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earlysunshines · 12 hours

Text

order for delivery!

pham hanni x fem!reader

synopsis: hanni is a terrible multi-tasker and it's very evident when her phone is in between her ear and shoulder while she orders delivery. she's messily figuring out what to tackle on her calendar first as she mumbles her order, what lecture notes to go over, when her midterms fall---and oops, she just said 'love you, bye' to the worker on the other end of the phone.

warnings: none(?) i think it's just rly silly and cute and fluffy ; anything else i didn't mention ; not proofread

a/n: ugh she's so cute and such a loser and UGH anyways i wrote this so quickly but maybe that's because i love thsi fic so much it was so so so fun to write omfg ENJOY!!

hanni is a terrible multitasker, it only ends up in her getting things mixed up and done slower. still, she does it anyway.

her phone is tucked awkwardly between her ear and shoulder, fingers tapping at the laptop keyboard while scrolling through lecture notes. “uh, yeah… chicken lo mein with extra chicken… and um also…” she squinted at the calendar on her screen. “what was i supposed to— oh, right… midterm next wednesday. right, cool.”

on the other end you listened patiently, smiling to yourself and holding back a small giggle as she mumbled half an order while clearly being busy with other things.

“wait, sorry!” she apologizes quickly, realizing she hadn’t ordered what minji and haerin had asked for. “also six steamed pork dumplings— no, twelve please. shrimp fried rice and… wait, i already said that, right? ugh—anyway, just, yeah, add that too.”

you ring it all up, smiling wider. “anything else?”

there’s a brief moment of silence until you hear, “huh? oh, no, that’s it.” she replies absentmindedly. she had been paying no attention at all, flipping through her notes and muttering to herself quietly about what she needed to review before the weekend. “uh, yeah, thanks—love you, bye.”

another beat of silence passes before you chime in, voice playful. “love you too.”

you could practically hear her freeze, the realization hits her. you hear a gasp on the other end of the phone, sharp and followed by a small curse.

‘w-wait, what?” hanni stammers, cheeks heating up like crazy. everything hanni had been bombarded with halts. her hands freeze on the laptop, her phone almost slips from her shoulder, and the papers she had been holding with the other hand have all landed on teh counter. everything hanni had been thinking about—midterm wednesday, lecture notes, module 2.2, chapter three reading—dissapear from her mind in a blink.

she hears a laugh on the other end, then a voice that sends a shiver down her spine.

“your total is $28.41, by the way.”

“god, i’m sorry.” hanni rushes out the apology, face palming herself. “i didn’t mean it— not that i don’t love you! well, i mean, i don’t know you, so i don’t love you. not that i hate you! no hard feelings. i’m not saying you’re— okay i’m, i’m going to go. bye. thank you. sorry.”

hanni presses the red button on her phone, ending the call and cringing to herself. hanni is more than glad that her friends in the living room hadn’t heard the most embarassing phonecall of her life. if any of them were to witness it, she’d never live it down. her cheeks are fuming against her hand; she’s a mess, she really needs to stop tackling twelve things at once even though it brings her some type of comfort—less chaos during lots of chaos makes it seem like something manageable.

she clicks through a bunch of tabs, skims through a few lines on her paper, and then closes her laptop. she does this while being distracted by the whole one minute interaction from earlier, shooting herself in the head mentally everytime she thinks of it.

less than twenty minutes later, the delivery guy shows up. hanni knows it’s not the person on the phone, because when the man speaks, it’s not the same voice that sent a weird shiver down her spine when she realized they said “love you too” back to her.

she takes the two bags over to her living room, setting them down in front of two ravenous students—otherwise known as her best friends danielle and minji—watching their eyes sparkle just from the sight. she rolls her eyes at them, sitting down against her small couch and leaning against as they waste no time to dig in and unbox.

hanni’s the last one to reach in and grab something to munch on—mistake number one. mistake number two is catching minji furrowing her brows at a piece of paper, pickiing it up and reading, instead of stopping her before she can do any of that.

her best friend reads it outloud in a confused tone: “i put two extra fortune cookies in there,” minji begins, danielle scoots over to read too. “hope your fortune is as sweet as your voice. love, the girl you don’t hate, but don’t love :(“

“p.s. you sound cute when you’re caught off guard ;-)”

minji finishes reading, and then the two of her friends look up, staring down hanni.

