#still not gonna scroll through tumblr for a while
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
"give it back"
oral from rafe after he discovers your fan-fiction about him
đđŞđťđˇđ˛đˇđ°đź: oral, slight humiliation/teasing
đšđŞđ˛đťđ˛đˇđ°: best friend's brother!rafe + dreamy!reader
exactly what you said when rafe stole your phone from you, scrolling through the endless amount of erotic writing about him on your tumblr blog. sarah had briefly stepped from her room, with rafe showing up not too long after to pester, like he always did. until you chased him into his own room after he snatched your phone and ran with it. rafe had always seen the way your lashes fluttered, bottom lip bitten pink as your focus burned holes through the bright screen; and today he knew he'd take the chance to finally find out what had you so captivated.
"this is so fuckin' wrongâthat's personal, rafe!"
"nah' baby doll, what's wrong is my sister's best friend wanting me to fuck her senseless, hm?"
"rafe! what i write in my personal time is none of your business..."
"it's about me, isn't it? so, it is my business."
and of course your lips parted, yet nothing came out of them as you quickly closed them together again.
"thought so; now where was i?"
he scrolled through the blurbs of endless porn written about him in drafts, smirking. "i think i'll read this one, sumn about me talkin' about a very pretty pussyâ"
"rafe noâ," as he held the phone out of reach, the strain in your limbs from struggling to snatch back the incriminating literature.
every once in a while, he'd read bits and pieces aloud, sending a warm heat to your cheeks, thighs pressed together, pouted lips, and crossed arms that could make anyone cave in. "prying her thighs apart...lost in a daze with her taste...you seem to really want me to taste that pussy on you, huh?"
his gaze burned into your side profile; your eyes averted away from him, yet you knew he was focused on you. "no fuckin' comment."
"that's not how good girls get what they want, now is it?"
eyes giving him the smallest side glance, a heavy huff left your lips. rafe carelessly tossed the phone onto the nightstand, stalking over to you as you sat on the edge of his bed defeated. "you gonna spread open, or do i have to make em' open?"
with a roll of the eyes, you shuffled further back onto the bed, legs parting ways and relaxing. rafe knelt before your folds, pulling off your shorts and the soft, cotton panties separating him and what he wanted.
the low drawl of his voice came with a groan. "already so fuckin' wet for me...ain't even touched you yet."
his tongue darted out for a taste, sending your back into an arch with a soft whimper. rafe's piercing, glacier eyes looking up at you set the lower inside of your belly on fire.
"gonna hold still for me?"
giving a frantic nod and a hum, he smirked at how desperate the small "mhm" you gave him sounded. without a doubt, his mouth suctioned around the pulsing clit between the lips of your cunt, tongue digging its way into the center.
"fuck, you taste sweetâdrippin' down my chin, pretty girl..."
he slapped your thigh as you moved, causing a sharp sting and your thighs to tighten under his grip. his tongue moved slow, deep, purposeful as he licked at your cunt. like you were the only thing worth tasting at the moment.
his voice came in a low murmur. "this what you imagined? makin' you shake under me..."
"mhm...p-please, don't stop..."
"not a damn' chance."
#đ˛đś đ´đ˛đźđźđ˛đˇđ° đłđł#outer banks smut#obx smut#rafe cameron smut#outer banks#rafe cameron#obx#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron imagine#rafe outer banks#rafe obx#rafe x reader#rafe fanfiction#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe smut#rafe headcanons#rafe fic#rafe imagine#rafe x you#obx rafe cameron#rafe cameron fic#rafe#rafe imagines#rafe cameron imagines#rafe cameron obx#dreamy!reader
100 notes
¡
View notes
Text
iiiii kind of hate that joke. the "aging userbase" thing. did you not have to do chores as a kid. did you not exist before you turned 20?
#venus.txt#did your mommy do your laundry for you all the way up till you moved out. did she wash your dishes for you too#SORRY for being a little hater. this specifically just pisses me off a bunch for some reason#maybe its bc it like. feels like ppl are forgetting that teenagers dont exist in a vacuum with the tiktok app#it also feels very self-centered. i hate to tell you this but there are still 14yos here. people didnt stop signing up in 2015#i was gonna say 2018 but i joined tumblr in 2018 and i was around 13 then. and im 18 now almost 19#and i remember scrolling through tumblr at like 16 years old and seeing someone make the 'aging userbase' comment about.#doing fucking laundry. and other basic household chores#while i was in the middle of a war with my parents about the amount of said chores i (eldest daughter) was being given on a whim
3 notes
¡
View notes
Text
saying "this is unbearable" abt things yet still continuing to bear them. give it up for the human spirit everyone đđđđŞđŞđŞâââ
#guy who has given up 999999999 times but has then kept going 1000000000000 times despite it..#this is abt aforementioned work situations and also new awful work situation. this time i got yelled at by a customer bc i wouldn't leave#when i opened the glass case for them which is like. a showcase with these glass doors that only employees can open with specific keys in#which the more expensive bags & jewelry & watches etc reside and if a customer asks if we can open it so they can view or try on a thing#inside we have to stay by them until they're done looking or trying on and have decided they're gonna take it (or not) because we have had#things stolen so many times here u wouldn't believe. so we're told to stay thus i had to stay till she was finished and she didn't rlly lik#that one i guess.. anyway while i do not give a shit what a random woman thinks of me i am very bad with getting yelled at so. fun times.#still red in the face as i'm typing this. it's fine though i didn't cry đ a near thing though but that's also fine i'm gonna go to the#staff toilets and sneak my trusty wired earphones in with me and listen to whale song until i've calmed down#can't wait to get home and eat and shower and get in my sweatpants and drink a beer or possibly some wine and watch attorney woo and then#later this evening play a game on the ps5 with my siblings and eat late-night snacks and drink another beer or possibly some more wine and#forget all about the start of this day <33333 and scroll through tumblr somewhere in between there and also do my duolingo lest i lose my#stupid streak. peace n love on planet earth once i get home <3333#r.txt
7 notes
¡
View notes
Text
wanna play w my new vibe but both of my roommates r in the shared space n im scared they'll hear it
#delete later#new vibe is louder than my old one :(#i don't think people in the shared space can hear into the rooms very well#but still#they're not gonna stop talking for a lil while so im just gonna scroll through tumblr for now :/
3 notes
¡
View notes
Note
Reader and Luigi basically being the old married couple of the group. A newcomer finds out that they arenât actually together and it feels like breaking news because itâs basically assumed by most that theyâre together. Maybe it isnât until one of them starts getting actively pursued by someone else when it starts clicking why it makes them uncomfortable at the idea. Trying to leave this open ended for you.

The Jesterâs Fucking the King â {Luigi x Reader }
Content: I��m gonna call this one NSFWâ MDNI, friends to lovers, confusing feelings, Luigi has a physical touch fixation, youâre his fidget toy, fr tho, emotional manipulation lowkey, just a pinch (if you squint) of dirty talk, kinda love triangle
Wc: 3,458
Notes: yourself and Luigi have been Inseparable for six years, and the introduction of a new friend into the group throws a wrench into everything.
Before we start, I wanna make a quick note about the title, and where the hell it came from (lol). I was inspired by a tumblr post I came across awhile ago, and it stuck with me, I guess, because I randomly thought of it while I was writing this. Thatâs all. Enjoy xo
I took this and ran with it.
As usual.
"Who's this guy that she's bringing again?" you ask to the car at large, slumped in the backseat between your roommate Scarlett and the window. Your thumb swipes across your phone screen, watching Chloeâs location dot inch its way across the map while Luigi maneuvers through traffic and Ben fidgets with the radio from the passenger seat.
"I dunno, some guy she met in her new sculpture class this semester," Luigi mumbles through a barely-concealed grimace. The thought of adding another person to their carefully balanced social ecosystem clearly weighs on him. You know he's already mentally rehearsing his nice to meet you smile, the kind that takes more energy than he's willing to spend on a random Tuesday night.
"It'd better not be that kid Cole," you mutter, already dreading the possibility.
And because the universe has a cruel sense of humor, it was absolutely, undeniably, that kid Cole.
It hardly mattered what preconceived notions youâd had about him; they dissolved over time as Chloe started bringing him around more often.
The traits you once found annoying gradually morphed into something oddly endearing.
Still, he never quite seemed to understand the dynamic between you and Luigi.
On movie nights, when the six of you crammed into the living room, a messy sprawl of friends and blankets overtaking the couch and floor, you naturally claimed your usual spot; sprawled out across Luigiâs lap. Tonight was no different. You laid there with your back propped against the arm of the couch, scrolling through Instagram while your bottom half stretched longways over him, as if his lap had always been yours to occupy.
Every so often, youâd interrupt the movie to show him a meme or a video a mutual friend had sent. Youâd lean in close, shoulders brushing, stifling your laughter together so as not to disturb the others watching John Wick. âThatâs fucked up,â he muttered through a barely-contained chuckle, his eyes still on your phone screen.
Madison lives at home, her daily subway commute to campus a small price to pay for access to her parents' sprawling estate. Their backyard is a mediterranean dream, with a pool large enough to host the entire group of misfits, with room to spare.
You're draped over Luigi as he meanders around the pool's edge, both arms curved naturally around your waist beneath the waster. It's the kind of casual intimacy that comes from years of friendship, comfortable and worn-in. "Cole's actually pretty cool," he muses, tilting his head back expectantly.
You comply with the wordless request, holding the La Croix to his lips so he doesn't have to lift his hands from the water.
"Yeah," you agree, your eyes drifting across the pool to where Cole is pretending not to watch this whole exchange. His gaze darts away the moment yours meets his, like a kid caught stealing. "I really did think he was annoying at first, though."
Scarlettâs birthday party, your arms wrapped around Luigiâs waist, your head tucked beneath his arm as you swayed together and sang happy birthday. The whine as you shared a piece of cake, something about how âLuigi wonât even kiss me in public.â When someone said the two of you would have won prom king and queen if you went to the same high school.
Benâs party followed just weeks later, the night still young and champagne bubbling through your veins. Luigi's hand clamped desperately over your mouth, but your eyes danced with mischief as you nodded enthusiastically at the circle gathered around you. "Yeah, Lu's got a PhD," you managed to say, and before he could stop you, the words tumbled out against his palm: "A pretty huge dick."
Cole watched.
"Did you know Cassie is seeing Dylan?" Cole asked, matching your frantic pace across campus. The morning fog swallowed your mumbled recitations as you mentally rehearsed your presentation for the hundredth time.
"Yeah, Cole, and I'm fucking Luigi.â you scoffed, the sarcasm dripping over every word like sticky molasses as you rolled your eyes. You yanked open the auditorium doors, disappearing behind them without a backward glance, mind already racing ahead to bullet points and transitions.
The very idea that Cole would believe such obvious campus gossip had you shaking your head as you slid into your seat.
But he did believe it.
He stood frozen in the hallway you'd left him in, staring at the closed doors like they might offer some explanation. "Yeah? I know.â he mumbled to your ghost, the words settling confused and heavy in the empty corridor.
The absolute certainty in his voice would have made you laugh, if you'd been there to hear it.
The seasons had shifted, and with them, Cole's hope had quietly ebbed away. After months of watching you, he'd finally accepted what everyone else seemed to know instinctively â even if Luigi wasn't in the picture, you were simply out of reach.
Saturday night found your usual crew at your claimed table in Madisonâs backyard, the surface cluttered with emptied drinks and scattered Uno cards. Luigi absently twisted the rings on your fingers â a mindless habit he'd developed somewhere between freshman year and now â while chaos erupted around you.
The familiar symphony of shouted accusations about who was hiding the Draw Four cards mixed with the glow of phones being passed around, TikToks and screenshots sparking new waves of laughter.
Cole watched the way Luigi's fingers danced over yours, and for the first time, the sight didn't sting quite so much.
âI still can't believe Dylan and Cassie are dating," Cole mused through a cloud of smoke, beer bottle dangling precariously from his left hand while a joint was stuffed between the fingers on his right.
The table fell silent, five pairs of eyes fixing on him with varying degrees of confusion and amusement.
"Who told you that?" Scarlett's voice cut through the stunned silence and the resurrection of a dead and gone campus rumor, her phone screen illuminating her face as Dylan's name flashed across it. "Where did you even hear that?"
Cole's eyes pinballed around the table, finally landing on you and Luigi.
Your hand was caught in one of Luigi's absent-minded gestures, knuckles pressed against his lips while he listened â a habit so commonplace to everyone else that they'd stopped noticing years ago. "Uhâ waitâ" Cole fumbled, taking a desperate pull from the joint as if the answer might be hiding in the smoke. He passed it to his left and asked through a cough, "Are they not?"
âNo, you idiot.â Scarlett threw a lighter at him, which he narrowly dodged.
"Well- why did- âCole's words stumbled over each other as he locked eyes with you across the table. Your brows knitted together, genuinely bewildered by his desperation. "I- you said they were," he insisted, hand gesturing vaguely in your direction like a drowning man reaching for a life raft.
Scarlett's head whipped toward you so fast her earrings clinked, a new lighter in her hand that was suddenly transformed into a weapon of interrogation, the flame pointed in your direction. "You what?"
"I didn't say that!" Your hands flew up defensively, face flushing as you ransacked your memory for any conversation that could've led to this moment.
But your mind offered nothing but static.
"I asked you if you could believe they were- and-âCole gestured helplessly at Luigi, who was studying your profile with the intense focus of someone who'd stopped processing verbal language three hits ago. His fingers hadn't stopped their absent dance with your rings once you lowered your hands again from your surrender to Scarlettâs mercy, muscle memory outlasting coherent thought.
Cole felt like he'd stumbled into an alternate dimension where everyone spoke a language he'd never learned while those same pairs of eyes dissected him with the kind of judgment only drunk twenty-somethings could muster, making him feel about two inches tall. "And you said 'yeah, and I'm fucking Luigi,'" he defended weakly, the words sounding more ridiculous with each passing second.
"Yeah!" You practically launched across the table, laughter threatening to bubble over as understanding finally dawned. "Because I'm not!" The force of your declaration nearly knocked over someone's beer, but you were too busy watching Cole's face transform as the shoe finally, finally dropped.
Luigi, for his part, just kept twisting your rings, lost somewhere between the fourth dimension and your knuckles.
Cole's jaw went slack, his eyes darting around the table again where this time everyone had suddenly developed an acute interest in hiding their smirks behind their hands â a masterclass in delayed politeness. "What?" He practically shoved the joint away when it circled back, as if too-late sobriety might make this make more sense. "But- but the dick size jokes and- and you tell everyone he won't kiss you in public."
"Oh, you poor thing." Chloe dabbed at her eyes, tears of mirth threatening to ruin her mascara. "She's always done that shit." The words came out half-strangled by suppressed laughter.
Months passed, and Cole transformed into your personal guardian angel. One desperate NEED SUGAR NOW OR DEATH text to the group chat, and he'd materialize with your favorite convenience store candy before anyone else had even read the message.
He collected details about you: the way your nose scrunched at certain perfumes, how you could quote every line from that one movie, the specific shade of purple that made your eyes light up. When he finally told you he liked you â really liked you, more than he'd ever liked anyone â you said you liked him too.
The gravitational shift was subtle at first â like planets realigning. Your usual perch in Luigi's lap gradually migrated to the chair beside Cole, a transition so natural that few noticed, not even you.
It came to a head one Saturday when Luigi texted his absence from movie night, claiming a sudden illness.
The excuse was paper-thin, and you both knew it.
You stood outside his building, jabbing the buzzer with the familiarity of someone who'd done this a thousand times before. "I know you're not sick, Luigi." Your voice crackled through the intercom, bouncing off the walls of his apartment where he lay curled into himself on the sofa, rigid as rigor mortis. "I can see your Oura ring stats." The betrayal of technology made him groan, and the offending ring went sailing across the room, a tiny meteor of exposed lies.
His father knows the developer.
That's the only reason he'd agreed to wear the damn thing â a circular shackle of obligations that now betrayed him from somewhere under his coffee table.
Your finger finds the buzzer again, gentler this time.
"C'mon, bub. I miss you." The sweetness in your voice hits him like a sucker punch, memories of simpler times wrapped in those words. "It can be me and you tonight. We can have a bestie night." The offer dangles like a Time Machine to the past â back when your world was just two planets in perfect orbit, before it expanded into a solar system of friends.
Before Cole ever came around.
Luigi appears in the doorway like a ghost, just as you're about to admit defeat. Your face splits into a grin, but it falters when you really look at him. "God." Your eyes track the sharp edges of his collarbones beneath his shirt. "Have you been eating?" The question trails behind you as you follow him up the familiar path to the second floor.
The apartment feels wrong â like walking into a black and white version of a color photograph you know by heart. Every blind drawn tight against the afternoon sun, as if he's been developing emotional negatives in the dark. "Hey, what's going on?" Your fingers find his forearm, anchoring him before he can drift away again. "This is kinda giving me flashbacks to when you failed your final."
He flinches like you've pressed on a bruise, eyes scanning his self-made darkness as if seeing it for the first time - the familiar choreography of his pain laid bare by your observation. "This definitely feels different from that." His voice comes out hollow, each word carefully chosen to dance around the real issue.
"Better, or worse?"
"I don't know."
He sinks back into his spot on the couch, the oversized blanket making him look smaller than you've ever seen him. His eyes fix on the half-finished Lego set on his coffee table â the Millennium Falcon he'd started weeks ago, now collecting dust mid-construction.
Three hundred pieces still sealed in their bags, waiting.
"Is it your mom?" you try, but Luigi shakes his head. "Is it school?" Another head shake. "Work?" No. "Was it your aunt Lisa again? That bitchâ" He cuts you off with another shake. "Is it me?"
The question hangs there, and Luigi pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders, refusing to meet your eyes.
He lets out a long breath, knowing he's trapped himself here â in this moment, in this conversation, in this truth he's been avoiding.
No way out.
"What?" You cross the room in three quick strides, dropping beside him and tugging at the blanket he's using as camouflage. "What do you mean, Lu? C'mon." Your hands search for any part of him that isn't wrapped in fleece, but he's determined to stay hidden. "What did I do?"
Luigi's eyes catch yours for a fraction of a second before darting away. "I really just want to sleep." The words come out muffled as he tries to fold himself smaller, but you're faster, yanking the blanket down before he can disappear completely. "Please."
"Luigi.â Your voice cracks, and you don't try to hide it. You've never had to beg him for anything before, not in all your years of friendship. "I can't leave knowing you're upset with me." It's the rawest truth you have, stripped down to its bare bones on the couch cushions between you. "Come on. Talk to me."
The silence grows so thick you could suffocate in it, until Luigi finally breaks it with a mumble. "How come you only make jokes about fucking me?" His throat works visibly before he adds, "And not anyone else?"
The question hits you like a slap. Your eyes drift across his coffee table, taking inventory â the joint still smoldering in the ashtray, his anti-anxiety meds beside it, a forgotten Gatorade from the night before.
Everything a testament to hours spent alone with his thoughts.
You drag in a deep breath, searching for words you've never had to examine before. "I mean â that's what we do, you know-"
"No," he cuts you off, voice sharpened. "It's what you do."
"Lu." Your spine straightens as confusion settles in. "Why is this suddenly an issue? I've always- I've always made those kind of jokes about us. How everyone thinks we're dating all the time." You stretch yourself forward, trying to catch his eye, but he keeps his gaze fixed somewhere on the floor. "I just lean into it, I guess. I didn't know it bothered you."
He sighs, the sound muffled as he drags his hands down his face. "It doesn't bother me."
"Then," frustration bleeds into your voice as you throw your hands up, lost in whatever conversation he's having three steps ahead of you. "What do you fucking mean?"
"I- I mean-" His tongue clicks against his teeth, each word coming slow like he's translating from another language. "It doesn't bother me in that way."
"In what way?"
"In the way that means you saying you'd fuck me bothers me."
"But you just said it bothers you."
"No,â he says, âI didn't."
Heat rises up your neck as your patience frays.
Your mind twists itself into knots trying to decode whatever puzzle he's laying out between you. "Look at me." The command comes out sharper than intended as you try to yank the blanket away from him. "Fucking look at me!"
The blanket rips from your hands with unexpected force, sending you sprawling onto his hardwood floor. Your oversized sweater is the only thing saving your tailbone from a bruising. "You fucking asshole." The words come out hot as you fumble for your boots to put over the socks that betrayed you in their slipperiness, and just as you manage to wrangle one on, Luigi emerges from his cocoon, fixing you with a look that stops you cold.
"I mean I guess-â He clears his throat, looking down at you with that familiar steady gaze, but there's something different layered over it now, something raw. "I mean- Why wouldn't you fuck me?"
The question hits like a fist to the cheekbones.
You freeze, one boot half-laced, mouth hanging open as heat floods you to your temples.
Of all the directions this could have gone, you never expected this brand of brutal honesty, delivered while you're sprawled ungracefully on his living room floor and wrestling with your shoelaces.
Your eyes dart between the coffee table and his face, pieces clicking together with nauseating clarity. "What kind of question is that?" The words come out sharp as your fingers hook uselessly around your boot laces.
"Well, what kind of joke is it to go around telling everyone we fuck?" He throws your logic back at you with devastating precision. "What's so funny about that?"
You bury your face in your hands, a groan muffled against your palms. Every memory floods back at once â all those times he tried to stop you from making dick jokes, all those moments people assumed you were dating and you played it up while he went quiet.
Six years of friendship viewed through this new lens makes your stomach lurch, and another heavy sigh tears from your chest.
"Can you at least tell me?" Luigi's voice comes out barely above a whisper, watching you curled up on his floor like a wounded animal.
You finally lift your head, meeting his stare head-on. "Do you want me to say I'd fuck you?"
The silence wraps around you both like a physical thing, but his eyes stay locked on yours even as color floods his cheeks. "Huh?" You arch an eyebrow, challenging. "Want me to say how hard I'd do it?" Your discarded boot connects with his shin. "How I know you whimper."
As if on cue, a small sound escapes him â half whine, half breath. He's still staring at you like you've knocked all the air from his lungs, struck speechless while you press your newfound advantage.
You move closer, settling between his knees as the blanket slips from his shoulders. With gentle pressure, you ease him back against the couch. "Want me to tell you how none of it was ever really a joke?" Your hand rests against his chest, feeling his heartbeat race beneath your palm. "How every time that you felt me push my ass against your dick wasnât just your imagination?â
Luigi reaches for you then, fingers trembling as they find your skin â reverent and careful. He's always been tactile with you, always finding excuses to be close. He knows the map of your hands better than you do, how your breathing changes when you drift to sleep, all the little things that make you who you are. "I knew it," he whispers as you settle against him, both of you finally exactly where you're meant to be.
You'd spent so long pushing these thoughts away, rationalizing every touch as just his nature â absent patterns traced on your skin during movies, fingers intertwined during conversations, gentle pressure points mapped across your arms during lengthy lectures.
Each gesture filed away as mindless habit.
But this was different. Every point of contact now carried weight, intention.
"I'd fuck you too," Luigi murmurs, drawing you closer, face pressed against your sweater. His hands spread warm and steady across your back, holding you like something precious, something he's afraid might slip away. âAnd Iâd whine as much as you wanted.â
The next week comes floating by once again, Cole hurrying beside you as you rush to your next lecture, desperately trying to untangle your earbuds, hearing Luigiâs voice echo in your mind, laughing at you for your resistance toward Bluetooth devices. âI - I wanted to see if maybe you wanted to-â
âIâm fucking Luigi.â You turn to Cole, your expression deadpan but fixed, serious but not all that concerned before the doors of the auditorium are flung open, and once again, you vanish behind them.
Cole bursts into a fit of giggles at the thought, realizing now that believing such a thing would be mean he was naive â heâs since learned from his mistakes. âYeah.â He murmurs to himself, âAnd Cassie and Dylan are still dating.â
452 notes
¡
View notes
Text
A New Face
pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader
summary: where the group of friends meet Chad's new roommate.
word count: 1737
Pt.2 | Pt.3 | Pt.4
a/n: heyyyyy this is my first ever fic I've written, don't mind it being cringy and I'm open to feedback teehee hope ya'll enjoy (p.s I'm new to this whole Tumblr thing cut me some slack đ)
Chad has been trying to convince the core four to hangout at his apartment. He had been feeling lonely recently since Mindy and Anika had recently moved in together.Â
It took him a few weeks to finally convince them into hanging out at his apartment. With Samâs paranoia and busy work schedule, and the heavy workload for Tara,Mindy, and Anika in college, they were finally able to make the time and hangout. Plus, they could use a new scenery besides the Carpenterâs apartment, right?
That particular day they were supposed to meet up at Chadâs apartment, Tara was feeling under the weather, her finals for her college exam was killing her; And all she wanted to do was eat some greasy dough with sauce and meat while watching scary movies.Â
âHey guys! Come in, the pizza is getting delivered soon.â Chad exclaimed while hopping on his toes, feeling ecstatic since he hadnât met them for a while.Â
âWhatâs with you? youâre acting like a kid, dude.â Mindy commented, noticing her twin brothersâ gleamed faced and excitement.Â
âSorry, Iâve been lonely and Iâm just glad weâre all together again. THE CORE FOUR! And Anika, of course.âÂ
âDidnât you put up an online ad for a roommate? Where are they?â
âYou donât learn, do you?â Sam added, frowning with Chadâs method of calling in someone to fill in the extra room.Â
Chad abashedly chuckled, and lowered his head, his cheeks burning up from embarrassment. It was Sam, who wouldnât be scared?
âMy roommate is cool! Theyâre out for work and should be here soon. Theyâre not a psychotic serial killer, I promise.â
Sam was skeptical, rightfully so. Meanwhile, Tara was sat on the couch, with her legs on the coffee table while scrolling through the tv to find a movie to watch. She couldnât bother joining in on the conversation. She felt mentally exhausted from her exams and just wanted a dayâs rest.Â
After a while, the group was playing card games while eating their pizzas and watching movies.Â
âThatâs not fair Mindy! Stop giving me all the +4 cards!â Tara shrieked, feeling frustrated after getting the card that made her double the number of cards she had at least 4 times, making her chances of winning low.
âWhatever you big baby. Just admit that you suck in uno,â Mindy responded, smirking triumphantly while raising her voice
Tara rolled her eyes, not accepting her defeat and continued arguing with Mindy, with the rest watching amused by the entertainment. Unsurprisingly , Tara lost after Mindy getting rid of her cards before her. She couldnât get rid of her cards with the suspicious amounts of +4 cards Mindy had.Â
âUno! Looks like I win, LOSER!â
âHow about I shove this uno cards up your a-â
Taraâs reply was interrupted by the front door opening, revealing you carrying your backpack on your shoulders and your motorcycle helmet hanging off your hand (which peaked Taraâs interest, of course.) You looked tired, with dark circles under your eye, wearing your hoodie and sweatpants.Â
Even so, Tara still thought you were the most beautiful human being she had ever seen. She was practically having heart eyes and drooling at this point, with Mindy noticing her stare and grinning cheekily.Â
âWhatâs up dude. Tough day at work?â Chad commented, trying to create a conversation.Â
âYou know it, manâ you softly chuckled while locking the door.Â
âAnyways, my friends are gonna be here for a while. I hope you donât mind,â
âNot at all, Iâm probably just going to take a nap anyways,â you replied, finally looking at the group of people staring you.Â
Mindy gave you a nod, already knowing who you were from her brother. Anika smiled and waved at you, which you responded by giving a soft smile back. Sam was staring you down, which made you uncomfortable and creeped out but ignored her action. Tara was well, staring at you? But not how Sam stared at you, she had a blank look on her face.Â
Once you left and went into the hallway to your room, Mindy decided make a certain Carpenterâs life a living hell.Â
âTara, are you blushing right now? I didnât know you had a typeâ she teased
âShut up, Mindy. I donât know what youâre talking about.â
âYou guys donât find her suspicious? Seriously?â Sam commented, wondering why they werenât skeptical like they usually were when there was new people around.Â
It wasnât new, after the incident of Ghostface, they all had their guards up, scared to open up to new people, to new faces.Â
âTheyâre nice, I promise. How about I call them out so you guys can get to know them? Theyâre Y/N, by the wayâ Chad suggested, trying to convince them (especially Sam) to get to know you better before jumping into conclusions that you were a serial killer.Â
All of them collectively agreed, with Tara nodding with a slight tint on her cheeks. Chad went up to your room and called you out, suggesting that you should hang out with them. Tara assumed it went well, as Chad grinned toothily and walked away.Â
Youâve really peaked her interest. She didnât know she had a type. The people she had dated before didnât really cast a spark on her. She didnât feel happy or enjoyed her time during those relationships. It felt like she was the problem, however the thought was down the drain after going to a few therapy sessions with Sam after the Ghostface incident. Through the sessions, Tara found out that she didnât feel happy through the lack of trust and being paranoid that her partner would be a killer. Thatâs understandable, itâs not everyday that your (ex) girlfriend tries to murder you.Â
However after seeing you for 10 seconds, her mind was clouded by you. She noticed that you were as tall as Chad and probably plays sports too, based on your physique. All she thought of was finding out more about you. Do you study in Blackmore? What bike do you own? Do you prefer cats or dogs? Did you find her cute?
