#they bring him fresh fish

[thestonecuttersguild]

October 20, 2024

[androgynouspenguinexpert]

and merguy

[machveil]

I can't resist the siren call

Roommate!Simon Riley that low-key enjoys fucking with your friends Y/N

subtle foreshadowing… I suppose I can dip into my nsfw Roommate!Simon Riley thoughts

Roommate!Simon Riley who shares a laundry bin with you, it had been agreed a long time ago that just doing a big load would be easier. you takes turns, knowingly stealing each other’s clothes every couple days when the laundry is fresh out the machine. you know Simon took an oversized t-shirt you owned, but that’s okay, you took his favorite gym hoodie

Roommate!Simon Riley who doesn’t get embarrassed about his underwear being in the bin with yours, it’s all going in the machine anyways. that doesn’t stop him from raising an eyebrow though when his favorite boxers go missing. he was sure he put them in with the dirties, well, the cleans now. he figures the machine ate it, or maybe they’ll show up some day by chance - he shrugs it off and separates his clothes from yours, snagging one of your oversized sweaters to lounge in later

Roommate!Simon Riley who freezes when he sees you on the couch that night. eyes wide and jaw slack, he can’t bring himself to move. sat watching something on the tv - he can’t be bothered to acknowledge whats playing - he stares at you, wearing his boxers as shorts. “Hey, come watch this— I’ll catch you up since it just started. I’m not pausing it though so you better pay attention.”, your words are all in one ear and out the other. suddenly his legs are moving on their own, stopping in front of you. he doesn’t register what you’re saying, telling him to move because you can’t see the tv, but then he speaks

Roommate!Simon Riley whose voice is deliciously deep, a little raspy from how his throat suddenly feels dry, “S’that mine?”, he asks, eyeing his boxers. he’s never had such a hard time swallowing before, heartbeat erratic as you casually respond, “Huh— oh, yeah. They’re really comfy, the fabrics nice.”. fabrics nice, yeah, he knows. “You— ya know those are boxers, right love?”, he asks, hands twitchy as you reply, “Mhm, just borrowin’ them.”

CW: guilty wank, man is hopeless [kisses his cheek]

Roommate!Simon Riley who’s a mess after that interaction. you wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at him, but he’s losing it on the inside. he’s seen you be audacious with stealing his clothes before, taking his loose-fit tank tops that left little to the imagination on you, stealing clothes you knew he favored and parading around in them, but his boxers? that had him stalking back to his room, quick to turn on his heel before you could see his pants tent

he’s sweating, closes the door to his room a little harder than he meant to. god, he wants to go back out there and see you again, get an eyeful of how comfortable you looked - wearing his boxers like they were yours. you wouldn’t know, and he can’t help but think about it, but you had stolen his favorite pair. they’re plain, a simple black pair, something he bought at the store because he needed new underwear. but when you wear them? they suddenly looked different, makes his heart hammer against his chest. it feels like he walked out into the living room and you wearing lingerie, not something he got for fifteen pounds

he feels a little guilty, shoving his jeans down his thighs as he sits down on his bed. you’re home, sat in the living room just down the hall, and here’s Simon fishing his leaky cock out of his underwear. he really shouldn’t, he should sneak into the bathroom for a cold shower, think about war and blood and bullets to get his boner down. but he isn’t, he’s spitting into his palm and groaning, bringing his free hand up to cover his mouth - he’s never been good about keeping quiet. it’s not his fault you were out there wearing his clothes, you were the one that decided to look so— so cozy and content in your makeshift shorts. domestic

when that word settles at the forefront of his brain Simon’s hips jerk, you looked domestic, wanting to watch some show with him. his leg jolts slightly, hand moving to shallowly pump his weeping head. maybe your friends are right, Simon does take care of you - could bend you over and make you sob his name - he’s basically your boyfriend, often mistaken for your husband. his thighs tense when he imagines a ring on your finger— no, his dog tags hanging from your neck— god, holding you at night as an actual couple—

he’s choking out a moan, muffled and hoarse, as he coats his hand. eyes fluttering shut and breathing heavily, all his thoughts fly out the window as his cum drips down his fingers - all his thoughts except for one. he’s going to have to go back out there later to eat dinner with you, and oh, fuck, he sucks in a deep breath as he chubs up again

[lizardho]

I was like 11-12 years old when I figured out at a boring-ass church activity that you could put rocks into little plastic spoons and then pelt people who annoyed me with them. I did this for the rest of the activity, and at Sunday dinner the next night was bragging about my victory (cornering the mean kid who picked on my youngest brother and pelting him with rocks). One of my cousins was like “no way, that sounds SO fun! Let’s do that RIGHT NOW!” So we grabbed spoons and went and got pebbles from the back yard and launched them at each other.

The problem was my grandma sold her soul for the world’s most resilient plastic spoons so we could launch those fuckers HARD. I gave out welts like candy on Halloween, and I got them back in kind.

So we resorted to taking cover and giggling until we got whacked, then yelping, then returning fire.

My cousin hid in my grandpa’s little fishing boat. It was a good boat, but simple and honestly underused. We didn’t know the little windows on it, meant to keep the wind out of my grandpa’s face while he drove, were cracking. However, they were definitely cracking. Eventually it became obvious and we realized we had been being dumb.

This was NOT the first time in my life I’d been dumb roughhousing and broken something, and I had developed a reputation in my family as being “suicidally honest” so I was the one to deliver the bad news. My grandpa let out a pretty good chuckle and said it was OK, tousled my hair, and asked my grandma to bring me cake. I am not kidding. I learned later he hated his boat and only bought it for his kids’ sakes, since he thought everyone needed to know how to fish. At the time though I was just bewildered and pleased at my good fortune. FINALLY, at long last, being honest and telling the truth about breaking something expensive was getting me cake. I knew if I kept trying it would eventually serve me, and now so had CAKE. I was pleased as could be.

My dad, on the other hand, was livid. He LOVED that boat. He spent several weeks each summer recovering from breaking ribs in that boat every year for about 7 years prior to this incident. He had great memories and memories that boat. So he told my Grandma NO cake for me AND that I’d be coming by this weekend to fix stuff around the house and pay for the broken window with my babysitting/lawn mowing money.

Obviously I was devastated, but that felt more in-line with the way things normally went when I broke something expensive so I just figured it was OK. My grandpa gave my grandma a look and sadly said “Ok, have her here on Saturday to help me with some yard work.”

That Saturday my dad woke me up at 6:00 sharp and drove me, sleepy and bewildered, to my grandpa’s house. He was mumbling under his breath the whole time but he thought he was teaching me consequences for my actions so he was ultimately OK with it.

We get to my grandpa’s house at 6:15. My grandpa is outside with a ladder hanging Christmas lights. The lawn is freshly mowed, the trees and garden are weeded and well-tended to, the carnations in the front yard look immaculate, and my grandpa has this giddy mischievous look on his face. He tells me he was so excited that I was coming over that he couldn’t sleep, so he did all the yard work himself. He asked me to help him put up Christmas lights and decorate the Christmas tree, which I did, then said that because I was such a good helper I could have some pancakes for breakfast. I was sent home with the slice of cake I had been denied the week before, wrapped to keep it as fresh as possible.

The whole way home my dad looked a little miffed, but told me that he was glad I had been honest and was proud of me for helping grandpa. I know he wanted me to Learn a Lesson™️the cowboy way, like he had as a kid, but didn’t have much room to complain since I’d still been Put To Work.

I think that was a lesson for both of us, although I’m not totally sure what it was supposed to show me. I think it was my grandpa’s way of showing my dad that discipline without tenderness doesn’t count as much. He died last year and I miss him terribly, as does my dad. I hope that my story of victory, drama, punishment, and ultimately a secret second victory is meaningful to someone else out there, but if not it still means a lot to me ❤️

[gremlingottoosilly]

Does monster!König have any courting practices? Poor reader not understanding displays like showing his prowess are to prove he’s the strongest and therefore best mate for her.

He brings you a bunch of raw fish that he caught fresh. A small pile of different sea shells, mixed with bloody bones of his enemies - something to show that he can both provide for you and protect you. It's common in his monster type to have a female with multiple partners just so they can provide for and satisfy her, and so Konig tries to do the job of three people at once. You don't understand it, your silly human brain is just not wired properly to accept his affection. You gag at the gifts presented, and he spends the night sulking and the next - fucking you in the mattress, punishing you for your disobedience. You don't understand how good of a mate he is, doing all of this for a lowly human who can't even take all of his brood without whimpering and cumming each second. Did you not know you're only supposed to feel pleasure when he is fucking you, not every second of the breeding process? Your body is exhausting itself, making it impossible for Konig to take care of you as his mate. It doesn't matter, though. He will get what he wants, no matter what he has to do for it. He switches tactics. Providing for his mate also means food - and he feeds you with everything he has in store, even making poor recruits run for snacks and something sweet. Fattens you up, making you wonder if he is actually going to eat you one day, with the way he is actively trying to make you as fed as possible - but it's just his idea of love language. Something weird and twisted, just as he is. He is making sure to mate with you every night - a good girl should be satisfied with this, and you'd definitely choose him...so, if it means fucking you until you're crying from overstimulation and can't move, he is doing it. Unfortunately for you and your poor swollen hole that is already brimming with his cum.

[cursedcola]

Prompt: Couples will evidently begin to mimic their better half after some time. What traits do you steal from him, and vice versa? Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Everyone - because I want to and I’m amidst fleshing out all my Yuu/Character dynamics + designs Format: Headcannons. Masterlist: LinkedUP Parts: Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle (Here) | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia A/N: Putting all my brain rot from my notes into something cohesive. Contrary to my love for ripping your hearts out, I've come with some fluff this time around. BTW you may or may not already do things mentioned - I write my works with a specific Yuu in mind for each character so this is based on them. Just a reminder.

Habits You Steal:

Bargaining (Inherited AND Developed): No partner of Azul's is a shmuck. Not because of his standards (a little bit), but because you will learn to negotiate through trial and error. Being his pearl does not exclude you from daily verbal tango. He can and will still come after Ramshackle if given the opportunity. What? Just come stay in Octavinelle. He won't even charge for it, and you can bring Grim. He is always three steps ahead. Buying him a present is like the world's most daunting task, because he somehow already knows what's inside the box. Every. Time. Even if you shop a year in advance. Don't even start with arguments. He has a rebuttal for EVERYTHING. There is never a winner, only a settlement because he is so stubborn (and you equally so. Pride is contagious). As adults you're constantly exposed to business deals and sometimes have to deal with handling negotiations. Not to mention people with grudges against Azul attempting to shmooze their way through you. Only to find that you are just as manipulative.

"Pearl, Jade says that our deal with the Bas triplets for the next semester has been renewed? I hadn't scheduled their extension meeting until the first Saturday of next month. Would you have anything to say on this?" <- Long story short, the triplets tracked you down to beg for help in getting out of their work contract with Azul. He was always fair, and they entered willingly. No corruption on his part...but they were hell bent on not working in the kitchens with Floyd anymore. Solution? You managed to shmooze an extra week on their terms, in exchange for not being put on Floyd's shift anymore. Azul is so proud - but don't do that again. You're the one telling Floyd he doesn't get to play 'spot the difference' with the triplets anymore. Not him.

Smell Sensitivity (Developed): Nothing shanks the nostrils like sea brine. No pun intended. Lingering around Octavinelle equates to constantly smelling fish. Most students there come from the coral sea and don't mind it. Others only stop in for a quick bite to eat, and don't stay a moment more. The Mostro Lounge just has a potent smell that can't be found anywhere else. Like McDonald's french fries...but fish. Grim loves it, you now get nauseated when a scented candle is lit.

"Must you pinch your nose? Think of my- Octavinelle's reputation for a moment" <- Azul is brewing a scent masking potion as we speak. You're really hitting his pride here, even if you can't help it.

Glasses Wipes (Developed): Octopunk heats up when you so much as touch him in public. Then his glasses get foggy. If you wear makeup, its smears on his skin (to which he acts unbothered, but we all know it's a ruse). He obviously carries a hankey but having some wipes on hand is a nice gesture. Unnecessary, but sweet-ish.

Refined Pallet (Inherited): The cup ramen and foraged greens just do not cut it anymore. Not when Azul's made a VIP menu over at the lounge just for you. Sure, the place has a variety of options but he'll always get Floyd to cook up whatever you're in the mood for. At a discount (since Grim can eat him out of pocket). Have you ever had 100% dark, sea-salt chocolate imported from the coral sea? Ever tasted it in a rich devil's cake, baked fresh with only the best ingredients? Betty Crocker, who???

"I must say, your diet could still use some work - do not look at me that way. The twins found your hidden stash of instant noodles during our 'occupation' at Ramshackle. Under the stairs, pearl? Really? When was the last time your sodium was checked?"

Aversion to Sea Food (Developed): You will never understand how the Coral Sea students are okay with the Mostro Lounge. Neither what was running through Azul's head when he decided to open a SEA FOOD restaurant. Honestly? Red flag. One you ignored, but still a red flag. The existence of merpeople and therianthropes is still new and novel to you. To each their own, but you can't eat any sea creatures knowing that it could be - no, it can't be? Floyd's always joking that Azul is tasty but...it's just a joke, right?

"As much as Floyd loves to special make your chicken strips with wedges...why do you never order from the public menu? I assure you, Mostro Lounge is supplied with only the highest quality - h-huh? What crazy thoughts are you having?! Honestly!" <- This explains so much. He always thought you stared at the food with envy, because Grim would eat your pocket out and leave you to sip on lemon water. He had to force the special 'vip' meals down your throat at the start. is this why you're so uncomfortable having lunch with Floyd and his weekly Takoyaki binge?

Appraisal (Developed): Ever see those shows where a professional goes around to antique markets, and can point out forgeries, fake gems, etc. by eye? That is Azul. He's a collector of gadgets and gizmos aplenty - anyway. Strolls through antique marts, coin collecting showcases, and other marketing events will undoubtably train the eye over time. No scammer will ever shmooze ya out of house and home. Sorry Sam.

Habits He Steals:

Jacket (Developed): Mermen run cold. The uniform blazer Azul dons is more-so just for show than anything. Clothes are overall a novel concept, since most in the coral sea dress minimalistic (or not at all). The lounge runs quite chilly as well. Not enough to deter customers, but the perfect temperature to get uncomfortable after a few hours. Now Azul has many jealous bones in his body, and would rather drop dead than see one of the leech twins loan out their blazer so you can nap in the back room (they're doing it on purpose). Azul often offers his coat out to you the moment you walk inside - so often, that all the part-time workers know if you're on lot if he's walking without it.

"I need my jacket back, please. Why? N-no particular reason. Do I need an excuse to wear my own clothes?" <- Ruggie - Mostro Lounge's most reliable and simultaneously difficult part timer, mind you - was the first to pick up the correlation. If the VIP lounge was shut, and Azul was out doing quality rounds? It meant you were in the back, and he was in a better mood. The perfect time to sneak a platter unnoticed. Azul must take precautions.

Snitches Get Stitches (Developed): ONE perk of living with ghosts. Honey you get ALL the tea on campus. You just need to butter them up with a game of pranks and it’s ripe for the taking. Now, who do you think is going to make full use of this? Azul. They won’t give it to him directly because it’s more fun to make him frustrated. Which means he has to go through you. *Which means* he gets very crafty in buttering you up for details.

Midnight Hour (Developed): This mainly applies to his adult years. Wherever he goes - business or otherwise - you come with more often than not. As a youth his dealings were important - yes. Yet he was still getting his swimming legs in business and his primary demographic was students. Contrary to his pride, Azul wasn't someone important. Someone actually worth targeting like the Briar Prince. The real world is much more risky. You can help with negotiations and running facilities. You might 'think' he is tossing you into the end zone with all his ambitions...but no. Any dealings with high-stake confrontations are handled only after midnight.

"Two-o-clock in the am hours. That is the latest I can offer - well, it seems we've reached an impasse. This deal clearly is not worth my effort, if such 'accommodations' are beyond your capabilities. Allow one of my partners to escort you off the premises." <- Let's make one thing clear. No contract is ever worth putting you at risk. One twin (usually Jade) will remain at his side, the other (Floyd...because he's honestly not the best for negotiations. More guard dog material, and has fun hanging out with you) back with at the house/hotel. Azul doesn't trust 'anyone', and the Leech family is obviously in business with him. He takes no chances, screw probability, and can't kill the inner control-nerd in him. He's never out past three-am and would rather you feel a bit left out then dead somewhere in the Stillwater.