“hanni, what’s this?”

“i— give me that!” hanni says, face burning up. she swipes the paper from minji’s hand, looking at the paper and covering it with her hand like her friends hadn’t just read it together. she cringes, closing her eyes and falling down on teh floor. “i’m an idiot.”

“hanniiiiii” danielle whines, scooting over to shake her by her shoulders while she’s on the floor. “what’s that about? do you have an admirer or something?”

“i can’t tell you, i just, i’m so stupid.”

“dude, what?” minji questions, completely ignoring the steaming, delicious food on the coffee table. “explain—now.”

hanni feels her heart beating like crazy, then she gives in and sits up. her face is most definitely beet red, maybe even worse when she glances at the note again.

“i accidentally said ‘love you, bye’ to the worker on the phone.” hanni says quietly, shaking her head. “and she said it back.”

“she what?” danielle and minji say in unison, looking at her in disbelief.

hanni lets out a weird noise, overwhelmed and flustered beyond words. she looks down at the note again through the spaces in her fingers as she covers her face, not noticing any name or anything that might lead to another encounter with the mystery girl on the other end of the line. this disappoints her a bit, but even if she were to have a name or number or anything, she wouldn’t be able to face you.

after getting teased to death, the trio indulges in food after a very long and tiring study session. the conversation shifts to annoying professors, upcoming midterms, plans for when they all have free time—but hanni is still thinking of you, oddly enough.

—

a little over a week from that day, hanni orders takeout again. she’s somehow forgotten (for the most part) her embarrassing interaction, probably because her midterm is tomorrow and she’s completely forgotten to eat. her phone sits in between her shoulder and ear again, head tilted awkwardly to rush out an order.

“alpha waves, altruism, anorexia nervosa… shit, sorry. um yeah, i’d like six steamed dumplings please, pork. umm… chow mein— no, scratch that. shrimp fried rice please.” her words are hurried out her mouth as she furrows her brows at her laptop screen, clicking through slides and trying to comprehend two units of psychology in one night. “that’s it, thank you, love you.”

hanni stops in place, frozen in shock. there is no way.

“wow, you must be smitten, huh?” she hears on the end of the line, followed by a small chuckle. “love you too, ‘hp.’” hanni had never used her full name when ordering things, well, only food. she always had this fear of sharing her legal name unless it was for unconsumable orders. “your total is $14.89 by the way.”

you hear a groan on the end of the line, followed by what sounds like pens and pencils hitting the floor.

“...you alright?”

hanni, caught off guard by the whole conversation for the most part, but also the fact that you noticed how she had just spilled half her supplies onto her apartment floor, answers with a simple, “yeah.”

“that’s good to hear.”

“i’m really sorry, again, for the… you know.”

“your undying love for me?”

“what?” hanni says, completely disregarding the pens, pencils, and highlighters on the floor. “i- no! no. i’m not in love with you! i didn’t mean it—”

“i’m teasing, hp.” she hears the smile in your voice. “would you like an extra fortune? last time i had heard from you i remember something about a midterm.”

“you remembered?” it sounds a little pathetic, maybe desperate coming from hanni, but hanni couldn’t care less. she’s tired, overwhelmed, and has gone over so much work in the span of a few days that she really can’t think or function correctly.

“yeah, not many people sound as young as you. it’s usually a parent or something ordering for their family at this time. plus, you made my shift.” you confess, “i thought it was cute, you know, how frantic you had ordered your meal.”

“i’m really sorry about that, like seriously, i’m really, really sorry.”

“it’s okay hp.”

“right, yeah. i uh, i have to study. sorry— i don’t know why i’m saying sorry, ugh, sorry. thanks, bye.”

