?” You raised an eyebrow toward the island and Rita nodded, a smile on her cheeks as you disappeared down the hallway.

You made it back relatively quick; face now bare of any remaining makeup, Rita’s Harvard shirt and a pair of pyjama shorts covering your body as you returned to the couch. You’d chosen to curl up in her corner, snagging the blanket and picking up her non-fiction, fingering through a few pages before placing it down on the table when she approached.

“Thank you.” You smiled as she passed you a plate of food along with a glass of wine.

“I believe all thanks go to Carisi.” She shot back and you laughed.

The television had some soft jazz playing, the soundtrack Rita preferred when she was reading or working, something comfortable to occupy the space without being overbearing. It was perfect as the accompaniment to your dinner, something calming as you readjusted to real life and Rita welcomed you back into your shared home. She was only slightly worried with how you scarfed down your dinner, her mind wandering, thinking about when your last actual meal had been before she reminded herself that you’d gotten very good at taking care of yourself on these operations over the years. The lectures from your mother were one thing, but when they started coming from your wife it turned out you actually listened.

You placed your now empty plate down on the coffee table, a gentle sigh leaving your lips as you picked up the wine glass, taking a large sip. Resting back into the corner of the couch, your arm laid across the back of it and you looked over at your wife, a small smile on your cheeks.

“What?” She finally asked, finishing her last bite of chicken.

“Nothing.” You shrugged, “just appears your hair wasn’t the only change you made.”

“What do you mean?” Her eyes darted around the living room, thinking she had left something embarrassing out.

“Looks like you hit up a mall or two, the closet is practically all new clothing.”

“Oh..” she chuckled awkwardly, “I guess it is.”

“A lot more neutral colours…” You left the sentence hanging, surveying her for a moment, “cute stuff though. Some of them almost political looking, you change you mind about that?”

“God no.” This time she did let out a laugh, swapping her plate for her wine glass.

“Well they look nice. I’m sure you and Raf had a great time picking them out.”

This time she ducked her gaze, a little huff blowing out of her nose as Rita felt a sense of melancholy sweep through her, “I actually went with Sam.” She glanced up to see your head tilt, your brow furrow.

“Sam?”

“Maroun. Manhattan ADA.”

“Oh! I think I’ve seen her around, works with Price, right?”

Rita nodded, “she’s nice, has a fire to her that reminds me of myself at that age, honestly I think her and Casey would get along wonderfully. But most importantly her fashion sense is fantastic.”

“I’ve heard good things.” You took a sip of wine, “I guess I just never thought you’d find a better shopping partner than Barba.” This time Rita nearly tensed on the couch beside you and your brow furrowed again, “what?”

“About that…”

“Rita… what?”

She sighed heavily, taking a gulp of her drink, “we… aren’t really talking anymore.”

“What?” You felt a little ridiculous repeating yourself again without meaning too, shaking your head as you tried to refocus, “sorry…I just… you guys are best friends, you’ve been through it all.”

“We had a falling out.” She shrugged, “I guess we’re just both too stubborn to see two points of view and that was the demise.”

“Clarify, please?” You raised a brow in her direction, giving her a minute to gather her thoughts. You frowned at the sight of tears building in her eyes, this was clearly more than just a stupid argument or something they both fought on.

“Do you remember the case Ed came to me about? Back in twenty eighteen?”

“Yeah, Ana. She was being charged with some terrorism bullshit despite the fact she was being manipulated into everything and never actually made a shot.”

“Rafael never understood that one. He thought I was being ridiculous, that I must have fucked something up royally and desperately be in need of money.”

“She was a rape victim.”

“I tried to tell him, over and over again. That it didn’t matter she didn’t speak up right away, I didn’t need it on the record. I told him he could at least give me the grace to look me in the eye and agree, that sure, his bosses would tell him to bury it, but we could pretend. I thought it wouldn’t matter because deep down we would both know the truth; Ana wasn’t evil she was a victim.” She took a shuddering breath, “all he said was that he would ‘do his best.’” She scoffed, “all I could think was that he was rolling his eyes over someone who had done something to escape, who only wanted to be free. He didn’t see her, didn’t understand her position, he didn’t want to help her at all. She was a victim… and he didn’t give a shit.”

“Rita…” your hand reached out, squeezing softly at her ankle.

“I wish it ended there, honestly I do. If it was just me being a stubborn bitch we could probably repair things, but it wasn’t.” She sighed, “every time we saw each other that case was just hanging over our heads, we fought instead of just playful bickering. He kept bringing Ana up, how dare I defend someone like her, what good could I possibly have gotten from standing up for her. When he found out I was visiting her regularly, making sure her commissary card was full, he absolutely lost it.”

“And you saw yourself in Ana.” You stated, your hand finding hers along the back of the couch. Rita let out a long breath, nodding.

“I want to say that case was the beginning of the end but I’m sure it started with Abbey’s.”

“Did you ever tell Rafael about what happened to you?”

She groaned, “there were a few offhand comments here and there. Things I hoped he would pick up on, I mean he was the sex crimes ADA for six years for Christ’s sake.” She let out a watery laugh, “Olivia picked up on it, he never did.” Tears began to cloud her eyes once again and for some reason she felt shame burning through her body, “I just wanted him to understand. And before I could, he disappeared. If we’d still been talking I would have been the one to represent him in court, things would have gone magnificently better and maybe he wouldn’t have had to run off to another state to find himself. We iced each other out and honestly it might be for the better, every time we pass each other in the firm hallways he has that look in his eye whenever he sees me. It’s like he can’t decide whether he still hates me or whether to treat me like I’m broken.”

“Rita, I’m so sorry.” You squeezed at her hand, “I had no idea. I wouldn’t have kept inviting him around, I just assumed.”

“It’s okay.” She wiped at her eyes, “it’s probably good we’ve been forced to cohabitate, maybe one day we’ll actually figure things out again.” She let out a long blow of air, focusing on her breathing in order to not let another tear spill over this, she didn’t want to spend much longer thinking about how she’d lost her best friend, how so much had happened that she was sure their relationship would never be the same.

“I hope so.” Your fingers traced across the lines of her palm, “anything else you want to talk about?”