Land Legs (Developed): Considering he will be on land more for the foreseeable future, Azul puts more effort to building his land legs. Not that he wasn't trying before, but there wasn't any guarantee that he'd be working the land beyond NRC. So with the reassurance that 'something' (someone) will require his attention on shore, he decides to invest the effort. Azul will not get on one of those flying deathtraps past academy years though. He's getting a license and pulling up in a new Bugatti.

Pictures (Inherited): Much to Azul's chagrin, you love photos. Maybe it's because you have little to recall from your own world. Maybe it's because you're in the photography club. Maybe it's because you love his misery - but you are always taking photos. At first he insisted that you never get him in the frame. He hates them. Still does, do not misunderstand...and the idea of someone having so many with him included eats him up. Yet his insistent denials do lessen, and he tolerates them. You cannot post them anywhere. Yet...he will only 'mildly' grimace when looking at them around your house. Only because who the heck is coming over that he hasn't approved of?

"This picture? Ah...that is my dear pearl. They are breathtaking, are they not? I truly am the most fortunate man alive. Ah. My apologies, let's return to discussing the contract terms. May I see your completed punch-card?" <- And because you're in them too. As a youth, he kept your photo on his desk in the lounge. Sometimes a client would ask about you, and he'd lapse for a moment before folding the frame down and out of their view. He'd tuck it away whenever you came around, but would talk to it when alone. About his day, his work, whatever first year came crying because Floyd used them as a dart board - and dare I say that he'd keep a family photo in your later years together. Azul hates pictures of himself, but not as much as he loves ones of you. Look at him. Big softie.

—

"Of course. I have remarkable potential as an instructor, do I not? Is it not a great fortune to have me as one's partner? Take this as a lesson that your boss can influence even the most lost souls." == Azul shows no reservation. The moment he caught two part-timers gossiping about your 'conversion' to the 'dark side'. Why, he was positively beaming. His grin wide with a touch of something sinister. Gossip is fine, but they should know better than to do so in his den. Anything noteworthy would undoubtably reach his ears with time, but oh was it a joy to watch them squirm. Honestly. They're fortunate that he's in such a good mood - what was intended to be slandering has just made his day. They're still getting put on shift with Floyd though. He's merciful, yet no martyr.

Habits you steal:

Foraging (Inherited): You are always looking around for plants to propagandize. It's like stealing but not - because Crowley doesn't have any 'rules' about it so...heh. Free food. Jade's a living encyclopedia when it comes to botany and agriculture. He's the whole reason you've got a mini apothecary going in the kitchen and that instant-noodle stash got amped up in flavor. What? you ever add some fresh mushrooms and green onions to that instant chicken yakisoba? Mwah. The mountain lover's club needs to look out, 'cause the Ramshackle Prefect is about to bleed campus dry for every last specimen.

Yapping (Developed): Spinning off the above 'route'. Many people think Floyd's the talkative twin. Nah. This motherf*cker does NOT shut up. He treats you like his second conscience, asking questions he doesn't expect to be answered and giving commentary like your own personal narrator. Who needs thoughts when he literally says everything before you can think it? Floyd salutes you - 'cause finally. Finally, it isn't him subjected to Jade's inner spiels. Sorry Shrimpy, you are a sacrifice he's willing to make. If you ever break up or fight with Jade - Floyd's going to hunt you down - he can never go back. Never.

On a side note, you're an excellent listener now.

Tea (Inherited): Do you hate tea? No you don't. Not Jade's tea. There isn't much to comment on here, other than you will develop a taste for his Atlantic Twice-Seeped Water-Lily brew. You'll be craving it every night if ever sent back to our world (as if that'll happen). Mixed with honey from the Afterglow Savannah and served in a baby-blue ceramic cup that has a shimmer handle. That's your mug, by the way. He has other brews...some improvised and caution is indeed extended. They're tasty for the most part though.

“Ah, just smell that aroma. I developed this blend made just for you, my dear. I’m not one to seek out sweet floral notes for my tea, yet this flavor is an acquired taste that pulls you in for more. I finish the cup without realizing each time” -> Jade can be sweet himself, when he wants to be.

Wearing gloves (Developed): Jade makes you touch weird shit. All the time. Unprompted. He also makes you eat weird shit, but more often than not you can escape by shoveling his experiments onto someone he can get a more interesting reaction out of. Classically condition him not to feed you the weird shit by being unresponsive - off topic. Point is that with his obscene collection of terrariums? Plus being pulled along for foraging quests? You will be touching unknown and possibly poisonous plants, bugs, dirt, maybe some aquatic creatures like toads and fish. For all that is good, keep a pack of rubber gloves in your schoolbag. Keep a pair of insulated leather gloves in your breast pocket at all times too. Hand Sanitizer as well. Who knows when you’ll be elbow deep in murky water riddled with mysterious rainbow moss. What makes it rainbow? You don’t know and Jade won’t say. He does quip that it changes colors with emotions. Screw Twisted Wonderland and it’s freakish botany.

“Oh my, would you look at that vibrant shade of purple. Why are you so frightened? These are meant to be happy ‘bonding’ times for us as a couple, isn’t that what you said? Fufu - oh. Hurry up and put it in this jar. You’ll ruin the sample at this pace,” <- In truth, Jade saw red blooming at the edges of the moss and called quits before your nerves turned to anger. Fear? Amusing. Especially since you have more harmful ‘house plants’ growing on the mantle back at your dorm. Curtesy of Jade himself, of course. Azul doesn’t let him store his more precarious collection in Octavinelle and what you don’t know won’t hurt you. Yet he won’t push the jokes too far, since so few ever come out foraging with him. No no. He needs you to continue as a willing participant. Don’t get angry at him just yet, there are still so many places to explore and the day is young!

Doppelgänger Paranoia (Developed): The Leech twins tried to pull that shit where they swapped places for a day. Therefore you are now freakishly paranoid of Floyd trying to take Jade’s place to pull a prank. It is no help that Floyd is insanely good at mimicking his brother and vice versa. Sure, you could make a keyword or ask Jade to wear something special as a give away. Mark him. Maybe make an excuse of it being a thing human couples do and stick a pin on his lapel. Yet there isn’t a guarantee that he won’t just let Floyd in on it to see what happens. He’s a jerk like that, but your jerk nonetheless.

“Your caution is entertaining, and I do find all this extra attention flattering. Yet there are more taxing worries to mull over, wouldn’t you agree? Surely I’ve earned enough trust to circumvent any doubts in that mind of yours?” -> Do you know that the twin-swap was just a one time trick? Probably not. Doing it again would be boring with no novel results, but Jade does love watching you squirm with suspicion. He’ll offer an assurance eventually, and it will be your call to believe him or not. Until then? He has no problem being under your watchful eye. It’s quite cute, after all.

Habits he steals:

Grammar Control (Developed): Purely to piss you off. Coming from another world - your dialect isn't exactly the same as everyone in Twisted Wonderland. There are region specific languages, and then there is the common tongue. For simplicities sake, let's just say that everyone in TWST can speak common tongue and transferring over gave you this ability. Except (like Epel) you carry a heavy accent - and Jade loves to play grammar police. Your irritation never ceases to amuse him. That's right. He's the train kid from the 'Polar Express'. Just less nasal.

“Let’s try to capture that illusive letter ‘R’, shall we? You don’t want to give onlookers any more ammunition as a respectable prefect.”-> Says the only person using this as ammunition, except for Ace when he gets really snappy and Riddle’s mild cringe when your accent butchers a toast at the Unbirthday party. At this point you’re hearing ‘red leather, yellow leather’ and ‘mark went on a lark after dark�� in your sleep.

Routes (Developed): Another one with the need to have a bit of control. Just a bit. Get ready to roll out of bed at the ass-crack of dawn, because he will be there at five-am sharp to haul you back to Octavinelle (or on a hike. Saturday's only). Isn't it a human custom to stick close to your partner? He's just making sure you're cared for. Which is why you exist attached to his hip most days

Symbiosis 1 (Developed): Only a mild-note for Jade. His brother, noted below, takes this concept more to heart. Jade uses it as an enhancing factor to an already “well-rounded” relationship. The law of the sea dictates that those stronger will enter a ‘pact’ with weaker creatures - protection in exchange for care. You are not in need of protection with that frosh posse and stubborn head of yours. Jade mostly uses this ‘symbiotic relationship’ as a way to get you to do things for him, and to talk down your impulsive behaviors from time to time. Aka you won’t create excessive trouble if it means he feels ‘bound’ to go with (as if he wouldn’t be overjoyed to get in some chaos)

Observation (Developed?): Jade...knows everything about you. It's infuriating (to you, not him), but you are still a potential client regardless of his personal interest. Hobbies, tastes, your worst and best subject, weaknesses -all categorized. Azul and his business come first. Yet you're the only student on campus that has a 'doctored' file. Why?

“I never realized you are adverse to crowds. Yet you handle navigating Night Raven with no difficulties? Is this a mere preference, or would you prefer to find somewhere quiet while I accompany the others? What do you need?” -> (During Playful Land Event) He can't get the finer details without asking questions. There is no source for information about your world or your person other than your word of mouth. His unique magic would be easy - but it's just one question. One, and you might be too resilient for a response. Where's the fun? What makes this a habit is that Jade's keen eye becomes sharper.

Ramshackle (Developed): Bro just moved in. I’m serious. He got permission by pulling a favor. Azul doesn’t let him keep the more precarious plants in Octavinelle, so Jade has overtaken the kitchen with potted flora and fungi. Floyd is enthusiastic that he doesn't have to share a room - what? Twins don't always stick together. Those two probably fight more than they get along. Plus with Jade at Ramshackle it's an excuse to go see what's up with Shrimpy and maybe play with torture the little freshies you hang around with. It’s chapter three but you aren't booted out and have to deal with both Leeches every day. Seven preserve you.

—

“I let my excitement get the better of me for a moment…please, continue as if I am not here. My apologies.” == How rare for Jade’s mask to slip in front of his underclassmen. He was able to brush it off - giving a fib about his clubs upcoming excursion (not entirely untrue. He is excited to go for a hike with you this weekend). Yet the normally dull gossip of his dorm-mates was too much to bare. Not because your changes are becoming more pronounced, but because these little fish are foolish enough to think it’s making him soft. Enough to gossip so blatantly in his earshot? Gods, they make his job much too easy.

Habits you steal:

Leering (Inherited): Floyd...oh dear. He has this habit of staring holes into the back of your head. Anyone's head, really. His presence is intimidating, and it's hard not to pick up what’s going on in his head. There's a catch to this though. You only leer at other people when he isn't around. Too busy with the man in question to bother 'people-watching' (unless you're actually pissed). Riddle is constantly on edge now because he has TWO people giving him the heebee-jeebies. Prefect, it was bad enough you were taking influence from ADeuce. Now the Leech brothers? Well, he'd still take you over Floyd any day. At least you won't try to act on that unsettling aura...yet.

“Somethin’ on my face?…why’re you staring at me like that? Unless you want my attention? Hehe, ya shoulda just said so!” <- Floyd can do it to you, but you can’t to him. Not unless you want to be suplexed and squished tightly for hours on end.

Impulse actions (Inherited): Chaotic energy anyone? Floyd needs a partner who is one of two things - can kick his ass on occasion so he'll play nice, or who will match his freak. Since matching the strength of a Moray Eel isn't something most humans can do? Well, maybe a bitch slap here or there but be aware he is letting it happen. Just know. Better be playful too, not no actual challenge. Point being- you need to match his freak. No buzz-kills.

“Ne Ne~ Yanno, I’ve never seen those super fancy fireworks you land people like to set off. Wanna go get some and rig the - eh? You already got them?….Hahaha Shrimpy’s getting gutsy. I’m so happy” -> His eyes are practically glowing with anticipation. You’re now Azul's third headache 1000%, someone get that man an Asprin.

Snacks (Developed): Floyd can EAT. The only one with a stronger appetite is Jade, but he has a better control over his hunger. While their bodies changed to look human, their appetites did not decrease. Going with ‘symbiosis,’ Floyd gets a bit needy and talks like you’re his internal clock. Jade’s the yapper but Floyd just expects you to know what he needs. So you will always be carrying a selection of snacks (Grim gets in on this) in your bag/purse. Also fidget toys. Not for eating, but to give him when you’re stuck anywhere particularly boring. Props if you can somehow get a two-in-one with the twisted wonderland equivalent of those Air Heads Pull-Aparts.

Lullaby and Goodnight (Developed) : Instant calming effect. Merfolk are very particular with music and are sensitive to vocals. Floyd in particular is super picky. You could be the worst singer on the planet (Floyd will give you half-assed lip for it if you are, in all fairness) but the easiest way to calm him down is with music. It’s cringey and unrealistic to us land-folk but there’s plenty of singing in Atlantica. So humming a soft lullaby for him while sitting together won’t earn any looks in Octavinelle. Unless you sound awful, to which he will punt anyone that speaks out. Not that they would, since a calm Floyd is a godsend no matter the means achieved.

“Did I say you could listen in, hah? Sounds to me like someone’s in the mood for ‘my’ kinda song….don’t move, Shrimpy. This’ll be quick.” <- Good or bad - doesn’t matter. Getting to hear you is Floyd’s privilege. He’s a bit possessive of it, to be frank. So if someone butts in when he’s in the middle of calming down, Floyd’s going to be pissed to the max.

The Little Mermaid (Inherited): Drags you down to the sea at every opportunity. Don’t fight him, just guzzle the vomit-inducing potion and get a move on. Floyd doesn’t care how much a mer-transfiguration potion costs, Azul can take care of it. Floyd hates being restrained to dry land, and hey. He’s up here, so it’s only fair you go down into the sea trenches too. Don’t worry, he won’t take you anywhere too dangerous. He’ll even teach you how to get your sea legs - fish legs? Look. He teaches you how to swim in your mer-form, which he is severely disappointed does not resemble a shrimp.

Habits he steals:

Phone Privileges (Developed) : Floyd’s cellphone is normally in DND mode at all times. The only exceptions are Azul and his Momma - Jade was one too up until they came to dry land. There’s only so many mushroom photos and long voicemails about random crap that Floyd can take. Oh - and you’re an exception now. He saves all your voicemails - some for callbacks to win arguments and others to play when he’s about to sleep. You just better be careful when you call him and what for, also always pick up if he calls you. Otherwise there’s going to be one angry eel lurking by your bedroom window. With ‘first-contact’ privileges, all the unflattering candid pics he has of you are just a click away from being shared if he feels like it (teases but wouldn’t do it. Well, unless you really are ignoring him. Be warned)

Using F*cking Doors(Inherited) : Yes. Yes, you read that right. Floyd loves to parkour across campus. The amount of times he’s snuck into Ramshackle through that tiny circle window in the attic is frustrating. You’re seriously considering bolting the thing shut if it keeps him off the roof and on the ground. Y’know, for someone who can’t fly a broom? He sure has no problem climbing brick walls with his bare hands like some kinda cockroach. A Leech cockroach. Jamil’s worst nightmare good god. After the sixth-or-so heart attack, Floyd’s not allowed anywhere near Ramshackle if it’s not through the front door. The ghosts have strict instructions to punt him…to which he took as a challenge (because of course he did). Until a window was smashed, and you sent hellfire down upon him.

“I said it was an’ accident! What more do you want from me, huh? It’s your fault anyway for sicking those ghost fish on me - Urk…fiiine. I’m sorry or whatever” <- Always will back down the moment you come across as genuinely pissed. Usually with a grunt and hiss under his breath, kicking his foot before stalking off to cool down for a bit. Always fixes whatever he broke or tries to make amends once his mood is less sour.

Symbiosis II (Developed): Paired with the above 'match his freak' and second rendition of Jade's. Except Floyd is 100% serious. Floyd's going to do right by you, but you've got to do right by him. People are going to wonder why the small-pint prefect is sitting here covering one of bro's shifts (they feared for your life when you basically told him to 'fuck off', knowing he was angry after getting scolded by Azul) but that's how it is. Floyd's symbiosis is different than Jade's. He's more impulsive, yet also more predictable with what he needs. The definition of "no one can tell me to do shit except my spouse" 'cause symbiosis is a mutual respect and trade. No one can pick on you except for him. No one can help you the way he does. He is not going anywhere. Ever. Bonded for life - that kind of ‘sappy shit’.