“no ‘love you?’” you ask, and before hanni can answer you respond, “kidding. i’ll throw in two fried wontons, have a good night hp.”

the call ends and hanni blinks a few times as she tries to process what just happened. she’s embarrassed beyond words, just as flustered too. there might even be a blush on her cheeks, she can’t stop thinking about how smooth you were with your teasing, plus the way your voice sounded.

hanni thinks it’s the midterm getting to her, the stress. she cleans up the mess on the floor and goes through her vocabulary notes. she hears a knock on the door twenty minutes later which makes her jump in her seat.

she grabs the bag of fried rice and dumplings, placing it on the counter before taking everything out. hanni hears her stomach rumble a bit, she definitely underestimated how hungry she was.

before hanni digs in, she notices two fortune cookies and a note at the bottom. she completely ignores the cookies, grabbing the note and opening it up to see the same small handwriting from last time:

“i’m guessing your initials are hp? i could be wrong…

hp like harry potter? it makes sense because you’re magical.

good luck on your midterm! hopefully you’ll order for a post-midterm celebration.

p.s. there are extra fried wontons ;p”

hanni smiles as she reads the note. pause. hanni stops smiling immediately when she becomes aware of the fact that she’s smiling because of a note. a note from a mystery woman on the other end of the line.

—

midterms are over, all of them. hanni had gone through all four midterms. all four. hanni’s burnt out to oblivion, finding comfort in her bed as soon as she gets back from her last midterm. she checks her messages and is greeted by the groupchat she’s in with danielle and minji.

minji: FINALLY i feel like a fish that’s been gutted out it’s not even finals lowk wasn’t even that bad actually how about you guys

danielle: my midterm is in an hour! wish me luck :D how was yours hanni?

hanni: i’m about to PASS OUT why did i choose forensics

minji: because you’re a nerd don’t let one biology midterm screw you over who’s going to take care of my body parts when i suddenly get murdered

danielle: woah quite a situation, no?

hanni: uagghshhskafhjk i’m going to sleep GOODNIGHT do you guys want to come over later dani do you need time to unwind before you come over

danielle: no that’s alright! i find your apartment quite cozy i’ll just crash there right after, thanks han okay i’m going to review a bit more wish me luck!

minji: good luck mo dani!! you can do it we love you

hanni: good luck! you’ve got this

danielle: ❤️

hanni smiles at danielle’s message, she’s always so positive—even through text, even during these trying times. she decides to pass out for almost two hours, waking up groggy and finding herself almost tripping all the way back to her couch in the living room. she sighs as she collapses onto the cushions, waiting for minji and danielle to come over.

then her thoughts race back to you, embarassingly enough. she thinks about your stupid flirting, your stupid voice, and the stupid giggle she could hear through the phone. she thinks about how stupid she is for smiling, how stupid she is. everything is stupid.

hanni is fantasizing about some random person she’s ordered affordable chinese food from, she doesn’t even know her name.

(hanni’s brain is mush.)

instinctively, she goes through her recent calls, dialing the number of the restaurant that serves her favorite dumplings.

it rings for a few seconds before someone answers, “hello?”

the voice isn’t familiar whatsoever, hanni feels a strange discomfort in her stomach.

hanni doesn’t realize that she hasn’t spoken a word until the second “hello?” is uttered. she breaks from her trance.

“hi, hello, yeah, hi.”

“hello, what can i get you?”

hanni purses her lips before replying, “oh, um.” she sounds like a sad child. “fried rice, i’ll do chicken. wontons, fried, twelve of them. could i also get beef-broccoli lo mein?”

she hears nothing for about three seconds, then a hum. “got it, could i get a name for that order?”

“hp.”

“y/n’s ‘hp?’” who the hell is y/n? hanni thinks to herself.

“what?”

“nevermind.” the worker says with her monotone voice. “will that be it?”

“yeah, thank you.” hanni doesn’t say ‘love you’ this time. she tells herself it’s because she’s not preoccupied with at least three things in that same moment, but a part of it is because it’s not the same voice that she had been expecting to hear. “what’s the total?”

“$24.12. it’ll be over in a little more than twenty minutes.”

“okay, thank you.” hanni says, and instead of hearing something snarky back—she hears a hum, and then the call ends.

…

you walk into work later than usual, one of your midterms had been pushed a bit later, so your hours were cut off.

as you walk in, you catch your coworker’s head snap up. as soon as she realizes it’s you, she relaxes a bit.