Rita’s eyes flicked up to yours, a nervous look on her face and your head tilted, a small smile on your cheeks, “I’m honestly not sure if you’re going to like it.”

“I’m in support of anything as long as long as it involves us being together.” You replied and she chuckled, taking another deep breath before she spoke, her gaze drifting out the window.

“I.. I think I want to take some time off.”

“Babe, you know I’ve been in support of that. You need to take the time, probably longer than either of us realize, you deserve it after all of this. I mean, what does your therapist say?”

“They agree. But what I’m worried about is that we don’t have the same idea.” She looked up at you and your stomach nearly plummeted,

“Rita…”

“No! No, nothing like that.” She took a heavy breath, “I need to step back from criminal defence. Maybe permanently. I need to refocus on cases that actually mean something, where I know what I’m doing is right, where my client is someone who needs the help, especially if they can’t afford it. I want to work closer with Casey and Alex, do more of what they do.”

“I think that’s fantastic!” You squeezed her hand again, “I mean, you’re going to be amazing wherever you are but you’ll kill it at that.”

Rita smiled softly, “and…if there’s more?”

“What? Did you resign from mom’s firm?”

She sighed, taking another swig of her wine, “no, but I did put in a leave of absence.”

“Oh?” You raised a brow, watching as your wife took a breath, sinking into the couch behind her.

“I didn’t want to. But it was Casey who convinced me into it. Said she had her own issues in the past that she didn’t take the proper time to recover from and it ended up affecting her entire career.”

“Nearly got her disbarred, yeah.” You looked across at her, “so what are you thinking? Remodel the bedroom? Consume yourself with reality tv? Take up CrossFit?”

Rita laughed, though this one was not like any before, it was almost a sad one, her chest tightening as she looked across at you. “Well.. I was thinking…” she started, her heart throbbing in her chest, “that maybe I would check out that new resort in the Alps.”

“Babe,” you chuckled warmly, “I can’t. I used my vacation time already; Benson won’t let me.”

“That’s… why I was thinking about going alone.”

Rita’s words hung heavy in the apartment, the realization washing over both of you. A sense of relief flooding through her veins as she finally let all her thoughts out. Her heart pounded in her throat as she watched your reaction, the slight widening of your eyes before they softened, a small smile on your lips.

“Are you sure?” You asked.

“Unfortunately yes.” She let out a sigh, “darling, believe me I would love nothing better than a couple’s retreat but—”

“You need time alone.” Your hand raised, stopping her, “especially right now. I get it.” Leaning in you kissed her cheek. “You take all the time you need. You’re the love of my life and I would do anything for you, especially if it helps you heal.” You grasped her hand in yours.

“Thank you.”

“Rita… you mean the world to me; I’m not going to be upset if you need time to cope with shit. You’ve had so much happen and I had to disappear right after it was all getting exposed. I didn’t want to take this gig but—”

“You needed to.” She shut you off with a squeeze to your hand, “we both know how our jobs work, that’s part of the deal.”

“Exactly.” Smiling, you leant forward, kissing her softly, “so how about I take you to bed and remind you just how much I love you? Then whenever you’re ready I’ll take you to whatever airport you need to rejuvenate.”

“You would do that for me?” Rita asked, pulling away only an inch and you smiled.

“My love, I would do anything for you.” You shifted on the couch, wrapping your arm around her shoulders and tugging her to you, letting her relax into your side. “Rita, I’ve been head over heels in love with you for eleven years and that’s not changing anytime soon. I made a promise to be there for you no matter what, through thick and thin, for whatever you needed. I’ll miss you like hell, but if what you need is room to breathe and it so happens to be the air of a different continent, then so be it.” You placed a kiss on the top of her head, “I want you to be happy, healthy… at peace. So yes, I’d do that for you, because I know that you would do the same for me.”

“A hiatus is exactly what I need.” She murmured, nuzzling deeper into your embrace.

“I think after all these years you definitely deserve a break from the courtroom. It’ll be really, really good for you.” Your hand came up, toying with her hair, “Alex and Casey both took substantial ones… voluntary or not.” You both laughed, “and they both said they helped a lot. I was with Case for part of hers.”

“I remember. Your mother wouldn’t stop complaining.” She taunted and you rolled your eyes.

“It was crucial for her, especially after everything else she had been through that had bottled up inside, shoved deep down into a box to be ignored. She said she finally felt free again.”

“That’s all I want.” She murmured and you felt a twinge of sadness move through you at the tremor in her voice.

Rita felt trapped; she was trapped even after the verdict coming back in her favour. The darkness of what happened still hanging over her as she tried to move on surrounded by the places and people that held the memories of trauma. A weekend in the Hampton’s had lifted it a little bit but she’d returned to the city and thrown herself directly back into work, burying herself in it like she usually did to avoid dealing with things. Only this time, it wasn’t working. She needed to take a break from the courtroom, have a month or more of not dealing with other lawyers, no more motions or subpoenas, no more spending hours at night going over closing arguments. It was more than just a hair cut and new clothes, it was about reinventing herself, rediscovering how to maneuver through this world. She was more than well aware what her new wardrobe represented, what she wanted to present herself as when she made a return. She was still Rita Calhoun, she would forever be a shark in the courtroom and would always make the best fight for her clients, get them what they deserved. But she didn’t want to pull the amount of attention that she used to, wanted to be able to drift through courthouse halls without all the head turning and whispers. She had a new lease on life and she was planning on taking full advantage of it, not letting another second go by wasted or clinging onto the past.

Which is why two weeks later you were walking her up to security at JFK, a slightly tearful see you soon, but one that you were nudging her in the right direction. After all, you would be right there to greet her the moment she got back and you were there every single moment onward. You were each other’s rocks, bound together by the love and life you had created, as you were meant to be. You knew that no matter what, you could get through anything life through at you, because you had each other.

___________

If you dont interact with the fic you will be taken off the taglist.