"I already said I don't wanna... ughhh, babysitting those frosh fishies is so booooring. Can't we just ask Azul to lock 'em in a tank or somethin'?.... ALRIGHT, Little Shrimpy. I get it already so stop yammering in my ear...." <- Floyd's the softer brother, if you can believe that. Acts of service are what get him and he thrives on being needed. So you'll be doing it a lot to earn that compliance from him. Be the iron fist that gets him to back down, and simultaneously the one slipping him a few party poppers to set off at one of Heartslabyul's tea-parties as a reward.

The ✨Fashion✨ (Developed) : Surface-world fashion is one of Floyd’s special interests. Oddly enough? You’re a perfectly-sized dress up doll. It’s cute how large his shoes are in comparison to your feet. Hah! You look like a clown clobbering around in those things. He 100% gives you a pair of light up sneakers that sparkle when you walk - makes it easier to find you in crowds. Not that he needs to. Mostly it’s just for fun. He’ll even get a matching pair so you don’t feel zeroed out.

VIP Menu (Developed) : Floyd has a ‘secret’ menu over at the Mostro Lounge. He’s the head cook, don’t ya know? Makes real tasty dishes. C’mon, praise him. He’ll add a few dishes just for you since you’re so picky - that’s a bad trait to have for a broke Shrimp by the way. Good thing he’s around to make sure you’re eating.

“Oi! I told ya that was for you. If the lil’ seal’s hungry he can get somethin’ off the menu on his own…unless he’s lookin’ for a squeeze?” <- One major gripe Floyd has with Grim is how he’s always mooching off your plate. It’s fine if Azul’s picky with his food, cause that’s Azul. You’re different ‘cause in Floyd’s mind responsible for you. Again. He takes the symbiosis thing more seriously than Jade, and will poke your cheek relentlessly and comment if it’s lost it’s squish. He always serves you something to eat, even if you don’t order. Doesn’t let anyone else prepare it either.

Protective (Developed) : At the risk of sounding like a broken record, Floyd is very attentive. He’s clingy as hell and always looking for an excuse to have a good tussle - you’re his favorite person to screw with. Yet only himself, Azul, and Jade get the green card to look at you with anything other than respect. Cause he knows they don’t mean it - and even your little freshman buddies don’t get a pass. Maybe the seal since Floyd could squish Grim like a grape and he knows it. Leona’s almost gotten many challenges for the whole ‘herbivore’ thing.

—

“ ‘s nice, right? What’s better than one of me? Two, hah! Jade might have my face but now Shrimpy’s got my personality” == Finds the situation funny for like, an hour? Maybe two? Doesn’t matter because ‘Shrimpy is Shrimpy’ - plain as that, really. He gets more joy out of teasing people when they find out you’re with him. As if Floyd gives two sh*ts what other people think? Nah.

[moonstruckme]

fae!Sirius asks for your name and you give it to him immediately because he's just so pretty wtf and he feels too bad to steal it from you because you're looking at him like he's a god and sure, it's not uncommon for his 'victims' to think he's beautiful but something about *you* just makes his little fae heart race-

I'm so normal about him I promise <3

Babe you have no idea how this has sat in my brain since you sent it all those months ago. I am not normal about him. Thank you! <3

fae!Sirius x whimsical!reader ♡ 804 words

Sometimes, when you leave your gifts in the forest, you’ll think you hear movement behind you. A soft crunch of the leafbed, or a rustling in the trees overhead. You’ll catch the rich scent of soil after a storm, though it hasn’t rained for days and the sky is blue and cloudless. Sirius will watch as your head lifts, noticing these things, but then you’ll simply carry on with what you’re doing, stand up, and go home. 

One day, you stand up to go home and find him waiting for you. 

“Hello, lovely,” he says, watching in amusement as your human face stills with awe. Your lips part. 

You know instantly what he is. No human carries themselves like the fae do, like Sirius could melt into the foliage at whim and you’d never find a trace of him. None of your kind have features quite so fine, or hair so dark it eats the sun. Or eyes like his, ever changing, shifting colors like a fish’s scales. No, you recognize him with one look. 

To your credit, you recover quickly. “Hello,” you say back. 

Sirius smiles with his too-white teeth. “What have you brought me this time?” 

You look behind you, to the tree hollow where you leave your gifts, as though you’ve already forgotten. “Oh. It’s a new cheese I found. Sea salt and honey.” 

Sirius cocks his head, intrigued. “I’ve not had that before.” 

“I thought you might not have.” Your initial surprise is wearing off, giving way to a sweet airiness. Your smile is soft as fresh snow. “I try to bring new things for you to try. I didn’t realize how small the portions would be, though; you’re bigger than I thought.” 

Sirius looks at you, making his eyes flash. He expects you to flinch, but you gasp softly, leaning in as if to see better. Strange. 

“You think that because I’m this size now, I must always be,” he says. 

“Aren’t you?” 

He tsks, teasing. “Best not to make presumptions.” 

Once again, curiosity rules your expression. Your eyes squint and your brows twitch towards each other, but before you can ask more questions Sirius goes on. 

“You’re beautiful,” he says, a simple truth. He wonders if you know he can’t lie. “If you’d let me repay your generosity, I’d like to give you a gift in return.” 

Again, your lips part, but you hesitate. Such pretty lips, Sirius thinks. So expressive. 

“That’s alright,” you say after a moment. “I don’t need anything. They were for you.” 

Sirius hides a smile. Clever thing, not to accept gifts from the fae. 

“If that’s what you want.” He asks, in a voice like spidersilk, “But what should I call the beautiful girl who’s left me so many gifts?” 

You smile and give him your name without reservation. Perhaps not so clever after all. 

Sirius says it back to you, rolling it around in his mouth. It leaves a sweet aftertaste on his tongue. You nod in clueless confirmation. 

“Can I ask yours?” 

“No,” says Sirius, “you may not.” 

You don’t appear offended. Your eyes are placid and trusting. Maybe it’s that look that makes him hesitate. Sirius knows what he’s meant to do now, what he’s done to others before you, but he finds himself tempted to wait. To see what you do next. 

“Well,” you say after a long silence, “I hope you like the cheese. If you want more, I can bring you some next time, but I should probably be getting home now.” 

“So soon?” Sirius asks. Though the breeze is cooling, and the sun’s dying rays tangle in your hair. 

You smile, almost apologetic. “Yeah, but—oh. Here, I forgot.” You reach into your bag, drawing out a long feather. It’s onyx black and shines like oil in the fading sunlight. “I found this at a friend’s house a few days ago, I meant to leave it with the cheese.” You look at him, shameless in your appraisal. “It sort of looks like your hair.” 

Sirius smiles, feeling the stretch of his lips with an odd sort of amusement. “It does,” he agrees. He lets you place the feather in his hand and feels the warmth of your fingertips on his skin with something like awe. A human has never been so bold as to touch him before. 

“I’ll visit soon,” you say, granting him one last, serene smile as you turn to go. “I hope you come out and say hello.” 

He thinks that he might. As you walk away, feet padding softly on grass and the shadows of trees falling over you like loving touches, he considers stealing the name you gave him so freely. 

But you’re lovely, and Sirius is a hedonist. He wants a taste of those lips given of your own free will. 

[st4rpiece]

needing space after an argument pt. 2

SFW

characters: luffy, zoro, usopp, sanji x reader summary: they earn your forgiveness CW: groveling, making up, fluff, and over 600 words each

pt. 1 | pt. 2

────────────────────₊˚.༄

Monkey D. Luffy

Luffy wasn’t himself. It was the first thing everyone noticed after you left the ship. His laughter, usually loud and contagious, was quieter, forced. Mealtimes felt emptier, and the energy on the Sunny had shifted. He tried to act like nothing was wrong, but even the crew could see the shadow of regret lingering in his eyes.  

But now, here he was, standing in front of you in the quiet port town where you’d taken refuge after leaving the crew. His usual confidence was gone, replaced by a desperate determination.  

“I’m sorry,” he said for what must have been the tenth time. His voice was raw, almost breaking. “I didn’t mean it. I shouldn’t have told you to leave. I was stupid.”  

You stood with your arms crossed, your expression guarded. Seeing Luffy like this—so uncharacteristically vulnerable—caught you off guard, but the sting of his words still lingered, fresh and sharp.  

“Luffy, you can’t just say whatever you want when you’re mad and expect everything to go back to normal,” you said, your voice steady but tinged with exhaustion. “You told me to leave. So I did.”  

“I didn’t mean it,” he repeated, stepping closer but stopping just short of touching you. “I was mad and didn’t think. I... I need you on the ship. Not just because I want you there, but because you’re part of the crew. You’re important to us all and i shouldn’t have made you feel otherwise.”  

You searched his face, his big, earnest eyes pleading with you. You could see the regret there, the weight of his mistake hanging heavy on his shoulders. For a moment, your resolve wavered, but you quickly shook your head.  

“I can’t just come back because you say you’re sorry, Luffy. What happens the next time we fight? Are you going to tell me to leave again?”  

“No!” he blurted out, shaking his head vehemently. “No, I swear. I’ll never say anything like that again.”  

You frowned, unsure what to make of his declaration. “Luffy, words aren’t enough.”  

He nodded, his straw hat shadowing his eyes for a moment before he looked up at you with renewed determination. “Then I’ll show you. Whatever it takes.”  

True to his word, Luffy didn’t give up. He didn’t force you to return to the ship, but he didn’t leave the island either. Every day, he showed up—whether it was to bring you a freshly caught fish for dinner, fix something around the small inn you were staying at, or simply sit outside and wait in silence. He didn’t push, didn’t demand, but his presence was constant.  

When the ship needed supplies, he was the first to volunteer, taking on tasks he’d usually leave to someone else. The crew later told you how he’d started taking more responsibility, trying to step up as a better leader.  

Even when you didn’t speak to him, he never faltered. Every action, every small gesture, was his way of showing you how much he regretted his words.  

One evening, you found Luffy sitting on the dock, staring out at the ocean with his straw hat resting in his lap. He looked smaller somehow, as though the weight of his regret had worn him down.  

When he noticed you approaching, he stood up immediately, his expression shifting from surprise to cautious hope.  

“Why do you keep doing this?” you asked, crossing your arms.  

“Because I was wrong,” he said without hesitation. “Because I hurt you, and I have to make it right. Even if you never come back, I’ll keep trying. I don’t care how long it takes.”  

His sincerity stopped you in your tracks. He wasn’t making excuses, wasn’t brushing over your feelings like they didn’t matter. He had made changes—small ones, but noticeable—and for the first time, you truly believed he understood the gravity of what he’d done.  

You sighed, letting the silence linger before speaking. “Luffy... I’ll come back.”  

His eyes lit up with hope, his lips parting as though he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.  

“But,” you continued, holding up a finger, “this only works if things stay different. I’m not going back just to deal with the same problems again. I need to know you’re taking this seriously.”  

“I swear!” he said immediately, his voice brimming with determination. “I swear that things will be different. A good different. No more reckless fights for selfish reasons or saying things I don’t mean, I promise.”  

You studied him for a long moment, the sincerity and determination in his eyes unmistakable. Finally, you allowed a small smile to tug at the corners of your lips. “Alright, Lu.”  

Relief washed over his face as he heard the familiar nickname, and for the first time in weeks, you saw his grin return, bright and full of life.  

"I missed you so much, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion and certainty, as he wrapped his arms around you.

The comforting warmth of his embrace, felt like home—safe, secure, and exactly where you wanted to be.

Roronoa Zoro

Zoro wasn’t one to grovel. Stubborn and prideful as he was, apologies didn’t come easy for him. But as he sat alone on the Sunny’s deck, replaying his words from the fight, regret gnawed at him like a dull blade.  

The memory of your face—shocked, hurt, and then resigned—kept flashing in his mind. He hadn’t just lashed out; he’d cut deep. You were trying to help, and he’d thrown it back at you, calling you controlling and annoying when you didn’t deserve it.  

He groaned, pressing his palms against his face. He hated how small he felt for failing to show up to the dates you’d so carefully planned, how your suggestion—simple and kind—had poked at an insecurity he didn’t want to face. And now, because of his pride, he’d pushed you away.  

For days, you’d been distant, giving him space, but that only made the guilt worse. He needed to fix this.  

You were sitting on a quiet hillside overlooking the ocean when Zoro found you. The breeze tugged at your clothes, and you looked peaceful—too peaceful, considering how much turmoil you’d left him in.  

“Hey,” he called softly, his voice unusually hesitant.  

You glanced at him, surprised to see the normally stoic swordsman looking... sheepish. He stood awkwardly a few feet away, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.  

“What is it, Zoro?” you asked, your tone calm but distant.  

He swallowed hard, his fingers twitching at his sides before he took a step closer. “I wanted to apologize.”  

That caught your attention. Your brows lifted in mild surprise, but you said nothing, waiting for him to continue.  

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” he said, his voice low and gruff, but steady. “You weren’t being controlling or annoying. You were just... trying to help.” He exhaled heavily as if forcing the words out of himself. “And I was an idiot.”  

You blinked, his sincerity throwing you off guard. “Zoro—”  

“Let me finish, please,” he interrupted, his eyes meeting yours for the first time. There was something raw in his gaze—an uncharacteristic vulnerability. “I’ve been thinking about it, and... I hate that I’m always late. I hate knowing you’re waiting for me while I’m stuck wandering around like an idiot who can’t follow a simple route. It’s embarrassing.”  

Your expression softened, but you stayed quiet, letting him speak.  

“When you suggested we go together, I know it wasn’t because you thought I was useless,” he continued, his voice tightening. “But that’s how it made me feel. Like I wasn’t good enough to get it right on my own. And instead of dealing with that, I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have done that.”  

He took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “But I don’t think you’re controlling or annoying. You’re the most patient and understanding person for putting up with me. So you deserve better and I want to be that.”  

The sincerity in his voice was almost overwhelming, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. He wasn’t just saying the words—he meant them.  

“I know I can’t just say sorry and expect everything to go back to normal,” he added, glancing away briefly before meeting your gaze again. “So, please baby just… give me a chance to make it right.”  

Your lips parted in surprise. Zoro wasn’t the type to take the initiative when it came to things like this, but the determination in his eyes was unmistakable.  

After a long pause, you let out a soft sigh, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “One last chance.”  

He nodded, relief flashing across his face, but there was also a quiet resolve in his expression. This wasn’t just a promise—it was a vow.  

The next time you guys went on a date, Zoro was ready. He showed up early, finally getting the chance to wait on you. He led you to a quiet clearing overlooking the sea, a picnic already set up with food he’d personally asked Sanji to help him prepare.  

The effort was clear in every little detail, from the way he chose the spot (easily accessible, no chance to get lost) to the careful decorations and crafts you mentioned liking/wanting to try. Showing that despite his stoic nature, he was listening to you during previous dates. Even now as you spoke, he would chime in at just the right moments.  

It wasn’t perfect—he stumbled over a few of his words and complained when a seagull tried to swipe the food—but it was Zoro, trying in his own way. And that meant everything.  

By the time the date ended, you leaned back on the blanket, gazing up at the stars, feeling closer to him than ever before. When he reached for your hand, you let him, squeezing it gently.  

Zoro glanced down at your intertwined fingers, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. His gaze softened, and he took a deep breath before speaking. “I know you agreed to give me another chance, but I need to know if you’re still interested in giving me that chance.”

Your heart softened at the rare vulnerability in his voice. You turned to meet his eyes, and they were steady, full of quiet determination.  

A soft smile tugged at your lips, and you leaned into him as the waves crashed gently in the distance. For a man of few words, Zoro was surprisingly good at them.

“Well,” you began, tilting your head with a teasing glint in your eye, “that depends. Are you going to keep being so dramatic about it?” You bit back a laugh as you watched the tips of his ears turn red, his expression shifting into a familiar scowl.

“Tch, not being dramatic,” he grumbled, looking away, but the redness in his ears betrayed him.

You chuckled softly and squeezed his hand, drawing his attention back to you. “I was being serious about giving you that second chance,” you said warmly. His shoulders relaxed slightly, and the tension in his jaw eased.

“But,” you continued, your tone more firm, “next time something like this happens, promise that you’ll communicate it properly. Okay? No more bottling things up.”