“good evening haerin!” you beam, somehow upbeat and lively even after your grueling calculus midterm. “miss me?”

“just had to take more calls than i ever do in one week.” she sighs, watching you move over behind the counter and push your bag under the desk. “so maybe a little.”

“awww, you missed me so much.”

“shut up.” haerin groans, sitting down in the little chair where no customers can catch her. “you know what you missed?”

“what?”

“your girlfriend called—miss hp.”

“hp?!” you say it like you’ve just missed the train that comes every two hours. “seriously? did she say ‘love you?’”

“of course that’s what you’re so animated about.” haerin rolls her eyes at you, shrugging. “she didn’t.”

a sigh of relief escapes your lips, a very exaggerated one for that matter. then you frown, sitting down in the spinny chair nearby and rotating yourself in your seat like a little kid.

“i can’t believe i missed her.”

“you’re actually insane for flirting with a customer.”

“she has a cute voice.”

“you don’t even know her y/n.” haerin scoots over, but only to flick you in the forehead. she leans back in her seat, smirking. you rub your skin and pout at her, making her roll her eyes once more before she continues on, “she could be old, crinkly, and married or something. what if she’s like… balding? what if her teeth are falling out and she—”

“why are you assuming the worst haerin. you’re so— whatever. she sounds my age, i guess. it’s just fun to mess around, it’s cute.”

“i will never get you.” your coworker crosses her arms, jumping at the sound of the phone ringing. “could you get that? i’ve run out of social battery.”

“it’s a phone call haerin.”

“talking to you drained me already.”

you frown, making her giggle at you.

—

the next time hanni calls is two days later, because she’s a loser that can’t seem to get the thought of the chinese restaurant employee who keeps flirting with her (albeit smoothly) out of her head. the phone rings twice, then someone picks up, and hanni waits eagerly.

“hi, pledis plates, how can i help?” it’s you, it’s you. the memory of hearing ‘y/n’s hp?’ pops up in her head—could you be y/n? you have to be.

“hi.” hanni says simply, biting the inside of her lip. she hears a small chuckle on the other end of the line, slightly relieved.

“if it isn’t hp.” it comes out cheeky, making hanni blush. “missed you, you know?”

“what?”

“did you miss me too?”

“i–” yes. hanni did miss you, not like she’d admit it, at least out loud. “i’d like to order dumplings.”

“harsh.” you respond jokingly, “six, pork, and steamed, got it.”

“you memorized it?”

“you ordered it last time.”

hanni can’t help but laugh, smiling as she holds the phone against her ear. “you must be head over heels to be remembering my order.”

“you’re the one who confessed first though?”

“that was a mistake.”

“uh huh.” amusement is laced in your tone. “it’ll be five dollars, should be there in less than twenty.”

“great.”

hanni doesn’t know what else to say. you both pause, letting silence and the faint static ring in your ears.

“what happened to the usual goodbye?”

hanni feels herself shrinking in her bed, feet kicking slightly, blush forming. god, she’s head over heels, she’s insane, she doesn’t know a single thing about you other than the fact that you have a really endearing voice and that your flirting is enough to have her smiling like an idiot.

“thanks, bye.” neither of you hang up after hanni says it, knowing there’s something missing. hanni pinches the bridge of her nose, feeling her stomach closing in on herself and simultaneously doing a flip. her heart nearly jumps out of her chest as she chokes out, “love you.”

“i was waiting for that one.”

“a-are you— really?”

“yeah.” you simply state, and you say nothing else but, “bye hp.”

“you’re not going to say it back?”

you grin to yourself. hanni hears a small, amused laugh fromthe other end, sending a shiver down her spine. “i don’t fold that easy, maybe next time.” you hang up right after, leaving hanni dumbfounded.

hanni looks at her phone like you’re going to call back, but you don’t. she drops the phone on her bed, putting both hands over her face and feeling her skin burn against her palms. she groans, then groans again, and sighs finally.

maybe next time. there’s going to be a next time—hanni has that at least.