___________

@hbkpop @mickey-gomez @red1culous @imlike-so-gaydude @altsvu @svulife-rl @wannabe-fic-reader @bumblebear30 @alexbllake @australiancarisi @cerberus-spectre @emskisworld @ex-uallyactive @dead-of-niight @multifandomlesbianic @dxtery @momlifebehard @poisonedcrowns @when-wolves-howl @godard-muse @itisdoctortoyousir @httpjupiterbby @somethingimaginative17 @alexxavicry @daddy-heather-dunbar @evilregal2002 @dextur @disneyfan624 @onmykneesformarvel @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @valentinesfrog @noahrex @wittygutsy @chimnlex @i-lovefandom @ralla-ralla @chestnutninny @gamma-rae-bursts @necronazarick

#rita calhoun #rita calhoun x reader #SSS #serendipitous secrets and surprises #law and order svu #svu #law and order #law and order special victims unit #post SSS #SSS the after years

80 notes · View notes

shockmastervoidstate · 5 days ago

Text

Why you care so much about your CR

Feel too attached to the CR? In this post, I will tell you why and if you understand why, you can do something about it

Many of us feel somehow guilty for leaving the CR. We feel as if we would "escape" a trap, while leaving other poor souls behind.

I did a thought experiment and reflected on it with my knowledge of psychology and I think I figured out why we feel this way.

It's because our ego, identity and purpose are determined by other people.

It's human nature. Psychology professor Martin Seligman, who talks a lot about positive psychology, explains how we derive our purpose from those around us.

We are, essentially, nobody without others. We would just be wandering around, eating when hungry and sleeping when tired until we die.

But since we live in social networks, we have a certain self-image that is given to us by others. A kid who is always praised for their intelligence will see themself and behave like a smart person. They gravitate towards hobbies, jobs and tasks where they can use their brains for their own good and the good of others.

Our ego holds on strongly to our identity, and everything that questions our identity is scary and stressful. The smart kid from my example will quickly develop confidence and pride in his intellect. However, the worst thing that could happen to him is failure to complete their intellectual tasks, especially when others can observe it. This would lead to an identity crisis.

We all have identities that consist of a whole set of labels.

We all are members of families and communities (like shifting Tumblr, haha). As a result, each of us has a unique set of responsibilities.

Our ego doesn't want us to just let go of it, its survival depends on it, and in extreme cases, our survival depends on it, since we puny humans are as good as dead without community.

The ego doesn't understand the concept of shifting realities. It knows only itself and hates and fears everything that threatens it.

"Reality is a prison and people are the prison bars"

Because they tell us who we are and we believe it.

Even when we shift or manifest, aren't our desires at least partly predetermined?

Almost all shifters choose realities and people that they saw in this CR. Almost all shifters want to be human and live human lives. Almost all shifters want to embody attributes that their community values, such as beauty, style, wealth, kindness or cruelty, intelligence, success, confidence, strength, tolerance or intolerance, uniqueness or fitting in.

It's no wonder that we can't just leave like that, when everything we learned to value was determined by our communities here.

Especially when you do not embody attributes that are valued by your community. You want to shift to be rich/successful/beautiful, but you value these attributes, because you were taught to.

And now you're on a quest to get the job done, but when you want to shift for these things, your ego and identity have something to say.

"What about me? What about your CR self? What about your CR community?"

What about them, they will always be here and they have always been here, since every moment exists forever in the multiverse.

But your ego and identity, that could only exist thanks to linear time, doesn't understand shifting.

"Don't leave me behind. Shifting isn't real, it's just a lucid dream. Go back to work, you need to take care of my, sorry, I meant your business. Yes, your business. Not mine, don't look at me like that."

Honestly, when I did my thought experiment, I saw how absurd "shifter's guilt" is.

Imagine you were living on a lonely island, just catching fish when hungry, throwing rocks when bored and sleeping when tired.

You don't have a mirror. Even if you looked into one, you wouldn't know if you were beautiful or ugly, because there is nobody else to compare with. You also don't know if you're strong or smart or funny. You have no concept of these things.

There is nobody to impress and nobody to help. You just live.

Now imagine you discovered a portal to a different island, one that's a little bit nicer. Would you go?

Yes, you would. Your life will be the same, just a little bit nicer. You leave nothing behind. Not anybody else, not your identity, because you don't have one.

"Hey shockmaster, what the hell should I do now?"

There are some things that can help you detach from your CR to shift.

1) Consider how much you want to detach from your CR. Do you want it to vanish forever or just make the bonds a little weaker? This will determine what steps are suitable.

2) Always remind yourself that you are awareness, not a physical body. You are just aware of it.

You can do this by saying affirmations or by consuming media that support this belief.

3) Question labels. Do you call yourself lazy? Why? Because someone you know works harder? Or your teacher said so?

4) Question your values. Do you like strength? Why? Because you felt unsafe in some situation? Because someone you know admires strength?

5) Treat the CR like a dream. It's not special. You may have not shifted much, but you had so many dreams. What makes them less valid than the CR? Think carefully about this. Could it be that your ego wants you to forget and discard your dreams so that you can focus more on egoic interests?

Don't forget to treat the people in your CR as dream characters, at least in your mind. Your ego likely thinks that your relationships are special, but are they really? Would you be friends with the boys and girls from school if you had never gone to school? Would you live with your parents if they weren't your parents?

6) Shift to a DR that is similar to your CR. If you just can't help it and feel like you have business to do in the CR, do them in a nicer CR.

7) Shift for a vacation. Just go on an adventure and then return to your CR. Have fun, your ego will not mind, hopefully. But if done successfully, your ego will comprehend shifting much better. It will get easier.

8) Abandon your CR identity and shift to a reality that is extremely different. A good choice for people that think their CR is totally inadequate. Use the LoA and embody your new identity already.

9) Achieve the void state. You'll be liberated from your identity and ego enough to shift to any reality without persistence. Lucid dreams and astral projections are effective, too.

Good luck! Live how you want.

#shifting realities #shifting

71 notes · View notes

calypso-apologist · 1 month ago

Note

May I ask for NSFW alphabet for Calypso? (No worries if not lol, do whatever you’re comfortable with)

i guess it's time to show just how unwell i am about her (also i am making this very self indulgent so this is very much aimed more towards my fellow lesbians)

Calypso NSFW Alphabet ♡

Template by @/the-coldest-goodbye.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Cuddly. Desperately cuddly.

She clings to you, squeezes you tightly, as if you'd disappear if she loosened her grip even a little bit. She loves you so much, she cannot bear the idea of you disappearing. Of being alone again. And she's very, very emotional after sex, sometimes even sobbing in your chest.