Zoro stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before nodding once. “You have my word.” His voice was low but steady, carrying the weight of his promise.

“Good.” You smiled, squeezing his hand again as a soft breeze brushed past, carrying with it the sound of the waves.

God Usopp

The day had been quiet, almost too quiet, and the silence weighed heavy between you and Usopp. Since your argument, things haven’t been the same. You still spoke, but the words felt hollow, and the laughter you once shared now seemed distant and forced. He noticed it all—the way your smile never quite reached your eyes, the strain in your voice when you tried to act like nothing was wrong.  

And it tore him apart.  

Usopp sat on the deck after dinner, absentmindedly fiddling with a half-finished invention. His fingers moved on instinct, but his thoughts were stuck on your last conversation. He hated himself for the way he’d lashed out, for the way he’d let his insecurities push you away.  

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sea in shades of orange and pink, he made up his mind. He couldn’t let this fester any longer.  

When you stepped onto the deck for some air, Usopp hesitated, watching you from a distance. Finally, he stood, his hands clenching at his sides as he approached you.  

“Hey,” he called softly.  

You turned, surprised to see him. “Oh, hey.” Your voice was casual, but your guarded expression told him you were bracing for something.  

“Can we talk?” he asked, his tone uncharacteristically serious.  

You nodded, following him to a quieter spot on the ship where the others couldn’t overhear. The soft sound of the waves filled the silence as Usopp struggled to find the right words.  

“I’ve been... thinking,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “About what I said. About the fight.” He looked down, unable to meet your gaze. Your brows furrowed, but you stayed quiet, giving him the space to explain.

“I know you don’t see me as weak,” he continued, his voice growing tight. “But hearing you scream for him... it made me feel useless.” He exhaled sharply, his hand tightening around the railing. “And I hate feeling like that. I know I’m not like Luffy, Zoro, or Sanji. I’m not the guy who can punch through walls or take down ten enemies at once, but... I at least want to be someone you can count on. Someone you can feel protected with.”

He paused, his words faltering slightly. “But instead of talking to you about it, I projected my insecurities onto you, and made it seem like you were wrong for asking our friends for help. For that, I’m sorry.”

The vulnerability in his words hit you hard, and guilt pooled in your chest. “Baby...” you started, your voice soft. “I’m sorry, too. I never meant to make you feel that way.” You stepped closer, resting a hand on his arm. “But you are someone I can count on. Someone who’s saved my ass more times than I can count. Your strength may not look like theirs, but it’s just as important.”

He finally looked at you, his eyes wide, searching for any trace of doubt. “You... you really mean that?”

“Heck yeah, I do,” you said without hesitation. “I trust you, Usopp. I always have.”

A small, hesitant smile tugged at his lips, and he let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through him. “Thanks... I needed to hear that," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

After a moment, he straightened and rubbed the back of his head, suddenly looking sheepish. “Actually, uh, there’s something I’ve been working on. For you. I wanted to make something that could help you in a fight.”  

Your brows lifted in surprise. “Really? What is it?”  

Grinning now, Usopp reached into his bag and pulled out a small, compact gadget. “It’s not finished yet, but it’s kind of like a smoke bomb, but better. It creates a flash of light to blind enemies and a smoke screen to cover your escape. I thought... you know, it might come in handy.”  

You took the gadget from him, turning it over in your hands. “Usopp, this is amazing.”  

“Yeah, well,” he said, scratching his cheek, his grin turning bashful. “I wanted to make sure you had another thing to keep you safe. In case no one else is around.”  

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest. “Thank you, Usopp. I mean it.”  

He relaxed then, the tension between you finally melting away. “I’ll finish it soon,” he promised, his confidence returning. “And who knows? Maybe I’ll come up with even more stuff for you with full bragging rights.”  

"Thanks, now I can let everyone know just how my amazing boyfriend is," you laughed—genuinely this time—and Usopp’s chest swelled with pride. He knew he still had work to do, but for now, the weight of your fight had lifted, and the bond between you felt stronger than ever.  

Vinesmoke Sanji

Sanji stood alone on the deck, the moonlight casting a silver glow over his slumped figure. He leaned against the railing, a cigarette burning low between his fingers, though he hadn’t taken a drag in minutes. His mind replayed every moment of your relationship—the laughter, the stolen glances, the warmth of your touch. And then, inevitably, it would circle back to the breakup.  

He’d failed you. The person who mattered more to him than anyone else in the world. His actions—so thoughtless, so wrapped in habit—had made you feel second to strangers. The realization haunted him, clawing at his chest.  

Sanji thought of groveling, of falling to his knees and begging you to take him back, but he knew you too well. That would only push you further away. You were someone who needed actions, not words, and he knew his words had already failed you. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to give up. You were his person, his muse, his everything. How could he possibly accept a life without you in it?  

So he did the only thing he could. He began to show you through his actions.  

The change was immediate. The next time the ship docked at an island, Sanji didn’t so much as glance at the women who usually flocked to him. When they batted their lashes and called out for his attention, he brushed them off politely and kept his focus on his task. His compliments, once scattered freely to strangers, were now reserved only for you. Even when you ignored him, his words never wavered—soft, sincere, and meant only for you.  

In battle, Sanji was more relentless than ever. But his priority was always your safety, stepping in before danger could reach you, even if it meant taking a hit himself. When the crew sat down for meals, he made sure your favorite dishes were prepared just the way you liked them, his eyes flicking to your face to see if you’d noticed.  

And when he thought you weren’t looking, he’d linger nearby, silently watching you. There was a sadness in his gaze as he admired the person he’d once had the privilege of holding close. You saw him sometimes, hovering at a distance, and though you tried to ignore it, part of you couldn’t deny the pang in your chest. You still had feelings for him—of course you did. But you couldn’t settle for someone who had once made you doubt your place in their life.  

Weeks passed, and Sanji’s quiet devotion didn’t falter. Even now as he stood near the railing, waiting for you, his hands slightly trembling. He had spent all day preparing for this moment, and now the weight of his plan felt heavier than ever.  

When you finally stepped out onto the deck, he straightened immediately, smoothing his suit jacket with nervous fingers. "Hey," he called softly, his voice careful, like he was afraid of scaring you off.  

"Hey," you replied, your tone hesitant but curious. He’d been walking on eggshells around you for weeks, and now this—an invitation for "something special" without much detail. Against your better judgment, you’d said yes, curiosity getting the better of you.  

He smiled faintly, stepping toward you. "I, uh, thought we could spend the evening together. Just... talk."  

You raised a brow. "Talk?"  

He nodded, motioning for you to follow him. "Come on. I’ve got something to show you."  

Despite the uncertainty in your chest, you followed him across the deck, and your eyes widened when he led you to a corner of the ship bathed in soft, golden light from lanterns he had strung up. A blanket was spread out neatly on the deck, adorned with a small basket, plates of your favorite snacks, and a bottle of your favorite drink.  

"Sanji..." you murmured, taken aback.  

"I know it’s not much," he said quickly, scratching the back of his neck. "But I wanted to do something for you. Something simple. Something that doesn’t involve me screwing it up."  

You blinked, your hesitation softening slightly at his earnestness. "You didn’t have to go through all this trouble."  

"I did," he countered, his voice firm but warm. "I needed to."  

He gestured for you to sit, and after a moment’s pause, you did, settling down on the blanket. Sanji sat across from you, his hands fidgeting in his lap.  

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet hum of the ship filling the space between you. Finally, Sanji took a deep breath and looked at you, his expression more serious than you’d seen in a long time.  

"My love," he began, "I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since... since we broke up. And I just... I need you to know how sorry I am."  

You looked away, unsure how to respond, but he continued.  

"I wasn’t the boyfriend you deserved," he admitted, his voice low. "I made you feel like you had to compete for my attention, and that’s unforgivable. You should’ve never felt like anything less than the most important person in my life. That’s on me."  

His gaze was unwavering as he spoke, and you couldn’t help but feel the sincerity in his words.  

"I still have feelings for you," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "I never stopped. And I don’t expect you to forgive me overnight, or even to trust me again right away. But I need you to know that I’ve changed. I’m changing. And I’ll do anything to prove it to you."  

You stared at him, his words hitting you harder than you expected. Sanji was always smooth with his words, but this was different. There was no charm, no performative flair—just raw honesty.  

"Sanji..." you started, your voice faltering. You swallowed hard, your hands gripping the edge of the blanket. "I... I still have feelings for you too. But..."  

"But you don’t trust me," he finished for you, his tone understanding rather than hurt.  

You nodded. "It’s not that I don’t want to. I just... I’m scared of getting hurt again."  

He reached across the blanket, his hand stopping just short of yours. "I understand," he said softly. "And I don’t blame you. I don’t want you to rush into anything you’re not ready for. If we have to take things slow, then that’s what we’ll do. I’ll show you, not just with words but with actions, that you’re the only one in my heart."  

His hand lingered near yours, and after a moment, you tentatively placed your hand over his. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, and you looked up to meet his gaze.  

"Okay," you said quietly. "We can try. But slow, Sanji. No rushing, no grand gestures to win me over. Just... be honest with me."  

A smile broke across his face, softer and more genuine than any you’d seen in weeks. "Slow it is," he promised.  

For the first time in what felt like forever, the tension between you eased. You still had a long way to go, but as you sat there, sharing a quiet meal under the lantern light, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, things could work out.  

───────────────────₊˚.༄

One Piece Masterlist

hey…I was supposed to post this yesterday but I ended up working a double 😭.

[this is lightly edited]

anyways I saw a couple people asking about a tag list ngl i don’t know shit about that 😭😭 but hopefully this finds you !!

and for the op women/queer smau I will be posting that soon as well but I got a really cute idea from anon yesterday and I want to start on that first.

[inkdrinkerworld]

“I think I got something to help.” Logan calls as he walks into the bedroom, his socked feet gliding against the tiles.

“Don’t touch me,” you whine just as Logan slips into bed and reaches for your waist. His hands hover, stilling at your words.

“I’m not trying to be fresh with you, doll.” He mumbles, you twist to lay on your back, huffing when your shirt drags against your chest.

“They hurt,” you mutter, laying your head on Logan’s collarbone. His hands fall to your hips.

“I know they hurt, can I try what I was gonna tell you about?”

He knows you can’t help the snark sometimes, especially when you’re in pain like this. Ovulation brings a few beasts but your personal hell is tenderness all over.

Your entire body feels like just even the slightest touch will hurt and it’s uncomfortable. Especially because your boyfriend has a thing for grabbing (which you usually love) and your nipples which doesn’t help your current situation.

“I guess,” you grumble as he lifts your shirt.

“You guess,” there’s a smile on his voice as he slips your shirt up to your collarbones and then fishes something out of his pocket. “Anna Marie said this would help.”

Logan procures a little bottle of what looks like aloe vera gel and squirts is directly on your chest, fingers light as he spreads it around.

“It’s cold,” you gasp but remain still as he spreads the gel to the underside of your boobs as well.

“Does it feel better?” Logan’s concerned even if his words are still gruff.

“Yeah,” you turn your head to kiss his forearm. “Thanks Lo.”

He shrugs, a smirk playing at his lips, “Least now you won’t be grumpy and stomping about the house.”

You slap his chest making him laugh. “I don’t stomp.”

He nods but it’s all condescending, “Of course you don’t.”

[mushroomates]

the fellowship as roommates:

frodo: probably one of the best roommates out there. keeps to himself, tidy, does his laundry quickly and doesn’t leave it in the wash for a week. the company he keeps inviting over are weird though and you wish he’d stop obsessing over his jewelry. there’s a ring dish by the sink he’s always being funny about.

sam: he has to stop bringing plants home. the amount of dirt where there shouldn’t be is getting ridiculous. will make bread for the household though, and that makes up for it. does his dishes and all the dishes in the sink frequently and genuinely enjoys the task. took over the decoration and homemaking instantly.

merry: has a massive candle collection that would be fire safety issue. it not, however, a fire safety issue because merry never lights them. he has discontinued yankee candles and various limited edition scents. it’s his pride and joy and he doesn’t ever want to burn them because he wants to keep them forever. once pippin lit his maple-bacon soy wax triwick 1998 and merry went nuts. aside from that, pleasant company.

pippin: his parents pay for his rent because he couldn’t be bothered to pay it on time, and the tooks really, really wanted their son out of the house. do NOT go in his room. has not done laundry ever and does not plan to. keeps dirty dishes in his hamper and under his bed. keeps buying new forks thinking you won’t notice.

boromir: pays his rent a day early. handles the bills and finances and just tell you how much you owe. very respectful about your space in the fridge. does his best to be quiet past 9pm. he does, however, carve wood over the carpet and splinters have become an issue. he vacuum’s but it’s seriously becoming a problem. also keeps inviting these weirdos over who try and eat all your food.

aragorn: keeps tanning hides in the living room. is never home because he’s always at his girlfriends place. brought a dehydrator into the mix and the house always smells like meat because he’s making jerky. he will share it though, which is nice:

legolas: is mildly afraid of the bathroom. keeps clogging the drains with copious amounts of shed hair. uses your shampoo when he thinks your not looking. eats all of the good food, and small bites out of pretty much everything. tracks dirt all over the carpet and has a thing for fairy lights.

gimli: historic weaponry is NOT home decor and why the hell would you keep it over your bed. he has to have his own bathroom which he keeps very specifically (the amount of products he uses for his beard is unreasonable). generally tidy, gets weird about organizing things by color and type and would rather you let him do it.

gandalf: hardly a roommate. sometimes you wonder if he still is living with you and then he’ll show up after months of ghosting you with a random horse and a new-differently colored hat. and he will explain more about the hat than the horse. no, gandalf, we can’t keep a horse in the bathroom. our landlord will find out. please shut up about your new hat.

gollum: fresh fish keep being left on your counter on the first of each month. they’re very much someone’s goldfish that keep going missing. once, a parakeet was left in your sink. your lost socks keep reappearing on your couch. sometimes shiny rocks and coins are placed next to your phone at night. four months in there’s a scratching in your walls and this fucker pops out. he’s been living off of your scraps for nearly a year and thinks you two are best friendsies! <3 he tries to plea that he’s being paying rent. someone call the cops. (sam comes over and shoo’s him out with a broom. it’s frodos weird friend from college.)

[clawsdevour]

last customer

wc: 0.6k content warning: post-time skip, osamu x reader, fluff, not proofread

⠀ೀ * : ,,,

it's cold and frosty out as you made your way down the concrete sidewalk to the brightly lit restaurant. the snow's starting to pile up, each snowflake landing on your flushed cheeks before you're under the roof of the address on your phone.

stiff fingers gripped on the doorhandle as you pushed it open, the warmth of the restaurant immediately rushing towards you as you sighed out of relief as the bell rang at the top of the door.

the ringing caught the owner's attention from the kitchen. sticking his grey head of hair out from the kitchen doorframe, he looked at you with confusion before checking his watch.

"um.. hi!" immersing yourself in the heated restaurant as you stood by the door staring back at his figure.

"hi, i'm sorry we just closed.." his brown eyes peering back at you from his watch with concern as he noticed how cold it must be outside.

"oh- i'm sorry.. i thought i'd arrive before your shop would close," looking down at your shoes wehre your toes are absolutely frozen despite having fluffy socks on before turning your body towards the door that showed the chilling winter night through the glass.

right when you were about to head out as the bell rung due to the movement of the door just slightly moving, the owner calls back at you while you heard the restaurant's air vents turn on.

"wait, since you've come so far in this freezing weather i might as well whip something up!" his deep voice shouted from the kitchen, catching your attention.

you felt bad since he was almost done getting ready to close, but you couldn't turn down his offer. his face was as grey as his hair with a slightly worried expression plastered on his face.

"..okay, sure! i'd love that," your lips jolted into a big smile as the blush on your cold cheeks lit up.

turning your back away from him, his fingers got to work and started scooping up some fresh rice to wash.

his other hand gestured at you to have a seat right in front of him where you can watch him work his magic.

"soo.. what would you recommend chef?" putting your arms on the table and leaning in to examine his skills at work like a curious cat.

his brows just so slightly raise when he notices your gaze upon him. looking up from the rice pot he mumbles out a mmm.. to think, what would be nice and warm to suit this weather? he thought to himself thinking about what would be the best to offer.