âCome on, Tara. Get it together.â She reminded herself after that embarrassing thought.Â
When she saw you come out with the same sweatpants, but with a black t-shirt that showed off your arm sleeve tattoo on your left arm, she was practically drooling. You looked hot as fuck.Â
âHey guys, itâs nice to meet you. Iâm Y/Nâ
âIâm Tara,â she quickly replied, seeing Mindy and Anika grinning at each other with a knowing look from her peripheral vision.Â
You gave a smile. You looked cute. You had that cute ass dimples no one could ever resist, Tara thought. You might be the death of her.Â
The group settled down and decided to watch a movie, you sat the end of the couch while waiting for the movie to start. Mindy, being an (alleged) amazing wingman she is, literally forced Tara into sitting beside you by pushing her. She sat on the couch with a sigh, annoyed at Mindyâs antics and rolled her eyes. Sam was just giggling at the other side of the couch.Â
As much as Sam didnât trust you, she was glad that Tara could act like a normal teenager again. After multiple therapy sessions, she gave Tara a little bit of more freedom and let her make her own decisions, even if itâs distasteful to her. That doesnât mean she wouldnât tase someone in the balls again, though.Â
You mistakenly thought the sigh Tara gave out was because she had to sit beside you. You had known about what happened to their group from Chad, after he poured his heart out when he was blackout drunk. You understood the group of friends can be lack trust and be suspicious of new people.Â
âSorry, did you want to sit with someone else? I can sit on the floor if you want-â
âNo! I mean itâs okay, I donât mind sitting with you,â Tara replied with a heavy tint on her cheeks, embarrassed at her sudden reaction.Â
Throughout the movie, you were munching on your pizza, oblivious to the amount of times Tara took glances at you while trying to think of topics to create a conversation with you.Â
âSo..How do you find the movie?â Tara questioned you, trying to get to know you a little bit better.Â
âItâs alright, though I prefer other scary movies. I definitely do have favourites.â
âOh, whatâs your favourite horror film?â
âI absolutely love The Babadook, itâs amazing because I..â Any words that you uttered out of that beautiful mouth of yours disappeared. The universe must be sending a sign, she needs you badly. Thereâs no way Chadâs super cute, hot roommate would coincidentally like The Babadook, Tara thoughtÂ
âBlah, blah, blah, proper name, place name, backstory stuff..â was all she could hear.Â
You on the other hand, only saw Tara staring at you blankly while she had her own inner turmoil and crisis.
âUh, Tara..? You alright there?â you chuckled awkwardly.
âWhat? Oh, yeah sorry. I love The Babadook too! Whatâs your favourite scene?â Tara smoothly taught of a way to continue the conversation, silently cheering for herself.Â
It took you both 2 horror films and a shared bag of popcorn to exchange numbers. Tara was secretly cheering in ecstasy of course. She wouldâve jumped around and start dancing if she could. It was already close to midnight, and Sam decided that they should go back home before itâs too late to catch the last train. Tara was devastated, she wished that she couldâve spent more time with you.Â
âSoo, Iâll see you next time then? It was nice seeing you.â You initiated a conversation, seeing that Tara was pouting at Sam while trying to convince her into staying a little while longer
âY-Yeah, see you. We should continue our horror fanatic activities again,â She chuckled, trying to prolong the moment. You nodded your head, giving her a soft smile while leading her, Sam, and the couple out of the apartment, since Chad was knocked out and asleep.
You took your last goodbyes with the group, even giving Sam a small wave, before closing the door.Â
In the elevator, all Anika, Mindy and even Sam did was tease her on how red and lovestruck she looked. She didnât pay any mind to it, all she could ever think of was you.Â
667 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Thinking about how Incel!Gytaro difers from your other boyfriends sexually.
I feel like once he's finally given a chance, he clings to the title of incel, even if he's no longer involuntarily celibate, and his mindset is changing. It's part of how he identifies himself and it'll take a long time of building his confidence to get him to stop self deprecating.
"Why would you wanna fuck me? I'm just a gross incel, girls down even touch me." While you are in fact, touching him. "Y-Yeah, cum all over this ugly mug," While you're riding his face, tugging his hair and helplessly grinding.
I also feel like getting to his early twenties without even a kiss or shred of attention has left him lacking two things when you finally do give him a chance. Tolerance for any kind of stimulation, and a refractory period. He has neither, and if he does, they're both incredibly low. This means he'll cum as soon as he starts to move inside you, but he doesn't really have to stop between orgasms. Despite his lifestyle, I think he's actually a bit of a gym rat, so he also has a good amount of stamina. He's going at it for hours and he's cumming multiple times, each load is going to be bigger than the last, already being larger than most guys you've been with.
"A-Ah, n-no, baby, be still- gonna! F-Fuck, I came again, I'm sorry..." While he's already cooling back down and putting it back in.
He's so inexperienced but he's so eager to learn. He has no idea how to kiss you, but once you show him how, he's all over it. He's a great listener, despite his stubbornness, obsessing over your every reaction and trying to figure out what he did to instigate it.
"Shit, what'd I do? This? You like it here? Like this? Ahh, that's it baby, you got it." While trying to decipher what he could have possibly done to pull such a pretty moan from your lips.
I think he's down to try anything at least once, especially after you get him away from that red pilled mindset. Pegging? Well, let's talk about it first. Taboo kinks? Send him links, he's so curious. The only thing I can see him really not being into is cucking, but he might come around if you letting him cuck someone else first.
"Fuck, you're into some weird shit..." While scrolling through your followed tags on Tumblr. " Well... shit, I'm down, let's go."
#gyutaro#gyutaro x reader#gyutaro shabana#gyutaro shabana x reader#gyutaro smut#incel!gyutaro#incel!gyutaro x reader
598 notes
¡
View notes
Text
(6) đŚ signed, sealed, delivery pending...
When a last-minute opportunity presents itself to become a distraction from the shame of not attending the reunion of your university friend group, you take it. One thing, though, yes, you might have been wrong for chickening out. But falling overboard in a storm, almost drowning, and getting saved by the biggest oddball of a skinny dipper out in the wild is a bit too much for instant karma, you think.
genre: fluff, comedy | word count: 13k | read on ao3
< previous | next (wip) >
note: apologizing for late chapters is getting old now i know, but i swear it would have come out earlier if it hadnt been for tumblr's ridiculous mature content label flagging issue . i've been wrestling with that bicth now ever since that update dropped on the 11h. all seal raf chapters are FLAGGED and i cant get them out of superhell. and apparently its their image recognition bot, i had to change the banner image. god if i have to deal with this bs AGAIN im crashing out i hope you enjoy the chapter
The wetsuit is half-zipped, clinging damp against your hips, something that doesnât quite want to let go. Youâre sitting on the flattest rock you can find near the lip of the cove, knees drawn up, elbows balanced on them, phone balanced precariously between your fingers. The mist is still stitched thick between the cliffs, and the morning sun hasnât quite managed to cut through it yet. Cold air brushes against your bare arms, lifting the baby hairs, biting gently. Your knees are cold. Your mind is worse.
The group chat lights up again.
You scroll without reading at first, just watching the little cascade of names and icons â familiar and sharp-edged in ways you can't explain. Itâs watching someone elseâs memories keep moving while yours have stalled out in the same old frame. Same island. Same ferry. Same breath caught in your throat.
Yesterdayâs conversation still occupies your mind, and you read through it once more.
"F4NT4STIC 4 REUNION ERA" (Yesterday, 13.37) [ tara ⥠]: LADIES . YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT ISSSSSSS [ simone (đšđ¤) ]: girl i already took the days off. if yall flake iâm showing up to macieâs with a suitcase anyway [ fleetwood mac ]: LMAOO i mean my living room is still 80% cardboard boxes but sure, suffer [ simone (đšđ¤) ]: if thereâs karaoke iâm unplugging the speaker with my teeth [ tara ⥠]: also HELLO??? miss ferrymaster of heartbreak bay??? [ tara ⥠]: we see you reading and not respondingggg [ tara ⥠]: THE WAY SHEâS STILL NOT ANSWERING [ fleetwood mac ]: come online and disappear if you're alive. don't write anything if youâre still in love with your ex [ fleetwood mac ]: youâre still in love with him???? [ fleetwood mac ]: damn it didnt work [ simone (đšđ¤) ]: sheâs gonna come back in like six hours and act like nothing happened [ simone (đšđ¤) ]: literally text back. we're not mad you couldn't come. stop acting like this is a break-up !!!
(Yesterday, 23.35) [ you ]: sorry. alive. extremely salty. [ you ]: had to scrub barnacle residue off my soul before texting back. [ fleetwood mac ]: SYBAU girl you disappeared like a victorian child into the mist đ [ simone (đšđ¤) ]: anyway. macie's wine count is at 3. tara made a playlist. theo hasnât cried yet [ you ]: bold of you to assume he wonât [ fleetwood mac ]: we placed bets. i give him until desert [ tara ⥠]: also you were right, he brought the seal mug he made in his pottery course. Unironically. [ you ]: I feel the emotional blackmail all the way from over here ⌠[ fleetwood mac) ]: i had to leave the room. i was spiritually unprepared [ you ]: move it like half an inch every time he looks away and pretend like nothing happened to freak him out that paranormal shit is going on. for my sake. please [ tara ⥠]: That's horrible. How do you come up with stuff like this? Do you want us to get kicked out if he makes a scene? [ tara ⥠]: I'll send you pictures đ [ simone (đšđ¤) ]: we set a place for you vtw. itâs got a rock on it. and a fork. [ you ]: thatâs exactly how i wouldâve wanted it <3
Your thumb pauses above a message. Just names. Names that once belonged to cramped dorm rooms, midnight indomie, and mutual breakdowns in libraries that smelled of old glue. The kind of friendships that were lifelines â loud and chaotic and necessary. And they still are. But youâre quieter now. Less sure what part you should play in their world.
Taraâs already published several scientific papers, both on her own and with her teacher â ResearchGate profile overflowing with content. Simoneâs backpacked solo through South America and made it look unreal the entire time, every photo gold-dusted and cinematic and youâre sure she lives in an indie travel documentary. Macie just got picked up for a docuseries pilot. The one who shall not be named passed his bar exam and launched a website in his name that has to be surely coded by a tech god and branded by a Parisian design firm.
And you?
You still have this wetsuit from sophomore year. A freezer full of discount frozen meals. A collection of ferry schedules memorized down to the second.
You still work shifts that stretch into your bones. Still sleep in the room with the glow-in-the-dark stars you stuck to the ceiling at fourteen. Still get asked by tourists if you ever get tired of paradise. As if itâs not the same damn shoreline every day. They donât know paradise comes with guilt-paid free health insurance and the inability to look into your parents' eyes without sweating through your shirt.
The museum front desk application sits untouched on your desktop. The deadline came and went while you were distracted by nothing in particular. Thereâs a half-written email to the local heritage center still sitting in your drafts. Volunteering was mentioned once, briefly, in passing, and never again.
You told your advisor you were taking a year. Time to figure things out. To recalibrate. To breathe.
But the year kept slipping. One month into the next. One season curling into the other. You started taking the same walk every morning. Then you stopped bothering with a route. Some days, even brushing your teeth was something that had to be earned.
You tried to make plans. Tried to start a spreadsheet. Color-coded your week and pretended it meant something. It lasted three days. Then the shame of seeing your own optimism undone by inertia sent you spiraling into the sea with your phone on do-not-disturb.
Sometimes you wake up already disappointed in yourself. Sometimes you manage to coast until lunch. The rest of the time, it sneaks up in strange places: folding laundry, stirring pasta, passing your own reflection and not recognizing anything urgent in your own eyes.
You keep saying youâll get out. That itâs temporary. That youâre not stuck. You tell yourself that so often itâs started taking the shape of a prayer. Or a dare.
But every time you scroll, you feel it. That sharp, quiet pinch in your ribs. You're watching a starting line recede in the distance while your legs stay tangled in the sand.
A sharp twist of your mouth curls before you can stop it, too bitter to be a smile, too wry to be pain. You toss your phone a few inches further across the towel, willing the distance keep the elephant in the room away for a while longer.
And Theo. Of course heâs there.
Ha.
You sit still. A breath leaves your nose. The rock beneath you is cold, uneven, your palms flat against it. Wet grit clings to your fingers. You focus on that. The gulls loop overhead, shrieking into the pale air. Below, the tide moves against the rocks in shallow bursts, licking foam into the cracks and pulling it back again with a hiss. The world hasn't stopped, but itâs ignoring you on purpose.
No, you're ignoring it on purpose.Â
A sleek head breaches the surface a few yards out, rising between two fingers of rock where kelp sways below in long green ribbons. A huff leaves him in a pfbbbth sound â short, damp, unimpressed â and he glides forward in a meandering path, stirring flecks of foam in his wake. The water around him flattens, then rolls behind his body in lazy spirals. Even the cove is used to making space for him.
You donât smile. It almost happens, your face twitches because it wants to. But it doesnât make it all the way. Heâs watching you, waiting, head tilted just slightly.
"Someoneâs a little restless today," you mutter.
He barks again. Short. With an imaginary question mark at the end of it. Surely itâs because he hasnât received his usual cooing greetings and your, âHi, hi, hi, my cutie pie,â â but your spirits are as gray as the weather. You canât summon the cheerfulness.
"Yeah, yeah, Iâm coming."
You slide into the water slower than usual, the cold biting at your ankles and climbing. Raf circles once, then again, but doesnât dart off the way he normally does. He floats closer instead, trailing you as you wade out to the deeper part. When your feet finally lift from the sand, you turn toward him.
"I shouldâve just gone," you say. "I donât know why Iâm so scared of a little get-together. Who cares if Iâm not working yet? I should just say Iâm taking a gap year⌠Like for uni graduates. Or say like Iâm looking into Work and Travel but havenât really liked any of the choices or something."
He tilts his head. How clueless and cute. Smooth brain. No ridges or lumps, no valleys or bumps; all ideas slide right off.
"You donât even know what LinkedIn is," you mumble. âYouâll never have to. Iâm so jealous, you donât even know.â
Raf makes a bubbling snort.
You hate how bitter it makes you, sometimes. Hearing them talk about opportunities and networking and beautiful apartments with friends who leave them soup in the fridge. And you smile, as youâre supposed to. Itâs good news. Youâre proud. You are.
But it still seeps into the spaces between each of your vertebra, shapes you into a shrimp before the stateliness of ambition and purpose, making you feel small for not having more to offer, and worse for resenting even a flicker of it. Thereâs something sour in you that canât be sweetened into a lemonade.
And you donât want to be that person. You donât. But you are. Quietly. Privately. The kind of ugly that you don't admit aloud unless youâre alone. Or talking to a seal.
"I hate that I get annoyed," you say under your breath. "Every time one of them says theyâre doing great, I get that twist in my stomach like I swallowed a rock. Even when Iâm proud of them. Even when I love them. What does that make me, huh?"
Raf offers no reply. Just a slow blink and inquisitive, a trainâs choo-choo sounding breathing from his flaring nostrils.
"It makes me pathetic. Thatâs what."
Your throat tightens. You wipe your nose with the back of your glove and look up toward the cliffs, eyes still hot.
"Thereâs something youâre unlucky with. You know what?" you say, voice hoarse. "Of all the fish in the sea, you ended up with me. Shouldâve gone for a marine biologist. Or a rich heiress with a yacht."
Raf surfaces again, blinking at you with deliberate slowness that mirrors a catâs. Then, with a low chuff, he glides closer and presses the side of his head against your shoulder. Youâre still floating when he wriggles around, flippers flopping clumsily, and half-latches onto your side, a wet, overgrown toddler trying to hug a pool noodle. His whiskers tickle through the neoprene.
You flip onto your back and float, arms out, hair fanning around your head with a seal glued to you. The sky above is pale and empty, the kind of soft gray that feels too big when you're already too full. You drift for a moment with your ears half-submerged, the world muffled except for the splash of Raf's flippers somewhere nearby. Clouds move. You don't.
"Watch. Youâll get discovered by some cute environmental documentary crew next and leave me behind. Get famous. Start an OnlyFans for your flippers."
Pause.
âOnlyFins,â you snort to yourself.
Raf lets out a long, wet blort, and disappears underwater with a cute bloop.Â
You barely have time to curse before something nudges your ribs â hard. Then again. And then youâre yanked downward, the flipper hooked around your waist is basically an overly confident tugboat.
You surface with a gasp and a splash, hair in your eyes, sputtering.
Raf bobs a few feet away, grinning in the smug way only a seal can, going "AUUUUU," over and over again, following that up with a performative spin and a slap on the water.
"No more jokes, fine," you cough.
He dives again, leaving a trail of bubbles â pops up, and pauses, twisting back to look for you. His head bobs once. Twice. Then he disappears again, darting just beneath the surface, drawing a path for you to follow. A loop, a spiral, a flourish. He resurfaces ahead with a sharp snort and flicks water in your direction.
You blink water from your lashes. "Okay, okay, I get it. Impatient little show-off. Seashells arenât going anywhere, let me go get my gear, damn."
He dunks under again, tail flippers wagging just enough to be smug about it.
And after your preparations, you follow.
Because if anything makes sense â if anything ever feels whole â itâs this. Salt in your mouth. Rafâs stupid flipper smacking water like an impatient bunny stomping his foot. A sky so wide you canât get your arms around it.
You may not know how to move forward. But here, right now, you donât need to.
Here, you can just be.
By the time the end of the day rolls around, the dive with Raf has dried to salt on your collar, and your limbs are already back in work-mode â anchored, alert, one hand on the wheel, the other near the comms, watching the weather shift with a sailorâs instinct and a whole life of knowing exactly when things stop making sense at sea.
The last round trip of the day is quiet in a different way today, though. No commuters or tourists, and no one but you on board.
A rare fluke of timing: your dad tied up with engine trouble on the backup skiff; the senior deckhand down for the count after slipping on ice during today's last unloading shift and sent home limping; the second deckhand called out with food poisoning from bad market shrimp; the engineer out for two weeks recovering from wrist surgery after trying to fix a rusted coupling by himself; the backup engineer already covering freight route duties on the north side; and the high schooler who usually mans the snack kiosk bailed last-minute for a school recital he 'forgot' to mention until this morning. Even the part-time lookout who mostly just watches Raf from the upper deck found a way to slip away.
Youâd said yes before your dad even finished the ask instead of just cancelling the entirety of the day off â if a perfectly fine excuse for why you didnât show up at the reunion made itself available to you, you would take it without question. It was serendipity, why let it go to waste?
And it was only one run, the weather wasnât supposed to break yet. You knew the route. You could handle it.
Though, frankly, it felt good to be trusted with something this real and just empty your head for the rest of the day.
So it's just you, the hum of the engine, and a stretch of sea that's growing moodier by the minute.
You clock it before it starts showing.
The pitch is wrong.
Movement is expected, up-down, up-down, sometimes with more vigor and distance. No, itâs not that. Itâs the angle, the timing, the tension underfoot that rolls in just a half-second too late. The swell pattern doesnât match the forecast, the wind has teeth it wasnât supposed to, and the gulls have gone silent over the water.
You glance up from the console, watching the sky fold itself into layers. That soft lilac haze from earlier has gone bruised at the edges. Thereâs a kind of waiting baked into the air now, the hush before the sky opens its mouth and howls.
You shouldâve already turned back. You know the signs. Youâve trusted them before.
But the timingâs tight, and you know the shape of this route better than the lines in your palms. If you hold speed and cut between the outer channel markers, you might beat the worst of it. The systemâs moving in fast â but not fast enough to make you fold early. Not if you donât have to.
Besides, thereâs only one round trip left back home. The radar isnât red yet. The pressureâs dropping, but the waterâs still got give in it. Dad made worse calls in tighter windows.
So you stay the course.
Pushing until everything starts pushing back.
The ferry bounces over a swell so hard you almost lose your grip on the wheel, rattling the life preservers along the wall with a thwack loud enough to echo inside your skull. Water sprays white across the decks, and something about the sound makes your bones ache. For a moment, you swear you can taste seaweed. Feel the drag of sea lines on your wrists, rough as rope burn.
But you catch yourself. Stabilize your footing, hands steady on the wheel, leaning into the rise and fall as they taught you in driving school all those years ago. The first day your father stood beside you and showed you how to balance the revs and the brakes on this machine, how to feel each part working together to drive, how it wasn't about forcing the craft, but guiding it with trust â itâs all muscle memory.
Trust the machine. Trust your gut. Trust your judgment.
So you do. And you guide. Until the storm arrives. Until the weather begins to roll in dark as tar â resentful black clouds, brindled with light, coiling together as if building, brewing, churning in unison above. Eerything then becomes curtained with rain and water, a shower splintering against the ferry roof. Sheets of water cut across the deck is a fog obscuring everything further than a foot away. Wind batters against the sides of the hull, shrieking louder and louder every minute, whistling shrill through every seam and corner and vent, and by now the ocean is actively trying to shove this boat off the face of the earth.
Everything turns sideways for one split second, and your heartbeat almost rips out of your throat, and when the ship steadies itself it takes several painful heartbeats of thinking I fucked up, I fucked up before you regain equilibrium and resume steering.
Everything starts to make sense.Â
Raf had been strange from the moment you showed up this morning â clingy, louder than usual, almost pacing the cove. He kept making pup noises at the tide, splashed too close to shore while you suited up, and refused to go too far in the open water â his favorite thing was to drag you out further before. When you finally entered the water, he didnât dart ahead the way he usually does. He hovered, brushed against you, circled you so tightly you had to push him off just to move forward.
You didnât think much of it. You were too busy rereading texts, too busy spiraling over group photos and inside jokes and what-the-hell-was-he-thinking-by-showing-up.
Rafâs insistence was a complication you didnât have room for when youâd been already feeling stifled enough. Even underwater, he kept doubling back to check on you, tapping your hip with his nose, making strange high-pitched whines that only made you more irritated.
When you got out, he followed you up the hill, paralleling you from the sea. Right up the ramp. Flopped against the loading zone and refused to budge, and not in the usual cute way. He clung to your boot when you tried to walk. Grabbed the hem of your jacket and yanked. Made noises so loud and pitiful that a couple tourists pulled out their phones to call wildlife protection. They thought he was hurt.
You shoved him back toward the cove and joked that he was a diva â a barnacle, a stage-five clinger.
He bit Elias when the poor old guy tried to help nudge him off the deck.
You didnât look him in the eye when you closed the gate. Didnât even wave, muttering something about spoiled animals and going inside. Because you had a job. Because you were on the schedule. Figuring out how to phrase it, how to make ferry work sound intentional, how to talk about staying without admitting you failed to leave. You practiced the words, hoping the right ones would dull the sting.
You didnât notice how restless he went in the way he took the lead once the engine started.
You didnât want to.
You'd practically ignored him the entire day for being annoying. To entertain the idea he was like that because he sensed the incoming weather... but you were too wrapped up in the reunion and your own spiraling thoughts to notice what he was trying to tell you. He knew something was coming â youâre sure of it now â and you hadnât listened.
Too busy nursing your own useless grief.
And now youâre the only one out on the water when the storm decides to bite, regret and fear coiling around each other snakes in the pit of your stomach. The poor little man must be terrified wherever he's hiding. You hope he's tucked away safely somewhere sheltered and cozy, not roaming around trying to find you and ending up hurt or lost or trapped. If something horrible happened to him during this storm, it would be all your fault.
And now, as the radio crackles to life, a sharp burst splinters through the chaos, and all those words ash-scatter.
"âaydayâdayâfishing boatâtowardâDevilâs Teethârepeat, Devâno poweâcanât steerâ"
It cuts out, sharp as a snapped line.
Your handâs already moving. Mic in hand before the words even sink in. "Copy, how many aboard?"
Nothing. Just static, thin and needling, buzzing against your skin.
Your heart doesnât lurch. It drops clean and heavy, straight into the pit of your stomach.
You flick your eyes to the GPS. The rocks are close â less than a kilometer to starboard. But you donât need the chart to tell you that. You can already see them, those serrated black silhouettes clawing up from the water ribs punched through the oceanâs skin.
The Devilâs Teeth. The name alone carries some horror. They donât forgive. Sharp enough to sheer a hull clean if you come at them wrong, but deceptive enough to trick even seasoned sailors into thinking theyâre safe.
Above the water, they jut out like gap-toothed palisades â almost orderly, almost safe. From a distance, they seem to mark a clear path, multiple narrow channels that promise passage. But beneath the surface, the truth spreads wide and uneven, masked by the shifting tide, what looks navigable from above is a maze fanning out is a hidden reef below, disguised by the illusion of space, a trap waiting to splinter anything that trusts too easily.
Now, you watch from the waterboarded windshield as the ocean breaks against them sideways, spray exploding into the air in fractured bursts, mist swirling breath from something alive and restless. Youâve seen them before. Too close once, from a rescue boat.
You know the pattern they form, the way they beckon, offering what looks to be safe passage only to tear apart anything foolish enough to trust it. And you know the names of the people theyâve taken.
You flick the comms again, voice tighter now, a thread of instinct winding tight in your chest, tugging you toward the danger. "Any vessel transmitting, identify yourself.â
The wind shrieks through the cracks, high and thin, something caught between teeth. Water lashes the glass, streaking down in frantic rivulets as the ferry pitches harder, the deck groaning with the weight of the sea.
Your breath catches as you scan the horizon, nothing but the vertical outlines of the Devilâs Teeth. Black knives from the churn. For one terrible moment, everything slows. The sea draws back, coiling, holding its power just a beat too long. Waiting.
And then it breaks.
You move, but itâs not a choice. Itâs reflex tangled with terror, the wheel wrenching in your hands as the ferry shudders beneath you. The shift is too sharp, the hull protesting with a low, gut-deep moan as it fights the turn. Your muscles burn, braced against the pull as the deck tilts hard, balance slipping for half a heartbeat. The bow dips â just a fraction â before you correct, knuckles losing color where they grip the wheel.
The spray blinds you for a moment, mist shearing across the windshield. But you blink, steady, locked on the path that doesnât exist but has to be there. The space between those treacherous spires where, if youâre off by even a meter, the sea will swallow everything.
Raf knew. He tried to tell you. Fuck, you hope heâs not out here. Heâs too much of a smart cookie for that, but still, you hope to god heâs safe.
The comms hiss softly, a broken thread of sound lost in the roar that fills the wheelhouse.
"âadriftâcanâtâholdâtaking on waterâdrifting tâengines areâ"
Static. Again.
But you donât need to hear it. The truth is already laid bare on the horizon.
Your eyes are locked on the shape just beyond, the battered fishing boat barely holding its own against the waves. A thing too small for this weather, its hull pitching wildly, the wind tossing it like itâs a toyboat in a childâs pool.
You flick the comms again, voice tight. "Vessel approaching Devilâs Teeth, do you copy? Repeat, do you copy? I need the status of anyone aboard!"
The answer is silence, thick and pressing.
But the sea answers instead.