So... yeah. She's the one needing more aftercare.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Hers? Inner thighs. She has very sensitive inner thighs. Just some light touches are enough to make her squirm. And if you were to bite or leave hickeys on them? She'll melt on the spot.

Yours? Your chest. It's not even for any perverted reason. She's just a very bad case of a cardiophiliac. She loves to hear your heartbeat, it's very comforting to her.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

It's got a very pearly color, almost gilmmery. The gentle orgasms are just cum spilling out of her, forming a small puddle under her. If you get a bit more rough or overwhelming, she will squirt. A lot.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

An incredibly easy way to completely fluster her during sex is to nuzzle into her pubes. Bury your face in the hair and then her pussy and take a big, possessive whiff of her scent. She does not know why it turns her on, but it is a way to make her cum if she's already riled up enough. Bury your face in her cunt as you lick it clean and smoothly move to eating her out and she will start crying in pleasure. And just a little bit of embarrassment.

And also, she might piss a little if you do that. Lick it up and encourage her to keep going. Drink it. She will absolutely lose her mind over it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

She has little to no experience. She was a virgin until you showed up, having been cast on the island since she was very young.

The little experience she does have is from masturbating, figuring out what makes her feel good.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything that means you're close. The more skin-to-skin, the better.

Some of the ones she loves the most is either doing it while spooning or mutual masturbation as you cuddle.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

At first, she's very serious about the whole thing. As your bond and relationship develops, she's more likely to feel more casual about sex. And if you start being goofy with it, she will follow, letting the whole act feel a light more lighthearted, with the two of you talking and joking around as you make love.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

She's never really bothered with it before, but she has decided to start shaving down there. It was a bit clumsy at first, but she's determined... until she hears that you genuinely don't care and you love her anyway. Since then, she's on a mission, so to say.

She allowed a dark patch of hair to grow back, no longer trying to cut it. Instead, she attempts to trim it in front of a mirror to a vaguely heart-like shape. It's not very good, but it's very endearing.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

The closer you two get, the more intimate it becomes. At one point it almost feels like she's worshiping you. Or perhaps a better explanation would be that she's worshiping the idea of you. The one who stayed, who loved her as much as he loves you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

She's done it before, when she was alone, lost in her fantasies about someone finally arriving on her island and touching her. She'd pretend her hands were somebody else's, trying so somehow ease her loneliness.

Since you showed up, she doesn't masturbate anymore. Whenever she feels the urge to, she seeks you out, pulling you to bed with the cutest, pleading pout. You couldn't possibly deny her.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Bondage.

She definitely finds keeping you stuck to her bed, chair or pretty much anything very comforting. You can't leave her, you're stuck. You won't be able to disappear if you're under her control like that.

Praise.

She will straight up melt if you praise her and reassure her. Might tear up a little, so if you're a soft dom dacryphiliac, she is made for you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere. Literally anywhere. Of course, she has a preference for her palace, especially the soft blankets she set up on the balcony, but generally? She will do it anywhere you want.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Pet names. Absolutely any pet names. If you call her one, her eyes start sparkling with need pretty much right away.

She's also easily turned on by you casually wrapping an arm around her, either around her shoulders or waist. And if you pull her closer into your side? You might just start looking around for her clothing.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

She will never agree to wearing a blindfold. She hates the idea of not being able to see you, since there's a risk of you leaving her without her knowing. And she cannot even fathom that, the very idea breaks her heart. If you wanna wear one, sure, but don't put it on her.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

She's very eager to give, even if she's not very good at it. She's still learning. But, what she lacks in practice, she makes up in enthusiasm, so you'll be very satisfied in the end. She's usually fingering herself while she's using her mouth on you.

She does, however, absolutely love to receive. Let her sit on your face, guide her to rock her hips as you eat her out. Hear her moan as you tongue-fuck her, or straight up cry from pleasure as you introduce her to rimming.

Be warned, though, Calypso does have an occasional tendency to wet herself when she's overwhelmed during sex, especially oral. The flavor does mix wonderfully with her cum, though, so it's really just another lovely bonus.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

She is fast, but rather than rough, it's more... excited and sloppy kind of fast. Especially at first. Over time, once the first initial wave of excitement passes (which does take a really long time, to be honest), she does allow herself to get slower, to focus more on how you feel, rather than just you being there. And once she takes her time to properly use her mouth on you?

Well, let's just say she can't get enough of the taste.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Oh, absolutely. She loves those.

She loves to check up on you, see if you're doing anything important. If she deems it as something that can wait (as she usually does), she'll giggle and pull you away for a quickie. You're welcome to do the same, of course, she's always very gleeful about it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

I mean, she's open to pretty much anything you suggest, as long as it's not something that would make her feel like you're trying to leave her. Calypso's the type of person to try everything once.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

She probably insists on going longer than she should. Again, she doesn't have much experience, so she can't be expected to last too long. It's something you two build up over time. She still always insists on a round or two more, though. Aftercare and cuddles just feel better once she's overstimulated, you know?

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

She doesn't have any and isn't really keen on getting or using anything other than some ribbons to tie you up. If you're into toys, she's willing to give them a try, but it's just not her thing.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

She's not in the position to be unfair, considering she's very much sub-leaning when it comes to sex dynamics. And when she does top, she's far too excited to even consider being unfair.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

She's very loud as you please her. Gasps, moans, whines, the way she cries out from pleasure, it's all almost like she's putting on a very dramatic, exaggerated act sometimes. It's not an act, though, Calypso is just... very vocal.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

She absolutely sucks at trying to be smooth. She will fail almost every attempt at a pick-up line. As a result of this, if you are more flirty and those things come to you easily, she will get absolutely flustered about it.

As an extension of that, she's incredibly responsive to dirty talk. You don't even have to be all that good, as long as you're confident, she will start squirming from how flustered she gets.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

As mentioned already, she pretty much lets her pubes grow out, only trimming the shape of the bush to cute but clumsy heart.

She's got very puffy pussy lips, almost heavy looking as they press together while she tries to contain her excitement. Very soft, prime sucking material.