—

hanni calls again the next monday, around two days after the last call. it’s the same day she had first said the infamous ‘love you’ to you on accident. she calls at around the same time, laptop on her lap as she taps lightly on the backspace key, though not enough to actually press it. she wonders to herself for a moment, is the dent in her wallet really worth it? has she really reached rock bottom?

“pledis plates, what would you like to order?”

it’s not you. hanni sinks into the cushion of her couch and feels herself deflate. she can’t always call with the assumption that you’ll pick up, there are other employees after all. this time, it’s the same monotone voice she had heard before, a stark contrast to your flirtatious, lively tone.

“hi, i’d just like—”

“ah, hp.”

“how did you—”

“i remember your voice from last time. y/n was quite sad when she realized she’d missed your call by twenty minutes.”

“what do you mean?”

“she came into work late, midterms or something.”

midterms. the information alone gives her the assumption that you’re also in college, maybe even in her grade, and if she’s pushing it maybe you even go to her university. she conjures up a better picture of you now, not quite clear or concrete, but it’s something.

“is she a student?”

“i don’t know if i can leak that, she told me to be very secretive about her. i don’t think you’ll have trouble finding out more though, she never shuts up.”

hanni snickers, so you’re a talker too. yeah, hanni’s into that.

“well now i know her name.”

“do what you will with that.” the girl mutters. hanni hears a small sigh, then another response, “hey, y/n was curious about you. are you in high school?”

“what— no! do i sound like it?”

“you sound young.” the girl on the end of the line—haerin—shrugs. she continues, “y/n thinks you’re the same age as her, she also assumes you’re cute. i guess no one will know until a miracle happens.”

“i can’t tell if you’re insulting me.” hanni chuckles awkwardly, but haerin doesn’t respond. “but if it helps, anyway, i’m a sophomore in college. tell her i’m interested in forensics.”

“okay.”

silence follows again, but haerin hasn’t hung up, and hanni still holds the phone against her ear expecting something more. hanni decides to take another step, asking, “y/n, how is… could you like, describe her?”

“physically or…? well, i can do a brief description. to start off: annoying, jokes a lot, pretends to be all mopey when insulted. physically: taller than me—i’d say taller than a lot of women. she has a nice smile i guess, but it’s the kind you want to wipe off her face, ugh, it’s like she’s making fun of you when she does it. her hair is also always a little messy, she says its for the ‘appeal,’ but i see none.”

hanni fights back a giggle. this woman has just spilled a good amount, a perfect amount in hanni’s eyes (any amount is alright, anything more than a name). this ‘y/n’ is tall, taller than most women, and hanni is shorter than most; hanni is into that, she loves taller girls. and messy hair too? that’s cute, probably. as long as it’s not the same type of messy that men rock around—men that barely shower or do anything. essentially: compsci majors—then hanni will be alright. you sound wonderful.

“did you want to order anything? or are did you just want to flirt with the idiot.”

“hey! hey, hey. lets not— ugh, okay, could i just get um, six pork dumplings—steamed.”

“okay.” the girl says quietly, and then hanni hears some light tapping. “six dumplings for hp.”

“hanni. it’s hanni. my name is hanni.”

“got it the first time.”

“you’re bright, aren’t you?”

“your order is going to be there later, bye.” and then the girl hangs up, leaving hanni speechless.

—

hanni waits a few days to call, because she doesn’t remember dialing on tuesdays or wednesdays and hearing a voice that brings her a little thrill. she leans against her counter waiting for a response, then lights up when she hears,

“pledis plates, how can i help?”

“y/n.” hanni says, almost relieved. “hi.”

“hi hanni.” your coworker must’ve leaked that conversation, hanni thinks. “nice to hear from you.”

“likewise.”

“can i get six dumplings? pork and—”

“---steamed, yes.” you’re smiling as you say it, like an eager little child. “nothing else?”

“no.”

“alright.” you respond, clicking two tabs and ringing up her order. you don’t give her the cost or anything, staring at the screen and deciding to huff out, “forensics?” you’re starting a real conversion now, what a step.

hanni is smiling hard, she’s so giddy that she’s twirling a piece of hair around her pointer finger.

“yeah, i think it’s nice.”

“cute.” you mumble, “i’m studying kinesiology.”

“is that so?”