Each wave shoves the boat closer to the rocks, their sharp edges barely visible between the peaks of the swells. You can make out three figures, barely, blurred shapes clinging to the railing, fighting against the chaos, one at the bow, steady but strained, another near the stern, slower, unsteady.
And the thirdâ
A hollow space where someone should be.
"Shit," you breathe, throat tight.
You throttle down, the ferry groaning as the engine strains against the push of the current. The bow swings wide, cutting across the waves, too close but angled just right to shield the smaller boat from the worst of the wind. The wheel vibrates in your grip, the metal cold and damp, the pulse in your fingertips matching the beat of the sea.
The deck is bobbing harsher under your boots as you cut the engine to idle. A deep, unsettling quiet follows, the kind that means the sea is holding its breath.
You shove the throttle down, setting the engine to idle, the ferry rocking in protest as it fights against the churning sea. You canât leave it drifting for long, but thereâs no choice now.
The door to the deck slams open under your hand, wind tearing through as if the sea itself is trying to conquer its way inside. Salt spray slices across your face, cold and biting, nails and claws of an animal trying to get you. You barely register the sting. Your focus is on the deck below, where the equipment locker sits by the stairs. The rope should be there.
You swing down the short, steep steps, boots skidding slightly as the ferry shifts beneath you. The locker groans as you yank it open, cold metal biting into your fingertips. The ropeâs there, coiled tight, damp and heavy.
You haul it out, the weight dragging at your arms as you push back up to the deck, boots pounding on slick metal, breath burning in your throat. The rope is rough and solid in your hands, the damp fibers biting into your palms as you step toward the railing, eyes locked on the men still fighting the sea.
"Line! Now!" Your voice barely carries, but the men on deck move. One of them, older, face lined with years of fighting the ocean, catches your eye, and you know you can trust him with this. He knows. He moves fast and nimble as you toss the line, and he hauls hard, pulling the boat closer inch by inch.
The younger man beside him fumbles, hands trembling as he secures the line, but his eyes are wide and fearful, darting between the shifting boats, the storm reflected in them. You can't have him slipping.
"Hold!" you shout, stepping to the edge.
The fishing boat rocks violently, a wild thing barely clinging to the world. But it holds. For now.
"Get them across!" You wave the first man forward, stretching your hand. His grip is iron, calloused and cold, and he hauls himself over with a grunt. The second follows, shaky but determined. His boots slip, but you grab his arm, steadying him as he clambers onto the ferry.
"One more!" The older manâs voice is barely audible over the wind. He pointsâ
And you see him.
Near the stern. Slumped, half-draped over the edge. Too still.
"Iâm going." Your words are lost in the chaos, but youâre already moving.
The wind slams into you the moment you step across, boots slipping on slick metal. You grab the railing, knuckles white, muscles straining as you pull yourself onto the listing deck. The world tilts beneath your feet, the boat rocking harder as if it knows itâs losing.
"Come on," you mutter, heart pounding.
Heâs heavier than he looks. Deadweight. His clothes soaked through, dragging with seawater. Your fingers slip against the slick fabric as you grip his arm, muscles screaming as you try to pull him up.
"Help!" You barely need to say it. The older man is there, hands grabbing the manâs other arm. Together, you drag him inch by inch toward safety. The wind howls, the sea pushing harder, trying to reclaim him.
Youâre so close.
"Almost there," you breathe, arms burning with the weight.
The manâs head lolls, his breath warm against your neck, but itâs faint. You brace, dragging harder, the metal beneath your boots slick and treacherous. Every muscle in your body screams for relief, but you hold on.
"You hang on, girl!" The older man shouts, his voice raw, but the younger one is there now too, reaching to grab the manâs collar and help.
"Iâve got himâ" You donât finish. The deck tiltsâ
The ferry shiftsâ
And the wave hits.
Itâs not a push. Itâs a blow. A force that tears you off balance, rips your grip from the man, and sends you weightless for a heartbeat before the world crashes back in. Or, you crash into the world. It resembles falling on solid ground from considerable height, except that it swallows you right up.
Cold.
Needles slip beneath your skin, knifing past layers of wool and overalls until nothing is left but frost-bright pain. Nothing blazes brighter, burns colder; the sea owns it all, every sensation, every heartbeat, every flicker of memory, snuffing them out one by one until all that remains is fear. Cold, bone-deep, blinding fear that has you kicking and flailing.
The water wants you. It pulls without pity, claws without remorse, wrenches without warning. Everything happens at once: pressure and chaos, liquid ice tearing at your lips and choking down your throat. The current twists around you, a tangle of unrelenting hands dragging you deeper even as you fight.
Down. And down. Until light bleeds away, dissolving like ink in water.
Something flashes just outside your blurring visionâ
Then something elseâ
And anotherâ
Infinitesimal silver glints cut through the dark. Shifting shadows dart between the pinpricks of pale light as shapes coalesce above. Thin silhouettes slice through the dark, through the gloom as you fall farther from safety. The pressure builds, crushing against your skull, a terrible humming filling your ears as if the entire ocean is singing an ode to your demise. Your chest begins convulsing fiercely, throat contracting in response as you begin thrashing around, lungs on fire and desperate for oxygen. Drowning in the sea, alone, terrified and hopeless, primal instincts demanding you do everything you can to stay alive, struggling uselessly to kick upwards towards the surface.
Wherever that is.
You reach upward desperately with a lone hand, vision having tunneled from lack of oxygen and panic combined. In that brief moment, something soft brushes the tips of your fingers. Like... fur...?
There's no way to know. Darkness has already consumed your consciousness, the struggle to survive giving away to oblivion and acceptance the moment your lungs breathe in water.
          Singing.
Somebody has been singing to you.
Nearby. Simple, wordless, a melody winding slowly through the haze. Notes rise and fall around you â lavender smoke, crocheting your consciousness together bit by bit. You think maybe the song sounds familiar, that you could remember how it goes if only you could focus enough. As it is, your pulse stirs in time with the tune, waking limbs that were limp and numb as they thaw, muscles flexing as if remembering the shape of themselves.
Warmth comes first. Gentle heat kissing along the edges of your senses before bleeding inward in honeyed tendrils. Softness next: fur beneath your chin, blankets pulled tight across your chest.
The quiet of snowfall settles around you after that, muffling, easing, cushioning every inch of you as reality drifts into your awareness.
Everything returns in increments: salt crusted to your lips, drenched clothes wrapped around your frame, a layer of sodden clay. Beneath you: sand. Matted to the backs of your arms, your calves, the hollow of your throat. Behind your shuttered eyelids, sunlight filters softly. Red glow, distant orange. Sunglow, the color of melting copper. There is sky above you and beach below, but most importantly â there is breathing inside you again, each exhale shuddering as your pulse struggles toward normalcy, softly but surely.
Slowly, ever so gradually, you pry your eyelids open.
A canopy of branches, feather-soft green interspersed with golden brown, stretch overhead in a gentle dome. The bark glistens in the morning light, sticky still from the previous storm. Below the shelter, sand stretches outward in a sweep of endless shoreline, punctuated only by tufts of grass and gnarled driftwood that form a natural barricade from any casual passerby. The tide ebbs gently just past that barricade, washing fizzy seafoam high up the shoals before sliding back out lazily in a smooth curl, and further still, the horizon stretches â spun cotton candy, pink on blue, melted into haze at the edges, mingling seamlessly with the sky. And you're tucked carefully among the roots of one of those great trees, cradled and swaddled by the same fur-coated bundle your cheek is pillowed on, wrapped protectively in its embrace and held secure.
It takes your brain a full minute of groggily attempting to piece together these strange details before you realize there's a figure in the water, maybe twenty feet out, half-shrouded by the hush of early light.
Your brain coming back to you is akin to hitting the floor after falling for some time. You flinch. Sit up too fast.
A tangle of dark gray, thick hide spills from your shoulder, pooling in the crooks of your elbows. You shove it off with a gasp, limbs sluggish but panicked, fingers catching in the strange texture. It hits the ground with a muted thump, heavy as wet rope but somehow dry and fluffy at the same time. The cold hits you immediately then, skin pebbling beneath the cling of soaked denim and wool and the frigid touch of salt wind. A full body shudder grips you, hard, teeth rattling in your skull, blood singing through your veins faster.
But not even that kind of cold is enough to distract you from the sight before you.
Thereâs a person waist-deep in the shallows, facing the sun.
Long hair drips like spun violet ink down a narrow back, plastered in curling sheets to sharp, bare shoulders. You've never seen natural hair that long in your life, it trails all the way down her body to fan out against the waves, streaming in shimmering bands over the crests of each swell, lit gold in the early sun. She tilts her head back to face the dawn fully, and you can only see the barest hint of her profile from the angle, the delicate slope of nose, the lushness of parted lips. Thereâs something arresting about the stillness of her, the way the sea seems to hush around her body. A statue the tide forgot to reclaim.
For a breathless, silent moment, she simply stands there, perfectly balanced, completely undisturbed, arms spread at her sides as if greeting the daybreak directly, skin glittering in the light, slick with seawater andâ
A scar. A slash across one side of her shoulder, pale even against her skin tone, stretched tight as though dug deep enough to make bone.
Huh, you absentmindedly think. I think it's the same side as Raf's?
You break out of your trance with a loud gasp with the thought of your seal friend, which causes her to whirl around to face you, startled and wide-eyed.
Which brings another revelation. The person in question is a man, not a woman.
Skinny dipping, at that.
Your brain catches up to your eyes in a rush of static and shock. This is a Family Feud moment.
Name something a burglar would not wanna see when he breaks into a house.
The contestant yelling it with his whole chest. Naked grandma!
Naked HUH?
The buzzer in your head goes off.
Question: Whatâs the last thing a girl wants to see when waking up alone on an unfamiliar beach after falling unconscious?
Answer: Naked man.
You make a strangled noise and scramble back so fast the pelt half-slides off you, and at the same time, sharp pain lances through your right side, turning the motion into more of a hunch than a duck and roll. The sudden flare knocks what little breath is left out of your lungs, knocking sense back into you in the process.
Wait, what happened? Why does it hurt?
"Easy! Easy." The naked dude darts forward through the surf without missing a beat, water splashing everywhere with his hurried strides. The sound of his approaching footsteps makes you instinctively curl inward, arms hugging tight around your midsection while wincing. You don't look up, mostly out of embarrassment, and your thoughts immediately go brrrr when you become hyper aware of the fact you're definitely going to see things you won't be able to unsee. "You'll bleed again if you keep squirming like that! All my hardwork's gonna go to waste!"
You flail one arm between the two of you in a futile barrier while the other cradles where the injury is, still keeping your face down and staring down furiously at the ground to avoid looking anywhere higher than knee level. "Ah-ah-ah! Stop, stop!â
The sloshing of jogging doesnât stop.
âJust â man, don't charge at me, I don't know you!"
He stops short as though you've thrown a rock at him, legs cutting off mid-stride with a chaotic splash. For one blessed second, all is still again â except for the water lapping at his shins and your pulse banging against your teeth.
Then, a noise.
A half-choked sound that might be a laugh. Or a cough. He doesnât come any closer. Just stands there, suspended mid-motion, your words having pinned him in place. The water stills around his legs. The surf hesitates, then draws back with a hush. You're still locked on a particularly blurry patch of sand wet with the red of your congealed blood like your life depends on it, but you hear the the tiny inhale that catches weird in his throat, and the breeze picks up with a stutter again.
He erupts worse than a volcano all of a sudden. âYouâre joking! What? You donât know me? You donât know me? After everything â you just made me go through, thatâsââ
ââa very reasonable response!â you shoot back, your voice high in octave, blood rushing so rapidly to your head that youâre not even comprehending properly.
âWow,â he says, all affronted drama and wounded pride in one breath. âIt's not like I'm gonna eat you. Humans aren't even safe for consumption anyway!"
"Whoa-hohâ" you start, but he steamrolls over you before you can properly get a word in.
Thereâs the wet slap of a foot shifting in the surf, heralding that heâs gearing up for a rant. âMost people say thank you, you know. Or âhey, cool of you to make sure I didnât die horriblyââ"
"You're naked, random guy!" you shout hoarsely, throwing out a pathetic arm to shield you from any and all compromising views. This is the politest way you could have put it. The next best thing was to shout, 'Don't come near me with your dick out.' Which. Yeah.
An awkward pause follows the admission, thick enough to make you glance up before thinking twice about it. You get a flash of purple before you look away once more, clutching the strange gray fur to yourself as some sort of feeble shield.
"âder why," he mumbles, more to himself than anything else.
"Excuse me?"
He deadpans, stopping just short. âI said, so now youâre body-shaming the guy who literally rescued you from certain death?â
âIâm shame-shaming the fact that youâre approaching me with your â your â entire situation out in the open!â
"You have my pelt," he says, with almost childlike seriousness, expecting you to be able to read his mind from the tone of his statement alone.
"Uh, okay?" you respond articulately, weirded out by how the conversation was lacking common sense. "What does that have to do with your clothes?"
This time, the quiet stretches out like taffy.
âI want you on the other side of this damn island if youâre an exhibitionist, I swear to god donât think for a second Iâm not capable ofââ
âI am not!â The way his voice changes pitches has to be studied. âHave you lost your mind in the ocean? I canât believe youâd suggest such a thing after everything Iâve done for youââ
You tune out his yapping. Yeah, this isn't getting anywhere. You're stranded on an island with a man you don't know, politely asking him to put his penis away, which, he won't get the hint for some reason and making it a 'I am who I am,' moment. Do you have to yell "Pervert!" at this guy for him to get a move on? Things couldn't get more absurd.
You rub your forehead wearily and groan in defeat. Is there something ironic about this exchange? Because you sure feel there should be something ironic here. There is probably supposed to be a joke somewhere here. The universe loves to deliver them in bundles.
An idea strikes you.
"Here, hold on," you say, shakily standing up while keeping your face diverted elsewhere. Your side does hurt, but the burn doesn't stretch as bad as when you felt it at first. "Just... turn around, please. No sudden moves."
"No sudden moves?" He answers with audible skepticism, the shuffling on the sand giving away his complying after a moment. The nervous waver in his words does manage to placate you somewhat. An exhibitionist wouldn't act this way. âIâm turning my back to you. How am I gonna know what youâre doing? For all I know, you could be ogling me with your squidlike human eyes, which, mind you, I wouldnât blame you forââ
God, he loves the sound of his own voice, doesnât he?
Muting him out once more, you pick up the fur coat blanket thing from its dropped position with an audible, "Hup!" It's bulky in your grip, almost too thick to lift, yet remarkably light at the same time â trying to pick up water without getting wet.
ââIâve been told Iâm distractingly shapely in the flesh, but I didnât exactly wake up today planning to be admired in the wild. And itâs not even my best side, you know? My shoulders are uneven. I think. They used to be non-existentââ
You're in no position to be in awe right now though, so you brush off all possible questions concerning the bizarre phenomenon until later. With as much caution as you can muster, you raise it up like a curtain until the only part you can see of the man is his luscious hair, and start walking up to him.
ââNot that Iâm implying anything. You are not the ogling type. Then again, I once trusted a cormorant and it stole my entire lunch while I was mid-swim, so what do I know? Iâm just out here, my back wide open, accosted, and trying very hard not to hold a grudgeââ
Then, you drape the cloak of fluffiness onto his shoulders in the gentlest manner you could possibly afford, avoiding touching his skin. The pelt closes around his back, reminiscent of the wings of a giant bird closing protectively, encasing him from neck down to calves. A gasp slips out of him. So small you might've missed it if you hadn't been holding your breath, waiting for any negative reaction.
His own hands come up to pull the flaps snugly closed, then he slowly looks over one shoulder at you with such stunned wide-eyed silence you almost want to crack a smile at him, but promptly freeze in place as soon as you lock gazes.
Not only does he have the most enticing eyes you've ever seen with vertical heterochromia transitioning from blue to pink like a bi-color tourmaline, but he has such an attractive facial structure that is both masculine and delicate all in the same breath it punches all of your buttons in one go and oh god â it is so not helping this entire situation. This stranger is the epitome of beauty. Handsome face and lovely features and soft bone structures and everything you didn't expect from a random naked dude on a beach you couldn't recognize as a local.
And the hair. You'd seen it from afar already but... it reminds you of strands of ashen lavender blossoms dripping with morning dew, wet waviness disappearing underneath the collar of the pelt. You'd kill to have this Rapunzel hair. It's unfair how a manâ
You snap back to attention with a hard blink as the initial shock wears off.
"There you go, now I wonât get flashed," you exhale with obvious relief, trying to will yourself to act casually so you don't seem weird to the stranger who probably saved your life.
His head tilts, just barely. Long strands of wet hair slip over his shoulder as he stares down at the pelt wrapped around him â your handiwork. The fur shifts slightly under his touch, and he goes very still, watching it settle again. You wonder what heâs waiting for.
âYou gave it back to me,â he says.
The words come out soft, a little too careful for something so simple. He looks at you, expecting the world to shift around what he just said. Heâs silently saying this should mean something to you, too â but it doesnât. And that mismatch only deepens the quiet between you.
You blink.
He lifts the edge of the fur in his hands, shaking it, then looks at you like the answer should be obvious.
A pause. âRight,â you say slowly. âAnd⌠thatâs important to note because?â
He shifts his weight, brows drawing together in a look thatâs too serious for the situation. âYou couldâve kept it.â
"Wet as my clothes are, you need it more than I do.â
He is surprisingly docile and red in the face now that he has something on for modesty and canât quite look you in the eye. The tips of his fingers peeking from all the fur in his grip are fidgety.
You give a wry grimace before remembering the manners Dad always told you to have around new acquaintances. "Yeah, um â uh, thanks. For saving my life.â
You tell him your name, and bow your head a bit in acknowledgment. His shoulders pull in tight at the sudden gesture of goodwill â though you aren't quite sure why â but relax after a breath as he meets your stare squarely, searching for something. The intensity throws you off balance; those odd and piercing mismatched shades fixed solely on you make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end in both curious and fearful wonderment.
"And you are...?"
"Oh," he says, as if the question took him off guard, too. One hand comes up to brush through damp locks. Almost self-conscious, if the look on his face is anything to go by. Thereâs some sort of a faraway look in his eyes. "Raf â Rafayel."
"Were you the third guy on the fishing boat, Rafayel?" You recall that last crew member was slumped half overboard and passed out, prompting the rescue attempt that sent you both to sea in the first place. If Rafayel was wearing his pelt when you attempted to pull him up, the added weight could have been a factor in tipping both of you over. You find it's all a blur in your memory, though, and suppress a shudder. "Did you fall with me orâ"
A shadow passes over his features as quickly as the changing tides. When he speaks, though, it's measured, almost cautious. "Yeah, Iâ" He pauses, shakes his head. Locks those impossibly colored eyes on you again, bright in the early morning light. "How are you feeling, though? Still hurts?"
"My side feels bruised like I was elbowed in the ribs but besides being chilled to the bone from falling into the ocean, I'm alright," you supply honestly. "I saw the blood on the sand, though. It feels unreal that I'm up and about right now. How can a scrape bleed that much?"
Rafayel's mouth goes flat as a line, looking you up and down with a concerning intensity deepening his tone. "You're lucky I was able to pull you back from the worst of it."
Shallow as it is, your wound isn't even dressed, but you decide not to engage in a conversation about the technicalities, patting him on the arm once in thanks and walking around him to get out of the forest line's shadow.
The beach stretching wide and strange before you is a postcard you donât remember collecting. The sand is darker than you're used to, siltier, almost gray, and littered with glinting shells you donât recognize, long and spiraled in augers, brittle as glass. Pale reeds jut from the shore at uneven angles, hissing faintly in the breeze, and the driftwood here is stripped bare, almost white, tangled in patterns that look too intentional for nature.
The water itself is clear, almost iridescent, casting strange reflections across the shallows, warped ripples that shimmer pink and green, an oil slick pretending to be pretty. And further out, offshore, strange half-drowned statue-shaped stones loom out of the surf.
You know this archipelago better than most, its coastlines and hidden inlets, the soft-bellied coves that tourists miss, having traced its map with your own hands, ferry lines, rock clusters, the way sandbanks shift after storms. Usually, it takes you seconds to place yourself. A curve in the shoreline, a type of dune grass, the slope of a treeline, something always gives it away.
But this place doesnât register. No matter how long you stare, it refuses to sort itself into something known. The landscapeâs been scrubbed clean of every tell youâre trained to read.
The most logical possibility is Seolhwineâs Hook â the island nearest to the Devilâs Teeth. That makes the most sense, right? You were heading back when the squall hit, and itâs the only one close enough for a current to drag you to overnight, and for Rafayel to be able to swim with you. But even then⌠even that doesnât feel right. Youâve docked at Seolhwineâs before. This doesnât match.
âI hate to say it but... Do you know where we are?â you ask finally, turning to him.
"My aunt's," he answers with a straight face.
You pause mid-shiver, your brain tripping over the simplicity of the statement.
You give him the flattest look you can afford, eyebrows lifting slowly. The pelt is clutched too high at his chest, his fingers wound tight in the fabric, you think he might be afraid of dropping it, though it doesnât seem he notices heâs doing it. You canât tell if heâs being deliberately evasive or if he genuinely thinks this is the helpful version of an answer.
"What?"
"Look, Iâm all for jokes usually, but right now I need an actual place name â not just that your aunt lives here. Iâm cold, Iâm tired, and I just want to figure out how to get homeâ"
"It's my aunt's island."
You blink. Once. Twice. The explanation hangs in the air, weirdly self-satisfied. And itâs not satisfactory at all. Not even close.
Whatâs with the serene confidence of someone stating the color of the sky, as if âmy auntâsâ is a perfectly normal answer to what island are we on? As if those two words magically orient you on a map?
You wait for more. Anything. The punchline. The name. Even a smirk. But thereâs nothing.
Is he joking? Is this some elaborate bit? Or does he genuinely think thatâs helpful?
The frustration in you sharpens. Youâve had to deal with flaky locals and clueless tourists and broken ferries before, but your patience is thinning by the second. Youâre exhausted, still damp, still bleeding a little, and now stuck playing twenty questions with the worldâs most uncooperative pretty boy.
"My auntâs island."
He says it again, but thereâs a slight shift in tone â firmer. He's correcting you. Thinks youâre the one being slow. And somehow, that makes it worse.
You stare at him. This time longer. He looks so damn earnest about it, truly believes heâs given you a helpful answer. Itâs not smug. Itâs not sarcastic. Itâs not even deliberately vague to give away heâs fucking with you just to be a tease. Itâs literal. Painfully, infuriatingly literal.
Youâre trying to get directions from a very impatient child who only answers exactly what you ask and nothing else. Nuance is definitely a foreign language he never got taught.
But something tugs at the edge of your thoughts.
Because as stupid as it sounds â and it does sound stupid â itâs not impossible.
You look around again, really look this time, and you realize somethingâs been bothering you since you first stood up. Itâs too pristine. Too quiet. Thereâs no old trailhead, no ferry dock, no graffiti-scuffed boulder where kids have carved hearts. No signs. No fishhooks, no cigarette butts. Just wind, tide, trees.
It clicks.
Theyâre marked on the maps youâve seen, but only just. Annotated with little circles and names like SH-07 or East Ellinor. Places people like you arenât supposed to go. Places the ferry routes steer around.
Youâve never been to one. Youâve never had a reason to. The people who owned them had their own transport, their own staff, their own little worlds with locked docks and private everything.
Thatâs why you didnât recognize it. Itâs not not on the map. Itâs just never been part of your map.
You exhale, slow. Let the realization settle.
"So you're saying this is one of the private islands."
Rafayelâs brows lift in vague approval and he nods fervently. "Yes! That. Exactly. It's very private."
You rub your forehead, as if thatâll push the absurdity back into place.
Of course it is. Of course you almost drowned and then washed up on a privately owned island like some shipwrecked stray. Of course the first person you meet is a socially weird, mostly-naked man claiming ownership through familial inheritance like itâs a perfectly casual thing to drop.
You stare up at the sky for a moment, trying to piece together how the hell you even got here.
None of the private islands are anywhere near the Devilâs Teeth â most of them are tucked deep in the inner chain, clustered where the waterâs calmer and the currents donât rip you sideways. But this? This place isnât close to any of that. You were unconscious, but you remember the storm. You remember going overboard, water in your lungs, panic in your throat, and then nothing. Blackout.
But you werenât alone.
Rafayel said he pulled you out. Which means he swam you here.
You glance at him again, still draped in that ridiculous pelt and giving you weird pointed looks conveying that he wants to tell you something so bad. He doesnât look winded enough for someone who hauled another body through open water during a storm. But if he did â if thatâs how you got here â then he swam farther than you can make sense of. And maybe lost his clothes in the process. Somehow the latter makes more sense compared to the hypothetical that precedes it.
You were near open sea. This doesnât add up. Even if he unexpectedly took you somewhere else than Seolhwine's, it just happening to be his aunt's private island is no coincidence.
You look back at him, more confused than before.
"Come," he says softly, extending his hand toward you with palm upward. "I'll take you to her. We'll help you get home. I promise."
A dozen different responses crowd your tongue as you stare down at his offered hand. All the questions rattling between your ears, each booking it for your lips faster than the next. None make it far. Suspicion should be there, but your instincts are unresponsive. They donât find anything worth questioning about the situation despite the red flags.
Sure, maybe a weird randomly naked guy saved your life, brought you to a secret beach that doesnât look on any travel maps, and claims to have ties with some rich aunt that owns the whole damn thing...
But he isn't dangerous.
You know that fact unequivocally. Call it a hunch, maybe? Gut intuition. It makes no sense considering your rational side has zero interest in jumping through hoops to trust the random person that literally dragged you out of the ocean to the least convenient place he ever could â but then again, life tends to toss the strangest circumstances and situations your way whenever you least expect it.
What matters most is getting back home, your parents have to be dying of worry â a search party must be out there wasting resources. Having someone who seems oddly comfortable on the island lead you directly to shelter would certainly speed things along.
"Hey," he gently adds when you're quiet for too long, breaking the train of thought running rampant inside your mind. The softness in his tone brings your attention back to him entirely, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
He offers his hand a little higher, which draws your focus back on it with curious clarity. How smooth it lookd, even from this distance, perfect nails without a single scratch or imperfection, fingers delicate, elegant bones visible under the pale skin. "I just want to help. You're safe with me. I wonât hurt you."
You stare at his hand, then at his face, then back again. The tone is soft, the words gentle, but something about it scratches at the back of your brain. The kind of voice usually reserved for nervous animals crouched under porches. Any second now, he might start whistling and offer a treat.
Though the weird phrasing shouldn't work its weird magic on you, it does. Maybe because it sounds so nostalgic and familiar in a way that it invokes a sense of safety in you? Or maybe because you're tired, soaked to the bone, bleeding lightly still, and sore all over and this guy seems too nice to be anything less than honest?
Perhaps both. Probably both. You really have no business trusting strangers who wear big pelt blankets instead of actual clothing and give basic information away akin to some kind of social anxiety sufferer with performance issues, yet here you are, contemplating on the idea of taking his hand.
What the hell, you think eventually. Sure. What alternative is there? If the worst comes to pass, you intend to make him have one less limb to his name â it would be his own fault for walking around like a Resident Evil nude mod. How did that one text post go? Boy put that boaner away lest a sloppy little critter grabs hold of it.
But youâre not that sure what kind of answer you expected when you ask him where youâre headed, but he doesnât so much point as let his hand drift outward, loose and imprecise â more communion than instruction, as though the land might whisper the route if you stand still long enough. He plants himself in the emptiness with the ease of someone whoâs never needed a map, naming vague landmarks with the casual grace of someone expecting the road to rise just because heâs ready to walk it.
As someone who has mastered the art of minding your own business, you donât call out this behavior. As long as he gets you someplace you can call help from, Rafayel is free to be a weirdo.
But you do press him for information.