Pussy itself is a very warm shade of pink, but just a little bit more reddish. Think something between homemade raspberry jam and pomegranate seeds. Her asshole is just a little puckered out, begging to get as much attention as her cunt does.

Yes, I desperately want her to sit on my face. How did you know?

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

She's been alone on an island for centuries. She is extremely sexually frustrated. If she could, she would keep you in bed for days, although most of it would just be cuddles.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Only once you do. She will wait to make sure you're asleep, watching you for a while before she snuggles up to you, head on your chest, and falls asleep listening to your heartbeat.

#ask #anon #epic musical #epic the musical #epic #epic calypso #epic musical calypso #epic the musical calypso #epic the musical x reader #epic musical x reader #epic x reader #epic calypso x reader #epic musical calypso x reader #epic the musical calypso x reader

66 notes · View notes

twisted-wonderland-shenanigans · 2 months ago

Text

Kaiju AU Island Concept

Hello everyone!

I'm technically still on hiatus, but I wanted to share something I had been working on before I made my hiatus announcement.

So as you can tell by the title, I'd been working on sketching out a rough-ish map of sorts for the island that we find ourselves on in the Twisted Kaijuland AU. This was so I could have a better idea on the locations of each area so far, as well as concepts on where exactly important locations are located/could be located!

As you can see, compared to my initial story idea, it's grown from being one big island to several islands connected to the main one (aka the staff's island) to denote each dorm's territory.

Keep in mind that this is still a rough draft so I could get my thoughts down, but I want to at least start developing visuals to help with the storytelling as I get around to properly rewriting the Kaiju!AU.

Some location comments:

Elderclaw/Trein's den is near a waterfall, which was chosen to have a tranquil spot to relax in and enjoy the peace as well as have a source of water to help his aching old bones. It's still elevated enough that even during the rainy seasons, there's no risk of flooding and he stays warm.

Crewelfang/Crewel's den is located under a massive willow-like tree, which is where one may find a myriad of flora and other medicinal fungi or roots that he harvests, though he can and will trade some of what he has in exchange for Ragebloom/Riddle's ability to accelerate the growth rate of herbs, fruit, and fungi he needs.

Shadowdrifter/Sam's nests are a mystery to the researchers, as he's been notoriously difficult to pin down location wise. He's always popping up wherever at seemingly random, yet no one knows where he disappears to when it comes time to rest for the night. Or perhaps...he doesn't rest? That's still a working theory, though many can't help but feel his eyes watching them...even when the cameras are off.

There are research facilities located in various points of the island, and there were supposed to be more, but...I kinda ran out of space while trying to figure out where everything would go, and the sizing of the areas aren't exactly accurate!

Each island is connected to the main staff island through land bridges, some of which only appear at certain times of the day or month (hadn't decided which yet or how to incorporate the mirror transportation magic form the game yet). One way to tell which one you're close to is what's around each land bridge: a lush jungle for Heartslabyul, grasslands for Savanaclaw, topside coral reef like from the first Croods movie (hadn't marked that on there I just realized) for Octavinelle, a beach with gold-colored sand for Scarabia, a noxious woodland with toxic yet beautiful plants and other deadly things, a kaiju graveyard for Ignihyde, and the ship graveyard for Diasomnia. I'll likely add more features to some of these in the future, but for now this is still a rough draft!

There are other locations and features I want to add to the map itself (same with the others once I design them), but I wanted to at least share the progression as I continue working on things one step at a time. Hope you guys enjoy!

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland kaiju au #twst kaiju au #twisted wonderland kaiju au worldbuilding #twst kaiju au worldbuilding #apologies if the lines are a bit light since I don't add a lot of pressure to my pencils when I sketch #but hopefully I can get the hang of drawing maps and can create more of these!

58 notes · View notes

malk1ns · 3 months ago

Text

february 1 vs predators, 3-0 win

a shutout? for us? is that allowed?

there is an unspecified age gap in this fic—i don't know exactly how old geno is in it, but he's younger than mario (b. 1965) is. mario purchased the penguins in fall 1999, about a month before he turned 34, and geno can't have been too young to be financially involved in that, so...maybe he's around jagr's (b. 1972) age? that would make him somewhere in the neighborhood of 15 years older than sid. let's go with that.

also in this world he got his hair transplant done when he was way younger and it's thrived ever since. i like picturing him as a silver fox 😋

When Zhenya went in with Mario on putting up money to keep the Penguins in Pittsburgh, he never imagined a day where he’d be spending more time around the team than Lem did.

It was an easy decision at the time. The team was so badly mismanaged, and Zhenya had no desire to see the Penguins forcibly moved because their owners didn’t know how to manage a TV deal or sign sponsors. He didn’t want to move, and more importantly the fanbase didn’t deserve it. He figured he’d put up the money and let the lawyers figure out whatever they needed to to so he could keep playing, and when he retired he’d have a nice little stream of income no matter what he wanted to do.

He had no interest in the care and feeding of a professional hockey organization, not like Mario did. Mario stayed out of the GM’s day-to-day business for the most part, but whenever Zhenya met him for dinner, it was clear that the Penguins still ruled his life, the same way they had when the two of them were playing.

Zhenya stayed in Pittsburgh for Mario while he was playing. Even back when he was purchasing the team, he always assumed he’d move back to Russia, showing up for big events and (hopefully) Cup wins, but living his own life and enjoying himself.

Well, things don’t always work out the way we imagine. One knee surgery, and then another, ended his career earlier than he’d planned, and Mario talked Zhenya into sticking around and helping with player development before he could tuck tail and run back to Russia.

Almost twenty-five years later, and he’s still here. Oh, he travels plenty—there’s no point in retiring if you’re still beholden to coming into work every day, after all. Especially early on Zhenya spent probably more than his fair share of time flitting between tropical islands and enjoying the fruits of being young, athletic, and rich. But Pittsburgh had worked its way into his blood and bones, and he always comes home.

He’s been home a lot more frequently since about 2008.

Attending games as team owner is fun. He has his own box that he gets to invite whoever he wants into, and fans are still so eager to take pictures with him, starry-eyed over both the Cups he brought the town when he and Lem were still playing and his ‘team savior’ status. For years, he and Mario would sit and watch games together, waving when the cameras panned up to them and chatting.