"hmmm i'd say the salmon yaki onigiri. it's got a crispy fried outside with some delicious fresh salmon on the inside," his droopy eyes giving you a gentle smile as he works relentlessly at the rice.

pouring out the starchy water to refill the pot before he plugs the wire into the rice cooker, he's leaning on the counter to make some small talk.

"what brings you here so late? and in the freezing snow?" taking his hat off to comb his fingers through his hair.

"just felt like trying a new restaurant.. in the middle of winter," you can't stop holding eye contact with his deep brown eyes that drew you in.

pausing for a second as you two stared, you had to break it up, "..oh! i'm y/n by the way. nice to meet you..?"

"osamu miya, like atsumu miya's twin brother" nodding his head as he took a rag to wipe his wet hands with before walking into the fridge to grab fresh orange salmon out.

"you're gonna love this dish," placing the slab of fish onto the cutting board while taking out his knives to sharpen.

masterlist here

[starsturni]

secrets*- chris

analysis: when a new coffee shop arrives in downtown LA, chris can't help but feel attracted to the pretty barista.

song: 'beautiful stranger' by laufey <333

wc: 1k !!

warnings: cursing.

in the early moments of the lazy saturday that chris was planning to have, matt knocked on chris's bedroom door, awaking chris from his slumber. chris lazily grumbles with a tired voice.

"what?" matt opens the door, peeking his head in, adjusting his eyes in the dim lighting of chris's room. "hey, can you get up and get nick coffee? i feel like shit and i don't wanna go drive around for twenty minutes."

chris begrudgingly props himself up on one elbow, rubbing his eyes as he tries to wake himself up more so he can have an actual conversation.

"so why do i have to go get it for nick? can't he just.. i-i don't know, uber??" matt sighs. "chris, it'd be faster if you just went for him. i'll even spot you cash, okay? just go."

and with that, matt leaves chris's bedroom, but not before flicking on chris's bright light, making chris's eyes hurt. he groans, stretching out his limbs before climbing out of his bed.

chris goes to his dresser, fishing out a pair of black fresh love sweatpants and a plain black hoodie. he opens his bedroom door, walking down the hallway and up the stairs.

as he reaches the living room, he sees nick on the couch, laying under a cozy white blanket, scrolling through his instagram on his phone.

chris frowns instantly upon seeing his brother sitting on the couch, while he has to go get coffee for him.

"you owe me, big time." nick glances up from his phone, rolling his eyes slightly.

“oh come on, it's not that big of a deal. plus, they have a new shop by the theater. you can explore a bit." nick says, trying to bring chris's mood up at least a little bit.

chris rolls his eyes, acting as if nick had just said the most ridiculous thing ever. "like that makes a difference. next time i want food, you're going with matt."

chris grabs his car keys off of the kitchen counter top, slipping on a pair of uggs. he unlocks the door, calling out to matt that he was leaving, and shut the door.

he walks down the steps up to the house, the car beeping as he unlocks it. he climbs in the drivers seat, setting his phone on the middle console.

he searches up coffee shops near him, searching through the options to find the closest one.

as he scrolls, a certain shop catches his eye. it's a small and cute shop, it only being 4.3 miles away from the triplets home.

he reverses out of the driveway, making his way to the shop.

timeskip - 9:36

as he arrives onto the busy road, he spots the small coffee shop. the outside is covered bright green vines, the actual building itself a maroon tone, the material was brick.

but the soft decorations surrounding the building just looked so beautiful, the realness of how new the building was, but still fit just right in went so well together.

chris parked the van on the street, stepping out and locking it. he crossed the street, finding the entrance of the building. as he opens the door, a small bell goes off, his eyes meeting a small line till the counter.

the other thing that went well together, was the beautiful barista inside the shop. her long wavy brunette hair, held back with a light pink bow.

her chocolatey brown eyes could draw anyone in, the way she smiled at the customers with actual care, not the generic fake smile they have to put on till their lunch break, a sweet one.

and god, her voice. a voice so heavenly it felt to good to be real. as soon as my eyes land on her, a new barista takes her place, a barista with much less grace as the one he'd laid his eyes on before.

as he makes his way to the new opened register a few minutes later, the barista arrives back at the register, apologizing to the previous worker.

the barista's eyes land on chris, his heart skipping a beat as they make eye contact. "sorry for the wait, what would you like to order today?" i say apologetically.

i couldn't lie, the guy was cute. his brown fluffy hair, his cute features and tall stature.

"uhm, your-your fine, uhh.." he trails off, looking at the menu. "uhm, one vanilla mocha please- large." i nod, smiling. "alrighty, will that be all?" he nods, fishing his wallet out of his pocket. "uh yeah, that'll be all.."

"your total will be $4.56!" i say. i can't help but examine his face as he searches for change in his wallet. he smells good too- not that i was smelling him, just that it's a nice smell, and well it's strong in a good way.

he holds out a five dollar bill. i reach out, when taking it, our hands slightly brush together, it seeming to affect us both the same way. "you can grab a seat, it'll be ready in a second." i say with a smile.

chris nods, smiling slightly as he tries to appear nonchalant about the whole ordeal.

he turns around, taking a small card with the table number he's supposed to sit at plastered on in big white lettering.

as he sits, he lets out a sigh of relief, a breath he didn't know he was holding onto. he can't help but look at the way the mysterious barista moves for gracefully, making his order with ease and concentration.

after a few minutes of chris doing nothing on his phone, he sees a pair of feet standing infront of him. as he looks up, he sees me.

"vanilla mocha?" i ask, holding the drink. he smiles, nodding. "uh yeah, that's me." he holds out his hand. as i place the drink in his grip, our hands touch again.

chris's eyes scan me up and down before landing on my nametag. "y/n?" i look confused before chris quickly adds on. "the-the nametag. it's a pretty name." i smile softly, a light blush coating my tan cheeks.

"oh, thanks." he nods awkwardly before standing up. "uhm have a good day." he waves slightly, before walking out of the shop. "you too!" i call out with a smile.

i can't wait to tell my coworkers about this story.

wait guys should i make a pt.2 for this story? LMAO

taglist: if you'd like to be removed/added to the list, please say so!! <3

@stir-knee-o-low @arotzsturns @suyqa @aria3sposts @user101624 @craftycrafter26 @oakley298 @secretbowty @gwennybenny @drlsmiths @strnxzara2 @lillianlovesmatt @sofsturnz689 @wonyyoung @magicalfloweranchor @kyliebabe @avamerrill @h3arts4harry @songstonone @st7n1olo @ivysturnss @literallyjustrue @kitty-kats-54 @hannahsturns @slytherin-princess-x @emosexyvirgin @leeeeree @christmastreecake @graciebrams @aokay1 @pookiewookie0513 @nateismybf @goingtojohnkramershouseee @stvrnmc @chrissturniolodailysluts @gn-4315 @strangelysamantha @sweetrunawaycreation @etherealval @chris-slut @ariiijestertheklown @mattsturnioloarchive

[katsu28]

summer's golden haze - chapter three

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: bar hopping, damsels in drunken distress, and a late night heart to heart. (5.1k)

warnings: swearing, alcohol, lando talks about the hungarian gp shitshow

a/n: yes this is me maybe slightly projecting my feelings about hungary onto my characters okay! they're my barbie dolls to play with i can do whatever i want 😌↕️ anyways hope u enjoy <3

previous chapter | masterlist

“Hello? Are you even listening?” 

You blink, bringing yourself back to reality and back to the current conversation. Your friends are looking back at you with matching concerned, albeit a little annoyed expressions. “What? Sorry, I was—I’m here, sorry. What’s going on?” 

Samira tuts, but not unkindly. They all know you’ve got a million things running in your mind at the moment. “I was saying our dinner reservations got canceled. Something about the kitchen having to close down for maintenance, I dunno. Anyways, it frees us up tonight and we’re trying to figure out what to do instead.” 

“Oh. We could stay in? Order some food, watch a movie?” 

“I know what we need,” Camille gasps suddenly, eyes lighting up like she’s just had a brilliant idea. “We’re going bar hopping tonight.” 

“Bar hopping? We haven’t done that since—” You pause, taking a moment to think. You haven’t been bar hopping since Samira got dumped by her girlfriend a few months back, the time before that when Maren finally cut ties with her situationship last year. The only time you all go bar hopping is after a breakup. They think what happened with Lando is the same as breaking up with a partner. “Guys, seriously, I’m fine. He was never even my boyfriend anyways!” 

“Say what you want, but you’ve been super out of it these past few days. You need to let loose, do something that makes you stop thinking of Lando and start thinking about yourself again.”  

You scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. “I think about myself plenty.”

Camille rolls her eyes at you. “I mean not in that mopey, sad ‘I say everything is fine even though it’s not’ way. There’s more fish in the sea than Lando. Find one, or don’t, it’s up to you. But you need to forget about him.” 

Your lips press into a thin line as you sink back into your seat.

You don’t want another fish in the sea. You want the weird little crab with the cute accent and the sparkly eyes, the one you’ve already let back into the water.

The one you can’t have. 

Things haven’t been too awkward with Lando yet, but they definitely aren’t the same. Two people who really like each other but have decided to remain friends doesn’t really scream smooth sailing from now on to you. The wound is still fresh, and there are hints of it as you spend more time with the guys. 

Immediately filling the empty seat next to each other like it’s second nature but then having to awkwardly scoot away when your shoulders bump or your hands brush. Lingering glances across tables and rooms until one of you breaks and looks away first. Finding him first in a place full of other people and drifting towards him, only to come to your senses and switch up directions at the last moment. 

You wish you could say forgetting Lando would be easy. It really isn’t—not when your friend groups have basically melded into one big one, and everyone gets along so well. It would’ve been easier if you’d gone your separate ways, but you don’t think your heart would’ve liked that very much. Not that it enjoys skipping a beat every time you catch Lando’s eyes on you a little too long either. 

You wrinkle your nose, brows following. “I’m sad and mopey?” 

“A little bit.” 

“Okay, fine. Fine, let’s go bar hopping,” You concede, letting your shoulders drop. 

If you’re going to get over him, you might as well start right now. 

That’s how you end up in bar number one of the night, four tequila shots on the bar table in front of you. You eye the unassuming little glass warily, even as each of your friends snatch one up eagerly. 

Samira, as if sensing your hesitation, nudges yours toward you. “It’s one shot, babe. It won’t kill you.” 

“I know that,” You insist, throwing your shoulders back. “I just…need a second.” 

“Take all the time you need. We’re going all night.” 

Tonight isn’t about your feelings for Lando. Tonight is about you moving on, moving past what could’ve been with him and looking forward to what might come next. With or without him. 

You hold up your shot towards them, grinning big. “Here’s to moving forward, and making memories that’ll last a lifetime!” 

Clinking your glass against all of theirs, you throw back the clear liquid as smoothly as you can, only wincing a little bit at the burn of it going down your throat. It isn’t your usual drink of choice, but change has to start somewhere, right? 

-------

As far as bars go, this one isn’t the worst one you’ve been to tonight, but the fun has started to wear off for you. You’d stopped drinking around bar number two, the buzz of your much tamer drink choices after those first few shots starting to die down bit by bit. On the other hand, your friends are still going full steam ahead. You’ve honestly lost track of how many drinks they’ve had at the bars you’ve hit tonight, but they’re holding on pretty well. 

“Fuck boys!” Samira exclaims, slamming another shot glass down onto the table with gusto. Maren and Camille agree wholeheartedly with identical slurred ‘yeah, fuck ‘em!’s that make you chuckle into your glass of water. 

You know they’re just trying to make you feel better about your decision, and in a way, it helps. You’d finally been able to talk about what went down that afternoon without feeling an indescribable rush of guilt, and although they were disappointed at first, it became less when you’d told them why. They’re your best friends, and they know you better than anyone, so they know for a fact Lando’s lifestyle was not the one for you. 

Tonight was supposed to be all about forgetting your feelings, but as the night went on longer and your inhibitions became lower, you still couldn’t help but think about Lando. That mental box you’d put him has burst wide open already. 

You’re a little embarrassed to admit it, but you’d done a little research on him after getting home, which turned into a deep dive of his career, his life, anything that piqued your interest in him. You were curious to know what a guy like him saw in someone like you. 

It felt a little weird to see him outside the Lando you’ve gotten to know him as, because he seemed…different. He’s still the same sweet guy you know, but on video he’s a more tame version of himself. 

Carefully chosen words and shy smiles, he wears his confidence like a suit of armor on camera, to protect himself against the world. Here, he’s all bursting grins and loud belly laughs, unfiltered and so, so happy. He seems so normal, it’s hard to remember that he’s not just your everyday guy. Lando is one of the best and well known racing drivers in the whole world.

Making sure to separate the two is important if you want to stay firm in your decision. 

Somehow it hits nearly four in the morning, and it’s about high time you make the executive decision to call it quits and go home. The only problem is, you’re the only semi-sober one out of the four of you. You have the car, but you don’t trust yourself to drive in this state. None of your friends are in any shape to be of any help either, not when Maren is nearly passed out on the tabletop, and Camille and Samira drunkenly swaying with each other right next to you. 

You don’t really trust any rideshares at this time of night in an unfamiliar place, and even then, there’s no way you can get them all home by yourself. There’s only one other thing you can think of, one other person you can call to help you out. The one person you were hoping to not have to call. 

The moment your finger hits Lando’s number, you have half a mind to hang up. You’re about to, but then the line connects. 

“Yeah, what?” Lando’s voice is gravelly, thick with sleep. A little grumpy. Of course he’s grumpy, it’s nearing three in the morning and he was probably asleep. You feel bad that you've woken him up, but you couldn't think of anything else. 

“Lando? I’m so sorry to be calling you this late, I just didn’t know what else to do.”

Immediately, he sounds more alert when your name leaves his lips. “Is everything alright? What’s up?” 

You gnaw on your lip in contemplation until he says your name again, gentler this time. “We’re at a bar in town and the girls are really drunk and we need to get home, but I had a few drinks too so I didn't think I should drive. And I tried to call an Uber but at this time of night I don’t—” 

“Hey, no, it’s okay. I can come pick you up.” He interrupts your rambling and you're grateful for it, because the more you talk the more you think this was a bad idea. You’re asking him for too much, you're stretching the limits of an already awkward friendship too far, you're— “Just tell me where you are, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

“Really?” 

“Of course. Drop me your location and stay there.” You can hear rustling on his end of the line, pounding on a door, someone’s groggy voice saying something you can’t make out. Then Lando’s voice fills your ear again, soft yet firm. “Hang tight, ‘kay? Be there soon.” 

“Thank you so much,” You breath, truly grateful. He hangs up, and you can finally let out a breath of relief. Lando is coming. You won’t be stranded here. 

Lando jumps out of the car as soon as it pulls to a stop in front. He’s got on some nondescript jumper with the hood pulled up over his head and a random pair of joggers, and he definitely doesn’t look like he’d just been roused from his sleep. In fact, seeing him all disheveled with worry like this is kind of doing it for you. 

You’re in the middle of apologizing again when Lando crashes into you, arms wrapping around you tighter than you’re expecting, nearly squeezing the breath out of you. You meet Max’s eyes over his shoulder, who you’d just realized was also here, and he doesn’t look surprised at all. He looks rather smug, actually. 

“Are you okay?” Lando holds you at arms length, worried eyes scanning you for anything out of place, any injury. Other than your pride, you remain unharmed. Though that pesky fluttery feeling in your stomach is back again, as is the warmth in your chest, and it isn’t from the alcohol. 

His hood has fallen off from the force of his hug to reveal the tornado of curls on his head, flat on one side from his pillow most likely, as are the lines on his face from what was probably a good night’s sleep. Until you called, that is. 

You blink at him, caught off guard by the amount of care he still seems to have for you. It feels like an impossible feat to tear your gaze away from his. “Yes? I mean, yeah, I’m fine. You—wow, you got here fast.” 

“I thought maybe something—nevermind.” He cranes his neck around you to glance at your half asleep friends on the bench. “Are…they okay?” 

“Yeah, they’re fine. Tequila, y’know?” You shrug. 

Max lets out a snort of laughter from where he’s wandered over to check on them, waving a hand in front of Samira’s face. She swats at him halfheartedly, mumbling a sleepy, “Fuck off, Fewtrell.” 

“Sorry to wake you too, Max.” 