âShe has lavender near the steps, and her door is the color of the sea,â he offers, like that narrows it down. âThe path smells of sage sometimes, if the windâs right. And thereâs a stone shaped like a sleeping dog near the turn â you have to squint a little. The house groans when itâs too warm. Thereâs a wind chime that only rings when someone she doesnât like shows up. And the garden gate bites if you donât know how to open it.â
Not helpful. But then he refuses to add anything else more along the lines of fucking common sense and normal people direction-giving. What does he expect, the scent alone pulling you in the right direction if you just walk long enough?
And maybe he's right. Maybe you're the weird one for expecting something as formal as an address out here. If this really is a private island, there might only be one house. Maybe 'lavender and a blue door' is all anyone needs. Maybe people out here remember things by the curve of the land and the way the air smells after rain.
It isnât a real plan. Itâs the shape of a promise, just strange enough to follow, just vivid enough to believe in for a little while. The way he speaks about it, thereâs no room for doubt, and youâve learned to believe in the word of a local in all your years of living around the archipelago.
So you follow.
The pelt shifts when he moves, catching bits of drift and sand, trailing slightly as he walks beside you through the underbrush. He doesnât shiver, unlike you. And that makes sense, considering how warm and cozy you were when that thing was your blanket when you first woke up.
The morning light hasnât yet burned the fog from the trees, and the forest path ahead is dappled in grey. Your boots sink into the softened moss with a squelch. His bare feet barely make a sound, but your skin does hear something because of your wet socks.
You glance sideways at him. No wince, no flinch, not even when he steps straight on a gnarled root that would have you cursing in three languages.
âSeriously?â you mutter. âYou donât even feel that?â
âIâve walked stranger paths,â he says. Great.
You stop walking with a groan. The wind catches your soaked clothes, cutting straight through to the bone. Your arms are already shaking.
âOkay. New plan.â
He watches as you crouch in front of him, back turned.
You look over your shoulder with an encouraging gesture for him, âClimb on.â
He tilts his head. âHuh?â
âPiggyback. You're barefoot, this path is hell, and I'm freezing. Carrying weight warms you up.â
âAbsolutely not.â
âYou're not that heavy, and Iâve hauled crates bigger than you off ferries for years. So. Just. Climb on.â
He makes a strangled noise. âI didnât learn bipedalism just to be carried like a pup by you!â
Such drama. There really is no time for this and youâre not in the mood for negotiations.
You grab one of his wrists and tug it over your shoulder. His entire hand twitches in response. âIf it makes you feel better, this is entirely me being selfish. I want to get warm.â
He hesitates, and itâs not pride, he keeps glancing at your side, where the torn side of your turtleneck still clings damp and darkened. His hands hover like he might stop you.
âYouâre not healed,â he mutters. âNot properly.â
You hitch his arm higher on your shoulder. âItâs fine.â
âThat woundâs still raw.â
âSo are my fingers. Cold does that.â
He makes a frustrated noise.
âListen, enough with courtesy stuff, okay? I donât care, Iâm freezing,â you cut in. âAnd you donât have shoes. Weâre both going to be miserable either way, so pick your poison.â
He sighs, dragging it out. Eventually, he caves, muttering something under his breath that could be an insult but could also be a compliment. He hoists himself up, arms settling uncertainly around your shoulders, pelt-covered legs bracketing your hips, and you make sure he wonât slip away from your grip because of the material. Youâre trekking along the forest in no time, feeling pleasantly distracted from the cold.
âThis is deeply undignified,â he mutters.
âAnd being inexplicably naked in front of a stranger isnât? Where and why did you lose your clothes anyway? You still havenât told.â
Thereâs no response, except from a huff he lets out from his nose, which fondly reminds you of Raf. It must be a tale particularly embarrassing for him to tell, and he did have the fur to make it up for, so you once again donât pry. Master of minding your own business.
âYeah, thatâs what I thought. Get comfortable.â
He doesnât. He sits stiffly at first, as though unsure how much weight heâs allowed to give you. Then he starts shifting. Sighing. Squirming. Grumbling under his breath about the jostling, the pace, the way your shoulder bone is probably bruising his ribs.
"You walk uneven," he complains after the first bend. "See, it hurts after all, yeah? Put me down."
"It's a forest," you grit out. "The ground walks uneven."
"I wish you would listen for once."
"That's a wasted wish on a star. You've known me for like what, fifteen minutes?"
He exhales through his nose again, slow and beleaguered. No witty answer to that one, it seems.
The longer you walk, the more he settles. His complaining slows into occasional muttering, then thoughtful silence. The forest begins to close in around you. Damp leaves brush your arms. The world smells of pine sap, wet bark, and something almost metallic beneath the rot. The silence here is dense, broken only by the soft rhythm of your boots against the ground and the occasional rustle of something unseen in the undergrowth.
Then his voice, soft and close beside your ear: âDo you name the trails you take at sea? Or are they just known to you?â
âWhat?â
âThe water routes. The ones you steer the ferry along. Do they have names?â
Heâs talking about sea lanes. Youâre about to question how he doesnât know these things, considering heâs a fisherman, but remember he might not be one. His aunt owns an island. This is a rich kid who probably wanted to fish and got the locals involved in his request.
âTheyâve got designations. Letters, numbers. Eights and alphas and things like that. But most of us just⌠call âem what we call âem.â
âLike?â
You think a moment, breath fogging in the damp air. âThereâs Shiverstretch. Thatâs the fast cold current between Dolos and Ternhook. Everyone calls it that âcause itâs a backslap to the face, especially on the morning runs. And thereâs Dead Hour Channel â no wind, no sound, just this long, empty drift. Makes you paranoid that somethingâs watching. I donât like that one.â
You feel him shift slightly on your back, listening.
âThereâs Longshout,â you add. âNamed after a guy who tried to boat through in a storm and ended up yelling for help the whole way âtil he ran aground on Fallow Reef.â
Rafayel snorts quietly. âThat one sounds personal.â
âIt is. He still works the east docks. Wonât shut up about it.â
âHow do you find your way around, then? I always wondered. Do you read the water like seals do?â
âReading the water is one way to put it, I guess. Theyâre charted. We use navigation systems. Landmarks. Depth markers.â
A pause. The trees rumble, disturbed by a sudden gust of wind, brittle leaves dropping pebbles onto the path in front of you. Rafayel shifts awkwardly behind you, almost toppling off to the left before righting himself with a steadying grip.
"Question," you say. "What indicators do you use? Chip on a tree or something?"
He whispers eventually, cheek lightly pressed against yours. You feel his eyes on you. "Smells."
You blink, twisting around to glance at him. He seems surprisingly somber all of a sudden. "Uhhh...."
"Just focus on the road, we're almost there. You'll see."
The path winds past the last of the scrub grass, and then it opens.
The trees fall away in a hush of damp leaves and saltlight, and there, cradled in the middle of the forest-clad small valley, is a sprawling, mansion of a house that doesnât quite belongs to any century in particular. Can't be called old or modern. The word youâre looking for is neo-classical architecture made to be a beach house. Pale limestone, veined and sun-bitten, gleams beneath the overcast sky. Its walls are streaked with wind-carried brine, but the stone holds strong, weathered soft rather than worn down. And there is the giveaway Rafayel was talking about: blue door.
Lavender spills along the pathway in loose drifts, unruly and fragrant, tangling with sea-thrift and clover like the garden grew itself wild. Carved wooden shutters hang half-closed against the morning chill, and a curved archway frames the entry looks the part of a half-remembered temple. Thereâs something mythic about it, a story you were almost told once. A place that holds onto memory whether you want it to or not.
And then thereâs the scent, ocean first, bright and sharp, but something warmer curling beneath it. Resin, maybe. Incense burned into the beams. Citrus oil in the wood grain.
You adjust your grip beneath Rafayelâs knees as you approach the door. Acting as a barrier between your bodies, his pelt is still slung down your back , trailing behind like a second spine, damp at the edges. He hasnât said much since the last hill. Just rested his chin between your shoulder blades and hummed, quiet as tidewash.
You reach the first step. Hesitate. The house isnât grand in the usual way, no columns, no gates, but thereâs a heaviness to it. Not unfriendly, but expectant.
You knock.
Silence falls. The melted caramel of sunlight scatters through the dark glass in the windows. Rafayel shifts on your back, going rigid so suddenly it almost jolts you. His breath stills sharply against your spine, and in that single suspended moment, you can feel the piano wire of tension strung through his bones.
You donât get the chance to ask why. Wood cracks loudly within the doorframe, and there's a pop, a groan, and then a soft, sweet creak as the lock disengages, allowing the door to slowly swing inward with an audible squeak.
The scent hits first, warm and strange. Spiced velvet, a whisper of cloves, dried orange peel, and something more ancient baked into the lintel wood. Then the figure behind it, unexpected.
For an âaunt,â she looks barely older than him. Mid-thirties, maybe, though itâs hard to tell. Her features are sharp, dignified, and her presence is a light cloud, wrapped in layered satin and lace shawl, white and lilac, all shot through with shimmer where the light catches on glinting jewelry. Her hair is swept back, rich violet and pinned with silver shells, and her eyesâ
Dusty purple brightening with shock.
âRafayel?â she breathes, her grip whitening on the frame. Her gaze darts down, takes in the sealskin clinging to your back, the way his taut arms still drape over your shoulders like iron bars. âGods, is it really you? Look, look at you! Oh... oh!"
Rafayel slides off you, and she practically throws herself out the door as soon as the initial shock wears off, taking two long steps across the threshold until she's directly in front of you, cupping his cheeks with hands that only tremble the smallest bit. He meets her halfway, tilting his forehead to rest against hers as his own hands come up to gently caress her elbows, cradling them lightly. His motions are hesitant at first â touching with clear clumsiness, as if handling glass. But the moment she exhales an astonished little laugh, something changes, he pulls her close, tightening his grasp not to let her blow away on the wind. The woman leans fully against him then, looping her arms around his neck with a relieved shudder that shakes both their frames.
And you're there, a comical stick figure at the background of a well-drawn manga panel with a big arrow pointing at you.
You hope they won't hunt you for sport. Private island. Two eerily good looking family members. Girl who got deliberately delivered there when a closer island was the most blatant option. This has the potential to be a horror movie premise.
But no. Nope. Too late. She glances past his shoulder as soon as her embrace is complete and the silent reunion done with, locking eyes with you, and your soul flees your body, trying to squeeze itself back through your pores like some furtive worm to avoid the full brunt of her curious scrutiny.
She raises one perfectly shaped brow, but before either of you can exchange any words or reactions, Rafayel says something.
You say something, because it's in a language you don't know, one that doesn't bother to make itself easy, sharp at the edges, rounded at the core. It rolls out of his mouth, mist over moorland â thick, tangled, hard to follow. The stone-teeth syllables grind against each other, but every so often, they break open into something strange and sweet, the howl of a reed pipe carried on sea wind.
It just plays into the horror movie vibe because why would he blatantly switch language to probably speak about you, judging from the glance thrown your way, as if you aren't there? Probably conspiring how to eat you! You do feel like tenderized meat.
The woman hums again, a thoughtful note this time, and the conversation carries on in murmured exchanges of tone and gesture â softness here, a flicker of frustration there. And yet you can pinpoint the exact moment everything changes. Rafayel says something. But she draws back, cups his cheeks in her hands, and stares at him hard, searching. Whatever she finds isnât enough, because she shakes her head once, firm, decisive. He asks again. Another shake, stronger this time, more insistent. Her fingers flex tight against his skin as if she means to hold him there, but he speaks again, something softer, fainter, and her hand relaxes, trembling on the edge of defeat. A faint frown crosses her face, a small downward curl that somehow turns the lines at the corner of her lips into parenthesis, closing off the shape of whatever she might have said next.
"Hey, uh," you finally intervene when their staring contest becomes too intense. They both startle, seeming to remember your existence at once. You smile nervously, holding one raised palm up in defense and nonthreatening greeting. "Sorry to interrupt, ma'am, but could I, um..." Your free hand gestures vaguely to indicate the general situation you find yourself in. "Use your phone? I don't mean to intrude or anything, I just. I got thrown over board during the storm, I don't even know if my ferry was capsized and I really, really need to get backâ"
Rafayel says something else under his breath, hasty now, almost tripping over his words.
Her brows furrow in mild concern at his rambling. "Oh dear, I apologize, yes! Do forgive me for being impolite, I forgot myself for a moment there."
You nod politely in acknowledgment of her apology, lowering your arm hesitantly. "Not a problem, it happens."
"It's been so long since our house had guests," she admits candidly, placing an elegant hand over her heart in embarrassment. "Come, come in, please, you need a hot shower and change of clothes." She takes you by the arm and guides you inside. "You're drenched! Look at those goosebumps. Oh, you poor thing."
She leads you into a grand hallway filled with golden hour sunlight spilling through windows framed by sheer white curtains billowing lazily in the breeze, and it is not unlike stepping straight into the interior design section of an expensive department store. You could smell the money dripping off every nook, cranny, wall, and corner. If your wet socks were making muddy imprints on the flooring you knew you'd pass out from mortification on the spot. The floors here look pristine and polished enough for you to see your reflection clearly on its surface. Even the vase tucked neatly into the center of a glossy dark wood console table is worth more than your boat. Everything about this mansion is clean and orderly, it must be heaven on earth for a neat freak like your dad.
"He needs clothes the most, I think," you try to joke, letting her steer you through the main hall with wide curious steps and an awestruck stare. Rafayel, wherever he is behind you two, remains silent. You think he might have disappeared somewhere.
Her grip tightens around your arm like a mother hen dragging her chick into a coop to shelter from winter, her nails lightly digging into the sleeves of your sweater with a pleasant firmness that feels strangely grounding. "Don't worry about him, you focus on getting warmed up now."
"Thanks, ummm..." you begin, hoping it's polite to ask for her name while inside her home. But before you could continue, she turns to regard you with a serene smile â so gentle and graceful she could've been sculpted from marble if it weren't for her very lively personality. She smells nice, too. Floral. Very floral. The same kind of perfume bottle your aunt kept on display near her sewing machine that you stole a few sniffs of when Grandma wasn't looking.
Her attention is summer afternoon sunbeams on your chilled skin. "You can call me Talia.â
#love and deepspace#rafayel x reader#rafayel x you#rafayel fluff#rafayel#lads rafayel x reader#lads rafayel x you#l&ds rafayel x reader#lnds rafayel x reader#lads rafayel#l&ds rafayel#lnds rafayel#lads#lnds#l&ds#qi yu#rafayel qi#qi yu x reader#rafayel lads#rafayel l&ds#rafayel love and deepspace
342 notes
¡
View notes
Text
A Battle in the Sky- jason todd x reader
cw: (778) no warnings except for imagery of shel silverstein's face on a book
a/n: did anyone else get scared by the giant photo of his (silverstein's) face on the back of books? i would genuinely be unsettled as i child lol
Š HE4DLINER on tumblr. Do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works without my permission. Do not use my ideas without credit.
youâd only been doom scrolling in bed for a bit tonight (like three hours), waiting for your boyfriend to get home. and finally.Â
âhey, baby,â came a murmured voice, followed by rough but gentle fingers stroking your head, âwhyâre you still up?âÂ
âitâs only 1.â you replied, turning over in your shared bed. âand I was waiting for you to get home.â you smiled sleepily at the large figure above you who sighed at the response. âyeah, it's one in the morning,â he snorted.
âyou should be getting a full night's sleep, baby.â jason added, glancing over his shoulder as he turned to his dresser, changing into a pair of fuzzy Robin pants. (ones that you bought him and wouldnât stop cackling about when heâd opened their box).
you retorted, âsays you,â as he removed an earring, eyes scanning over his bare torso.Â
âdonât start.â
ââŚokay.â
you watched as he roved through the giant full-wall bookshelf the two of you had. after a minute, he picked up a book and crawled back on the bed beside you.Â
âscoot, baby.â
you did, letting out a tiny grunt at having to move, but settled easily into his burly arms that quickly found themselves wrapped around your waist.Â
he gently kissed your shoulder. âbedtime story for the princess,â he murmured with a low chuckle, sending a small vibration down your back as you leaned into his chest.Â
âooh. jane eyre?â you hummed, looking up at him instead of at the book in question. ânah.â
his response prompted you to direct your eyes to the book, and you maybe you jumped slightly at the black and white photo of shel silversteinâs face printed on the back cover of it. âgonna read you my favorite poem from this one,â jason pressed another kiss to your head, nose staying in your hair for a beat. âthen itâs bedtime.â
you yawned without meaning to. ââŚalright.âÂ
âyou comfy, sweetheart?â he asked, leaning back a bit more, setting the book on the fluffy comforter for a moment to reach to the side and dim the lamp on the night table.Â
âmhm,â came your response, cheek smushed against his bare chest. ââŚyouâre so warm, jay.â
âi know, honey, i know.âÂ
jason smiled at your sudden drowsiness. âyouâre all sleepy now, huh? you canât sleep without me, baby?â
he felt the small nod you gave. âcanât sleep without you.â you reaffirmed, smiling into his chest. âbedâs too cold.â
â⌠i am flattered to be your bed warmer.â
you poked his firm bicep with a finger. âyou should be. itâs a highly sought-after position.â
he laughed quietly, sending a soft breath down your neck. âokay, okay, hush, itâs almost 2.â
you just hummed in response, watching jason open the book to a poem near the end.Â
âa battle in the sky.â he murmured into your hair, letting the words float through the air for a moment before reading.Â
âit wasnât quite day and it wasnât quite night, cause the sun and the moon were both in sight. a situation quite alright with everyone else but them.â jason made sure to speak softly, stroking your cheek with a free finger. âso they both made remarks about who gave more light, and who was the brightest and prettiest sight.â
already your eyes were drooping, a side effect of being held by your heater of a boyfriend. he noticed this too, and while whispering the next verse, shut the book and clicked off the lamp completely.Â
âand the sun gave a bump and the moon gave a bite and the terrible sky fight began.â
âyou have this memorized?â You asked softly, (you really asked âyouâav is semoriye?â) to which jason nodded, stroking your temple. âshh, baby.â you easily obliged, letting your eyes shut.Â
âwith a scorch and a sizzle, a screech and a shout, across the great heavens they tumbled aboutâŚâÂ
you didnât notice when you fell asleep, as one tends not to. but jason did, a gentle smile at his lips when he felt you grow heavy in his arms, heard your breathing grow slow and rhythmic. he gave a final kiss on your forehead, âgoodnight, baby,â pulled you in closer, and fell asleep with you tucked under his chin.Â
bonus : in the morning, jason slipped out of bed to pee, which had woken you up- not a problem really, but you decided to quietly pad over to the bathroom and stand in the doorway behind him.Â
âwill you finish the poem from last night?â âa- jesus!â he groaned. âi thought you were asleep.âÂ
you giggled. âdonât pee on the floor.âÂ
âgee thanks,â he muttered, âget back in bed, baby.âÂ
ââkay.âÂ
okayâŚ. so I may have written this because I couldnât sleep but I was genuinely cackling at remembering shel silversteinâs face in greyscaleâŚ. just as the back cover of a book⌠thank you for reading <333
and as always, reblogs and feedback are so super appreciated <3
#>!< OPENING 4CT#>!< HE4DLINERâS ST4R CENTR4L SOUNDTR4CK#>!< 4LBUM [_jason_todd_]#Jason Todd x reader#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd fluff#jason todd fanfic#jason todd x you#jason todd#jason todd oneshot#jason todd imagine#jason todd x y/n#red hood imagine#red hood x reader#red hood x you#red hood fluff
182 notes
¡
View notes
Text
The Story of Us: Unedited
Pairing: Mahwa Character!Min Yoongi x Reader
Summary: You wake up in the body of the second female lead in a manhwa, determined to rewrite your fate. No longer willing to be trapped in unrequited love for the elusive main lead, Min Yoongi, you set out to change the ending of the story. But leaving him behind isnât as simple as you thought. As the lines between fiction and reality blur, the narrative begins to shift in unexpected waysâYoongi, who was once only devoted to the main female lead, starts to see you in a new light. Can you escape the cycle of heartbreak, or will you find yourself entangled in a love story you never asked for?
or in which Yoongi found out you aren't from that world and refuses to let you leave.
A/N: This is an unedited very very very raw draft! But I wanted to share this with you before I forget the ideas and before my flight today <33 let me know what you think! ALSO I WILL EDIT THIS WHEN I GET BACK NEXT WEEK AND I WILL POST IT IN TUMBLR. okay bye ily

It was your second week in Paris when curiosity finally got the better of you. Her phoneâyour phone nowâsat untouched on the marble nightstand of your hotel suite. Youâd avoided it so far, reasoning that it felt like rifling through a strangerâs diary. But tonight, as the soft glow of the Eiffel Tower illuminated the room, you gave in.
Plugging it in, the device vibrated to life, and a flood of notifications lit up the screen. Your jaw dropped slightly as you skimmed through the endless stream of missed calls and messages. Most of them were from Yoongi.
âOf course,â you muttered under your breath, scrolling through the list. There were texts, voicemails, and even some emails from him, all timestamped over the last two weeks.
His messages started casual enough, asking you where you were and if you were still avoiding him. He even stopped by the mansion only to find out that you werenât there, let alone in the country. Not one in your mansion could tell him where you were despite his endless threats. As days passed by, however, his tone shifted to frustration.
Iâm not kidding anymore. If I donât hear from you, Iâm coming to find you.
I am hiring a team to find you, princess.
His final message was dated today.
I do hope you remember that it is my birthday today. We always celebrate it together. Weâre not gonna stop now just because youâre hiding from me.
You stared at the phone for a moment longer, the screen dark now but somehow still demanding your attention. Should you respond? What would you even say?
The phone vibrated in your hand, the screen lighting up with his name. Your stomach did a little flip, but you shook your head firmly. No. You werenât going to answer. It was better this wayâfor him, for you, for the storyline. Yoongi belonged with the female lead, and the longer you stayed out of their orbit, the better.
Instead, you grabbed your jacket, ready to explore the city some more. Paris was too beautiful to waste time fretting over a fictional manâs messages. Let Yoongi wait.
But just as you opened your hotel room, there he was with his signature stoic face, his dark brow raised. He pointedly looked at your phone, his name on the screen. He had his phone on his ear, while you had yours in your hand. You were literally caught red-handed ignoring his calls.
He ended the call with a deliberate tap and tucked his phone into his pocket, his gaze never leaving yours.
âWhat are you doing here?â you asked, shocked at his sudden appearance. He was supposed to be with her. The story said that he was supposed to be with her, celebrating with her, saving her from any other accidents or situations she found herself in.
Yoongi tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing. âShouldnât I be asking you that?â His tone was calm, but the edge was unmistakable. He stepped inside as though he owned the place. He didnât ask for permission, didnât wait for an invitation. He was just⌠there, filling the room with his presence like he always did. âAnd Paris, of all places? Youâre more predictable than you think, princess.â
âI-I mean, I didnât think youâd notice,â you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper, already regretting how ridiculous it sounded.
âWhat? How could I not? You literally disappeared on the face of the earth. You think I wouldnât notice when you disappeared? When youâre not there?â
The intensity in his gaze left you momentarily stunned, your thoughts scrambling for coherence. âY-youâre not supposed to be hereâŚâ you muttered, more to yourself than to him. Your disbelief bled into your words, your mind struggling to reconcile his presence with what you knewâor thought you knew. âThe story says youâre supposed to be with her. This isnâtâthis isnât how it goes.â
âWhat story?â
You blinked owlishly, realizing what youâd said. âHuh? Nothing!â you exclaimed a little too quickly, waving your hands as if to physically push the moment away. âAnyway! Happy birthday!â you added, your voice unnaturally bright, hoping to distract him.
His squint deepened, a mix of curiosity and frustration flickering in his eyes. He clearly didnât buy your deflection, but he let it slideâfor now. Without a word, he crossed the room to the small bar cart in the corner, casually pouring himself a glass of whisky.
The tension in the air was thick as he swirled the amber liquid in the glass, his movements deliberate. He raised the glass to his lips, his gaze never leaving yours. After taking a slow sip, he finally spoke, his voice low, âGlad you remember my birthday, princess.â
Okay, fine. You were at loss. How were you supposed to know what you should say? This was not in the manhwa! Yoongi was basically going off-script!
You didnât answer. You couldnât. Instead, you turned your gaze to the door, silently willing him to leave. But Yoongi didnât move. If anything, he seemed more determined, his presence as unyielding as ever.
âFine,â he said after a long moment, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. âIf you wonât come back, then Iâll stay. Paris is nice this time of year, isnât it?â

Full story (unedited) in KoFi
#bts fic#yandere bts#bts yandere#min yoongi fic#min yoongi x you#min yoongi x reader#min yoongi x y/n#yandere min yoongi#yoongi fic#mahwa au#bts#6k celebration
243 notes
¡
View notes
Text
While It Lasts | L. Norris - 1
Summary: Lando expected nothing more than relaxation and fun for two weeks during his summer break. What he didnât anticipate was meeting you, someone who felt like a perfect match in every way. As the days quickly passed, he found himself falling deeply for you, only to be confronted with the heart-wrenching reality that your time together was far more limited than he ever imagined.
Part 2

PLEASE READ: This story contains themes of loss, morality, fear, death, relationship strains, mental health struggles, including significant emotional impact related to the readerâs journey with a chronic illness and some scenes are set in hospitals. Reminder that this is simply a work of fiction, please donât take it to heart.
a hugeee thank you to @chilling-seavey @thefourthln @faithshouseofchaos for proofreading this and constantly reassuring me that this isnât shit đ I wouldnât have posted this fic without your support đŤśđť
pairing: lando x fem!reader
wc: 15.9k (because tumblr won't let me post the whole thing at once)
Š thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate or repost any of my work.
âCâmon, youâre gonna love it there,â Lando attempted to persuade his best friend.Â
Max Fewtrell rolled his eyes, asking incredulously, âmate, are you seriously considering taking us to a small town over partying all day, everyday in the city?â
Lando shrugged, holding his finger up for a moment, asking him to wait while he scrolled through his phone to find the photos that Carlos sent him earlier. âItâs not just a small town, look at this.â He turned the phone around to show his best friend the photos of their potential home for the next two weeks.Â
Max scoffed, still not believing that Lando was changing their pre-made plans at the last minute, âand why would Carlos just give you the keys to that villa looking thing?âÂ
âItâs his uncleâs vacation home, and itâll be empty if we donât go. You donât want to leave this beauty empty, do you?âÂ
Max sighed, rolling his eyes at his best friendâs antics. As soon as he saw the photos, he was convinced to discard the previous plans and take the opportunity to live in that home, but of course he wouldnât admit it straightaway.Â
âShow me the photos again,â he simply muttered, earning a laugh from Lando as he swiped through the pictures.Â
âThereâs literally only one other house nearby, we wonât get that in the city now, would we?â Lando commented, watching the cogs turning in Maxâs mind.Â
Despite Max's initial reluctance, Lando could see the spark of curiosity flickering in his friend's eyes as he examined the photos. He knew he was close to winning Max over.
"So, what do you say, Max? Are you in?" Lando pressed, a hopeful tone in his voice.
Max hesitated for a moment, weighing his options before finally letting out a resigned sigh. "Alright, fine, you win. Let's give this small town adventure a shot," he conceded, unable to resist the allure of the stunning villa.
Lando grinned triumphantly. "Trust me, mate, you won't regret it," he assured him, clapping him on the back.
âYeah, yeah, weâll see about that. When are we leaving?â He asked instead, still not wanting to get his hopes up in case he would be left disappointed.Â
âTomorrow.âÂ
âTomorrow?â Max asked, eyes widening when Lando nodded.Â
âGo pack your bags, mate,â Lando shoved him with full force once he noticed Max wasnât leaving the room.