Now, Mario barely comes anymore. Zhenya was more than happy to sell when Ron and Mario approached him about it—he’d still own some shares, he’d been assured, enough to have his opinion considered, but the brunt of decision-making would be removed from their shoulders. Zhenya was fine with that. They made a tidy profit, Zhenya still gets treated like royalty at PPG and anywhere in the league, and the responsibility of running a team that’s reaching the end of its golden age is no longer his.

He’s not clear what, exactly, went wrong between Mario and the guys with FSG. Mario won’t talk about it, and Zhenya doesn’t care to hear anyone else’s side of the story.

The result is, Zhenya’s the most consistent link to the old days that the fanbase has. In Mario’s absence, he’s found himself at more games over the last couple of seasons than probably the previous decade combined. He still watched, obviously, kept up with the team and was there for the players when necessary, but he was a more frequent presence at practice, helping out the coaching staff or chatting with the Euro scouts when they were in town than putting on a suit to sit in his box.

It’s exhausting. Zhenya’s face hurts from smiling politely some nights, and he’s sick of shaking hands with rich businessmen who want to take a picture with him but don’t actually give a shit about what he has to say.

There are perks, though.

His team is back from a long road trip, and Zhenya’s looking forward to seeing them play in person. He’s spent a lot of time with Kyle Dubas this season learning about his plan for the future, and losing is part of it, but as hard as the bad losses are there are always bright spots.

Halfway through the second period, Zhenya gets to watch one of his favorite bright spots in person for the first time in almost two weeks.

He’s always liked watching Sid score from one knee. It’s a statement goal, a fuck-you to a league that spent the first few years of Sid’s career beating the shit out of him and expecting him to say thank you and shut up. He never did.

“Damn,” Hörnqvist says with feeling as Zhenya leans back in his seat and whistles. “I forgot how that looks. How is he still so good?”

Zhenya shrugs, tracing Sid’s path across the ice to go down the fistbump line. He can make out Sid’s sharp smile from all the way up here, and his stomach flips over.

He’s missed watching the Penguins in person, yes. He’s missed Sid more.

“Robot, maybe,” he says in answer to Horny, who laughs loud and bright.

Zhenya spent a lot of time around the team during the back-to-back years. They had so many injuries, and when Mario gave Jim the go-ahead to fire Johnston in 2015 the team had been fragile. He’d gotten to know those guys really well, and he’s always liked Horny. When he confirmed he’d be in town for his bobblehead night, Zhenya had been quick to invite him to sit up in the owner’s suite.

They’ve been having a good time. Horny’s just as exuberant as he ever was, and Zhenya’s been able to relax instead of putting on a show for whatever bigwigs FSG saddled him with that night. He’s even let himself have a few drinks, wrinkling his nose at the wine on offer but downing it anyway.

Mario’s horrendously expensive taste in wine crept up on Zhenya after all these years, even though he tried to resist it.

He’s distracted the rest of the game, chatting with Horny and leaning around the wall to take a selfie with some kid in the next box over with half his mind down on the ice, on Sid’s fantastic goal and how he looks after a good win.

The Penguins secure the shutout, and when the jumbotron flashes Zhenya and Horny on the screen, the crowd goes wild. Horny waves and flashes his megawatt smile, and Zhenya gestures to him with a flourish, applauding long and loud right in Horny’s ear until Horny’s shoving at him playfully.

It’s perhaps not dignified for an owner to get into a fake wrestling match in his suite while on camera, but the crowd loves it, and Zhenya’s done much more embarrassing things to please the people of Pittsburgh.

He wants to make his way down to the locker room, but that’s not his place anymore, no matter how much he wants to congratulate the guys. Zhenya’s far removed enough from the current roster that his presence makes a lot of the guys nervous, and that’s the last thing he wants.

It’s easy enough to wait by Sid’s car with his hat pulled low over his face instead.

“Forgot where you parked?” comes Sid’s teasing voice, and Zhenya pockets his phone and straightens, opening his arms.

Sid doesn’t even look around the parking lot before he steps into Zhenya’s embrace.

“Missed you, лапочка,” Zhenya murmurs into Sid’s hair, running his hands over Sid’s back. “Long trip.”

Sid sighs against Zhenya’s chest. “Tell the league to not do that to us next year,” he requests with a little whine, sagging into Zhenya’s hold.

Zhenya laughs. The league doesn’t listen to him. They don’t like foreign owners.

“Good goal,” he says instead, stepping back and cupping Sid’s face in his hands. Sid looks tired, which is to be expected, but his eyes are bright. “Everyone in arena likes, Horny says to me how’s he still so good, like, maybe he’s not human.”

Sid grins at that, an echo of the same sharp smile Zhenya saw on the ice. He’s as humble as they come, but Zhenya’s praise has always gotten him to puff out his chest a little. “And what did you say?” he asks, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head.

He flirts like he did when he was 18 and desperately trying to catch Zhenya’s eye when they would stay late to practice face-offs. Almost 20 years later and with a head full of graying hair, and Zhenya’s as much of a sucker for it now as he was then.

“Mmm,” Zhenya says, grabbing at Sid and reeling him back in, taking a big exaggerated squeeze of Sid’s ass. “I tell him I know you’re real boy, I check very carefully almost every day.”

Sid makes a sweet little sound in Zhenya’s ear. “Take me home,” he requests, and Zhenya drags him over to Zhenya’s own car, installing Sid in the passenger seat and tearing out of the player’s garage.

Sid has a lot of responsibilities. He’s carried an unfair burden ever since he stepped into the league, eighteen years old and the weight of an entire league on his shoulders. He’s risen to the challenge time and again with maturity and grace, wise beyond his years and an example for kids all across North America who dream of making the show.

With Zhenya, he has a space to let them go.

It took a few years before Zhenya did more than just look. He felt like a dirty old man at first, although thankfully that feeling has waned over the years, and he refused to touch Sid until after they lost to the Red Wings in a game six heartbreaker on home ice and Sid showed up at Zhenya’s house, red-eyed and shaking and needing to get out of his head.

It’s real, Zhenya knows that. It’s not some latent perversion, although Sid’s youth and relative inexperience had been appealing. Nearly twenty years later, though, Zhenya would dare anyone to call what they have anything besides true love.