“unfortunately.” you say lightheartedly. hanni doesn’t know what to respond with, she wants to continue the conversation and hear your voice longer, but there’s nothing she can think of. does she ask for your number? how you are? hanni is useless, she’s always been useless when it came to girls.

“hanni?”

“y-yes?” hanni cringes at the slight stutter.

“your total is five dollars. it’ll be there soon.”

“oh,” hanni says sadly, “i mean, um. okay.”

and then she hangs up, a little defeated, but there’s always a next time…right?

when her food gets there, she hurriedly pays the delivery driver, making her wallet cry even more. there’s a note in the bag, along with two fortune cookies. the note has your name and a number on it, making hanni gasp and smile to herself again. there’s a little ‘text me, miss hanni. i’m looking forward to it.’ and as soon as hanni reads it, she clasps her hands together, squeals quietly into them, giggles, and kicks her feet in the air.

hanni tries to do some schoolwork, managing to get ten minutes of reading down, a few sentences jotted down, and then the rest of the time she’s thinking about her new saved contact. she hasn’t texted you yet, mainly because she had been overthinking about what and when to text you. she contemplates texting danielle and minji about it, but she’d just be teased.

this is the first time in a while since hanni’s gotten anywhere close to something romantic, or maybe this is platonic, but the flirting doesn’t support that idea. she’s tried tinder—once, once and never again—and going to parties. nothing works out, none of them make her giddy and giggly like this.

before she knows it, two hours have passed, and so she decides to send a simple “hi, this is hanni!’

too enthusiastic? too bland? too basic? ugh. hanni groans, lying on her couch in an uncomfortable position.

you reply almost immediately with ‘hey, i’m off in twenty minutes. let’s call?’ and hanni has to put the phone to her chest, looking up at the ceiling in disbelief.

twenty minutes passes by too quickly, hanni hasn’t even figured out what to say. she looks at her phone, waiting for you to call, and when you do, she short circuits; hanni drops her phone on her face.

“hello?” it’s you.

it’s you.

“hey. um, how was work?”

“aw, even asking me about work.” she can hear the smirk in your tone, rolling her eyes as she smiles to herself. “it was fine, my favorite part was when this girl ordered pork dumplings though. she has a cute voice.”

“is that so?”

“yeah. hey, can i ask you something?”

“what is it?”

“i work tomorrow, but its the morning shift. i end at one, i was you know… wondering if you… wanted…” you sound nervous, this is a first for hanni. “if you wanted to share some dumplings, free of charge.”

hanni covers her mouth almost immediately, suppressing any signs of her freaking out.

“are you asking me out?”

“only if you say yes.”

you hear a giggle before you hear a “yes.”

“really?”

“mhm.” hanni smiles again, thinking of something that’ll leave you just as flustered. “okay, well… i’ll see your tomorrow. bye, love you.”

“love you too hanni.”

—

minji’s usually the one who picks up orders if it’s not delivery, and hanni is almost always taking the orders. so when hanni enters the shop for the first time, she’s quite fond of the smell of ingredients being stir fried or steamed, as well as the interior of the place. it’s very nice inside, hopefully the nice person she’s been meaning to see shows up soon.

there’s a girl by the counter, she’s only slightly taller than hanni, and her eyes are oddly cat-like. she looks up at her with those eyes, then shoots a small smile.

“hi, how can i help?” this is who the monotone voice belongs to. her image somehow matches perfectly with the voice.

“hi, i’m hanni.” as soon as she introduces herself, the workers eyes widen.

“woah, you’re real.”

“surprising, i know.”

“y/n is changing in the back—she was eager to get off fives minutes early so she wouldn’t be in uniform when you showed up.” haerin explains, shaking her head. “it’s nice to meet you, you’re very pretty.”

“thank you! i appreciate it. you’re pretty as well.”

haerin doesn’t get to respond. the person who does respond is the girl walking up to the register, scooting haerin to the side with her knuckles and tapping at the screen. the girl isn’t in uniform, and she’s also really good looking.

you run a hand through your hair as you clock out through the system. “hey, did hanni ever stop by?” you ask haerin, not looking up from the screen because you’ve typed your code in wrong.