He laughed when Max finally regained his sense of motion and scrambled out the room, muttering to himself while packing everything he thought he needed for the next two weeks. Despite having a habit of travelling, it wasnât any less stressful to pack, especially with a short notice. Â
Lando sighed and leaned back into his chair, holding up his phone in front of him. He admired the picturesque view of the villa in the photos, containing his excitement because he would be able to see the same view in person soon enough.Â
Perhaps this was what he needed, especially after the stress that continued to build up over the first half of the season. While he had a better start to the season than he was used to, it didnât ease any pressure. He was constantly thinking about what he can do as a driver to improve the car while having to face the media at every race weekend and answering the same question over and over again. It was too much for him to handle.Â
It was part of the reason why he was adamant on convincing Max to take a break in a place where they wouldnât be seen as much as they usually do in Monaco. It would give him a chance of exploring a new town while also staying under the radar.Â
When Carlos first suggested the idea, Lando instantly agreed. The promise of two weeks of relaxation and exploration ahead sounded like a dream to him. Lando couldn't wait to leave the pressures of the racing world behind and immerse himself in the beauty of the coastal town. Little did he know, amidst the winding streets and sun-kissed beaches, he would find more than just a temporary escape.
âÂ
As the taxi pulled up to the gates, the driver turned to them with a grin. "Here we are, gentlemen. Enjoy your stay," he announced, gesturing towards the grand entrance of the villa.Â
Max and Lando exchanged glances, eager to explore the town. They thanked the driver before stepping out of the taxi, and their eyes widened in awe at the sight of their temporary abode. The grand villa stood just up ahead of them, its white walls gleaming in the golden light of the setting sun. The only barrier slightly obstructing their view were the large steel gates, shut to prevent any trespassers.Â
"Whoa!" Max exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement.
Lando nodded in agreement, already reaching for his phone to capture the moment. "This place is insane," he remarked, snapping a quick selfie, giving a cheesy smile while holding up his thumb with the villa in the background.
Max chuckled, watching as Lando posed for the photo. "Gonna send that to Carlos?" he asked, a grin spreading across his face.
Lando nodded, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Yep, just to make him jealous," he replied, tapping away at his phone before sending the selfie to Carlos with a playful message: âYouâre missing out!â
âWhereâs he anyways?â Max asked but his gaze never left the sight in front of him.Â
Landoâs thumbs moved across the screen as he typed out another message, possibly replying to Carlos who always texted back within minutes.Â
Moments later, he turned the phone to show the screen to Max. Carlos had responded to Landoâs selfie with one of his own, showing off the view he was enjoying in the background. A pair of blue goggles covered his eyes and he held his thumb up in a playful manner as well. It was evident that he was standing on a yacht, surrounded by a form of nature in its entirety.Â
âGuess heâs not exactly missing out. When is he not on a boat?â Max asked jokingly.Â
Lando shrugged, âwhen heâs not cycling I guess.âÂ
When he turned the screen back towards him, he noticed another text from Carlos. âDonât break anythingâ
He scoffed, shaking his head before pocketing his phone, ignoring his message. He was mature enough to know that, even if a few broken trophies claimed otherwise.Â
The taxi drove off, leaving the men standing with their luggages in front of the gate. The breeze passed through Landoâs curls, causing him to turn around and squint his eyes to look up at the leaves on the trees swaying around. The setting sun pierced his eyes, but his gaze didnât waver from it, a smile growing on his face since he already began liking the peaceful environment.Â
âMate,â Maxâs voice broke the silence. When Lando looked at him expectantly, he gestured towards the gates. âAre we just here to look at it from outside or do you know the code to get in?â
Landoâs eyes widened, âoh yeah, Carlos told me the code, hold on.â He fumbled for his phone, quickly locating the message from Carlos with the access code.Â
Before he could punch in the code, the sound of a car door slamming loudly took their attention away from the villa.Â
Max and Lando simultaneously spotted another home further down the street across from theirs, the only one apart from the villa for miles. It stood in stark contrast, a quaint cottage nestled amidst a grove of cherry blossom trees. It looked smaller, but they knew not to be fooled, knowing the cottage only appeared smaller since it was further away.Â
"Looks like we've got neighbors," Lando remarked, pointing towards the distant cottage.Â
âSo much for silence,â Max mumbled.Â
As soon as Maxâs words were spoken out loud, their attention shifted to the cause of the sound; you.Â
Unlike Lando and Max, your day hadnât been going well. Actually, you donât believe that youâve experienced a single good day in the past couple years; not since the day you received your reports.Â
You remember that day vividly, the memories playing out in your mind like a horror movie. Despite many efforts from your close friends and family to cheer you up, you donât believe that any smile youâve given was genuine. Not a single one.Â
You shut your eyes tightly, but it only intensified the memories, causing you to find a way to shift your attention. Your gaze was attracted to the sun that was moments away from slipping underneath the horizon.Â
Contrasting to Landoâs thoughts from earlier, who smiled at the sunset because watching it cemented the fact that he was away from the chaos in cities and his world of racing, you thought of the guarantee that the sun will rise again tomorrow, one certainty you never had about yourself.Â
Once you slammed the car door shut, a surge of frustration and anger coursed through you, making your brother, Isaac, who was also getting out of the car, wince in discomfort. It was his car, after all, and you knew you shouldn't take your frustrations out on one of his most prized possessions, but the weight of your own mortality pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket.
Another visit to the hospital had left you feeling drained and defeated, the latest round of test results delivering yet another blow to your already fragile health. The doctors' words echoed in your mind, their somber tones a stark reminder of the grim reality you faced.
You were angry â angry at the world for dealing you such a terrible fate, angry at your own body for betraying you, angry at the uncertainty that loomed over your future like a dark cloud. Would you live another day, another year, or was each moment you spent on this earth merely borrowed time?
Your hands trembled with a mixture of fear and frustration as you struggled to make sense of it all. Youâve been in this situation multiple times over the past couple years, wondering why the doctors always gave you a false sense of hope until the facts proved otherwise, but every time still felt like the first. Your illness was something you could never wrap your head around. The questions swirled in your mind, unanswered and unanswerable, leaving you feeling helpless and alone.
As you leaned against the car, your breath coming in ragged gasps, you felt a sense of despair wash over you. The world seemed cruel and indifferent, its vastness stretching out before you like an endless void.
Despite looking at the sun until it made your eyes water, or perhaps those were just your tears caused by your anger turning into sadness, your mind was still filled with all sorts of thoughts while your heart held various emotions.Â
The one thing that did divert your mind was the sound of rackety steel gates opening further down the street. Those gates hadnât been open in about a year, making it in desperate need of oil on the hinges.Â
You remembered the family that visited very often once upon a timeâthe Sainz familyâbut those visits became less and less frequent as the years went by.Â
However, once you heard laughter echoing down the street, you couldnât place a name to the sound. You squinted your eyes to focus on the scene since you had forgotten your glasses inside your home. Your eyesight was one of the first things that started deteriorating, making it hard to believe that you once had perfect vision.
You could make out the shape of two men, seemingly young and nowhere near a part of the family that owned the villa.Â
With a heavy heart, you turned away from the villa, knowing it was time to spend a quiet night in. The sun had long gone beneath the horizon, turning the orange skies into hues of blue as you made your way towards your small cottage.
Inside, the air was heavy with the scent of stale coffee from the early morning hours before you rushed to the hospital. The unmistakable scent of antiseptics mixed with coffee, a reminder that your home was slowly becoming similar to the emergency rooms.Â
Your brother hovered nearby, his expression etched with concern as he watched you sink into a worn armchair. He had moved in once your health didnât show any signs of improvement, taking on the older brother role even if he was a few years younger.Â
"Are you okay?" Isaac asked, his voice filled with worry.
You nodded, forcing a weak smile as you tried to push aside the weight of your own fears. "I'm fine," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.
But deep down, you knew the truth. You were anything but fine. The uncertainty of your future loomed over you like a dark cloud, threatening to consume you whole.
âDo you need anything before I make dinner?â He stood in front of you, fidgeting with his hands.Â
The mention of dinner made you look up at him, shifting in the armchair as you prepared to stand up. His hands instantly shot out in case you stumbled over your feet.Â
âLet me help you make dinner,â you spoke, placing your hand on his shoulder to stabilize yourself.Â
He began shaking his head but your eyes pleaded with him.Â
âPlease, Iâm not completely useless yet,â You added, knowing that he wouldnât be able to deny you since it was a trick you used when you were both younger.Â
He sighed, wanting to tell you that you werenât useless at all, but it would open another can of worms. âDonât push yourself too hard,â he settled instead.Â
You firmly nodded, and threaded your arm around his as he led you to the kitchen. He knew that he shouldnât have let you help, especially after an appointment, but he also knew that if he left you alone, your thoughts would drown you.Â
All you needed was company, and he was more than willing to do anything to help you especially since he felt helpless otherwise.Â
The rhythmic chopping of vegetables filled the air as you and Isaac worked together in the kitchen. He hovered nearby, his presence a silent reassurance that you were not alone in your struggle.
"Need any help with that?" he asked, gesturing towards the cutting board where you were slicing tomatoes with unsteady hands.
You shook your head, trying to hide the tremor in your voice. "I've got it, thanks."
But he could see through your facade, his eyes filled with concern as he watched you work. "Are you sure? You seem a bit off today."Â
He had made it his responsibility to take you to your appointments, and he noticed that your mood deflated even more than the last visit.
You forced a smile, hoping to alleviate his worries. "I'm fine, just tired from the hospital visit."
He didn't look convinced, but he didn't press further. Instead, he moved closer, offering a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Well, let me know if you need anything. I'm here for you, okay?"
You nodded, grateful for his support. "Thanks, I appreciate it."
As you continued to cook together, the tension in the air eased, replaced by the familiar rhythm of sibling banter and shared laughter.Â
âOh, did you see our new neighbours?â You asked once you sat down to eat.Â
Your brother nodded, a muffled sound leaving his mouth since he was in the midst of chewing.Â
Your face twisted in disgust, âew, eat your food, donât show it.â He playfully smacked your arm before swallowing and you had to hide the wince that almost overtook your expressions. You rubbed your arm once he was distracted, already knowing that itâll bruise even if the smack was light.Â
âAs I was saying,â he glared at you for a brief moment before continuing, âI noticed them coming in.âÂ
âHow long do you think theyâre gonna stay?âÂ
He added, making you shrug, âno idea, a couple weeks?âÂ
Meanwhile, down the street, Max and Lando were immediately struck by the grandeur inside the villa. They had already explored the surroundings outside while the sun was setting, and were greeted by a scene of serene beauty and tranquility.Â
The sprawling grounds stretched out before them, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. Lush greenery enveloped the landscape, with meticulously landscaped gardens and manicured lawns spreading out in all directions.
Tall palm trees swayed gently in the breeze, their fronds rustling softly as if whispering secrets to the wind. Vibrant bursts of color from exotic flowers and fragrant blossoms added splashes of brightness to the landscape, while the sweet scent of blooming jasmine and lavender hung in the air.
A cobblestone pathway wound its way through the gardens, meandering past secluded alcoves and hidden nooks waiting to be explored. Stone benches and wrought iron chairs provided inviting spots to sit and enjoy the beauty of nature, while the soothing sound of a trickling fountain added a sense of serenity to the atmosphere.
In the distance, the shimmering surface of a swimming pool caught the last rays of sunlight, beckoning with promises of cool refreshment on a warm summer's day. Beyond the pool, a charming gazebo nestled amidst a grove of trees offered a secluded retreat, its elegant structure inviting relaxation and contemplation.
Inside the villa, Max and Lando found themselves immersed in a world of luxury and refinement. Marble floors gleamed underfoot, their polished surfaces reflecting the soft glow of crystal chandeliers that hung from the ceiling. The air was infused with the scent of subtle hints of vanilla and sandalwood, creating an atmosphere of opulence.
Plush furnishings adorned with rich fabrics and intricate patterns beckoned invitingly, promising comfort and relaxation. Oversized sofas and armchairs offered sumptuous seating, their cushions plump and inviting, while ornate coffee tables and sideboards showcased exquisite craftsmanship and timeless elegance.
Large windows framed breathtaking views of the surrounding countryside, their sheer curtains billowing gently in the breeze. Soft, ambient lighting cast warm pools of light in every corner, creating a sense of coziness and intimacy that enveloped the space.
Throughout the villa, works of art adorned the walls, adding a touch of sophistication and culture to the elegant surroundings. Paintings and sculptures, each one a masterpiece in its own right, spoke of a life of privilege and refinement, while delicate vases filled with fresh flowers added a touch of natural beauty to the lavish interiors.
In every room, from the grand foyer to the luxurious bedrooms and bathrooms, attention to detail was evident at every turn. From the intricate carvings on the furniture to the delicate lace trim on the curtains, no expense had been spared in creating a sanctuary of unparalleled beauty and comfort.
As Max and Lando explored the villa, they couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder and awe at the sheer magnificence of their surroundings. For a moment, they forgot about the outside world, lost in the splendor of their temporary home and the promise of adventure that lay ahead.
While Maxâs gaze wandered around in amazement, Lando nudged him with a mischievous smile of his own. âTold ya itâll be worth it.âÂ
He rolled his eyes but still agreed, âyeah I guess it is.âÂ
Then, Max bursted into a sprint, running up the stairs while yelling loudly, âI get first pick!âÂ
Lando shook his head, disagreeing immediately while chasing behind him. After all, they were two men who were kids at heart that were given a huge home all for themselves.Â
The next morning dawned bright and clear, filling the villa with a warm golden light that spilled through the windows and danced across the marble floors.Â
Lando had been awake for the past couple hours, his internal clock still set to his racing routine. He had woken up to the melody of birds chirping away and light filtering through the sheer curtains, basking for a moment in the change of scenery.Â
He had gone for a morning run, relishing the fresh air and serene beauty of the surroundings. On the way back, he picked up some pastries from a local bakery, their aroma enticing and warm.Â
Returning to the villa, Lando hummed a tune as he walked towards the kitchen. He paused for a moment, his eyes widening at the amount of natural light coming in through the big windows. The morning sun added a fresh, beautiful touch to the villa, reflecting off the furniture and transforming the space.Â
As he placed the pastries on the kitchen counter, Max emerged from his room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, taking in the sight of the sun-drenched villa. âMorning, mate,â he greeted, his voice still laced with traces of sleep.Â
âMorning, Max,â Lando replied, holding back a chuckle at his messy morning hair.Â
He was lured by the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, mingling with the scent of freshly baked pastries.Â
âMm, smells amazing but where did these come from?â He asked before popping a pastry in his mouth. His eyes closed as it melted in his mouth, savouring the taste for a moment.Â
Lando grinned, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. âGlad you like them, I picked them up on my morning run,â he admitted.Â
Max raised an eyebrow in surprise. âYou went for a run?â he asked, his tone filled with amusement.Â
Lando nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. âYeah, figured Iâd explore the area a bit and see whatâs around,â he explained.Â
The first thing Lando did when he laid in bed last night was bring out his phone to search for things to do in this small town. Unfortunately, the internet wasnât much help, so he decided to take a look around by himself, and perhaps even ask a few locals for advice.Â
Then he ducked his head and rubbed his palm on the nape of his neck, âand Jon told me to keep training while weâre here.âÂ
Max chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. âWell, thanks for bringing back breakfast,â he added, reaching for another pastry.Â
Lando picked up one for himself. âYeah, no problem, but donât expect it everyday,â he said with a cheeky smile. Max rolled his eyes, ignoring his comment as he sipped on his coffee.Â
âWhat are you planning on doing today?â Max asked after a moment of silence.Â
âI saw this market on my run earlier, and was thinking of going to go check it out,â he hummed, thinking back to the beautiful scenery during his short cardio session.Â
Max laughed, âlook at you, living the small town life already.âÂ
Lando reached over to smack the pastry out of Maxâs hand that he was about to eat. âHey!â He exclaimed, looking at the fallen treat.Â
There was a beat of silence, before Max and Lando made eye contact and then they bursted out into giggles. Amidst their laughter, Max reached down to pick up the fallen pastry, dusting it off before stuffing it in his mouth.Â
âFive-second rule, mate,â he muffled.Â
âWhat are you gonna do?â Lando asked, ignoring his best friendâs antics.
He simply shrugged, âI donât know, mate.âÂ
���Wanna join me?â Lando suggested, earning a nod from Max, a teasing smile growing on his face.Â
âI thought youâd never ask.âÂ
Lando rolled his eyes, âyou donât have to wait for me to ask.âÂ
With their breakfast antics over, Lando and Max quickly finished their coffee before deciding to venture out into the town. As they stepped outside, the warm rays of the sun enveloped them, casting a golden glow over the quaint streets.Â
The scorching sun bore down upon them, turning the cobblestones into radiant paths of heat. Lando and Max, feeling the intensity of the sunâs rays, walked with beads of sweat forming on their brows.Â
Max shielded his eyes from the sun with a hand since he had misplaced his sunglasses.Â
Once they were a couple minutes into the walk, they realized that the market they planned to visit was further away than they initially thought. The narrow streets, lined with colourful houses and blooming flowers, stretched out before them, inviting them on a leisurely stroll.Â
âWhy are we walking?â Max asked, still holding his hand up for a shade.Â
Lando raised his own sunglasses to the top of his head in disbelief, âwhy donât you have your sunglasses?âÂ
âForgot âem at the villa,â he grumbled, which only made Lando laugh louder.Â
âCheck your pockets, mate.âÂ
Maxâs eyes widened when he did in fact find his sunglasses in his pocket. He slid them onto his face with a sigh of relief, finally able to open his eyes properly.Â
Just as they began to feel the discomfort of the sweltering weather, a gentle breeze swept in from the nearby seaside, bringing with it a cool and invigorating relief. The breeze, infused with the scent of salt, tousled their hair and kissed their skin, providing a much needed respite from the heat.Â
After a few more minutes of walking, Max and Lando finally stumbled upon the market. It was nestled in a quaint square lined with vibrant stalls, each overflowing with a colourful array of fruits, vegetables, flowers, and artisanal crafts.Â
They wove their way through the crowded square, taking in the sights and the sounds of the market. The air was alive with the chatter of vendors and the laughter of shoppers, creating a lively atmosphere. The breeze was stronger as the market was closer to the seaside, blowing close to harsh wind in their faces, but it was welcomed due to the strong sun.Â
As they browsed the stalls, Max sampled a couple local delicacies first and Lando waited for his approval before trying them as well.Â
âDoes it have fish?â Lando asked, hesitant in taking the sample from the vendor.Â
The vendor chuckled, âno, sir, itâs a dessert filled with cream, topped with hardened sugar.âÂ
Landoâs mouth dropped open in understanding before taking the sample from him.Â
Max couldnât resist picking up a few souvenirs to take home, like a proper tourist, while Lando struck up conversations with other locals, wanting to find out some details about the town.Â
As he held a couple bags of items he bought to remember this trip, Maxâs eyes lit up when he spotted a bakery on the other side of the market.Â
âHey, Iâm going to check out the bakery over there,â Max pointed. âGrab a couple more treats,â he added.Â
Lando nodded, his attention drawn to a colourful display of ripe fruits nearby. âSounds good, Iâll catch up with you in a bit.âÂ
The two friends parted ways, Max was enticed by the scent of warm pastries waiting for him while Landoâs mouth watered at the sight of juicy fruits. His trainer had wanted him to stay healthy throughout the break anyways, and this was the perfect opportunity.Â
He greeted the vendor and began eyeing the various fruits; plump oranges, crisp apples, perfectly ripe bananas, and more.Â
âGood morning! What can I get for you today?â The vendor asked, and Lando thought for a moment before replying.Â
âIâll take some of those oranges, grapes, and oh some apples too, please.âÂ
The vendor nodded and began putting the fruits into the paper bags, but paused once he bagged both the grapes and oranges. âForget these apples, get these ones instead,â they said while showcasing another tray of apples that looked very similar.Â
âItâs our premium organic apples, the best ones of the bunch.âÂ
Lando hesitated for a moment, but the vendorâs persuasive tone convinced him that it was a steal.Â
To persuade Lando even further, the vendor added, âthese ones are special, organic, freshly picked this morning. Iâll give you a good deal, just five dollars for one.âÂ
Lando blinked in surprise at the price, wondering if a single apple was genuinely five dollars, but then again he never had to do any grocery shopping on his own. Jon would usually bring it for him, or do all the work if they went together.Â
Then he reasoned that it must be a rare variety or exceptionally fresh. âAlright, sounds good, give me a couple.âÂ
Lando happily handed over the money, and thanked the vendor once they passed over the bags. He paused for a moment once he returned to the main street, inhaling the breeze, feeling the tension of his usual everyday life slowly melt away.Â
He spotted Max, noticing that he held even more bags than when he previously saw him. As Lando and Max regrouped near the bakery, the latter raved about the variety of treats he bought. âMate! I think I bought everything.âÂ
They scanned the bustling market once more, wondering if they should take another look or return to the villa. Maxâs gaze wandered towards the seaside, where tranquil waves lapped against the shore.Â
âHey, isnât that our neighbour from the villa? The one who lives in the cottage?â Max asked, gaining Landoâs attention.Â
He followed Maxâs gaze and spotted you sitting alone on a bench gazing out at the sparkling sea. Recognition dawned on Landoâs face as he remembered you from yesterday. âYeah, it is, should I go say hi?âÂ
Max considered it for a moment, glancing back at the path towards the villa before turning to Lando with a shrug. âSure, why not? Iâll head back to the villa; catch up later yeah?âÂ
Lando nodded, grateful for Maxâs understanding. âAre you sure youâll be fine with carrying all that?â He asked jokingly, gesturing at the bags he held.Â
âShut up,â he muttered, nudging him with his shoulder.Â
Lando walked off with a chuckle, âsee ya.âÂ
His laughter died down as he approached you, noticing that your gaze was still fixed on the horizon as if you were searching for answers in the endless expanse of the sea. Perhaps you were, and he felt slightly guilty for approaching you, especially since you were far away from the rest of the crowd.Â
However, before he could abort the idea, you glanced to the side, looking at him with confusion replacing your previous expressions.Â
"Mind if I join you?" he asked, flashing a friendly smile as he stood there, pointing to the empty space next to you.Â
Your eyes clouded with a mixture of weariness and suspicion. "Suit yourself," you replied, your tone curt.
Undeterred by your guarded demeanor, Lando took a seat beside you, his curiosity piqued by the enigmatic stranger before him. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" he ventured, attempting to break the ice.
You scoffed, a bitter edge creeping into your voice. "I suppose," you muttered, your gaze returning to the horizon.
Sensing the walls you had erected around yourself, Lando decided to tread carefully, unwilling to push too hard too soon. He placed the bag of fruits on the grass before extending his hand in greeting. "I'm Lando," he introduced himself.Â
You hesitated for a moment before reluctantly accepting his handshake and introduced yourself, offering a tentative smile that failed to reach your eyes.
He repeated your name, wanting to become familiar with the way the vowels wrapped around his lips because he had a feeling that he would be saying your name a lot more often now.Â
Despite the initial awkwardness, Lando found himself drawn to you, intrigued by the mystery that shrouded your presence. He wondered why you were sitting here alone when there was a crowded market not too far away from here, but he didnât have the strength to ask just yet.Â
He leaned against the bench, sighing as he watched the horizon just like you were. However, it became difficult to choose if the seaside view was prettier or you. He didnât want you to think he was a creep, so he stole some glances at you every couple of moments without you knowing.Â
As you sat in companionable silence, the gentle sound of waves lapping against the shore provided a soothing backdrop, preventing the situation from feeling awkward.Â
âHow long have you lived in this town?â Lando asked, but the moment he did, he thought that it was too intrusive.Â
He waited, one beat, two beats, before you responded. âIâve lived here my whole life,â you admitted.Â
A small smile threatened to grace your lips as you thought of the happier memories youâve spent here, the ones before the news that turned you into a shell of the person you were once.Â
âThis town has always been home to me,â you added.Â
Landoâs eyebrows lifted in surprise. âReally? Thatâs amazing,â he exclaimed, genuine interest sparkling in his eyes. But then his brows furrowed, âhave you never felt like leaving this place behind? Move somewhere in the city?âÂ
You pressed your lips together in a tight smile, thinking of a response that wasnât along the lines of I did want to leave. I had plans and dreams of studying abroad, living in the city, but fate had a different plan. Instead, you shrugged, âno, Iâve never thought about it before. I guess I like the community here, you know, everyone knows everyone.âÂ
He chuckled, âthat canât be a good thing all the time though.âÂ
You shook your head, ânot always, news travels around pretty fast.â Feeling a tad bit intrigued by him, you asked, âso what made you come here?âÂ
âThe villa. Itâs my friendâs familyâs villa and he lent it out for a couple weeks,â he explained, causing you to widen your eyes. âOh, so youâre my neighbour?âÂ
He ducked his head and smiled sheepishly, âyeah, thatâs, um, kind of why I approached you in the first place.âÂ
As the conversation ebbed between you and Lando, a comfortable silence settled over the two of you, punctuated only by the rhythmic sounds of waves crashing against the shore.Â
After a while, Lando cleared his throat, breaking the silence. âHey, I was wondering⌠since youâre a local and all, would you mind showing me and a friend around town?â he asked, a hopeful smile on his face.Â
When you didnât answer right away, he continued explaining. âWeâve never been here before, and since weâre here for two weeks, I want to know every hidden gem and secret spot here, something less touristy.âÂ
You could tell that he was beginning to become nervous, especially based on your expression which you assumed wasnât kind. You forced a smile on your face, instinctively grazing his knee with your palm that wouldnât stop bouncing up and down.Â
âYeah, Iâll show you guys around,â you responded, and the warmth of your tone sent a ripple of excitement through Lando.Â
His smile widened, âthank you! I went by the market today but I feel like I should have someone giving me a little bit more direction on what to do here.âÂ
âOh you went to the market? Buy anything?â You asked, wanting to keep the conversation flowing as well, especially since you liked hearing him speak.Â
Lando gestured to the paper bag resting on the floor, âI got a couple fruits. Max, my friend, stocked up on the pastries from the bakery there. He already fell in love with them.âÂ
You didnât stop the smile growing on your face. âI totally get that, anything from that bakery is to die for.âÂ
But then you glanced at the bag he held, and watching your gaze, he elaborated. âI got these organic apples, the vendor said they were giving me a pretty good deal, five dollars each.âÂ
Your jaw dropped, âfive dollars each? You totally got scammed.â
Landoâs eyebrows shot up in surprise. âScammed? What do you mean?â he asked, his curiosity piqued.Â
âNo one sells a single apple for $5, Lando, no matter how âorganicâ they tell you it is,â you explain, but based on his expression, he still didnât understand why.Â
Although his eyes did widen as he examined the contents. Now that he thought about it, the prices on the fruit seemed exorbitant, far beyond what he thought Jon paid.Â
âEveryone in this town bargains, especially in the market,â you added, and he frowned.Â
âI donât need to bargain.âÂ
You shook your head. âIâm sure youâre rich enough, but the point is that every vendor marks up the price because they know the locals bargain. The public is happy because they bargained, and the vendor is satisfied because the products still sell at a good price.âÂ
He nodded in understanding, âoh, thatâs weird, usually you just pay the price on the tag.âÂ
âWell thatâs the thing, there arenât any tags, the vendors just set the prices, and they also mark it up if they know that youâre a tourist.âÂ
His jaw dropped in surprise, âwhat? Thatâs not fair.âÂ
âAnd that is why you need to know your way around here,â you added, earning a smile from him.Â
âThatâs why youâre my tour guide.âÂ
You looked at the horizon as his gaze felt too intense in that moment. He still looked at you, a soft smile on his face mixed with lingering curiosity about you and this town that seemed to draw him in instantly.Â
Just then, a familiar voice called out from behind you. âHey, Iâm all done, letâs go back home now?âÂ
You turned to see Isaac standing with his hands full of produce he bought for dinner, but a curious expression on his face as he noticed Lando next to you.Â
âUm, yeah, did you get everything?â You ask as you stand up, and your brother immediately holds out his arm so you can loop your own with his.Â
âYes maâam, I bought everything on the list,â he said playfully.Â
Before he could lead you away, you patted his arm and glanced at Lando, âoh, this is Lando, our neighbour, at the villa.âÂ
Your brotherâs eyes flickered with recognition as he glanced at Lando. âAh, yes, nice to meet you, Iâm Isaac.âÂ
The corner of Landoâs lip turned up briefly, before he nodded, âsame here.âÂ
The afternoon sun was shining, yet it was cooler than earlier, making the journey back towards your street easier. The market had an influx of visitors since many preferred to stay at home when the morning heat was ablaze.Â
Since the three of you were headed in the same direction, you decided to walk together. You walked side by side with your brother, your arm still looped with his. Lando had taken the liberty to carry a couple bags that Isaac held.Â
Lando walked a couple steps ahead, as if he was the local and you were the tourist. You didnât mind it though, because his gaze confused you. Every time he looked at you, he was either close to figuring out your secrets or he was just blissfully unaware. Â
He was still a stranger, and you had no plans on telling him anything more than you had to.Â
As you walked, the lively chatter of the market gradually faded into the background, replaced by the soothing sounds of the occasional rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze.Â
Despite the tranquility of the moment, you couldnât shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the back of your mind. Landoâs presence just a couple steps in front of you felt both comforting and disconcerting, his easy demeanour belaying the mystery that seemed to arise at times.Â
You thought back to your conversation at the bench, not finding anything concerning about the questions he asked or the responses to yours, but you couldnât help but still feel on edge. Perhaps you wanted to trust him, but your mind didnât allow it as easily as your heart willed you to.Â
Isaac couldnât resist teasing you, nudging your side with his elbow and tilting his head towards Lando.Â
âSo whatâs the deal with you and the new neighbour, huh?â he whispered, keeping his voice down to prevent Lando from hearing him.Â
You rolled your eyes, playfully swatting at his arm. âOh, please. Thereâs no deal, we just met today.âÂ
Isaac raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. âUh-huh, sure. But I think youâll be seeing him a lot more often now, donât you think so?âÂ
You nodded, âwell he does live nearby, and he wants me to be a tour guide for him and his friend, Max, for the time theyâre here.âÂ
He chuckled, his grin widening. âThatâs very convenient. But I think youâve got an admirer.âÂ
You scoffed, trying to brush off his teasing. âDonât be ridiculous, heâs just being friendly.âÂ
âKeep telling yourself that, weâll see what happens in the next couple of days,â he stated as he draped an arm around your shoulder which only lasted a couple seconds before you pushed him away.Â
Since he wasnât satisfied with just teasing you, he joined Landoâs side, instantly striking up a conversation. âSo, Lando, enjoying your stay in our little town so far?âÂ
He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. âDefinitely, itâs been a refreshing change of scenery.âÂ
They continued on, speaking as if they knew each other for years.