That doesn’t mean he and Sid don’t like things a certain way sometimes.

Zhenya drives with his palm high on Sid’s thigh, digging his fingers in and listening as Sid’s breath speeds up the closer Zhenya’s fingers get to his dick. He doesn’t dare look over, but he can picture Sid’s face well enough.

Sid’s hard by the time they pull into Zhenya’s driveway. He lives further back in the woods than Sid and Mario do, tucked into a large copse of trees that makes his house practically invisible from his neighbors, and Sid likes the privacy, the way he can kiss Zhenya in the front yard and nobody will see them.

When Zhenya cuts the engine, Sid practically crawls over the center console to get at him. They didn’t fit in Zhenya’s little sports cars like this even when Sid was younger and not as bulky as he is now, but it doesn’t stop Sid from trying his best.

“Baby, inside,” Zhenya urges, fumbling for his seatbelt and kicking his door open. Sid’s hot on his heels, and when they’re inside the house he pulls Zhenya down into a kiss before they can even get their shoes off.

“I missed you watching me,” he breathes against Zhenya’s mouth, and Zhenya groans, wrestling them out of their jackets and dragging Sid to his office. He knows what Sid wants when he gets like this.

There’s a leather armchair in the corner that Zhenya’s had for longer than Sid’s been a legal adult. It’s huge and broken-in and comfortable, and Zhenya has it positioned so that it has a great view of his trophy case. It’s a nice reminder of everything he’s accomplished, when he wants to relax and read a book in here.

Sid likes it for different reasons.

Zhenya sinks into the chair, loosening his tie and sprawling his legs wide, tipping his head back and groaning as he palms himself through his trousers. Sid makes a desperate little sound from where he’s standing by the desk, and Zhenya cracks an eye open and pats his thigh.

Sid crawls into his lap, straddling Zhenya’s legs and scrambling to undo Zhenya’s fly.

“Shh, shh, calm down,” Zhenya soothes, bringing his hands to Sid’s waist and drawing him down. Sid’s frantic against him, but Zhenya nips at his plush mouth and holds him in place until he calms down, letting Zhenya kiss him until their lips are tacky with spit.

“Please,” Sid gasps when Zhenya pulls back, and Zhenya untucks Sid’s shirt from his pants, undoing each button and kissing at the bare skin underneath. Sid’s skin is covered in goosebumps by the time Zhenya tosses his shirt to the side, and he bats Zhenya’s hands away in favor of getting his pants and underwear off on his own.

Zhenya stays dressed. Sid likes it that way, always has.

A lapful of naked Sidney Crosby is as much of a temptation as it was back when they first started hooking up, but Sid knows what he’s doing now, knows how best to grind against Zhenya to make him arch his back moan. He knows that Zhenya likes the press of Sid’s teeth against his neck, that if Sid scrapes along Zhenya’s sides he’ll shiver and practically beg for more.

Zhenya knows a few things too now, though.

Once upon a time, he liked to have Sid facing the other way. He’d make Sid look at Zhenya’s wall of trophies, everything he did for the city while he was on the team, and whisper dirty promises in Sid’s ear of what he’d do if Sid accomplished the same. Sid used to come like a rocket when he did that, young and squirming in his owner’s lap, desperate to prove himself on the ice and in the bedroom.

Sid’s done everything Zhenya’s ever asked of him. Now, he likes to look Sid in the eyes instead.

There’s a little table with a drawer on one side of the chair, and Sid fishes the lube out and pours some into his hand without breaking away from where he’s sucking on Zhenya’s neck. Zhenya unzips himself, pulling his pants aside enough to draw his dick out from his briefs.

It takes Zhenya longer to get hard now than it used to. He has a bottle of little blue pills in the bathroom upstairs just in case; Sid tried to tell him not to worry about it, but Zhenya wants Sid all the time, and he’ll be damned if he lets his body deny him something that he wants. It’s not a problem tonight, though—he’s hard and wet at the tip already.

Zhenya thinks Sid doesn’t realize that he licks his lips every time he looks at Zhenya’s erection. Zhenya’s certainly never going to tell him.

The first stroke of Sid’s hand makes Zhenya moan, and he has to close his eyes and breathe deep to focus. He only has one per night in him these days, and he wants to make sure he can give Sid what he needs.

Zhenya knows that a lot of what Sid likes in bed is because Zhenya taught him to. It’s a little heady, knowing he’s shaped Sid’s sexual preferences that permanently. It means that when Sid lifts up and lowers himself onto Zhenya’s dick without so much as a finger for prep, Zhenya knows he can take it.

Sid’s always liked a challenge. His nostrils flare and his face screws up as he sinks down until Zhenya’s fully in him the same way they do when he’s shooting the puck from a difficult angle. Zhenya likes watching him like this, working for something, pushing himself to his limits to get what he wants.

When he starts to move, Sid’s thighs shake. He was on the ice for over 20 minutes tonight, after all. Normally Zhenya likes to make Sid do all the work, enjoying the view of Sid riding him in the middle of his office, but tonight he takes pity on him, fucking his hips up to meet Sid halfway, making him gasp when Zhenya gets him just right.

Sid never lasts long after games like tonight’s. He gets so worked up from hockey still, especially when he’s had a dominant game. Zhenya would tease him, but he’s the same.

“Look so good out there,” he praises, sliding a hand up Sid’s thigh and closing it around his dick. “So strong, nobody stops you when you’re play like this. You get to your knee, everyone knows it’s a goal.”

“You like me on my knees,” Sid says through gritted teeth, moving faster. He’s so tight around Zhenya’s dick, and hot, and he’s staring greedily over Zhenya’s body, at the hint of bare throat where Zhenya loosened his tie, his forearms where he’d rolled up his sleeves. “You’d put me there all the time if you could.”

“Fuck,” Zhenya swears, squeezing the head of Sid’s dick and making him gasp. “Yes, I would. You want? Sit under my desk while I do work, suck my dick until I say you make me come.”

“Oh my god,” Sid moans, curling forward and bracing himself on Zhenya’s shoulders as he comes into Zhenya’s palm.

Zhenya’s so close that it almost hurts, but he works Sid’s dick through his orgasm, smearing the come back onto his skin until Sid pushes his hand away and starts moving again.