“Oh no, you didn’t wake me. He did.” He juts his chin over at Lando, who still has a hand around your elbow. You can’t help but let your eyes drop down to it, and Lando does too, inhaling sharply before letting go. Still, the warmth from his grip lingers. “And not very nicely might I add.” 

“I had to get you up quick!”

“You nearly took my head off with a pillow, you dickhead!” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want a kiss on the forehead?” Lando snorts. 

“Not from you!” 

“Come off it already, won’t you?” Lando turns his attention back to you instead, rolling his eyes playfully when he finds you stifling a giggle behind your palm. “You said you had your car?” 

“Um, yeah, it’s around the corner. We can just leave it here, I’ll circle back and pick it up in the morning.” 

Lando clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “It’ll probably be stripped for parts by tomorrow. How bout we split up? Two and two?” 

“Well, we all know who you want,” Max says knowingly. It makes your cheeks flame hot and Lando’s flush pink, but Max doesn’t waver in his shit eating grin. For some reason, you find his candid bluntness refreshing, even if it is poking fun at what’s going on (or not going on) between Lando and yourself. “You guys take Maren in your car, I’ll take these two and meet you at your house.” 

Max manages to coax Camille and Samira to their feet with little trouble, and before you know it they’re off, leaving you alone with Lando and a very sleepy Maren. He rocks back on his heels, biting the inside of his cheek awkwardly, like he’s not sure what to do. 

“Should we—” 

“I think—” Lando bites back a laugh, gesturing for you to speak first. 

“We should probably get going.” 

“Right. Let’s get her in the car then, yeah?” 

You couldn’t be less well versed in cars if you tried, but even you know the one Lando came to your rescue in is expensive. You’re almost too reluctant to even sit in it. But then Lando’s hand touches softly against the small of your back as he pulls open the door without hesitation, and you have no choice but to help Maren in. 

Not like you had much of a choice anyways, what with him being the knight in shining armor to your damsel in distress call. 

“Did you have fun? Before having to play mum to the girls, I mean.” Lando asks a little while later, not taking his eyes off the road. 

You blow out a deep breath, sinking back into the plush leather of the passenger seat. The soft smoothness is heaven on your skin. “Kinda. The first few drinks, at least. Felt a little out of place, honestly.” 

“What, you didn't charm some guy the same way you charmed me?” Silence fills the car like cement as soon as the words leave his mouth. A pang of something sharp shoots through you, something akin to hurt that flashes through your chest but is gone a second later. 

No, you shouldn’t feel hurt. You’re the one who hurt him. Even though he’s told you over and over that it’s okay, it’s fine, he understands your decision, Lando has every right to express his true feelings, no matter how it makes you feel. 

“Sorry, that was—that came out wrong. I just meant—” 

“I know what you meant,” You say quietly. He wants to know if you met someone else, and the answer is no. No, you didn't meet another guy, because all you could think about was him. But you’re just friends. You’d made certain of it. So why did you feel like you’d done something wrong? “I didn’t meet anyone else.” 

“Oh. Cool.” 

“Is it?” 

A muscle in his jaw clenches as he swallows thickly, nodding. “Yeah. I mean, if that’s what you want. What you’re looking for.” 

“I don’t think I’m looking for anything right now,” Your voice is soft, nearly a whisper. 

I’m not looking for something that isn’t you, you could add. You don’t. It wouldn’t do anything other than hurt him, and yourself, even more. 

The rest of the ride home is basically silent, and Max is waiting on the sofa with the other two when you finally get there, entertaining a story that Camille is telling not unlike one would with a child, uh huh-ing and wow, that’s so cool-ing until he realizes you’re finally here. 

You take over from then, thank him profusely yet again when he says he’s going to head home, before corralling all three girls into the bathroom like a zookeeper with their animals. 

One by one, you help each of your friends through an abridged version of their night routines until they’re all ready for bed, and then you tuck them into the same bed as best you can. You’ve relegated yourself to the floor with a littering of pillows for the night. It’ll be easier to get to them if they need anything during the night if you’re all in the same room. 

You’re surprised to see Lando in the doorway once you’ve gotten them all settled in for the night. You thought he'd left with Max, but apparently not.  

He glances up as he hears you approach, frowning. “You’re gonna sleep on the floor?” 

You shrug. “Yeah, it’s fine. I can keep an eye on them that way. You can, erm, you can go home now. Go back to sleep.” 

“No offense, but I’m pretty sure they’ll sleep through the night. Plus, you must be knackered too. You should get some rest, yeah?” You want to say no, but your body’s response betrays you in that moment, because you yawn big, and it makes him chuckle. “Come on. Sleep in your own bed. I’ll watch over them.” 

“No way.” You shake your head insistently, despite the enticing offer. “You’ve already done more than enough, Lando, I can’t ask you to stay up all night. I’ve got them covered.” 

“You shouldn’t either.” He shoots back, chin tilting up in challenge. You match him as best you can with your eyes growing heavier and heavier by the moment, and eventually, he backs down, hands up in mock surrender. “How ‘bout we take shifts? The living room’s right across the hall, if we camp out there and anyone makes a racket, whoever’s up will be able to hear them.” 

You twist your lips to the side in thought. “Deal. I call first watch though.” 

“I can live with that. Why don’t you go freshen up, or something?” 

“Is that your way of telling me I stink?” 

Lando’s eyes glint with mirth, teasing smile curling his lips. “Maybe.” 

“Well, maybe you don’t smell too good either!” That’s a total lie. He actually smells really nice, a mixture of remnants of his heady cologne from the day and something fresher, a little citrusy. His soap, maybe? 

A hot shower certainly does wonders to sober you up the rest of the way, and as you’re toweling your hair dry enough to where it won’t be dripping water down your shirt, you take a good look at yourself in the fogged up mirror. 

This is fine. You can spend a night alone with Lando without feeling anything towards him. You can do this. You’ve done harder things than this. 

Lando’s frowning at something on his phone when you make your way back into the living room, scowling like whatever’s on the screen has personally wronged him. It isn’t the first time you've noticed his demeanor turn sour like this, and your concern is piqued each time. 

You clear your throat as if to announce your presence, offering him a small smile when his head whips up. “Hi. Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine. It’s just work.” He tosses his phone on the coffee table, dragging a hand forward through his curls, mussing up the front before raking them back. It doesn’t seem to do anything but make them messier, but you suspect it’s more of a nervous habit than anything.

He smiles back at you as you sit a respectable distance away from him on the sofa, though even that looks entirely forced. Something is wrong, and it’s eating away at him. 

“Look, I know things aren't how they used to be with us, but I hope you know I’m still here for you. You can always talk to me if you need to.” 

Lando gnaws on his bottom lip, head tilting from side to side like he's unsure. “Really? You’d do that for me?” 

“Friends are there for each other.” 

He blows out a deep sigh, sinking back against the pillows like a deflated balloon. “Yeah? You’re sure?” 

“I’m a good listener, remember?” You nudge his knee with yours gently. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m all ears.” 

He isn’t ready right away. For a little while, you sit in silence. You get the feeling Lando doesn’t have much experience with letting people in very easily, but it's okay. You’ll sit here as long as he needs to get his thoughts together. 

Finally he speaks, but even then, his tone holds hesitance. 

“I feel like everything is going to shit. The car is great this season, it’s better than it's ever been before, so that’s not the problem. It’s me, I’m the problem, I keep fucking everything up," He sighs, shoulders slumping. "And my team work so hard for me to be able to perform and deliver and I feel like I’m just letting everyone down, y’know? They deserve someone who can give them better than the shit stuff I’ve been putting out these past few races.” 

Lando as a person is impossibly hard on himself, you’ve come to learn—always thinks he could’ve done better, even if what he’s already done is enough. The same is true when it comes to his job. 

You’d know—you checked. In your uninformed opinion, the results he’s been achieving in the races are great. To be finishing high in the top five out of twenty of the best drivers in the world in almost every single race recently, it’s enough to make anyone proud.

But when you think about it from a competition perspective, a cutthroat drive with everything you’ve got, put everything on the line perspective, you get a sense of why he’s beating himself up. 

To know he can win and still fall short, race after race…god, you can’t even imagine how he must be feeling. 

You might be clueless still, but at the very basis of it all, you understand. Lando has worked so hard for so many years, put in blood, sweat, and tears, and he feels like he’s not living up to expectations. 

You know what it’s like to have such high expectations placed on your shoulders and nearly be crushed by the weight of everyone counting on you. Surely not on a scale as large as his, but you understand the struggle. 

Then he goes into the race in Hungary a few weeks back, and you can tell there’s some lingering hurt in him about what happened. 

“It’s like they were guilt tripping me or something. Telling me I’ll need the team in the championship fight, that I should do the right thing and give up my position. Call me crazy, but that just didn’t sit right with me at all. They want me to be a team player and that’s fine, I’m happy to, but I dunno…” Lando trails off, nose wrinkling like the words leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

You notice him picking at the skin below his nail and move without thinking, closing the distance between the two of you and redirecting his fiddling fingers by linking them with your own. 

It gets him to stop picking, but it also makes him stop talking. Whatever words are about to come out of his mouth die into a drawn out exhale, eyes drawn to your joined hands like a magnet. 

“Yeah? Keep going, I’m still listening,” You urge gently, nodding. Lando blinks at you, as if he’s lost his train of thought. “Hungary? The team?”

“Uh…yeah. Right. I was—I guess I just didn’t think they’d pull all that crap over the radio. Like, everyone could hear what they were saying—other teams, the commentators. It was on live broadcast too!” His fingers tighten around yours ever so slightly, dark brows knit with frustration. 

Even though you know close to nothing about the sport, what his team pulled seems like a dick move. You understand wanting to put their drivers in the best position possible, but airing things out on a radio where everyone can hear it feels wrong to you. Then again, you have no idea what goes on within a team at this type of performance level. 

“It’s like, they knew I’d do what they wanted me to do and I did, but for a moment, I almost didn’t. I almost went against team orders, and that’s…” He laughs humorlessly, shaking his head. “You don’t do that. You can’t. You listen to what your team says and you do it, and that’s the end. My boss has been calling every now and then, trying to get me to talk and shit, and I just don’t really wanna talk about work right now. I don’t even wanna think about it.” 

“Oh, Lando…” You sigh. Your thumb rubs circles over the prominent ridges of his knuckles, hoping it brings him some sort of comfort.

“I know I probably sound like such a brat right now, but I’ve given everything I have to McLaren and it still doesn't feel like enough. They want more, and right now…I’m not sure how much more I’ve got in me.” 

“Can I be completely and totally honest with you right now?” 

“Yeah, please.” 

You hesitate, taking a beat to reply. You don’t want him to take your response the wrong way. “I’m not gonna sit and pretend like I have any clue what it’s like to be in your situation, because I don’t. But I do think you’re being too hard on yourself. Yeah, sometimes you might not get the results you’d hoped for, but you’re doing the best you can, and that’s all you need to be doing.” 

Lando doesn’t need your advice, and you’re in no place to be giving any in the first place. He just needs someone in his corner, someone who cares about him to tell him that it’s okay to not be perfect. You want to be that person, even though you’re both still trying to settle into this new dynamic with each other. 

Thankfully, your words seem to soak in, easing the tension in his shoulders just a little bit. “Thank you. I think I really needed that.” 

“Glad I could help,” You say warmly, squeezing his hand. 

“Y’know, I just realized that I’ve never said any of that out loud to anyone.”

“Do you feel better?” 

Lando chuckles, and somehow, he even seems better. Like whatever was weighing him down was gone. “Yeah, I do. I feel…lighter, actually? Is that weird?” 

“Not at all. That’s what letting things out will do for you.”

“Maybe. But maybe it’s more than that, maybe it’s…you.” 

Your breath hitches in your chest. “Me?”

“You make me feel like I can be myself around you. Like, the real me, not the me the rest of the world knows me as. I feel genuinely happy around you, and I—I can’t just sit here and ignore it any longer. I still really like you. And I know what you said about us, and I know why, but I can’t help the way I feel around you. The way I feel about you.” 

“Lando, I—” 

“I swear I’m not trying to change your mind or make you feel guilty, or anything like that! I just had to say it before it made me explode,” He adds, exhaling shakily. “In the spirit of letting things out.” 

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t been starting to question whether or not you’d made the right choice by deciding to walk away from Lando, because the more you get to know him, the more it chips away at your resolve. He’s kind and sweet and funny, and he gets you like nobody else has before. It’s been hell these past few days, tiptoeing around each other when all you want to do is kiss him senseless.

Right now, you want to kiss him senseless. He’s right here in front of you, holding your hand, looking at you with those stupid sparkly eyes. You want to say it’s the leftover alcohol buzzing in your veins making you feel this way, but that would be a lie too. 

Fuck it. 

You cross the already dwindling space between the two of you, sliding a hand around the back of his neck, and kissing him softly. Lando freezes for a split second, but before you know it, he’s kissing you back, guiding you closer until you’re nearly on his lap. His hands roam your back, curling into the material of your shirt, thumbing under it just a tiny bit to stroke at the warm skin there. 

It isn’t at all like the first time you kissed. He lets you set the tone, following your slow lead without question. 

You’re not sure how long you keep at it—lazy, gentle kisses punctuated with hushed giggles and tiny satisfied noises from the both of you.

Lando takes a pause every so often, pulling back just enough to look at you, take in the sight of you breathless from his doing, and every time, his mouth curls into a squinty, close mouthed smile. You can only bear the fondness in his expression for a few seconds before growing too aware of the way he looks at you and kissing him again. 

Your brain doesn’t want to stop, but apparently your body decides you’ve had enough action for a day, because at some point you feel your eyes start to droop, chin following.

As if sensing your exhaustion, Lando pulls away, chest rising and falling heavily. He’s breathless, lips kiss-swollen as they curve into a soft smile. “We should stop. You need to get some sleep.” 

“No! We should talk about this. Us.” 

“I agree, but I don’t think you’re really in the right headspace to do it right now.”

“I’m fine! I’m okay, I swear.” 

“You just nearly fell asleep whilst we were making out.”

“For a second!” You whine, letting your head thunk against his chest. A chuckle vibrates through him. “Don’t laugh at me, I’m tired.” 

“Then go to sleep. We’ll talk about it in the morning,” He insists, lips pressed to the crown of your head. You sigh through your nose. You’d argue a little more, but Lando is right again. All you want to do is go to sleep. “I’m not going anywhere, alright? I’ll be here when you wake up, we can figure it out then.” 

“Promise?” 

“I promise.”

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[kachowden]

I usually leave the notifications for tumblr off but I'm turning them back on just so that I'll be notified when you post

Have a gift 🫶

──── ୨୧ ────

Yandere!Therapist x GN!Reader

TW: NSFW, Dubcon/noncon masturbation(?), phone sex?? Phone play?? Cameron’s questionable moral compass. Drabble(?)

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶

Warm candlelight breaths amber into the surrounding dishes and furniture. Idle chatter fogs over the dining crowd of businessman, waiters and families alike. The sound of expensive wine poured into equally expensive glass.

Listless honey eyes stare dully at the glamour around him, fluffy lashes draped over in boredom as the group of classily dressed men and women chatter on, high class laughter grating his sensitive ears incessantly.

And yet through all the noise he hears it. A familiar ringtone that brings a sparkle to his eyes and has him suavely, yet eagerly fishing out his phone, cheeks warming ever so slightly at the contact that glows in his hand. His eyes trace the curve of the individuals features, the memory that plays being a recollection of when the photo was taken, and without his knowledge, a warm smile spreads past his lips.

“Excuse me..” his warm, soothing voice bleeds into the tables, his chair soundlessly pushing against the waxed tiles of the restaurant as he stands. “I have to take this..”

“Oh?~ Cameron, don’t tell me you’ve finally found yourself a partner..~ and here I was hoping you’d stay..picky.” A feminine voice calls to him, dripping in tasteless syrup that sours his smile, only slightly. The charming grin he sends back encouraging a small spiel of giggles from the other guests mouths as they watch the very handsome man straighten himself, politely.

“Nothing quite like that…just a client, actually.” He assures, though the denial dries his tongue unpleasantly enough for him to take a quick sip of the sparkling water he had ordered, before stepping fluidly around a waiter who had just reached their table, the smell of fresh food hardly catching his interest as he sped through the restaurant and to his car.

His thumb presses the accept button, and he nearly sucks in his lip with the anticipation.

“Dr. Cameron?”