As you neared the cottage, Lando handed Isaac the paper bags and bid you farewell. âThanks for the company today, Iâll see you guys around.âÂ
With a nod and a wave, you and Isaac made your way inside, leaving the events of the day behind you as you retreated into the sanctuary of your shared abode.Â
â
As the late morning sun filtered through the curtains, you stirred from your sleep, greeted by the familiar routine that marks the start of another day. The soft chirping of birds and faint chatter outside your window served as your alarm, nudging you gently into wakefulness.
You slid out of bed and padded over to the window, drawing back the curtains to reveal the tranquil scene outside. The small seaside town unfolded before you, bathed in the soft glow of morning light. It was a picturesque sight, one that you've grown accustomed to over the years.
With a sigh, you turned away from the window and began your morning routine. It's a well-worn pattern by now â first, you head to the bathroom to wash up and brush your teeth, the sound of running water a familiar soundtrack to your mornings.
Next comes the more clinical aspect of your routine. You reached for the small plastic organizer on the bathroom counter, filled with an assortment of medications neatly arranged in separate compartments. Your brother's voice echoed in your mind as you recalled his daily reminder to take your pills â a routine that has become as routine as brushing your teeth.
You dutifully pop each pill into your mouth, washing them down with a gulp of water. It's a mundane task, but one that is essential to your well-being. You've grown accustomed to the bitter taste of the medication, the lingering reminder of your illness that you can't escape.
Once the pills are swallowed, you move on to the next item on your checklist. Your brother's voice drifts in from the hallway, asking if you've taken your medication yet. You respond with a simple "yes," the words slipping easily from your lips.
As you go about your morning routine, there's a sense of detachment that settles over you â a feeling of going through the motions without really being present. It's a coping mechanism, a way to distance yourself from the reality of your illness and the uncertainty that comes with it.
But despite the clinical nature of your routine, there's a quiet determination that drives you forward. Each pill swallowed, each task completed is a small victory in the ongoing battle against your illness, however itâs a battle that youâre not sure if youâll win or not.Â
You finish your morning routine and join Isaac in the kitchen, where heâs already preparing breakfast. He glances up at you as you enter, a warm smile on his face.Â
âMorning, sleepyhead,â he greets you, handing you a mug of steaming coffee, your one and only cup a day according to doctorâs orders.Â
Still lost in your thoughts, you burn your tongue as you take the first sip. Isaac eyes you carefully, a hint of concern in his gaze as you grab an ice cube and stick it in your mouth.Â
âYou doing okay?â he asks, his voice soft.Â
You force a smile, hoping to reassure him. Pushing the ice cube towards your cheek, you speak, âyeah, just another day.âÂ
âJust another day? Donât you have to show Lando and Max around?â He asks, but quickly shifts his gaze to the egg on the pan.Â
You nod, grateful for the distraction from your thoughts. "Yeah, I do. I almost forgot," you reply, mentally shaking off the lingering unease that had gripped you earlier.
Isaac watches you closely, his concern evident in his furrowed brow. "Are you sure you're up for it?" he asks, his tone gentle.
You give him a reassuring smile, trying to push aside the gnawing doubts that linger at the back of your mind.Â
"I'll be fine," you insist, though the words sound hollow even to your own ears. âIâm thinking of showing them around some of the touristy spots first to get it out of the way, and then some historical sites if theyâre up for it,â you explain, making a mental checklist.Â
He nods, accepting your answer for now. "Just take it easy, okay? And call me if you need anything," he says, reaching out to squeeze your hand.
You squeeze his hand back, grateful for his unwavering support. "Thanks, Isaac," you murmur, feeling a sense of warmth wash over you in his presence.
Together, you and Isaac finish your breakfast in companionable silence, the weight of the upcoming day lingering in the air. But there was a hint of excitement brewing in your mind once you were reminded of your neighbours, and perhaps itâll distract you from your usual thoughts.Â
Meanwhile, Lando dashed around his room, wearing only a pair of pants, his movements quick and purposeful as he rummaged through his suitcase, searching for the perfect shirt for the day ahead. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table, his brow furrowing in frustration as he realized how quickly time was slipping away.
"Max, are you almost ready?" he called out, his voice tinged with urgency.
From the living room, Max's relaxed voice drifted back. "Yeah, just taking my time. No rush, right?"
Lando rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath as he continued his frantic search for the right outfit. He held up a full sleeved sweatshirt against himself, judging the shirt in the mirror.
âNo, too hot,â he muttered to himself and tossed the garment aside. He continued shuffling through the suitcase, not having the time to unpack completely.Â
Then he held up a simpler t-shirt, considering it for a moment before shaking his head. âToo casual,â he mumbled, discarding it onto the growing pile of rejected clothes.Â
With a sense of growing frustration, Lando finally spotted a light, airy button-down shirt that seemed suitable for the warm weather. He quickly slipped it on, feeling a sense of relief wash over him as the fabric settled comfortably against his skin.Â
Satisfied with his choice, Lando turns his attention to his hair, running his fingers through his unruly curls in an attempt to tame them into some semblance of order. After a few futile attempts, he huffed and searched around for his beloved bucket hat, placing it on his head to prevent putting more effort into his hair.Â
Glancing at himself in the mirror, he straightened his shirt and adjusted his hat. As a final touch, Lando grabbed his sunglasses and hastily shoved them in his pocket, then grabbed his phone and wallet before heading out of the room.Â
As he entered the living room, Lando found Max lounging on the couch, seemingly unperturbed by the passing time. "C'mon, mate, we're gonna be late because of you," Lando chided, his tone laced with exasperation.
Max shrugged nonchalantly, a lazy grin playing across his lips. "She didn't give you a time."
Lando resisted the urge to roll his eyes, his frustration mounting with each passing second. "I know, but she's taking time out of her day to show us around. We need to be respectful."
Max chuckled, propping himself up on one elbow as he regarded Lando with amusement. "You asked her to show us around, you didn't need to."
Lando sighed, his patience wearing thin. "She's a local, Max. It's important to make a good impression."
Max's grin widened, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Is that all what she is?"
Soon enough, Max decided to spare his best friend from further frustration and went upstairs to get dressed.Â
While he did so, Lando thought about Maxâs question, which he left unanswered. You were a mere stranger, yet after meeting you yesterday, he couldnât stop thinking about you.Â
Lando instantly sat up after a moment, looking around the room and spotting his digital camera sitting on the table nearby. He picked it up by the straps of the bag, wanting to take as many photos of the events of today as he could.Â
The sound of footsteps echoed from upstairs, and soon Max reappeared, clad in a fresh set of clothes. He flashed a grin before taking his phone back from Lando.Â
âFinally ready?â Lando teased, looking up at him.Â
Max rolled his eyes, âyes.â He ran a hand through his tousled hair before asking, âwhatâs the plan for today?âÂ
Lando shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, âthatâs for our lovely tour guide to decide.âÂ
With a nod of agreement, Lando walked beside Max as they left the villa together.Â
Their footsteps crunched echoed softly against the cobblestone path. The afternoon sun cast a golden hue over the landscape, illuminating the streets as it was at the highest peak. As they made their way down the path, they spotted you stepping out of the cottage, a faint smile on your face as you headed towards them.Â
âHey, look whoâs here,â Max remarked, nudging Lando with his elbow.Â
Lando grinned in return, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. âHi,â he muttered as you stood in front of him.Â
You were quickly introduced to Max, and exchanged greetings before leading the way down the street.Â
âSo, where are we off to today?â Max asked, his gaze looking around before returning back to you.Â
âWell, I thought we could start with a stroll through the town square,â you suggested, gesturing towards the many narrow streets. âThen, Iâll show you around a couple historic spots?â You asked, pausing and looking at them for a reaction.Â
Lando nodded in agreement, âsounds like a plan, lead the way, tour guide.âÂ
With a playful grin, you set off towards the heart of the town, Lando and Max falling into step beside you.Â
As you lead Lando and Max through the winding streets of the town, each building you pass enveloped you in a sense of nostalgia. Each cobblestone path seemed to hold a story, whispered through the intricate architecture and vibrant colours of houses.Â
âYou see that old bookstore over there?â you pointed, a smile playing on your lips. âItâs been here for generations, and they have the most fascinating collection of rare books.âÂ
Landoâs eyes sparkled with intrigue as he glanced at the bookstore. âIâll have to check it out then,â he stated.Â
âAvid reader?â You asked, walking side by side.Â
He shook his head, ânot at all, but there has to be something fascinating if you like it.âÂ
You chuckled at his response, focusing your gaze ahead as you felt your cheeks redden. âWell, I worked there as a teen, and from my experience, itâs always worth exploring.âÂ
Lando nodded in agreement, his gaze lingering on the bookstore as you passed by it. âIâll keep that in mind.âÂ
Max fell a couple of steps behind as he watched the interaction between you and Lando. Then he quickly caught up to his best friend, nudging him gently to gain his attention. âYou know Iâm here too, right?âÂ
Lando rolled his eyes, âyeah, yeah, I know.âÂ
As you led the way through the bustling crowd, Lando and Max trailed behind you, keeping close to ensure they didnât lose sight of you amidst the throng of people. Along the winding streets, you were greeted by familiar faces, the locals calling out your name and exchanging warm greetings as you passed by.Â
Lando eagerly captured every picturesque moment with his camera. Occasionally, he would lower the camera to observe you as you engaged in conversations with strangers, raising the camera to his eye once more to capture candid moments of your interactions with them.
Amidst the lively atmosphere, you pointed out hidden gems nestled in the nooks and crannies of the town. From cozy art galleries adorned with vibrant paintings to antique shops filled with treasures of bygone eras, each discovery added to the tapestry of the townâs charm.Â
With each step, you shared tidbits of local history and anecdotes, painting a vivid picture of life in the town. Lando and Max listened attentively, their eyes alight with curiosity as they soaked in the sights and sounds of the vibrant community.Â
Walking down the narrow streets, you pointed out the historic clock tower and the old, abandoned church beside it. You mentioned that it was the oldest structure in town and pushed open the wooden doors.
Max looked around, intrigued. The interior had a musty scent mixed with faint incense, and sunlight streamed through stained glass, casting colorful patterns. He admired the architecture, understanding why it was cherished.
As you explored, you shared the towerâs history, noting its construction by skilled craftsmen from distant towns. The vaulted ceilings and stone pillars added to the sense of reverence. You paused, letting Max and Lando roam.
They were captivated by the churchâs history and beauty, momentarily forgetting the outside world. Emerging into the sunlight, they exchanged awed glances, touched by the experience. It was a moment they would remember.
âSo, whatâs next on the agenda?â Lando asked, glancing down at his camera and scrolling through the photos before looking up at you.Â
You grinned, âwell thereâs a garden not too far from here. Itâs the perfect place to unwind and enjoy the beauty of nature.âÂ
Maxâs eyes lit up with excitement, âyes, please, that sounds amazing.âÂ
With a laugh, you led them along winding pathways lined with vibrant blooms leading towards the tranquil garden.Â
Max let out a contented sigh, âthis place is amazing.âÂ
You smiled, gesturing towards a cluster of vibrant flowers. âThereâs something magical about it.âÂ
Lando nodded in agreement, his eyes scanning the picturesque surroundings. âDefinitely worth the visit,â he remarked, raising his camera to capture the beauty around him.Â
The tranquility of the garden seemed to envelop you, wrapping you in a sense of peace and serenity. Tall trees cast dappled shadows across the well-tended lawns, providing relief from the midday sun. The air was alive with the melodious chirping of birds and the occasional buzz of bees flitting from blossom to blossom.Â
The garden was a lush oasis, meticulously landscaped with winding pathways that meandered among vibrant flower beds and verdant shrubbery.Â
Max glanced at the pond, where a family of ducks paddled lazily. "Hey, check out those ducks," he exclaimed, pointing towards the water. "They look so peaceful."
You chuckled, nodding towards a nearby bench. "Let's take a seat and enjoy the view," you suggested.
As you sat on the stone bench, a sense of calm washed over you, the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds creating a soothing melody. Max and Lando joined you, their expressions reflecting a similar sense of contentment.
Water lilies floated gracefully on top of the clear waters, their delicate blooms adding a touch of elegance to the scene.Â
"This is nice," Max remarked, leaning back against the bench. "Thanks for bringing us here."
Lando nodded, his gaze drifting across the garden. "Yeah, it's a hidden gem," he agreed. "I never would've found it on my own."
You smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction at sharing this special place with your neighbours. "I'm glad you both like it," you said warmly. "There's so much beauty to discover in this town if you know where to look."
As Lando admired the blooming flowers around him, his eyes settled on a particularly vibrant flower. With a grin, he plucked it from its stem, carefully holding it between his fingers.
"Hey, can I?" he asked, gesturing towards your hair with a playful twinkle in his eye.
You chuckled, nodding in amusement. "Sure, go ahead," you replied, tilting your head slightly to give him better access.
Lando leaned towards you with a grin, gently tucking the flower behind your ear. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his fingers brushing against your skin as he adjusted the placement of the bloom.
"There," he said with satisfaction, leaning back to admire his handiwork. "Looks perfect."
You couldn't help but smile at the gesture, feeling a warmth spread through you at the simple yet thoughtful gesture. "Thank you," you said softly, meeting Lando's gaze with appreciation.
You picked out another flower, holding it in front of him with a small smile. âMy turn?âÂ
Lando chuckled, leaning forward and allowing you to place the flower behind his ear. His gaze remained steady on your face, watching as you stuck the tip of your tongue out between your lips in concentration.Â
Leaning back, you looked at him with a smile. âThere, now we match.âÂ
âI see how it is,â Max grumbled from beside you, earning a chuckle from you and Lando.Â
Simultaneously, you and Lando picked out a couple of flowers, and placed them in his hair, his curls holding it steady.Â
âCute,â you commented once you completed the masterpiece with the last flower. Max laughed as he looked at himself in his phone camera, snapping a selfie for memories before telling you and Lando to join.Â
Your face was squished between Lando and Maxâs faces, both men displaying a cheesy grin for the photo, making you join in as well.Â
As the gentle breeze ruffled through the garden, Lando turned towards you with a curious glint in his eyes. âAre there any other magical places you want to show us?âÂ
You pondered for a moment, considering the myriad of hidden gems scattered throughout the town. âWell, thereâs one more spot I have in mind,â you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.Â
Max perked up at the mention of another adventure, his eyes lighting up with excitement. âIâm in, lead the way.âÂ
With a nod, you rose from the bench, the flower in your hair swaying gently with the movement. âLetâs go,â you said, gesturing for Max and Lando to join you as you embarked on the next part of your journey.Â
As you led Max and Lando out of the garden, the thought of another special place lingered in your mind. The lighthouse, with its storied history and breathtaking views, beckoned to you like a beacon in the distance.Â
Lost in thought, you considered whether to reveal this cherished spot to your neighbours. The lighthouse held a special significance for you, a place of solace and reflection that you rarely shared with others. But something about Max and Landoâs genuine curiosity and enthusiasm stirred something within you, prompting you to entertain the idea of introducing them to this hidden gem.Â
With a flicker of determination, you made up your mind. The lighthouse would be the perfect finale to your tour, a fitting conclusion to a day filled with discovery and adventure.Â
As you neared the lighthouse, it stood tall against the sky, looking sturdy and ancient. Lando seemed really excited, his eyes wide as he took it all in. Max looked a bit unsure, especially when he saw the stairs leading up.Â
âItâs amazing, isnât it?â you said softly once you saw Landoâs expression, feeling a sense of awe yourself.Â
He nodded eagerly, clearly impressed. âYeah, itâs really cool,â he said, his voice filled with excitement.Â
âAre we going up there?â Max asked, a hint of apprehension creeping into his voice as he surveyed the towering structure.Â
You nodded, a sense of reverence washing over you as you gazed up at the weathered bricks and the solitary lateen perched at the top of the lighthouse. âYes, itâs probably my favourite spot in this entire town.âÂ
But Max seemed hesitant, eyeing the stairs with doubt. âIâm not too sure about this,â he admitted quietly.Â
You understood his feelings and wanted to reassure him. âThatâs okay, Max,â you said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. âWe donât have to climb all the way up if you donât want to. We can still explore around here.âÂ
Max glanced at Lando, âactually you know what? you guys should go up.â Max said suddenly, giving you a nod, âIâll stay down here.âÂ
You frowned, âare you sure? I can show you around elsewhere.âÂ
But Max shook his head, âyeah, Iâm sure. I know Lando really wants to check it out and I donât wanna hold you guys back.âÂ
âYouâre gonna miss out, mate, just câmon itâs a couple stairs,â Lando tried to convince his best friend.Â
He shook his head, âa couple? Looks like a lot, no, Iâm good.âÂ
With a final nod of reassurance, you and Lando headed towards the first couple of stairs, leaving Max behind. As you began the trek upwards, your comment from earlier intrigued Lando. âWhy is this your favourite spot?âÂ
âPeople donât come here often, perhaps itâs because of the story behind it,â you replied, your words tinged with a hint of mystery.Â
âWhat, is it haunted or something?â He asked, a skeptical look crossing his face.Â
You shook your head, a wistful smile playing on your lips. âLegend says that this lighthouse is haunted, but I believe itâs just a tragic love story,â you explained.Â
âA love story? Do tell,â Lando urged, his curiosity piqued.Â
âIt was decades ago, the story passed on from neighbour to neighbour, so Iâm not exactly sure which parts are true,â you forewarned.Â
Lando smiled, âand youâre passing it on to your neighbour.âÂ
You glanced back at him, pausing for a moment so he could catch up, standing on the same step as you, just a tad bit taller. You didnât realize how narrow the staircase was until he was standing beside you, since youâve only ever come here alone.Â
The air was heavy with the scent of salt and sea, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore echoed faintly in the distance. Lando's eyes scanned your face, patiently waiting to hear the story.Â
You cleared your throat, looking away from him. "You see, there was once a young couple who sought refuge in this lighthouse," you began, your voice tinged with a hint of melancholy, recounting an old tale. "They were not from noble families or romance novels, but rather ordinary people with ordinary lives."
Lando leaned in closer, his curiosity piqued by the hint of mystery in your voice, causing you to shift on your feet but still remaining in the same spot, almost pressed against the wall beside you.Â
"The young man was a fisherman, his days spent toiling away on the sea, his hands calloused from years of hard work," you continued, your words painting a picture of a life marked by struggle and perseverance. "And the young woman was a seamstress, her fingers nimble with the needle and thread, her dreams tempered by the harsh realities of life."
Lando's gaze softened with empathy as he imagined the challenges faced by the young couple.Â
"But despite the hardships they endured, their love burned fiercely, a flame that refused to be extinguished by the storms of life," you said, your voice tinged with admiration for the resilience of the human spirit. "They would steal moments together in the quiet solitude of the lighthouse, finding solace in each other's arms amidst the chaos of the world."
Lando's heart swelled with warmth at the thought of such a simple yet profound love. You cleared your throat once you saw a hint of his smile, turning away and continuing your trek up the stairs while continuing the story.Â
"But their happiness was fleeting, as life has a way of testing even the strongest of bonds," you continued, your voice growing somber as you recounted the challenges faced by the young couple. "Their days were filled with hardship and uncertainty, their dreams overshadowed by the harsh realities of poverty."
Lando followed after you, his breath caught in his throat as he listened, his heart heavy with the weight of the young couple's struggles.Â
"And so, when tragedy struck and the young man was lost at sea, the young woman was left alone to face the cruel hand of fate," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the sound of the wind howling through the lighthouse. "Her grief was a burden too heavy to bear, her tears a testament to the depth of her sorrow."
Tears welled in Lando's eyes as he imagined the young woman's pain.Â
"And though the years passed and the world moved on, the lighthouse remained standing as a silent witness to the love that once flourished within its walls," you concluded, your voice tinged with a sense of reverence for the enduring legacy of the young couple. "Their spirits may have faded into the mists of time, but their love lives on in the whispers of the wind and the crashing of the waves, a reminder that even in the darkest of nights, love can be a guiding light."
Lando remained silent, his heart heavy with the weight of the young couple's story, as he pondered the fragile nature of love and the enduring power of human resilience in the face of adversity.
âYouâre not making this up, are you?â He asked, just to be sure, but once he didnât see you burst out laughing, he knew the answer.Â
"Legend has it that their spirits linger within these walls, bound by an eternal love that transcends the confines of time," you explained. "They say the light still flickers on stormy nights, a beacon of hope in the darkness, as if she's searching for her lost love amidst the crashing waves."
As you and Lando continued climbing the spiral staircase, the wooden steps creaked beneath your feet, each groan echoing through the hollow chamber like a whispered secret. The air grew cooler as you ascended, a faint scent of salt lingering in the air, a reminder of the vast expanse of ocean that stretched out beyond the horizon.
With each step, the world outside faded away, replaced by the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the narrow windows, casting intricate patterns of light and shadow on the worn stone walls. Lando's footsteps fell in sync with yours, his presence a comforting anchor in the midst of the swirling emotions that stirred within you.
As you reach the top of the lighthouse, a sense of awe washed over you, the panoramic view of the coastline stretching out before you like a painting come to life. The sea stretched out endlessly, its surface shimmering in the sunlight, while seagulls soared overhead, their cries mingling with the distant roar of the waves. Itâs a sight youâve seen many times, but every time still feels like the first.Â
Lando stood beside you, his gaze fixed on the horizon, his expression a mixture of wonder and awe. For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the weight of the young couple's story hanging heavy in the air, a reminder of the fragile nature of love and the enduring power of human resilience.
As the light of the setting sun bathed the world in a warm golden glow, you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over you, a quiet acceptance of the mysteries that lay hidden within the depths of the human heart.
With a soft sigh, you turned to Lando, a small smile playing on your lips. "Isn't it beautiful?" you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.
Lando nodded, his eyes shining with a newfound appreciation for the simple beauty of the world around him. "It's breathtaking," he agreed, his voice tinged with emotion.
As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting vibrant hues of orange and pink across the sky, you couldn't help but lose yourself in the breathtaking beauty of the sunset. The world seemed to slow down, the cares and worries of the day fading away as you stood transfixed by the natural spectacle unfolding before you.
But as the sky darkened and the first stars began to twinkle overhead, a pang of realization cut through the tranquil moment. It was almost nighttime, which meant it was time for your pills. You glanced at your watch, a flicker of anxiety fluttering in your chest as you calculated the minutes ticking away.
For a brief moment, you considered the consequences of being late in taking your medication. The regimen was strict, the consequences dire if you missed a dose. But as you looked at Lando standing beside you, gazing at you, his eyes reflecting the colors of the setting sun, a different thought crossed your mind.
Maybe, just this once, it was worth it to be a little late. Maybe, in this moment of shared beauty and connection, the rules could be bent just enough to allow you to savor the fleeting magic of the evening.
With a soft smile, you tucked the thought away, allowing yourself to linger a little while longer in the warm embrace of the sunset.Â
âStay like that,â Lando instructed with a pointed finger at you.Â
âLike what?â You mumbled.Â
âDonât move a muscle,â he hastily replied, holding the straps of the camera that was hung around his neck, quickly turning it on and pointing at you.Â
âYou look beautiful in this light,â He stated, slightly gesturing to his camera before raising it.Â
A tint of blush covered your cheeks but you didnât prevent him from taking a photo of you.Â
Remaining still, you heard the shutter click, once, twice, and even a third time before he was satisfied with the result.Â
âWhat are you going to do with those photos?â You ask, remembering that heâs taken quite a lot of them today, of all the different sceneries.Â
âPut 'em in an album, you know, for memories, and I canât forget my favourite tour guide,â he said with a cheeky grin.Â
âFavourite? Thatâs quite a title for only the first day,â you teased with a smile, leaning against the railing, choosing to look at Lando instead of the setting sun.Â
âYou know how to make a good impression, itâs hard not to call you my favourite.âÂ
You chuckled softly, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "Well, I'm glad I could leave a good impression," you replied, a hint of playfulness in your tone.
Lando grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "You've done more than that," he said, his voice softening. "You've shown us a side of this town that we never would've discovered on our own."
You felt a swell of pride at his words, grateful for the opportunity to share your hometown with new friends. "I'm just happy I could show you around," you said sincerely.
As the last rays of sunlight faded into darkness, you reluctantly tore your gaze away from Lando's, the moment of connection lingering in the air between you. "I suppose we should head back now," you said, a hint of regret coloring your voice.
Lando hesitated but nodded in agreement, âcanât keep Max waiting this long.âÂ
But before you could move, he reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Thank you, for everything," he said softly, his eyes searching yours.
You felt your heart skip a beat at his touch, a rush of warmth flooding through you at the intimate gesture. "You're welcome," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.
With a lingering smile, Lando turned and started back towards the path, leaving you standing alone on the balcony, your thoughts swirling with a heady mix of emotions. Shaking your head to rid yourself of those thoughts, you followed him down the steps.Â
âMate, itâs good that you didnât come, she said itâs haunted.â You heard Landoâs voice, speaking to Max.Â
When you came into his view, Max looked at you with widened eyes, âhaunted?âÂ
You shrugged, looking at Lando, âitâll make for a good bedtime story, donât you think?âÂ
Max started shaking his head, but Lando nodded, âIâll be sure to tell him right before he gets a good nightâs sleep.âÂ
On the way back home, Lando had been so impressed by your touring skills that he had already started asking about your plans for the next day. With no responsibilities on your schedule, the three of you decided to go hiking on a nearby trail.
As you reached your cottage, the familiar sense of fatigue washed over you, dulling the edges of your excitement from the dayâs activities. With a wave and a promise to meet again tomorrow for more adventures, you bid farewell to Lando and Max, watching as they walked off to the villa.Â
Once they were out of sight, you allowed your smile to fade, the weight of the day settling heavily on your shoulders. The ache in your joints intensified, a reminder of the illness that lurked beneath the surface, threatening to consume you if you let your guard down.Â
Stepping inside the cottage, you were surprised to find Isaac waiting for you in the dimly lit living room. His expression was a mix of concern and mild frustration as he looked up from his book.