“look up idiot.” your coworker snickers, and when you do, you’re met with the most gorgeous girl you’ve ever seen.

you notice her right away, hair flowing down past her chest, curtain bangs perfectly framing her face. her plump lips and striking features make you pause. sure, you expected her to be pretty—maybe even conventionally attractive, everyone is in their own way—but seeing her in person? she’s beyond that, practically model material. my god. your lips part slightly in surprise, and you catch yourself, quickly swallowing as you both smile at each other at the same time.

you clock out—thankfully not typing in the wrong code again from nervousness—and step out from behind the counter. a small tote bag hangs from your shoulder, and a plastic bag dangles in your hand. you glance down at it.

“twelve dumplings—steamed, pork, everything you like—for the pair.”

hanni’s smile lights up her face, and you can't help but think about how adorable she looks, how effortlessly charming she is.

“why thank you,” she says, her voice soft and playful. it sounds better in person than through the phone.

“you’re gorgeous, by the way,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself, still marveling at her. “like, i expected you to be pretty, but… wow.” you can tell haerin is fake gagging or rolling her eyes or something like that from behind, she’s probably already on her way to avoid witnessing this interaction.

hanni blushes instantly, the red creeping up her cheeks. if she were at home, she’d probably be giggling and kicking her feet, but for now, she just looks away shyly, smiling. “thanks, you’re really cute too.”

“you think?”

“yes.” she meets your eyes, still flushed. “can we eat? i’m hungry.”

“right, yeah. i hope it’s not too forward, but is the park nearby good? we can settle down and, um… talk more. you know, more than just about your usual order.”

hanni laughs—you might die right then and there—before responding, “that’s perfect,” and then she nods, looking at you. her eyes are soft and warm and wonderful.

“great,” you echo.

“great,” she repeats, a small laugh escaping her.

you both walk side by side, still a little stiff at first, the mutual attraction between you creating an unspoken tension. but as you settle into the rhythm of conversation, the initial awkwardness fades away, replaced by the easy flow of natural chemistry. each step feels lighter, the distance between you shrinking with every passing word.

—

hanni hears a knock at her door, confused because she hadn’t expected any guests other than minji and danielle—who are already in her living room leeching off her netflix account.

she opens it to see you, which immediately brings a smile to her face. she almost leaps over to hug you, nearly making you drop the large bag in your hand.

“someone missed me.”

“shut up.” hanni says before pecking your lips. she looks at you, your dorky, adorable face, and then presses another longer kiss. “come in babe. i didn’t expect you to be here.”

“i got off early because i had to cover. i wanted to surprise you, and i know you had company over.”

“oh yeah,” hanni had almost forgotten that her best friends had been there.

she leads you over, helping you take off your tote and setting it on her counter. her friends catch the two of you from their peripheral and wave, then their eyes light up at the sight of the familiar bag in your hand. you set it down, placing a the container of fried rice, lo mein, and dumpling down as they treat you like a savior.

“thank you so much, i owe you my first born.” danielle says, giving you a playful pout.

minji snickers, scooting up to the coffee table. “you’re the best thing that’s happened to us—to hanni.”

you look over to your girlfriend, that’s right, she’s your girlfriend. hanni is rolling her eyes at you, pushing your shoulder, and then pulling you in by the wrist to sit next to her. she’s not one for pda—especially in front of danielle and minji—but under the table her fingers graze your skin, which makes you smile.

you grab a secret container from behind your back, handing it to hanni. when she opens it, she opens her mouth, shocked and grateful for the six steamed pork dumplings that you brought just for her.

#kpop x reader #newjeans imagines #newjeans x reader #new jeans x reader #newjeans hanni #hanni pham x reader #pham hanni x reader #hanni x reader #pham hanni #hanni pham

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fastandcarlos · 2 days

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Dating A-Z Headcanon : ̗̀➛ Oscar Piastri

A ⇴ AFFECTION

Oscar isn’t overly affectionate, but he does like to have you close. Quite often he can be found holding onto your hand or to your waist to make sure that you’re by his side and where he can make sure that you’re safe.