“Darling…” he breathes in a tone far more than friendly, eyes closing as he hears the laugh oozing ichor into his ear, hardly deterred by the speakers crackle. “How are you? Any problems?”

“No, nothing like that..you just said that if I found myself feeling a bit in my head that I could call. This isn’t a bad time is it?” The worry in their voice sends his mind reeling already, chest stuttering with a shaken breath. He finds himself missing the pressure of a certain garment on his skin, sinking floral patterns into the flesh with each breath. But there was no sense in wearing it if his favorite patient wasn’t there to see it.

The brunette laughs, a charming and warm sound that barely hides the beat of his thundering heart. His cheeks burn and sweat a little, the affects of their voice so close to him muddling his mind slightly, as he eases into the leather seats of his car. Even though he is aware it is just a phantom, he cannot help but to lean into the imaginary feeling of their breath against his neck.

“Hardly. Never a bad time for you at least, My darling. Tell me…what’s on your mind?” he pauses, nearly surprised to find himself out of breath, as their voice begins to tickle his ear. They talk thoughtfully of their day, and he hangs onto every word, responding perfectly despite the way his eyes nearly roll back, and he finds himself shamefully squirming against the sweaty seats of the much too hot car.

“…..I just feel..I don’t know it’s like I’m experiencing this range of emotions but it’s so….I just can’t tell if I’m over reacting you know?”

“Of course....”

He counts his blessings when the phone doesn’t pick up the sounds of his labored breaths, or the metallic click of his belt buckle. Normally, he would find himself with a bit more composure. More decorum, at least in the presence of others.

But, perhaps it had been too long since their last talk. Perhaps he had been a bit pent up lately. Or perhaps he had even had a few too many sips of that wine earlier. But in this moment he finds it too far out of his realm to care.

The sound of their voice is like strings that tie pretty bows around his body. Pulling at his wrist, and bringing his hand lower and deeper into the fabric of his cotton boxers. Their voice carries his fingers into a vice grip around a pulsing hot mess that begs for their touch. And when they pause to check on him, having heard the sharp hiss of air that left through his lips, he nearly comes undone too fast.

“I’m..alright, Darling, just…continue speaking for me. I want to hear more about how you felt when you ran into your friend this morning..”

Despite the gutter that his mind stews in, his thoughts catch ever so dutifully onto their every word, eyes glossed with a murky sheen of lust and adoration, body flushed with the evidence of their power over him.

His thighs shake when he’s close, and there’s only a brief moment of shame that slithered into his mind, disgusted with himself for getting off to their moment of vulnerability, but it’s washed away by the sheer euphoria of his finish, and he barely has time to stuff his mouth with his shirt to muffle the drawn out whimpering moan that breaks through. And still he’s listens. His place in your retelling hasn’t been lost, as if his finger had followed along the words of your story as he read.

And even when you ask him for feedback, there is not a stutter to his words.

“You know darling…I think there’s a lot we could discuss about this. How about you come in tomorrow? We’ll make it an early session.”

[angelssmvse]

𝘼 𝘿𝘼𝙉𝘾𝙀 𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙀𝙉𝙀𝙈𝙔

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 𝘳𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 (𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 / 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧)

𝜗𝜚 𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙔 You’re JJ’s sister, part of a close-knit group of friends who’ve been through thick and thin together. But when you discover you have "kook" blood, your whole world is thrown into doubt. Among the chaos, Rafe Cameron becomes a constant source of tension, and despite your differences, your paths inevitably cross. After a violent storm leaves you and Rafe stranded in Morocco, you’re forced to rely on each other for survival. In the midst of uncertainty and danger, you start to realize that maybe, after everything, you’ve both been searching for something in each other all along.

𝜗𝜚 𝘼/𝙉 I happened to dream about Rafe Cameron last night and I HAD to write about him, so here’s a one shot smut (with an interesting plot + enemies to lovers). Enjoy angels <3

𝜗𝜚 𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎 smut! minors DNI. This narrative contains mature themes and explicit content, including strong language, depictions of violence, adult situations (smut), and elements of both humor and tenderness (unprotected sex, p in v). Reader discretion is advised.

You were JJ’s younger sister, a proud Pogue, raised in a violent family but surrounded by loyal, kind-hearted friends. Your tight-knit circle, bonded by years of shared memories, was your world—Kiara, in particular, was your closest friend. Despite being a “half Pogue” by blood (as she came from a Kook family), Kiara was more like a sister than a friend. You never cared about fame or wealth. What mattered to you was living a peaceful life surrounded by the people you considered family. Your brother JJ, always impulsive and reckless, had a knack for getting into trouble. He often acted as though he could simply reset any bad situation, which meant you were left to pick up the pieces and look out for him. His anger issues, inherited from your father, could be unsettling at times, but you always knew he would never direct that anger towards you. Then there was Sarah—once a close friend before the tension between her and Kiara caused a rift. Naturally, you took Kiara’s side, but you were relieved when they eventually reconciled. In your younger years, Sarah was someone you’d spend a lot of time with. You’d visit her house, throw parties, and, inevitably, there was always someone who would find it amusing to tease you. The main culprit? Rafe fucking Cameron, Sarah’s older brother. Rafe had a reputation as a bit of a bully, though it was more complicated than that. He was rich, popular, and undeniably handsome, often using his status to irritate you and your friends. But after everything that had transpired in recent months, it seemed he had bigger problems to deal with—including that new buzz cut.

You were helping John B with some fishing, wrapping up a few chores before taking a moment to relax. “I’m just so glad we figured everything out, you know? Like… the old me wouldn’t even recognize myself. And JJ? I’ve never seen him this happy,” you say with a soft laugh, the thought of your brother bringing a smile to your face. John B returns the smile. “Yeah, I’m grateful for everything,” he says, taking a sip of his beer. The view from the boat was perfect—the calm, glassy water, the fresh fish, the sunset painting the sky, cold beers in hand, and the easy flow of conversation. It was the kind of moment you never wanted to end. Except… a larger boat, definitely a Kook’s, was drawing dangerously close. John B narrowed his eyes, and without a word, he flicked on the motor. “Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” you shouted, glaring at the other boat. “Hey!” John B added, raising his voice as he tried to get their attention. Then you saw him. “Rafe?” you said, disappointment lacing your tone. “Rafe!” you repeated, disbelief creeping in. He smirked, leaning casually against the side of the boat. “Our property now! Go away, Pogues!” one of his friends yelled, throwing an obnoxious wave in your direction. “Leave, assholes!” They added, flinging their drink at your boat—whatever rich liquor they were sipping splashing across you. For a moment, you just stood there, frozen, as the alcohol soaked your clothes. “John B, let’s just leave,” you whispered, frustration simmering beneath your calm exterior. “What the hell!?” John B shouted, throwing his arms up in disbelief. Rafe’s head appeared over the side of the boat, holding a glass of whiskey in one hand, stumbling slightly as he tried to stay balanced. “Hey, y’all better leave,” he said, his voice nonchalant, though it was clear he was barely keeping it together. With a resigned sigh, you and John B started the boat, silently putting distance between yourselves and Rafe’s crew. It was clear they had nothing better to do than ruin the peaceful moment, but you weren’t about to let them.

A couple of weeks later, you found yourself on the same boat with Rafe—of all people—as he had just saved your asses from the police. Now, you were heading to Morocco, a place that seemed both like an escape and a new chapter of uncertainty. It had been a crazy ride—Sarah was pregnant, JJ was as drunk as ever, and you, well... you almost lost everything. Your property. Your life. You nearly got killed by some random guys, Pope had been arrested, and to top it all off, you had just discovered a truth that shattered everything you thought you knew. Your entire life had been a lie. You were a Pogue, born and raised, yet somehow, you had Kook blood running through your veins. Who would’ve thought? The irony wasn't lost on you. As the group argued over what to do with Rafe, you sat on the floor, trying to block out the noise. JJ, however, had fallen uncharacteristically silent, his eyes fixed on you while he sipped his drink. It was like he was trying to read you, but even in your haze, you could feel the weight of his gaze. He moved closer and sat down next to you, his breath heavy with the sharp scent of alcohol that always reminded you of your non-Dad. "Hey..." he murmured, his voice softer than usual. "Everything will be fine, okay? I’ll figure this out. We’ll kick Rafe off this boat, and—". But you couldn’t take it anymore. You stood up abruptly, pushing him away, the weight of everything crashing down on you all at once. Tears you had been holding back for so long finally spilled over, streaming down your cheeks. You could barely breathe, the pressure of it all suffocating you. "Jesus Christ, JJ, stop it," you said, your voice breaking as you turned and rushed toward one of the rooms, trying to escape from the overwhelming emotions that flooded through you. From his position, Rafe had been watching the entire scene unfold, observing everything from the higher deck as he took control of the ship. He didn’t trust any of you—not after everything that had happened. He knew he was in the wrong too; after all the backstabbing, the betrayals, the lies. He had done everything to gain your groups trust, and yet... despite everything, something about this group still gnawed at him. He had always denied it, but there was a part of him—an uncomfortable part—that felt a strange attachment to you. He hated how much it infuriated him when you talked to other guys, or worse, when they looked at you even for a second. It would drive him mad, make him feel this irrational, burning jealousy he couldn’t explain. Watching you laugh with the others, seeing how they adored you, made him lose his mind in ways he couldn’t understand. He had tried to push it all down, to convince himself that he hated you—that he hated everything about you. But every time he did, it just made him more miserable. When he saw you upset, it twisted something in his chest. He had always hated that about himself.

You woke up groggily from your nap, the boat gently rocking beneath you. Stepping out of your cabin, you made your way to the girls, feeling the weight of the day still hanging heavy on your shoulders. "Hey..." you whispered as you sat down next to them. Kiara immediately pulled you into a hug, her touch warm and comforting. "Are you feeling better?" she asked softly. "We didn't want to bother you." You let out a small sigh, nodding. "Yeah, I’m fine... Where are the others?" You looked around, surprised at how calm the boat felt, especially after everything that had happened. The girls exchanged a glance before the silence was broken by a scream from one of the locked rooms. "Let me out!" Rafe’s voice echoed, the desperation clear. You raised an eyebrow, looking at the girls in confusion. "What’s Rafe doing in there?" you asked, your voice unsure. Sarah sighed, her face tight with frustration. "We went to talk to him... and it didn’t end very well. He was armed. JJ punched him, and that was the only option left." You nodded slowly, trying to process it all. "Mhm. Okay. Okay." You took a deep breath, running a hand through your hair. "I think we should make dinner, huh?" It was the only thing you could think of to distract yourself from everything spinning in your mind. You didn’t want to open up, didn’t want to burden anyone with your problems. Everyone here had their own issues, and you had to deal with yours, quietly.As dinner came together, you prepared a small portion for Rafe. You hesitated for a moment, but then said, "I’ll bring this for him," before carefully picking up the plate and walking towards the door where Rafe was locked up.

You unlocked the door slowly, the sound of the mechanism clicking louder than it should’ve been. There, in the dim light, Rafe was sitting on the floor, his hands tied and drenched in sweat. His eyes lifted to meet yours, and for a split second, you saw something softer in them, something almost vulnerable. "Here," you said quietly, setting the plate of food down on the floor in front of him. You could feel his gaze on you as you stood, awkwardly, unsure of what to do next. He didn’t move, staring at the food without touching it. You glanced up at him again, catching his eye. "I’m sorry. They had no choice but this." Your voice was barely above a whisper, the weight of the words sitting between you both. Just as you turned to leave, you heard his voice, softer, but desperate. "Wait," he said, the word barely escaping his lips. "Just—stay. Please,". You froze, your back still facing him. For a brief moment, you hesitated. If you left now, you'd be an ass—he’d hate you for it. But then again, why should you care? He probably already hated you, right? And staying, talking to him... that felt like a betrayal to your friends, a line you didn’t want to cross. You swallowed the tight feeling in your throat and turned, shutting the door softly behind you. "Hey! Wait!" Rafe’s voice cracked through the silence, louder this time. "Hey!" He shouted, his frustration rising. You heard him begin to violently kick the walls, the sound sharp and jarring. "You’re just gonna leave me in here?!". You could feel the heat of his anger seeping through the door as he threw the food you’d just given him, the clatter of it hitting the walls making your stomach twist. You didn't look back. Instead, you kept walking, your heart pounding in your chest. As you moved away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to Rafe’s anger, something deeper. And despite everything that had happened—despite the hatred, the violence, the lies—you couldn’t help but wonder what it was that kept pulling you back to him.

The storm hit hard, howling through the night, throwing waves against the sides of the ship. You could hear the wind tearing at the sails and the relentless crash of thunder overhead. The entire ship felt alive, bucking beneath you as you clung to the nearest railing, trying to steady yourself as everything around you shook. You and John B were doing your best to keep things from spiraling out of control, struggling to keep the ship from tipping over in the chaos. But even with all the work, your mind was elsewhere. Suddenly, a thought pulled you out of your focused panic: Rafe. “Hey!” you shouted over the roar of the storm, trying to catch his attention. "I’m going to see what's going on down there, okay?" you yelled, nodding toward the cabin, your voice barely carrying over the loud wind. He gave you a curt nod, already moving in his own direction. You didn’t wait any longer. You turned on your heel, struggling to keep your balance as you made your way below deck. The floor was slick, waves crashing against the hull, and everything around you seemed to be in a constant state of motion, making it almost impossible to stay upright. You braced yourself against the walls, your heart pounding from the adrenaline, until you finally reached the locked door. “Rafe!” you called, your voice cracking slightly from the strain of the storm. You knelt down, quickly untying the knot that held his hands. You brushed your wet hair behind your ear, glancing up at him as he looked back at you. "Please don't let me regret this," you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Rafe chuckled darkly, shaking his head.

You both wasted no time. With a quick glance, Rafe took your hand and led the way. He moved with purpose, navigating the ship like he owned it, knowing every creak and groan of the ship better than anyone. You were behind him, just trying to keep up as the ship pitched and rolled beneath you, the storm making everything harder than it already was. Then, as you passed the galley, you both froze. There, sitting on the floor in the middle of the chaos, was JJ. He was slumped against the wall, a bottle of liquor in his hand, his head hanging low. His hair was wet and sticking to his forehead, and he looked like he was barely holding it together. “JJ…” you said softly, your heart aching at the sight of your brother in such a state. You walked towards him, but Rafe stayed a few paces behind, eyes locked on the situation. “Please get up,” you pleaded, your voice barely audible over the storm’s fury. JJ slowly lifted his head, his eyes glazed and unfocused. When he saw you, his lips twisted into a half-smile. "Or what? You got yourself a new boyfriend, huh?" he slurred, his voice thick with alcohol. You winced, feeling a pang of frustration. He was so drunk, so out of it, and it made everything worse. "JJ, please," you repeated, walking closer, trying to help him to his feet. But before you could reach him, he suddenly pushed himself up, swaying unsteadily. His glare was unfocused, but it was still intense. He held the bottle out toward you, but you moved quickly, taking it from his hands. “Enough,” Rafe’s voice cut through the tension. He stepped forward, placing himself between you and JJ. His tone was hard, firm. "Let's just get the hell out of here," he said, his voice quiet but commanding. JJ glared at him, his anger flaring. “You stay out of this, Rafe,” he snapped, his voice rough, but it didn’t have the usual bite. He was too drunk to even stand up straight, let alone fight back. Rafe stood his ground, pushing JJ back a step when he made a move toward you. "Not this time," Rafe said coldly. He didn’t even raise his voice, but his presence alone made JJ take a step back. You looked at both of them, torn between your brother and the strange, undeniable tension that hung in the air between you and Rafe. Your heart raced as you realized just how close everything was to spiraling out of control. The storm outside mirrored the one raging within the confines of the ship. For a long, tense moment, no one moved. You looked between Rafe and JJ, feeling the weight of the situation press down on you. Rafe’s expression softened slightly, but only just enough to show a hint of something unspoken. As you took a step back, you glanced at JJ, seeing the hurt and anger in his eyes, the pain behind the alcohol. “Let’s just get out of here,” you repeated, your voice quieter now. You turned toward the exit, Rafe’s hand guiding you away, as the storm raged on around you. But behind you, JJ’s words still echoed, mixing with the thunder outside, an angry shout that faded into the sound of the storm.