"You didnât take your nightly pills on time," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "You know you canât skip it."
You sighed, the heaviness in your chest feeling almost unbearable. "Isaac, stop acting like our mother," you mumbled, moving past him to the kitchen.
Isaac followed you, not willing to let it go. "Iâm serious. Youâve had a long day, and you need to take care of yourself. I donât want you to overdo it."
Grabbing the bottle of medication from the counter, you turned to face him, irritation mingling with the fatigue in your eyes. "I know, okay? I just wanted one evening where I didnât have to think about it. Just one."
He watched you with a mix of empathy and helplessness, understanding your need for normalcy but unable to ignore the reality of your condition. "I get it, I really do. But skipping your meds isnât the way to do it."
With a heavy sigh, you filled a glass with water and downed the pills, the bitter taste lingering on your tongue. "Happy now?" you muttered, setting the empty glass down.
Isaac's expression softened, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. "Iâm just worried about you," he said quietly.
You nodded, the weight of his concern settling heavily on your shoulders. "I know. I appreciate it, really. Itâs just⌠sometimes itâs hard to keep going like this."
He reached out and squeezed your shoulder gently. "Weâll get through it, together. Just promise me youâll take it easy tomorrow, okay?"
A faint smile tugged at your lips as you nodded. "Go get some sleep. Youâve been waiting up for me."
Isaac gave you a small, reassuring smile before heading to his room. As you settled into bed, the weight of exhaustion dragging at your limbs, you couldnât help but wonder how many more days like this lay ahead. The uncertainty of the future loomed large in your mind, casting a shadow over even the simplest moments of joy.
As you drifted off to sleep, your thoughts lingered on Lando and Max. Their arrival felt like a breath of fresh air, a chance to momentarily forget about your illness and embrace a semblance of normalcy. They didnât know about your condition, which meant they wouldn't look at you with pity or treat you like a fragile doll. Their presence offered a respite from the constant reminders of your limitations, an opportunity to live in the moment and savor each day as it came.
For so long, your life had been governed by routines and restrictions, every decision weighed against the backdrop of your illness. But with Lando and Max, you felt a sense of freedom, an invitation to break away from the chains that bound you. They saw you not as someone fragile, but as a capable guide and a new friend. You wanted to hold onto that feeling, to let their presence remind you of who you were beyond the confines of your diagnosis.
Their energy and zest for life felt like a tonic; lifting your spirits and reigniting your desire to experience the world beyond your illness. With them, you could laugh freely, explore without fear, and simply be yourself without constantly worrying. Yet, there was a lingering guilt that gnawed at you, a silent whisper that you were using them, exploiting their company to escape your reality.Â
Despite the joy they brought, this guilt cast a shadow over your newfound happiness. You didnât want to deceive them or yourself, but the allure of living fully and freely, even for a short while, was too tempting to resist. You resolved to make the most of their visit, using their company as an excuse to live as vibrant as you once did.Â
â
The next morning, you moved with practiced stealth, careful not to make a sound as you gathered your hiking gear. The house was still and quiet, the early hour providing a perfect cover for your escape. You knew your brother would disapprove of your plans to go hiking with Lando, so you hoped to slip out before he noticed.
Just as you reached the front door, the sound of footsteps halted your progress. Turning, you saw Isaac standing there, a backpack slung over his shoulder, clearly ready to head out himself. His eyes narrowed as he took in your gear.
âAnd where do you think youâre going?â Isaacâs voice was tight with concern.
You sighed, knowing this confrontation was inevitable. âIâm going hiking with Lando. Itâs just a short trail, nothing too strenuous.â
Isaacâs expression darkened. âDidnât I tell you to take it easy? When are you going to take care of yourself?â
âWhat more do you want me to do?â you snapped, your frustration bubbling over. âShould I wrap myself up in bubble wrap and stay in bed until I inevitably die?â
âDonât say that,â Isaacâs voice wavered, his concern morphing into something deeper and more painful.
âI have to!â you shouted, the dam of pent-up emotions finally breaking. âI have to acknowledge it, to you, to our parents, because while you guys are doing everything in your power to ignore it, itâs still gonna happen whether you like it or not.â
He took a step back, his face pale. âI just want you to be safe.â
âIâm going to die anyways,â you continued, your voice trembling with the weight of your confession. âWhether itâs tomorrow or a couple of weeks later, Iâve accepted that by now. You know why? Because even if Iâm alive right now, Iâm treated like a fucking corpse. I cannot do a single thing without our motherâs voice in my mind. âOh, donât stand for too long, donât walk for too long, take your meds, donât let your heartbeat speed up, donât eat this, donât eat that.â Itâs fucking tiring. Forget her, I canât even be an older sister anymore for you. For godâs sake, you make breakfast, lunch, and dinner for us. Youâre acting as if I canât lift a single spoon.â
Isaacâs eyes were filled with tears now, but you couldnât stop. The words poured out, each one a release of years of pent-up frustration and pain. âThe entire town knows, Isaac. Any time I go out, I see the pity in their eyes. You know who doesnât know? Lando and Max. And I have no plans on telling them because they actually treat me like a healthy human, something you guys wonât ever do again.â
You didnât wait for his response, not allowing him to speak. You walked out the door, letting it close behind you with a finality that echoed your determination.Â
When you reached, Lando was already waiting for you by the trailhead, leaning casually against a tree with his backpack at his feet. He waved when he saw you approaching, his smile faltering slightly as he noticed the tension in your posture and the slight frown on your face.
"Hey, there you are!" he called out, his voice bright. "I was starting to think you'd changed your mind."
"Sorry, I'm a bit late," you replied, forcing a smile.
Lando's brow furrowed with concern. "Everything okay?"
You waved it off, not wanting to delve into the argument with Isaac. "Yeah, just had a rough morning. Let's get going, shall we?"
He nodded, still seeming a bit unsure. "Alright, if you say so." He hoisted his backpack over his shoulder and fell into step beside you as you started down the trail.
âMax isnât joining us today?â you asked as you started the hike.
Lando shrugged playfully. âNah, heâs not really the hiking type.â
In truth, Lando thought back to the moment he convinced Max to do something else. He had wanted this time alone with you, to get to know you better without any distractions. The way your face lit up when you talked about your favorite places made him want to see more of that joy.
You laughed, shaking your head. "Yeah, he doesn't seem like the outdoorsy type. I guess we'll have to find something else to drag him into."
As you continued along the path, Landoâs closeness became even more evident. He would occasionally place his hand on your back to guide you over rough terrain or hold your hand to help you across a stream. Each touch was gentle yet charged with an energy that made your heart race.
The path wound through a dense forest, dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy above. The air was fresh, filled with the scent of pine and the sound of birds chirping. As you walked, the tension from your argument with Isaac began to ease, the peaceful surroundings and Lando's infectious enthusiasm slowly lifting your spirits.
"Maybe we can convince him to join us on a beach day or something," Lando said, his thoughts lingering on how much he enjoyed these moments alone with you. "But honestly, I'm kinda glad it's just the two of us today. More time to get to know my favorite tour guide."
You felt a flutter in your chest at his words, the compliment warming you from the inside. âStill your favorite tour guide, huh?â
He shrugged playfully. "The competition is tough, but youâre always coming out on top. Besides, I figured I needed some one-on-one time to really experience what this town has to offer."
As the trail began to climb, you focused on your breathing, matching your pace to Lando's. The conversation drifted to lighter topics, and you found yourself relaxing more with each step. The forest opened up to a meadow filled with wildflowers, the colors vivid and bright under the morning sun.
Lando knelt down to take a photo of a particularly vibrant patch of flowers. "This place is incredible. How do you know all these hidden spots?"
"I've lived here my whole life," you said, watching him as he adjusted the focus on his camera. "Spent a lot of time exploring."
"Must be nice," he said, standing up and looking around. "Having all this beauty right in your backyard."
"Yeah, it is," you replied, though your thoughts drifted back to the times you wanted to leave this place. "Sometimes you take it for granted until you share it with someone else."
Eventually, you reached a lookout point with a breathtaking view of the coastline along with the lighthouse you explored yesterday. The ocean stretched out endlessly, waves glittering in the sunlight. Lando pulled out his camera again, capturing the scene and a few candid shots of you taking in the view.
"This is amazing," he said, his voice filled with awe. "Thanks for bringing me here."
You smiled, feeling a sense of accomplishment mixed with a pang of guilt. Lando didnât know the real reason behind your determination to hike today, nor the weight you were trying to escape.Â
"You're welcome," you replied. "I'm glad you're here to share it with me."
As you stood there, side by side with Lando, your words said to Isaac still lingered in the back of your mind, wondering if you'd said the wrong thing. You knew that you had to take a stand for yourself, otherwise youâd be pressured into regret, but heâs also your brother and heâs always wanted the best for you. You pushed those thoughts down, determined to make the most of this day as if it was your last.Â
With Lando's enthusiasm and the beauty of the surroundings, you found it easier to forget, even if just for a little while, the shadow that always loomed over you.
"So, what's next on our adventure?" Lando asked, breaking the silence.
You laughed softly. "Let's just see where the trail takes us."
Once Lando was satisfied with the amount of photos he took, you began to descend the trail from the lookout point. The path became steeper causing you to walk carefully, trying to focus on your footing.Â
The trail wound through another section of dense forest with the ground covered in a thick layer of fallen leaves. You and Lando continued to chat, touching upon all sorts of topics.Â
Just as you were starting to relax, your foot caught on a hidden root and you found yourself losing balance. Panic surged through you as your ankle twisted painfully. Before you could hit the ground, Lando was there, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you upright. His grip was strong and steady, and you clung to him for a moment, trying to catch your breath and process the sudden burst of pain.Â
âWhoa, are you okay?â Lando asked, concern etched on his face as he steadied you.Â
You winced, trying to put weight on your ankle and finding it difficult. âI think I twisted my ankle.âÂ
Landoâs brows furrowed with worry. âLetâs sit down for a minute. Here, lean on me.âÂ
He guided you to a nearby rock, helping you sit down gently. He knelt in front of you, examining your ankle with a careful touch. âDoes it hurt a lot?âÂ
You nodded, biting your lip to keep from crying out. âYeah, it does.â
Lando looked around, his face serious. âI think we should head back. I donât want you to make it worse.â
You sighed, feeling a wave of frustration mixed with embarrassment. âIâm sorry, Lando. I didnât mean to ruin our hike.â
He shook his head, his expression softening. âHey, donât worry about it. Your safety is more important than the hike. Besides, we can always come back another time.â
He helped you stand, supporting your weight as you gingerly tested your injured ankle. With his arm around your waist, you felt a mixture of gratitude and awkwardness, acutely aware of his closeness and the concern in his eyes.
As you slowly made your way back down the trail, Lando stayed close, his grip on you firm but gentle. His presence was comforting, and despite the pain, you felt a sense of connection with him that was hard to ignore.
Back at the trailhead, Lando leads you towards his car, surprising you. âWhen did you get a car?âÂ
âFigured Iâd rent one while Iâm here, just so we donât have to walk everywhere,â Lando shrugged as he explained.Â
He helped you into his car, making sure you were comfortable before getting in himself. He started the car, casting quick glances at you to ensure you were alright. The engineâs hum was a soothing background noise as he navigated the road back to town.Â
âYou know,â he began, trying to lighten the mood, âI think this might be the first hike Iâve been on where we didnât make it to the top.â
You chuckled softly, appreciating his effort to keep things light. âThereâs a first for everything, I guess.â
He smiled, eyes focused on the road. âYeah, and now we have an excuse to do it again. When youâre feeling better, of course.â
You leaned back, the pain in your ankle dulling slightly with the rest. âI appreciate that, Lando. And I promise, next time, no hidden roots.â
He laughed, a genuine sound that made you feel a bit better about the whole situation. âDeal.â
As you pulled into the town, Landoâs concern was still evident. âDo you want to go straight to the clinic, or should we stop by your place first?â
âHome is fine,â you replied. âIâll just need some ice and rest.â
Lando nodded, driving directly to your house. He parked and quickly came around to help you out. With his support, you hobbled across the driveway to the front door, quickly finding your keys and entering.Â
Inside, you settled on the couch while Lando fetched some ice from the kitchen with your directions. He elevated your foot, resting it on a cushion before gently placing the ice pack on your ankle. âKeep this on for a while,â he instructed, earning a chuckle from you.Â
âOkay, Doctor Lando.â You winced slightly at the cold but knew it was necessary. âThank you,â you muttered softly as he joined you on the couch.Â
âHey, what are friends for?â He shot back.
You raised your eyebrows. âWhen did we become friends?â you asked teasingly.Â
Without a beat, he responded, âfrom the moment you told me I got scammed.âÂ
You shook your head with a smile on your face. His genuine care and the connection you felt during the hike was undeniable. Despite the pain and the dayâs mishap, you still enjoyed it all.Â
As you both sat there, the sun beginning to set outside, you felt a strange sense of peace. Maybe you couldnât control everything about your condition, but you could control how you spent your time. Right now, with Lando by your side, you felt like you were making the most of it.Â
âHow about we watch a movie?â Lando suggested, breaking the comfortable silence. âSomething to take your mind off things.âÂ
âThat sounds perfect,â you agreed.Â
As the movie started, you felt the tension of the day begin to fade, replaced by a warm sense of contentment. As the soft glow of the television cast a warm light across the room, you heard the front door creak open. You tensed slightly, knowing it was Isaac. The memory of your heated argument from earlier that morning returned to your mind like it was fresh, and you werenât sure how he would react to finding Lando here.Â
Isaac stepped into the living room, his eyes flicking between you and Lando, and then down to your ankle propped up with an ice pack. His brows furrowed in surprise, and his look spoke volumes â a silent âI told you soâ about taking it too far.
âHey,â Isaac said, his tone carefully neutral as he addressed Lando. âWhatâs going on here?â
âHey,â Lando responded, sensing the tension but keeping his tone friendly. âWe went hiking, and she twisted her ankle.â
Isaacâs eyes narrowed slightly, a mix of concern and frustration flashing across his face. âI see.â
You shifted uncomfortably, feeling the need to explain but also not wanting to escalate the situation. âItâs just a sprain, Isaac. Landoâs been helping me out.â
Isaac nodded curtly, his gaze softening slightly but still clearly worried. âThanks, mate,â he addressed Lando.Â
He started towards the kitchen, clearly not wanting to prolong the conversation but not ignoring your presence either.
You watched him go, feeling a mix of relief and lingering tension. The argument had left a mark, but you could see that he was making an effort to understand your perspective, even if he wasnât ready to talk about it.
Lando glanced at you, sensing the undercurrent of emotion. âYou and your brother⌠everything okay?â
You sighed softly, not wanting to burden him with the details. âWe had a disagreement earlier. Itâs complicated.â
He nodded, not pushing further but offering a supportive presence. âWell, Iâm here if you need anything.â
Isaac reappeared a few minutes later with a glass of water, which he handed to you without a word. You took it with a grateful smile. âThanks.â
He simply nodded again and headed to his room, leaving you and Lando alone in the living room. Despite the brief interaction, you felt a subtle shift in Isaacâs demeanor. He was trying, in his own way, to respect your wishes and not overdo his concern for your illness.
As the movie continued, you found yourself relaxing again, the earlier tension easing away. Landoâs easygoing nature and the quiet understanding from your brother provided a much-needed sense of balance.
The minutes ticked by, and you found yourself growing more comfortable and drowsy, especially with Landoâs warm presence beside you. Earlier, you had mentioned feeling cold, due to the ice, and he had fetched a blanket, draping it over both of you. As you nestled into the couch, the combination of the movieâs soft soundtrack and Landoâs steady breathing lulled you into a peaceful sleep.
Lando noticed when your head gently rested against his shoulder, your breathing deep and even. He smiled softly, careful not to move and disturb you. As the credits began to roll, he glanced at his watch and realized it was getting late. Reluctantly, he decided it was time to leave.
He gently shifted, trying to move without waking you. Before he got up, he couldnât resist the urge to lean in and press a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for just a moment. It was an instinctive gesture, filled with affection that he hadnât fully acknowledged until now.
Carefully, he adjusted the blanket to ensure you were snug and warm. He stood up quietly, casting one last fond look at you before making his way to the door. Lando left silently, closing the door with a soft click, leaving you to your dreams.
An hour later, Isaac retreated from his bedroom, finding you fast asleep on the couch. Instead of waking you, he went to the kitchen and fetched your evening medicine and a glass of water. Returning to the living room, he placed them gently on the table beside the couch, ensuring theyâd be the first things you saw when you woke up.
Isaac stood there for a moment, watching you sleep peacefully. Despite the argument earlier, he understood your desire to live fully, even if it scared him. With a sigh, he retreated back to his room, hoping that youâd find a balance between living your life and taking care of yourself. The quiet house seemed to settle around your sleeping form, a brief moment of peace amidst the whirlwind of emotions and challenges.
Taglist: @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @xjval @namjoonswaifu @isabellewinchester @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @mehrmonga @nikfigueiredo @wonnou @jointhehunt67 @sya-skies @dreamingonbed @oliviah-25 @heylookwhoitis @unabashedkoalawasteland @inejghafawifesblog @poppyflower-22 @charizznorizz @booksandflowrs @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @randomnessis-mine-me @whatever7justchillin @kagome45 @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @timmy-wife1 @writtenbykirs @lew444 @kansas-kisses @barackosteaa @hellof-1 @itsbwokenln4 @nixily @reengard @candyeollies @customsbyjcg-blog @heeseungthel0ml @sweate-r-weathe-r
#lando norris x you#lando norris fic#lando norris fanfic#lando norris x reader#lando norris angst#lando norris fluff#f1 angst#f1 fluff#f1 imagines#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#thef1diary fic#angst#fluff#fanfic
802 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Here, have a casual glimpse into my thought patterns and creative process:
*just scrolling about Tumblr and vibing to "Too Much Wine" by The Fratellis*
Too much wine?
Mihawk?
Mihawk drunk??
Wait wait wait WAIT what are they all like drunk?
GASP s h i n y h e a d c a n o n s
BLANK DOCUMENT HERE I FCKEN COMEâ
So anyway here's some headcanons about drinking too much (insert adult beverage of choice) with the OPLA boyos.
Implied that Reader is already in a relationship with each character in question.
I shall call it.......
HAMMERED
OPLA!Zoro, Sanji, Shanks, Mihawk, Buggy X AFAB!Reader
NSFW Headcanons
Kinda Kinktober I guess? Borderline shitpost, I had way too much fun with this.
âŤâŹâŤ Too Much Wine - The Fratellis âŤâŹâŤ
I'll take the mead from the table
Talk straight while I'm able
Until I'm nothin' less than a crime
Zoro
"Y'know, I actually have four swords, but we're gonna have to go somewhere more private if you wanna see the other one."
Rum, sake, beer, wine, whatever you're down for drinking so is he.
Zoro's got incredibly high endurance and staminaâit's going to take a while for him to show that it's affecting him at all, but once it does, he goes from zero to one hundred faster than you can say "onigiri."
Literally no in between, no tipsy or buzzed. Just sober and then stumbling over his own feet and swearing he absolutely is not drunk the whole time.
All those repressed emotions that he hides behind a mask of dry sarcasm on a day to day basis are coming out in full effect.
That means you're getting one of two Zorosâgoofy Zoro or sad Zoro.
Goofy Zoro's going to have his arm around your shoulders, laughing his ass off about that time he caught that idiot Marine brat swinging his sword around bare-ass naked so he chopped off half his hair.
He's likely to get pretty flirty in this state, even downright playful, especially if you initiate it, and it's almost definitely going to end in him dragging you somewhere private to fuck your brains out, because his restraint is totally out the window at this point.
If you end up with sad Zoro, he'll be laying his head in your lap and slurringly asking whether or not you think he's ever really going to be the best swordsman in the world, probably still beating himself up over losing to Mihawk.
Just comb your fingers through his hair and do your best to reassure him that you love him and genuinely believe in him. Whether it works or not, he's going ti end up falling asleep in your lap, so be prepared to be stuck there for a while.
"But like...you really think, like, I can beat that bird-eyed bastard? I mean he fucked me up with a goddamn butterknife."
Sanji
"There we areâa beautiful drink for a beautiful woman."
Turbo Flirt Mode: activated.
Sanji is all for pairing wine with food, but if you're looking to get a little sideways, he's going to want to show off his mixology skills to impress youâand he's going to be making some dangerous concoctions, the kind that taste like there's not a drop of booze in them.
The more lit he gets, the less subtle the flirting. If you thought he was clingy sober, you are in for a surprise, because that's just the tip of the iceberg.
Head on your shoulder, puppy dog eyes, telling you how pretty you are and how much he adores you every thirty seconds, with a big silly grin like you're the most amazing thing he's ever seen.
Brushing his lips along your neck and murmuring all the things he's going to do to you once the two of you are behind closed doors laterâand he means every one of them, because you're utterly irresistible to him in this state.
He wants you giggling and blushing just as much as he wants you moaning and trembling under his touch.
Super playful once you are alone, even moreso than usual. He's definitely going to suggest doing body shots, he will beg if he has to, but honestly who in their right mind is going to turn him down?
"You're just...just soâso beautifulâhonestly, it should be illegal."
Shanks
"Holdâhold my rumâno, no, just for a moment, I wanna see if I can do a backflip off the railingâ"
Spoiler alert: he can't. Now he's lying on the quarterdeck alternating between hysterical laughter and "Oh God that hurtâ"
Probably the most fun drunk in the world, but he can be a hazard to his own health as his judgement begins to lapse so someone's going to have to keep an eye on him.
If you're at a tavern or otherwise public location, do not under any circumstances let the man out of your sight for more than two seconds. He turns into a straight-up child, he can and will wander off, and you'll find him a mile away on top of a building, likely half-naked and singing sea shanties at the top of his lungs, with no clue as to how he got up there...or how to get back down.
He's developed quite a high tolerance over the years and tends mostly toward dark rum, though he won't turn down a stein of ale or beer.
Total life of the party energyâtelling jokes and stories, he just wants to see everyone laughing and having the absolute best time.
Super, super flirty, he may as well have written the book on pick-up lines; and he doesn't care that you're already together, he's going to drop every single one of them on you just to see how much he can make you giggle or roll your eyes.
He's very likely to pull you onto his lap at some point and make out with you like no one's watchingâhe already doesn't really care who sees when you're both sober, but he really doesn't care after a little too much rum, so it's probably best to coax him to bed at this point.
He's perfectly happy with cuddling up, laying his head on your chest and draping his arm over you, just humming in contentment and falling asleep together...but if you want more, don't expect to get much sleep, because he wants you lasciviously.
To taste every inch of you, to suffocate between your thighs until you're screaming, to pull you onto his cock and watch you ride him until you're both too breathless and exhausted to do anything but tangle yourselves together in the sheets and drift off to sleep between slow, sensual kisses.
"Oh, princess, just when I catch my breath, you make me lose it all over again."
Mihawk
"If you insist on being such a brat about this, you're going to get what's coming to you."
Mihawk has a strong drive to be in total control of himself and everything happening around him at all times, which means he doesn't tend toward getting drunk.
But...he also has this wee little problem with his ego being larger than the entire volume of every combined ocean in the world. If you imply that you could drink him under the table...he's probably going to sneer and tell you to quit being a brat, but he's also going to be quite driven to prove you wrong.
He does love his wine, but it's generally only a glass or two to wind down and relaxâhe's definitely got a nice bottle of aged bourbon or eau de vie tucked away somewhere that's going to be coming out, because he's got something to prove now.
Unfortunately for him, due to the fact that he so rarely drinks heavily...he's a bit of a lightweight. Which he won't admit even to himself.
But it barely takes a single lowball of harder liquor to get that pale complexion of his a little flushed.
Perhaps just over three for him to start blinking a bit harder than normal in a futile attempt to get his vision to focus, to start speaking a bit slower to attempt to hide the slight slur in his words as you taunt him about itâwhich honestly only makes it more pronounced, and more amusing.
You had best enjoy it, because it's probably the only time you're going to hear the words, "Fine, you win," come out of his mouthâas well as perhaps the only time he won't be miffed about conceding. The alcohol in his system has him loosened up just enough that he can't pretend he doesn't find your boldness and sass at least a bit endearing...and even more alluring.
That being said, you're still getting punished for it, teased within an inch of your sanity, and he's going to enjoy every single second of it.
Setting his glass aside, plucking yours from your hand, pinning your hands above your head with a devilish smirk and slowly undressing you, his eyes on yours the entire time.
Trailing his fingertips across your bare skin, drawing closer and closer but never quite giving you want you want, his lips barely brushing against your neck, reminding you in an amused murmur in your ear that he could easily do this all night.
You did have the audacity to challenge him, after allâhe has no choice but to remind you who's in charge.
"What is it, my little bird? Did you think you were going to get a consolation prize? You're still going to have to beg."
Buggy
"Bet you two thousand Berries I can shotgun two beers at once, watch thisâ"
And he basically ends up halfway drowning himself, but hey, you're two thousand Berries richer!
Honestly, there's no party like a Buggy party, because a Buggy party doesn't stop until someone loses a limbâprobably him.
No, really. Don't let him use his devil fruit abilities. Keep a bucket of sea water on hand if you have to, because he may literally misplace one of his limbs and you're going to have to go on a Chop Chop Scavenger Hunt to help him find it while you're both completely smashed.
If Buggy's drinking, everybody's drinking, and everybody is getting completely fucked up. This is non-negotiable, he thrives on chaos and that's what he's intent on creating.
Anybody who passes out before him is getting something obscene drawn on their face in permanent ink. He can definitely hold his liquor, so if you can keep up with him then you can expect to be the last two living souls left conscious on the whole ship.
That being said, he doesn't care who's awakeâthings are going to get kinky, and he's really not bothered about anybody watching. Or joining in, for that matter. This whole operation very well may devolve into a drunken orgy if he has any say in the matter.
Then again, it may also devolve into him flopping dramatically across your lap and divulging absolutely all of his trauma in an emotionally-charged alcohol-induced rant. He won't remember it in the morning, so please do him a favor and don't remind him.
"Hey, uhh...I losâI lost my foot again. .....Sorâ*hiccup* sorry."
#opla#dracule mihawk#mihawk opla#one piece fanfiction#mihawk#one piece#opla fanfiction#opla headcanon#sanji opla#sanji#sanji one piece#one piece zoro#zoro opla#one piece shanks#opla shanks#one piece buggy#opla buggy#buggy x reader#mihawk x reader#shanks x reader#zoro x reader#sanji x reader#smut#headcanon#shitpost#kinktober
1K notes
¡
View notes
Text
â puppy love



chan | lino | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin
NSFW â
ââââââââââ
Xfem!reader : In which both you and seungmin are too shy to talk about sex, but too horny to keep your hands off each other. (Cute lil birthday post for my dear friend @sydnerss love you squid!)

Sex isnât the most important thing in a relationship.
No, itâs communication.
Which is something both you and seungmin had stressed since the moment you got together. So whyâ why couldnât you two just communicate about sex?
It seems like every time either of you wanted to fuck, you can never voice it. The most you did was lay down silent hints.
Youâd walk around in the tiniest little shorts that show off your fluffy ass and thick thighs. Meanwhile, heâs wearing his joggers as low as possible, subtle vline being showed off like the piece of art it is.
You both wonât say a thing tho.
Itâs til heâs grabbing you by the waist and pulling down to his lap, when you know heâs painfully hard. Dick pressing up against your ass as he looks up at expectantly, hoping youâd also take the hint.
At first you blamed on the fact that your relationship was relatively new. You both are quite shy anyways, it took you a while to even confess your romantic feelings for each-other.
â so being upfront about the sexual ones would be even harder.
just wanted to be respectful, dispute the absolutely disrespectful things yâall wanted to do.
And thatâs why youâre stuck on the phone with him, ache in your core, listening to him hang out with his friends.