When they were both younger, Sid used to ride Zhenya until he was hard again, agonizingly slow until Zhenya was sweating and begging underneath him. Now, though, they’re both tired, and too old for extended edging sessions, so Sid grits his teeth and doubles down until Zhenya pulls him down and grinds up into him, coming with a grunt.

Neither of them move for a few minutes, breathing hard as they come down. Zhenya rubs his hands between Sid’s shoulder blades and lets his mind drift.

Sid has two years after this season, probably. The team will want him to stick around; he’ll want that too, to have a hand in mentoring the next crop of players hoping to bring the Cup back to Pittsburgh, to stabilize the franchise through the transition.

Times are different now. When Zhenya was a player, what he’s thinking about right now was so impossible it would be laughable to even think about.

Now, though, he lets himself imagine Sid sitting in the owner’s suite with him, tucked in the chair next to his with Zhenya’s hand on his knee. He thinks of them waving to the crowd, and the way a tasteful gold ring might glint in the arena lights from Sid’s left hand.

They haven’t talked about it, not really. But Zhenya thinks Sid’s probably a sure thing.

#sidgeno #hockey rpf #my writing #my fic #24-25 series

64 notes · View notes

luvkirby4ever · 6 months ago

Text

Absolutely massive lore drops from Shadow Generations

Gerald Robotnik had 2 sons (which we have a picture of!!) whom he loved very much. One of them had Gerald's love of archaeology, the other his love of robotics.

The archaeology son is the one who initially discovered Emerl.

Gerald had found Angel Island and the altar of the Master Emerald but left things alone because he wanted to be respectful to the land.

^This explains why the Eclipse Cannon's core has a structure shaped like the shrine in SA2.

SPEAKING OF SA2... you know those cameos of Big the Cat in (the Dreamcast version of) SA2? Yeah, those are canon. Apparently he loses Froggy a lot which causes him to go on a ton of adventures. He even tells Shadow that he saw him running past a few times on the ARK.

Gerald was absolutely adamant about his research being used to help people, not develop weapons. He seems to have been constantly clashing heads with GUN who would not fund his research (which was to try and cure Maria) unless he was making weapons.

^Because of this, any weapons he developed (or in Emerl's case, studied) had some sort of counterbalance that Gerald would add in order to make the weapon suck less (see following couple of points).

He hoped that the technology that he developed to make Artificial Chaos (AI that can be added to any body of water to shape it as needed) would be used to help save flood victims by scooping them up out of the debris.

While studying Emerl he established a link and noted that since Emerl wouldn't listen to anybody else that at least he wouldn't be used for evil. He also attempted to change Emerl's AI to become "free-willed and emotions-based."

He didn't want to develop the Eclipse Cannon so it was purposely made to be too destructive to be useful. He figured he'd also use it to deal with Black Doom.

Project Shadow was named as such because Gerald thought the goverment were idiots for trying to make him pursue something as impossible as immortality. He saw it "as intangible as a shadow" and described the project as impossible as "chasing a shadow."

But when Maria saw Shadow she said "shadows let you know which way the light is" and Gerald remarked that she turned his bitter naming convention into something hopeful and pure.

Speaking of Project Shadow... we have a picture of Maria holding the little baby Biolizard!

Gerald developed the Chaos Drives (those things that come out of GUN robots that you feed your Chao in SA2) to try and apply Chaos Emerald energy to living tissue without damaging it. He used them on the Biolizard.

Gerald reluctantly provided GUN Chaos Drives so that he could continue researching a cure for Maria.

Maria loved the Biolizard.

The Biolizard grew large because of the experiments... which its body couldn't support. Thus the life-support apparatus on its back, though it seemed to be in great physical pain. It was hidden away in the area you fight it in SA2.

^These failures are why Gerald struck up a deal with Black Doom. Without Doom's DNA Shadow would have gone the same way as the Biolizard.

Maria has a little sister!!!

Maria was born on Earth and sent to the ARK because the low-gravity environment makes her condition more manageable. Gerald's journal makes it sound like Maria's sister was born after she got up there but in-game Maria mentions how she misses her sister so maybe not?

@nagichi-boop (I hope it's okay to tag you) has a nice post talking about the excellent "invisible disability" representation. Both Gerald's journal and Maria discuss aspects of her disability, including Gerald's anger the over ARK researchers who talk about Maria behind her back.

Maria helped develop Shadow's air shoes and inhibitor rings, her insight valuable as these are framed as disability aids.

If Shadow takes off the inhibitor rings, he'd probably explode.

Maria and Shadow were taught by a lady teacher aboard the ARK. Shadow never turned in his homework.

The only thing Maria ever saw Shadow consume was coffee.

Maria met Big in the white space and instantly loved him. Big asked Maria and Gerald if they wanted to go fishing.

Omega is not powered by Animals, Chaos Drives, or any Emerald-based mechanism. He mentions something about absorbing environmental energy or something? The takeaway is that he's probably not destined to end up like most robots in the series (dead) because he doesn't have a power source that's going to screw him over.

E-123 "I don't have emotions" Omega was worried about Rogue and values Shadow and Rogue's friendship. Just don't call it friendship.

Maria being up on the ARK for so long was causing strain and division between Gerald and his sons. Gerald was desperate to cure Maria and get his family back.

Big has met Elise.

Commander Tower was the only other kid aboard the ARK.

Gerald gave Shadow some pre-set memories so that his awakening would go smoothly. Maria and him became friends instantly.

According to Maria, Shadow is more confident now than when she knew him.

Gerald called Shadow son. I'm not crying you are.

Both in the journal and in-game Gerald mentions how he is sorry for the trouble and weight that he has placed on Shadow (because of needing to strike a deal with Black Doom).

Emerl was handed over to GUN to try and buy more time for Maria's research. GUN reestablished a link by showing him an increasingly dangerous amount of weapons until Emerl started to freak out and destroy stuff. One of his rampages caused an automatic SOS ping to be sent out...

...It was that ping that summoned the soldiers who killed Maria.

#sonic x shadow generations #sonic x shadow spoilers #gerald robotnik #maria robotnik #shadow the hedgehog #e 123 omega #big the cat #emerl the gizoid

98 notes · View notes