The three of you made your way back to the others, the atmosphere thick with tension as you all sat down around the dining table. The ship’s constant creaking beneath the storm’s fury only made the silence between you all feel heavier, more suffocating. The occasional flashes of lightning illuminated the space, highlighting the uneasy glances everyone was giving Rafe. The looks were silent, but they said it all: they didn’t trust him. And right now, you couldn’t blame them. You sat there, lost in your own thoughts, barely noticing the way the ship rocked violently beneath you. Everything felt so out of control, like you were spiraling, each moment pulling you further away from any semblance of safety. The storm, the tension, the confusion—it was all too much.

Then Sarah stood up, the scrape of her chair against the floor dragging everyone’s attention toward her. “Guys—where’s John B?” she asked, her voice full of panic. The group exchanged looks, eyes widening. The space suddenly felt too small, too tight. “I’ve got to find him,” Sarah said quickly, her voice sharp with urgency. Without waiting for anyone to stop her, she dashed toward the exit. “Sarah, wait!” you called after her, but she was already gone, running through the storm, gripping onto the nearest stable object to steady herself as the ship lurched violently. “John B!” she screamed, her voice barely audible over the sound of the wind and crashing waves. Her words were swallowed by the storm, and for a moment, you thought you might have imagined the way the air grew still around you. But then it happened—without warning, a massive wave crashed against the ship, slamming into Sarah with such force that her scream was suddenly cut short. Her body was swept off the ship, pulled into the dark, merciless sea by the violent water. “No!” you shouted, jumping to your feet, your heart hammering in your chest. You could barely process what you had just seen. The rest of the group scrambled, horrified, frozen in place for a moment. JJ was the first to react. Without hesitation, he dove toward the railing, reaching out for Sarah as she was dragged further away from the ship. "Sarah!" he screamed, but she was too far. His eyes locked onto her, and there was no choice left. He jumped. He didn’t even think, just threw himself into the water, desperate to save her, to pull her back. You stood there, unable to breathe, your eyes wide in disbelief. You watched as JJ disappeared into the waves, leaving you behind. John B and the others had seen it, too, all of you trapped in this horrible moment. Your mind raced, but your body was paralyzed, unable to move, unable to do anything to stop the chaos unfolding in front of you. Your best friend and your brother—two of the most important people in your life—were now lost in the storm, and there was nothing you could do to bring them back.

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. You turned around, your chest tight, hoping for some kind of comfort, some kind of clarity. But when you met Rafe’s eyes, the last person you expected to be there, you saw something you didn’t expect: sincerity. His expression was dark, filled with regret, pain, and maybe even guilt. Before you could say anything, Rafe was already there, pulling you into his arms. His embrace was tight, his hands running through your wet hair as the tears you had been holding back finally spilled over. You cried, quietly at first, your body trembling in his arms. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, like he couldn’t find the right words, like he was searching for something to say but couldn’t find it. You didn’t know what to say, what to do. You didn’t want to feel this connection to him, not after everything that had happened, but in this moment, his touch was the only thing that grounded you. The storm outside, the storm in your heart—it all blurred together. All you could feel was the weight of what you had just lost. As Rafe held you, his warmth in contrast to the coldness of the storm, you clung to him, your tears soaking into his shirt. The sound of the storm, of crashing waves and thunder, seemed to fade into the background, drowned out by the chaos in your heart. In the silence of the ship, with only the two of you holding on, there was a brief moment where nothing else mattered.

The ship tilted violently, a massive wave crashing into it, sending everything into chaos. You reached for Rafe’s hand, but the wind and water pulled you apart. He grabbed you tighter, but it only made things worse as the ship lurched again, sending both of you overboard. You tried to hold on, but the weight of the water and the force of the storm were too much. The cold sea engulfed you both, dragging you down, your desperate gasps for air lost to the waves. The ship’s creaks and groans faded into the distance as you were pulled under, and just like that, you and Rafe were gone. Onboard, the rest of the group watched in horror, realizing they had lost not two, but four of you. The nightmare was endless, the storm swallowing everything in its path.

You and Rafe, still holding hands, struggled to stay afloat in the violent ocean. Hours passed, each minute feeling like days, until you finally spotted land. The moment you reached the shore, you collapsed onto the sand, exhausted and grateful. "Yes! Finally some land!" you yelled, gasping for breath. Rafe lay next to you, closing his eyes, and you stood over him, still trying to catch your breath. "What?" he murmured, not opening his eyes. "Are you planning to stay here forever?" you asked, hands on your hips. "God, let me take a break," he groaned, finally opening his eyes. "I’m hungry, Rafe." The two of you started a fire and managed to catch some fish after several failed attempts. It wasn't much, but it was better than starving. As the fish cooked, you sat in silence, staring at the fire. Rafe sat next to you, but kept his distance. "We should keep moving—find the others," you said, your voice cold. "I don't even know if my brother's still alive. We barely—" He interrupted you. "Let’s just rest for a bit, regain the energy we’ve lost." You shot him an angry glare, your frustration boiling over. For a split second, he saw something familiar in your eyes—your brother’s fire, your brother’s determination. You were unrecognizable, and it made his stomach twist. "No," you said, looking away, your voice quieter now.

You both set off again, trekking through unfamiliar terrain in search of the rest of the group. Hours passed without any sign of them. The search led you to a village, but you were lost in the maze of unknown streets. There was no trail, no clues. "Let’s just stop for a second and think, baby," Rafe suggested, his voice softer. You spun around, fury rising in your chest. "Don’t call me that!" you screamed, your finger pointed at him. Rafe’s patience snapped. He grabbed your wrist, pinning you against a nearby wall. "Hey, listen to me," he hissed, his voice low but firm. "I’m done obeying. Done doing whatever you're trying to do. You’re blinded by rage, and don't try to deny it. I know exactly how it feels." You froze, the fire in your eyes flickering for just a moment. His words hit harder than you expected. He was right—you were blinded by anger. You softened, just for a second, and his grip on your wrist loosened, giving you space. "Okay..." you whispered, feeling defeated but also oddly calm. "What do you have in mind?" A slow smile spread across Rafe’s face as he pulled a wad of cash from his pocket. "Where did you...?" you asked, confused and surprised. "Just follow me," he said, his grin widening.

The sun was setting as you and Rafe finally found a hotel for the night. The exhaustion of the day hung heavy on both of you, but as soon as you entered the room, your eyes locked on the single bed in the middle of it. You paused for a second, staring at it, then turned to Rafe. Before you could even say anything, he threw his hands up in defense. "It was the cheapest one, don’t blame it on me." You rolled your eyes and shook your head, unable to suppress a small sigh. "Of course," you muttered, rubbing your temples. The day had been long enough without having to deal with this. Rafe just shrugged, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "It’s not like you had any better ideas," he added, smirking. You narrowed your eyes at him but didn’t say anything more. What could you say? You were too tired to argue. Still, the thought of sharing a bed with him made your skin crawl a little. But in the end, you didn’t have much of a choice. "Fine," you said, dropping your bag onto the floor. "Let’s just get through the night.". Rafe gave a half-grin, settling down on the edge of the bed. "Agreed." It wasn’t ideal. But after everything, it was at least a place to rest—something you both desperately needed.

It was late, and sleep refused to come. You sat up, glancing over at Rafe’s face in the soft moonlight. He looked so different—almost innocent, like someone else entirely. He wasn’t the man everyone feared, the violent, unpredictable guy. Maybe he needed to be understood. Or maybe, you thought, you were just too tired to think clearly. You slipped out of bed quietly and made your way to the balcony, craving the cool night air. The breeze hit your skin, and for a moment, you felt a sense of calm wash over you. You leaned against the railing, taking in the view as you let your thoughts drift. You couldn’t help but reflect on your past—how you’d gone from having nothing, to having everything, and then losing it all over again. When would it stop? Just as the weight of your thoughts grew heavy, a voice broke the silence. “The view’s beautiful, mhm?” Rafe’s voice was low, his gaze distant as he stood in the doorway, his eyes turned away. You turned toward him, catching his eyes for a brief moment before looking away. "Yeah, it really is," you said softly, your voice almost drowned out by the sounds of the night. Rafe nodded, clearly trying to find the right words, but they didn’t seem to come. The silence stretched between you, both of you caught in your own heads. You could feel the tension rising, the unspoken words thick in the air. You took a breath and spoke up, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “Hey, Rafe?”—“Yeah?” he responded quietly, turning his attention back to you. You hesitated, then looked up at him. “Thank you. Thank you for saving me.” A smile tugged at the corner of Rafe’s mouth. He gave a small nod. “You wouldn’t be sleeping in a nice hotel if it wasn’t for me,” he said with a light chuckle, the tension in his voice easing for a second. You couldn’t help but smile, a soft laugh escaping you as you lightly punched his arm. "Hey," you teased, trying to break the seriousness that had built between you.

The brief moment of laughter faded quickly, and the air around you both grew heavier. The silence between you two became thick with something else, something unspoken. Your eyes locked once again, and this time, neither of you looked away. It felt like the space between you was closing, drawn in by some invisible force. Your heart raced as you both stood there, drawn together by the weight of the moment. The space between the two of you slowly closes as he kisses your soft lips. The kiss deepens, becoming more and more passionate. His hands roam over your body going to your hips as he holds you tight. You, tip toed, hold him by his neck as he picks you up bringing you to the bed finding himself on top of you now. You look up as you catch his gaze, filled of lust and desire. He begins to kiss your neck leaving love trails all over you, his warm breath makes you arch your back against him—and God knows how much he loved it, how long he wanted this, just to have you closer to him made this man feel complete somehow. A shiver run through your spine as you feel his belt unbuckle, he kisses you before leaning back, staring at you for permission as you nod. And without hesitation he finds his entrance starting to follow a slow and steady rhythm, not wanting to hurt you. You moaned holding tight onto his shoulders, he began to move faster making you moan louder, he smirks, “You like it? Mhm?” He whimpers in your ear as he kept going. You were so close, trying to hold tight miserably. Your legs wrapped around him as he slows his pace teasing you. “Rafe,” you whimper, “please.” Rafe smiles at you as he keeps up to his pace again finally making you reach you climax as you arch you back releasing all that you had left. He keeps going before pulling out and crashing on top for you catching his breath and softly kissing your neck. He loved every single thing about you—the way your hair fell just right, the way your eyes sparkled, the fire in your voice. He loved your stubbornness, the way you never backed down. But that was the problem. He hated the fact that he loved you. It infuriated him, this feeling he couldn’t control—couldn’t fight. You were everything he couldn’t have, everything he’d never deserve. And yet, there he was, drawn to you in a way that made him lose himself, lose the hard shell he’d built around his heart. He hated how much he wanted you. How much he needed you. Because in the end, he knew it would never end well. It never did. But in this moment, as your gaze met his, as your lips met his, he couldn't bring himself to care.

Maybe that was it—maybe all you both needed was each other this whole time. Maybe the answer had always been simpler than you thought. Maybe, despite everything that stood between you, despite the complications and the fear, all you really needed was to be together. To stop fighting it, stop pretending you didn’t care. And maybe, just maybe, it was finally time to admit that, for both of you, this was where you belonged.

Copyright © angelssmvse 2024 — I own only this story; please do not copy nor translate without permission or proper attribution. I give credit for the character Rafe Cameron from the series "Outer Banks" by Jonas Pate. This is the only platform where I have published the story.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

your shark mer 141 and mer remora fic is one of the only things keeping me sane during finals week so please please please dump all of your thoughts on us because your writing style is so good and i can’t get enough!!!!!!!

thank you!! i sincerely hope finals are going/did go well for you! you should treat yourself with a little something if/when you're finished :)

and the shark mer 141 are always happy to be of service <3

37 / 1k / part 2 of shark mer Ghost tolerating remora mer reader

...

"But I'm fine!"

“You’re not. Look at you. You’re half-asleep.”

You’re not tired, you’re hungry. You shift against him, listless and unable to voice your needs. It's not that you're unwilling to do so--it's that you can't. It doesn't occur to you. Your kind doesn't survive by acting needy around a host.

Ghost notices your silent resistance. You’re weak--too tired, too hungry, too used to taking care of yourself--and still stubborn enough to keep your mouth shut anyway. He bites back a growl of irritation. It would be easier to fight. At least then he could shout it out of you. But no--instead you’re a tired lump in his hand, and your silence doesn’t give him anywhere to push back.

He's got one arm looped around you and both of your hands grasped in one of his. He only carries you like this, holding you by the wrists, when you accompanying him isn't up for debate. When you're being particularly fussy about it, he drags you by the wrists as if your arms were leads.

You don't relish that thought right now. You finally just bow your head, tucking it against his chest in submission.

He feels the change in your body language when you surrender to his control. He notices the way you go almost limp against him. Good. That almost puts the hungry, prowling animal in him to rest. Almost.

It’s a hard thing to explain--the gnawing dissatisfaction he felt watching you comb through the sand, small and alone on the ocean floor. The protective, possessive feeling that took root in his stomach.

It made him want to bite you all over. Not just to punish you, but to warn any other lurking thing who might confuse your loneliness for attainability. Not that he'd ever express the impulse to do so.

"Are you coming back to hunt again?" you ask him.

“Why? Do you miss me that much?”

You huff. "You didn't eat enough."

His fingers tighten around your wrists. You either have an inappropriate sense of humor or no self-awareness whatsoever.

“You're in a mouthy mood, huh?” he remarks tersely. “Must be even more tired than you look.”

He’s not stupid. He knows why you invited yourself along on his hunting trip. But he’s not going to coddle you while you shy away from the issue.

He glances up towards the coral reef, considering. If he brings you straight home, you'll just go back to ignoring your obvious needs. But he won’t let you wander the sea floor like some starving bottom-feeder. And he knows better than to hunt for you—you always refuse fresh kills.

The ones Ghost offers, at least. You seem willing enough to take fresh kills from Gaz.

Pisses him off.

You open your eyes when Ghost changes course and heads for a small cove carpeted in sandbanks. He dumps you unceremoniously into the soft sand. You look around, then at him.

"Stay right here." His tone brooks no argument. He swims off with an irritated lash of his tail before you can ask him why. You're left alone, moonlight curling across the surface of the water far above you and across the sand at your fins. Watching it makes your eyelids grow heavy.

You wake with a start when he returns. He holds in one clawed hand a fish. A live one.

He comes to rest on the edge of the sandbank. He doesn't speak, merely watching with a critical eye as you shake the sand from your scales and rouse yourself back into full consciousness. Then he holds out the live fish to you.

"Eat."

You frown but reach for it. Right as you lay your hands on it, it darts away. You jump in surprise, but one look at Ghost's face tells you he expected exactly that to happen. He can’t stop a small, satisfied smirk from curving his lips. That was exactly the reaction he wanted, and now you’re staring at him with six different accusations on the tip of your tongue.

His eyes fix on you with that smug, condescending look in his gaze. "Didn't Price teach you how to hunt for yourself?"

"Yes," you snap. You push yourself off the sand and dart after the fish, catching nothing but water again.

“Clearly not well.”

You strike out again. And come up empty. Again.

He huffs a laugh. You turn on him. "What's the point of this? You're the one who was going hunting."

He leans back, propping his weight on his elbows as he eyes you. Every failed lunge and dart bring him more satisfaction. "The point is that you should be able to feed yourself," he retorts. "You're too dependent, sweetheart. You’d starve in a koi pond."

You’d love nothing more than to tell him where exactly he can shove his stupid fish, but it’s far too mentally taxing for you to refuse outright. Instead, you cross your arms in a way that just as clearly says I'm not doing that.

Ghost’s eyes glimmer. He isn’t having it.

He pushes himself off the sand and swims toward you, pushing you back against the bank when he crowds himself over your smaller frame.

"You know” —his expression is downright patronizing— “refusing an order is a bad move. Bad things happen to disobedient pets."

"It didn't sound like an order," you mutter, avoiding his eyes.

He grabs your jaw and forces eye contact. "Sure as hell wasn't a suggestion, sweetheart. If you're not gonna ask for food when you need it, you're gonna learn to hunt." His eyes are hard, and that smug, self-satisfied demeanor is buried far underneath. "You learn or I make you learn. What do you say?"

You swallow. "Thank you for catching me such a nice practice fish?"

"Good pet." He releases your jaw.

He moves back onto the sand, propping himself on his elbows once more as he leans back. His black eyes linger on you, and you feel a chill.

"Now go."

...

part 1 / [part 2]

more mer au / more Ghost / masterlist tag