Itâs been hours since the call started, something about seungmin missing your voice led yâall into spend your whole day together virtually. Itâs a cute sentiment until youre scrolling through tumblr, landing on a post that has one of your hands slapped over your mouth, while the other is digging into your shorts.
It didnât help how attractive seungmin sounds right now. Joking around with his crew with an edge in his voice that you hadnât heard before. Your AirPods were turned up to an embarrassingly high volume.
You bite back a desperate whimper as your fingers just barely brush the deepest part of you. That spot where only seungmin could reach.
Itâs a bit scandalous to be doing this, you admit. But you canât help it when itâs been so long since youâve gotten your back blown out.
If only you had the courage to tell him about how badly you needed him to fuck you into your pillows. But you dont.
Instead youâll just quietly slut yourself out his voice. pathetically rolling your thumb on your clit as you chase after orgasm that just keeps slipping away.
youâre close- so so closeâ
âY/n? You still there?â Seungmin called making your movements stutter. âY/n?â
Damn it.
âMhm, still here.â You say quickly. But thereâs a slight shake in your voice that makes your boyfriends ears perk.
âYou okay? You sound like youâre crying.â
â âmm not.â Oh but youâre about to. Your body was begging for some kind of relief and whatever you were doing was not enough. Fingers all cramped up inside of you as try to keep on pumping.
âYou sure? Do you need me to come over?â
Yes. Yes. Yes.
âNo, Iâm fine.â you mentally punch yourself as you hear seungmin hum, telling you to let him know if anything changes. But it wonât, youâre sure of it.
He goes back to playing around with his friends and you do the same, but with yourself.
Fingers werenât cutting it anymore though, You needed something stronger. your legs swung over the bed, heading over to your dresser.
Where did you put it?
You rummage through your clothes until youâre pulling out pink little vibrator, shaped to resemble a rose. Itâs been so long since you used it, is it even charged?
But you donât have time worry about that, youâre too busy trying rid yourself of the knot in your stomach.
When youâre back on your bed, you quickly mute your micâ not without making an excuse to seungmin that youâre gonna play some music and that you didnât want to disturb him with it.
In reality, it was because of how loud the said toy was despite what the packaging said when you got it. The Rose made a shit eating wiring sound as you placed on your clit.
But damn, itâs effective.
Soft moans floated off your lips and into the cold air of your room. You imagined that it was your boyfriend between your legs, licking and sucking as he pinned your hips down to the mattress.
your legs would curl over his sharp shoulders, while your hands latched onto a tuft of his brown locks. in your mind, you can practically see the intense look heâd be giving you. Dick probably throbbing in his pants as he eats you up.
you were completely wrapped up in your own fantasy, eyes stung with tears as your orgasm started to creep in finally. With your free hand, you dip those fingers inside of you, pressing upwards and just canât help but cry out.
âMinnie, please. Need you so bad..â You whined, legs shaking immensely.
âIf you needed me so bad, you shouldâve just asked.â
You paused. No, everything had paused.
The rose went dead. Your heart stop beating. and your orgasm never came.
âI thought-â you grabbed your phone, wide eyed because the mute button was untouched. âOh my gosh, your friends didnât hear me did they??â
âAnd if they did?â He rasped, âitâs not like you cared. Acting like a mutt in heat.â
Little did you know, seungmin didnât even give them the chance. as soon as he sensed something was up with youâ he was out the door. by the time he was on your street, you were moaning into the phone. he had to try not to swerve and hit a trash can, it was a mess.
âSeungminâŚâ
âJust come open the door.â
-
Everything happens in flash after you open that door.
Youâre swept off your feet and forced into a desperate kiss. Seungmins nipping, biting, and sucking on your lips as he navigates through the house and into your room.
âyouâre such a tease.â he says against your mouth, âyou did that on purpose, didnât you?â
âNo, seung. I didnât mean to-â your words are cut off, being dropped on the bed knocked the wind out of your lungs.
âFucking liar,â seungmin cursed, dark eyes glaring down at you. âYouâre always doing this. putting yourself on display just to get my attention even though you already have it.â
Heâs so right, you hate itâ but itâs true. You had gotten so desperate and messy, when all you had to do was speak up.
âDid you have fun fucking on that weak toy of yours? Was it better than me? Hmm?â He asked, hovering over you. You gasp, feeling his fingers slide up your thighs and onto your core. His fingers pressed into the wet patch on your thin pajama shorts and seungmin has to hold back a scoff.
âI guess not.â He chuckled, rubbing you through the cloth until his fingers are drenched.
âs-seungmin,â you call and your boyfriend raised a brow.
âWhat? gonna beg like the needy lil pup you are?â He mocked, âgo on then. Speak.â
A waterfall off of pleas leave your mouth in an instant. It was like seungmin a flipped a little switch in your mind, making you spill every dirty thought you had of him earlier.
You just wanted him buried between your thighs, helping your relieve the tightness in your gut after being edged all day. âPlease, please, please Minnie. Needaâ cum so bad.â
a satisfied grin stretches across his face as he hear your demands.
âHow could I possibly say no when youâre this cute?â He says before traveling down your body, leaving behind kisses until heâs face to face with your heat.
Without a thought, he slides your shorts to the side and latches his mouth onto your sore clit. Tongue lapping over the sensitive bud, making your back arch in pleasure.
Fuck, this was just what you needed. Youâre rolling your hips against his face in such a shameless wayâ but did you care? No. All you cared about is getting your long awaited release.
it sneaks up on you, making you choke out a loud cry as your orgasm washes over you. seugmin has to dig his nails into your thighs, trying to keep your legs from closing up on him.
âSeungmin, s-stop.. t-thatâs enough.â You sob, but your boyfriend doesnât listen. He just continues to eat you out, amused as he watched you writhing in his hold from overstimulation.
a second wave of ecstasy hits, harder than the last and seungmin finally lets you free. âYouâre so good for me, look how much you came.â He teased, wiping his face clean from your wetness.
âItâs your fault.â You huff, chest rising and falling.
âGuilty as chargedâ seungmin laughed, before leaning down and hauling you into another kiss. Itâs a lazy and sloppy one, letting you get a taste of yourself.
your hands travel down to his torso, fingers tracing his soft features until youâre buried into the fabric of his boxers.
âFuck, y/n. Just like that.â Seugmin hisses at your cold palm wrapping around his hard length. you pump him, hand moving with easy thanks to the precum that leaked from his shaft.
âSeung,â you breathe out, looking him in the eyes. âfuck me and Make it hurt.â
âBossy lil pup.â
In a matter of second seungmin flips you over onto all fours, pressing your face into the comforter.
âFuck, youâre so tight.â He says from behind, tip diving into your entrance. You whine out loudly as you suck up every inch.
His thrusts are mad and wild, nails sunk into your hips and dick hitting your gspot every. Single. Time. The room is flooded with the sound of his hips meeting yours and the bed screaming under you.
âYes yes yes, fuck me like that.â you cry out, only fueling the man inside you more.
âyou like my dick that much?â He asked, snapping his hips harder. âYouâre clenching so hard like itâs yours.â
âMine.. want it so bad.â you splutter out.
âThen take it, baby.â
Itâs not long before youâre both moaning mess, muscles tensing as you feel your high course through you. seungmin dips down, pressing his face into your nape as he milks himself. His load fills you until thereâs a little bulge in your belly and it only deflates when he pulls out.
He slumps over to the side of you and wraps an arm around your waist, bringing you to his chest.
âNow, i think itâs time we have a little chat about our communication skills.â
âSeungminâŚ. I canât even think right now.â
:)
#stray kids imagines#kpop imagines#kpop fanfic#stray kids x y/n#stray kids x reader#stray kids smut#straykids x reader#seungmin#seungmin x reader#seungmin x y/n#seungmin x you#seungmin smut#seungmin stray kids#straykids smut
876 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Divus Crewel with the Kid from Don't Whack Your Teacher
Strictly Platonic. Also, I just realized that hearts aren't gonna stop Tumblr from deleting some of my posts.
Warnings: Heavy Violence, Swearing, IF YOU'VE HEARD OF THIS GAME I SWEAR NO ONE'S GONNA DIE.

⢠Let's just say that you got enrolled here by your parents or escorted by the Ebony Carriage. Either way, you're gonna be here for the rest of the school years :)!
⢠You'll be 13 years old here. Everyone was surprised by how young you are and underestimated you, especially Savanaclaw students, but they backed off after you gave them the impression of not to treat you like a child. How? We'll see...
⢠Crewel's first impression of you was normal, at first. He sees that you're a very quiet pup and always mind your own business. However, he doesn't like how your attention is always glued to your phone... You're just like that Shroud pup. Because of that, he would always remind the class to put away their gadgets before starting the lesson.
{Alchemy Classroom}
Ace: "Pssst! Crewel's walking over here!"
Kid! Yuu: "đś!"
Deuce: "Kid! Yuu, please put your phone away!"
⢠One time, he saw you looking at your phone during one of his pop quizzes and and got infuriated. He walked up to you and tapped your shoulder with his pointer stick. You put your game on pause to look up.
Kid! Yuu: "...Huh?"
Crewel: "And look what we have here..."
⢠He snatched the phone before you could even hide it. He hold up the phone in the air and glared at you.
Crewel: "I will be confiscating this for a week."
Kid! Yuu: "đĄ"
Crewel: "That look won't work on me, young pup. Focus on the quiz!"
Kid! Yuu: *grumbles*
Ace: "I warned ya."
⢠You couldn't stand a week without your phone. After today's classes, you told Grim to go home without you and you head straight to the faculty room to recover your confiscated gadget. You knocked on the door and one of the staff ghosts answered. You ask the ghost if you could see Professor Crewel and ask him about an assignment. The ghost let you in and guided you to his office.
Staff Ghost, knocks at the door: "Mr. Crewel?"
Crewel: "Yes?"
Staff Ghost: "A student wants to see you."
Crewel: "Oh? Come in then."
Staff Ghost: "He said you can come in. I'll be off now."
Kid! Yuu: "Thanks...."
Staff Ghost: "Don't mention it, kid."
{Crewel's Office}
⢠You opened the door and stepped inside the office. Crewel was writing away at his desk, recording scores from the students' quiz papers. He raised his head and his brows furrowed at you.
Crewel: "Ah... Young pup. I was about to ask someone to fetch you. Sit down, we need to talk."
Kid! Yuu, sits down: "......"
⢠Crewel started searching his desk drawers. The room was silent, only the sound of the wall clock ticking and the flipping of papers. You analyzed the room, it's much cleaner than the average teacher's office. There are shelves containing bottles, books, and scrolls. A coat rack for holding Crewel's fur coat but the man is still wearing it. His desk has papers stacked up (most likely Crowley gave him extra paperwork), a couple of pens, a stapler, a trashcan on the side, and of course, the chairs you and him are sitting on.
Crewel: "Hmmm... Where is it?... Ah, here it is."
⢠Crewel pulled out a file and scanned through it. He sets the file down on the desk, pointing at the paper.
Crewel: "Pup, while I've been recording your scores, I'm disappointed that you scored lowest out of everyone. It was a 50 item test, yet you scored none."
Kid! Yuu: "...."
Crewel: "I don't understand this. Do you even value your grades? You're a prodigy, correct? You should be smarter than this... You must pay more attention to class lessons. When the master orders that you listen, you must listen. If you won't, you'll be dropped out, have I made myself clear, pup?."
Kid! Yuu: ".................."
Crewel: "Speak up."
Kid! Yuu: "..............................."
Crewel: "*sigh*, fine. If this is about your phone, I won't be returning it for a week. And looking at your score, I'll be extending the confiscation."
⢠Now this is one of the aspect of yours that Crewel does not like. You are too quiet. But for a quiet person your actions are very loud, considering the amount of Savanaclaw students terrified of your wrath. Crowley insisted that the faculty should turn a blind eye from your rudeness and keeping you here just because he doesn't want to deal with the Overblots. Grim's presence around you doesn't help either.
Crewel: "If you want to me to give you a second chance, I'll give you limited time to study and memorize all the magic elements and potions for this semester. Afterwards, come to my office again and I will provide a do-over sheet of the quiz, understand pup?"
Kid! Yuu: "........yes."
Crewel: "Speak up."
Kid! Yuu: "....yes."
Crewel: "It's "Yes, Professor Crewel.""
Kid! Yuu: "Ugh....Yes, Professor Crewel..."
Crewel: "... I know that you are younger than the average student, but pup, you must act like a decent adult so that everyone won't treat you like you're a bratty mutt. You're lucky that you're a child otherwise I would be far stricter. But that doesn't mean I'll turn a blind eye for you during my lectures. Now if you don't have any more questions, you are dismissed."
⢠You stood and take your bag, excited that you'll be leaving Crewel's boring scolding. You turn the door handle but Crewel stopped you...
Crewel: "Stay, pup!"
Kid! Yuu: "!!!"
Crewel: "What in the..."
⢠Crewel scanned through the file again and read another paper. It says...
"Due to Kid! Yuu's violent behavior and tendencies, they will be expelled from Elementary School. The undeniable evidence of their expulsion relating to the case of the assaulted and murdered teacher which ultimately resulted to them being the suspect as the fingerprints of the weapon matches theirs. However, the suspect escaped the arrest, including their parents. Until now, the police department still have no lead to where the suspect is hiding. If you have any contact with the suspect, please report immediately to the authorities."
Crewel: "....Pup, explain thi--"
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
⢠If Crewel hadn't raised his head for 5 seconds, his head would have been skewered by his own coat rack. He dodged the attack, making sure that the distance between you and him won't let you go near him, and pulled out his magical pointer at the ready. Angered by Crewel's quick reflexes, you dropped the rack and equipped the chair. You chased him around the room, trying to find an opening from his defensive attacks.
Crewel: "PUP, PUT THE CHAIR DOWN OR I'LL BE FORCED TO TAKE DRASTIC MEASURES."
Kid! Yuu: "......!"
⢠Despite your assault, Crewel took precaution in casting minor damage and restraining spells to not heavily injure you for you are still but a child. You got tired of chasing him around so you climbed up his desk and equipped the wall clock.
Crewel: "I WILL NOT SAY IT AGAIN. PUT. YOUR. WEAPON. DOWN!!"
Kid! Yuu: "...YAH!"
⢠You threw the wall clock towards Crewel like a frisbee but he summoned a shield before it could hit his right knee. You even more became more agitated and more aggressive. This time you equipped his pens and charged at the man. Crewel counterattacks your makeshift stabbing tools but he was too slow to counter the half-shattered potion bottle and you stabbed him with the pointed shards.
Crewel: "!!!"
Kid! Yuu: "...pant...pant..."
⢠Drops of red dripped to the floor. You looked up at his face, expecting to see his pained expression, but you stepped back after seeing the shock twisted into the angered face of a devil. His fur coat was thick so you didn't stab him that deep. The man stared at his ruined coat and back to you with almost murderous intentions.
Crewel: "...Why you little mutt..."
Kid! Yuu: "!!"
⢠Looks like your punching and kicking won't do anything as the man grabbed you by the collar and shouted for the Security Ghosts.
Crewel: "LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO MY COAT! My beautiful coat... RUINED! TORN BY YOUR FILTHY LITTLE PAWS! THAT'S IT!!! I'M TEACHING YOU PROPER DISCIPLINE!! GUARDS!!! CROWLEY!!!"
⢠The loud volume from the man made you cover your ears. You then feel Crewel moving and slamming your body onto a chair and summoned leather belts around your arms. You struggled breaking through the belts to the point of trying to bite it off. Crowley and the guards arrived, their jaws agape seeing Divus' damaged office.
Ghost Guard A: "W-what happened here, sir?"
Ghost Guard B: "Did someone attack you?"
Crowley: "Divus! What is--"
Crewel: "CROWLEY."
Crowley: "...gulp...y-yes..?"
Crewel: "I CAN NO LONGER TOLERATE YOUR IGNORANCE ANYMORE! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW YOUR SO-CALLED CHILD PRODIGY BEHAVED?! LIKE A DOG WITH RABIES!!"
Crowley: "W-well now, Crewel, I think you're overexaggerating-"
Crewel: "THEIR REPORT CARD DOES NOT CONTAIN A SINGLE DIGIT, THEIR BEHAVIOR IS IMPULSIVELY UNFORGIVABLE, THEY TURNED MY OFFICE UPSIDE DOWN, THEY RUINED MY COAT, AND NOW, THEY EVEN TRIED TO KILL ME!!!"
Crowley: "Oh Sevens! That must explain the mess. Your office does look like a tornado flew in here."
Crewel: "EXPEL THEM IMMEDIATELY."
Crowley: "What? No! I beg your pardon, Crewel. But I won't-"
Crewel, shoves the file to Crowley: "HAVE YOU SEEN THEIR FILES? THAT CHILD IS A FUCKING MURDERER! YOU'RE OUT OF YOUR MIND IF YOU INSIST ON KEEPING THEM DESPITE THEM HAVING CRIMINAL RECORD. IF YOU WON'T HAND THEM OVER TO THE POLICE, THEN I WILL."
Crowley: "WAIT! CREWEL! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!"
Crewel: "I AM BLEEDING, YOU DUMBASS! I'M GOING TO THE INFIRMARY, OF COURSE!!"
Ghost Guards: "Looks like the file checks out. Kid's an actual killer."
Ghost Guard B: "Oh welp. Sorry kid, but you're gonna have to come with us."
Kid! Yuu: "đŽâđ¨..."
⢠After Crewel patches up his stab wound, he dragged you by the ear and ordered Crowley to call for the Ebony Carriage to send you to the police department. They also made sure to accompany you with a Ghost Guard to make sure you won't try anything and explain to the authorities about what you've done. Crewel finally exhaled a sigh of relief... He can't believe he almost got murdered! Attempted by a child no less!
Grim: "H-hey! Who the heck are you people?! Where are you taking my henchman?!"
Ghost Guard A: "We're arresting them."
Ramshackle Ghosts: "WHAT?!"
Grim: "Fnyaagh! Give them back!! Kid! Yuu!!!"
⢠Crewel gave Crowley an earful back at the faculty room, much for Mozus' delight since he also cannot stand your rude behavior. Vargas will miss a capable and athletic student like you but he also felt annoyed by your ignorance. Grim was in the hands of ADeuce since you're not by his side anymore, the feline tried to convince ADeuce that he doesn't miss you and failed. Sam is not that involved in your student life, so he was surprised that a student like you had the audacity to assault a faculty staff. The only times that you and Sam interacted was when you bought candies from his store. He could tell that you're constantly in a bad mood and the other NRC students are not helping that, Sam remembers trying to cheer you up a couple of times by sneaking a few more candies for free, the image of your childish smile still fresh in his mind. He felt bad when he heard from Crewel about your expulsion, but it's for the best.................. That's what they all thought.
⢠Turns out that the Ebony Carriage sent you back! How or why did it happen? Even the Dark Mirror doesn't know. Crewel, still pissed off, decided to call the police in front of the gates. They took you but the carriage always send you back. Every. Single. Time... Crowley insisted that you must stay since the Ebony Carriage sees potential in you. What even kind of potential is that? You're practically more hostile than Floyd, for seven sakes! After trying and failing to arrest you too many times, Crewel got exhausted and stopped. Grim was happy that you're back and kept bawling that you left him.
Grim: "Fnaa... Fnyaaah! Henchman, you're back! You better buy me tuna cans for leaving me for so long!"
Crowley: "Aha! You see, Mr. Crewel? They do have potential to do better, wouldn't you say? The Ebony Carriage escorting them back is proof of that."
Crewel: "Potential to be what? A serial killer?"
Crowley: "No! I mean- the potential to be a student here in NRC. I am certainly sure that if you give them a second chance they won't do it again. Right, Kid! Yuu?"
Kid! Yuu: *nods yes*
Crowley: "Aaand... because of how generous I am, I will overlook your criminal record in your file for as long as they behave!"
Crewel: "They act like that once more, Crowley, and I will file a lawsuit against you."
Crowley: "Why don't we make a wager? If Kid! Yuu behaves for more than 6 months, they'll stay. If they cannot do that, then you can expel them and hand them over to the police."
Sam: "Hey Vargas, why don't we make a bet of our own?"
Vargas: "Hmm...Depends. Who are you betting on?"
Sam: "I'll bet that Kid! Yuu lasts here for 7 months, you'll help me lift the crates at the shop for a week?"
Vargas: "Then I'll bet that Kid! Yuu lasts for 4 months, you'll give me a sack of protein powder for free?"
Sam: "You're on."
Trein: "sigh...Idiots."
Crewel: "... Alright, fine. Have it YOUR way, but I will not be sparing you from learning discipline from me. You will be fixing my office and clean it. Why in Twisted Wonderland did even you attack me in the first place?"
Kid! Yuu: "...cuz... I don't want any more of my stuff...to get confiscated by you..."
Crewel: "......... Seriously? All this damage for a phone?! Pup, can't you see that violence only makes things worse?"
Kid! Yuu: ".... I'm sorry...for... y'know..."
Crewel: "Hm? Speak clearly!"
Kid! Yuu: "...I'm sorry... About the damage to your office... And I'm sorry about trying to kill you... I'm sorry."
Crewel: "Good. Now pick up those cleaning materials and get to work!"
⢠So in the end, you atoned for the shitty things you did. Crewel made you promise that you won't fight with other students, especially Savanaclaw students. You started to use honorifics toward your elders too, Trein was pleased. Due to Crewel's training of manners and Trein's training of etiquette, you became more of a decent student, albeit, still a little murderous. Sam was happy to see you shopping in his shop again.
⢠However, the staff can tell that you've developed a habit of being... difficult sometimes. The training and extra lessons didn't make your sociopathic tendencies go down but it appears less now. Crewel has learned that Vargas' reflex lessons helped to avoid stationery projectiles you throw once in a while during his class. You mostly do that in an act of showing frustration from the multiple tasks he's given the class.
{Alchemy Classroom}
Crewel: "This 17th century potion was brewed by the Graystone family and was usually used to increase their children's appetite so that their intake of food will be normal and they'll become healthy in later years... So for today's assignment, I'll be grouping the students in this class into 4 and each group must have a presentation according to the steps of brewing the exact potion. The deadline is due tomorrow on 5:00pm--"
!!!!!
Ace: "W-WHAT THE-- Who threw a ruler at the professor?!"
Deuce: "Th-they almost stabbed the back of his head!"
⢠The class was startled by the sound of something sharp being thrown and dug into the blackboard just a few inches beside Crewel's head. The man only tilted his head a bit before the ruler could get even a strand of his hair (all thanks to Coach Vargas). Crewel calmly turned around with a stern expression and glared at your direction.
Crewel: "No, pup. I will not extend the deadline.
Kid! Yuu, raising a pencil: "......"
Crewel: "And no, your empty threats will not force me to group you with Spade and Trappola. Now go to your group!"
Kid! Yuu, drops the pencil: *grumbles*
⢠The students fell silent as you grumbled back into your seat. Half of the students assumed that you have gotten violent enough to no longer make Crewel panic but made him rather annoyed by it. Ace and Deuce sat beside you, the ginger-haired boy grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you while the Blue-haired boy rambled on and on about how dangerous your stunt was.
Ace: "What the hell, Kid! Yuu?! I can't tell if that was horrific or badass but don't EVER do that again! The Savanaclaw students are bad enough, seriously, does your stupidity know no bounds?!"
Deuce: "You should be ashamed of yourself. W-what if your parents will be disappointed? I know you're a little younger than us but we're still classmates. We can't meet you if you go to jail! Who will feed Grim?!"
Ace: "Yeah! We really don't wanna deal with him again!"
Grim: "HEY, I'M RIGHT HERE!"
Crewel: "SILENCE, PUPS! MINIMIZE YOUR VOICES!"
⢠You drowned out their voices by doodling lines on your paper since your phone was still confiscated. You just nodded to their ramblings and contemplated on not doing it again for your sake. That said, you think you'll stop by Sam's to buy Grim tuna.
⢠Also, Sam won the bet.
#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#Twisted Wonderland x GN reader#Twisted Wonderland x male reader#Twisted Wonderland x Child reader#Twst x GN reader#Twst x male reader#Twst x child reader#Twst staff x reader#Divus Crewel x reader#Twst staff x GN reader#Twst staff x male reader#Twst staff x child reader#Divus Crewel x child reader#twst platonic#silverryuan works
346 notes
¡
View notes
Note
Hi!!! I saw that you made a new post and I just wanted to say that you were one of the first people I followed many years ago when I made this blog and reading through all your words (I would scroll all the way to the bottom to your first post, like every other night before sleeping) got me through some rough times in high school and probably changed the trajectory of, like, who I am. Itâs been a while since I went through this blog but I remember I had some of your art as my phone cases for years, and I still have them in a box somewhere (they used to hang on my wall when not on my phone) just because I was so into all that you did. I will have to scroll and find it, but one of your posts, it was something about Tomorrow, and Not Being Afraid, and though I canât recall the exact words, I remember one night specially where I was so close to quitting a lot of things, because I could not handle the pressure of being around people or doing things or generally existing, and I read that before I went to bed and I remember it felt like seeing brand new colors bloom in my pitch black bedroom, like some kind of explosion of the mind (in a good way). And I repeated the words to myself as I fell asleep, and then when I got up before the sun I still spoke them, all the way until I got to what I was dreading and started my day. And that day was different, this is where it gets murky, but I remember that that day was so different, because I was different. And things just got Better for me after that. Like I said itâs been a while since I went through this blog, but I would check in some times the past couple years wondering if you posted again, and even if you donât want to come back fully it was really nice to see your words again on my dash :) I think tomorrow afternoon ill scroll and try to get to the bottom of your blog like I used to (I canât do it now, itâs kinda late for me and I try to get good sleep these days instead of scrolling tumblr all night like I used to haha). Anyway if you see this or read this no pressure to reply Iâm not really expecting one, I just wanted to tell you, thank you.
this msg has been in my inbox for over a year and i was gonna keep it there but i think i'd like to share... it makes me very very happy and like this did all mean something good... thank you for being on this journey with me... it has meant a lot to me over the years and i think about it often
112 notes
¡
View notes
Note
do you happen to know of any tumblrs that do what you do, but for other... types(?) of people? i'm struggling to find an active LGBT writing guide blog specifically at the moment but it'd be nice to have a masterlist of any blog of this variety, since tumblr's search is remissfully unhelpful..! tysm
Hi lovely asker!
So there used to be a whole lot of blogs that were labeled "Scriptx" blogs and of course others too. Good thing is a lot of them were archived! So while they're not open for new questions you can still use the search and use the information provided to other asks they answered. So I'm gonna tag the other active blogs or the ones that are just on hiatus and then I'm gonna link all the archived ones!
Active:
@yourbookcouldbegayer
@scriptlgbt
@fuckyeahasexual
@writingquestionsanswered
@scriptmedic
@blindbeta
@askablindperson
@writingwithcolor
@creatingblackcharacters
@howtofightwrite
@script-a-world
@scriptstructure
Not active/Archived:
scriptservicedogs-blog
actuallyservicedogs
scriptshrink
scripttorture
scriptveterinarian
scriptautistic
asexualadvice
scripttraumasurvivors
scriptpharmacist-blog
scriptpolitics
scriptpublishingindustry
scriptfirefighter
writenavy
scriptwitchcraft
scripthacker
scriptcriminaljustice
scriptgenetics
scriptflorist
scriptlawyer-blog
scriptastronomer
scriptchemist
scriptmyth
scriptspoonie
scriptkink
scriptequestrian-blog
scriptsocialwork
scriptbrainscientist
fantasticallyfactualforensics
scriptaccountant
scriptballerina
scripthistory
scriptlibrarian
scripteconomist
scripteducator
scriptlinguist-blog
I briefly scrolled through a few of these that I personally wasn't aware of but I can't vet and scroll through each and every individual blog in its entirety because well it would take a very very long time. Also of the active blogs some don't have their ask box open and/or some are on small hiatus'. Please be respectful of that, pretty please, everyone puts in a lot of time and effort and yeah.
~ Mod Virus đ¸
323 notes
¡
View notes