B ⇴ BEFORE DATING

You first met when you were in school, having been paired together for a project. At the start of it you were both too terrified to even say anything to each other, but as you got to know each other more you found yourselves increasingly comfortable around one another, so much so that you even managed to come top of your class for your presentation together.

C ⇴ CONFESSION

When his career began to take off, Oscar knew that he couldn’t deny his feelings for you any longer. As he spent less time at home, and with you, he decided to tell you how he felt so you knew that he was thinking of you even when he wasn’t with you. One night before he went away for a race Oscar decided to tell you everything, opening up to you about exactly how happy you made him feel.

D ⇴ DATES

Most of the time your dates were quite private, Oscar wasn’t exactly the flashy type, especially when there were plenty of people around. He liked to keep your dates quite simple, usually you would go out for a nice meal or Oscar would arrange for you to do something at home together. He promised whenever he was home that he would organise at least one date for you both before he had to go away again so that he could make sure that you got to spend some quality time together and make some new memories.

E ⇴ EXPERIENCE

You were the only ever person that Oscar had dated, and so he quite often felt like he was learning on the job. You and Oscar knew each other incredibly well and so Oscar didn’t really tend to worry that he was doing the wrong thing. At times he would ask other people around him for some tips and advice when he wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing, but you and Oscar were close and so if he felt as if he was doing something wrong, usually he’d open up to you and learn about what it was that you wanted from him instead.

F ⇴ FIGHTING

An argument between you guys is rare, you’ve got a good understanding of each other and know when to stop before things run away. Neither of you were particularly loud or argumentative at the best of times and so it was a pretty rare thing to happen. When an argument did happen, Oscar would get pretty cut up about it, he hated the idea that he had upset you and would work hard to make things up to you, particularly if he knew that he was the one at fault for your argument.

G ⇴ GETTING TO KNOW HIS FAMILY

His family absolutely adored you; you were a tad nervous to meet his family, particularly with his three younger siblings, but they absolutely adored you. Above all else, you loved making fun of him with his mum, particularly on social media where all of Oscar’s fans could get behind the two of you as well.

H ⇴ HOME

Wherever Oscar went, you went, when it came to home. When he originally considered moving out to Monaco he spoke to you about it a lot, wanting to make sure that it was something you wanted to do as well. When you gave him the greenlight, Oscar started to look at making the move, relieved to know you’d be going together.

I ⇴ “I LOVE YOU”

He was the first one to say those three words after a race win. It was one that Oscar had fought particularly hard for and found himself overwhelmed at the end of it. As adrenaline ran through his body, the moment Oscar reunited with you those words came tumbling out before he even had a chance to realise what he was saying to you.

J ⇴ JEALOUSY

It was quite rare for Oscar to get jealous; he was pretty relaxed and chill about most things and trusted you more than he trusted anyone. If he ever did get jealous, then Oscar would get a little bit more protective around you, he’d stand a little closer and make sure that he was listening to what people were saying to you. He’d never admit it, but you could tell from the look in his eyes sometimes that Oscar was feeling a little envious.

K ⇴ KIDS

Having a family was something that you both knew was quite a way off, but that didn’t stop you from talking about it from time to time. Oscar especially knew that you were the person that he was going to settle down with and spend his future with, although he still had plenty that he wanted to achieve when it came to his career before he even started thinking about all those other things in life.

L ⇴ LAUGHTER

If there was one sound that Oscar never got bored of hearing, it was definitely your laughter. His deadpan sense of humour could leave you in stitches sometimes with how nonchalant Oscar was about things. He didn’t even mean to make you laugh most of the time, but with his dry jokes and blunt comments you couldn’t help but chuckle around him. Oscar loved knowing that he was the reason for the smile on your face, even if he didn’t realise that he was the reason for it sometimes.

M ⇴ MISSING

He tried his best to hide it well, he didn’t like upsetting you by telling you just how much he missed you. But Oscar did miss you. Terribly. He was a different person in the paddock when you weren’t around, he was quieter than usual and would be a bit more distant in meetings, something that Lando picked up on quite a lot during their race weekends together. He was constantly wishing that you were there with him, checking his phone all the time to see if he had a text or a missed call from you.

N ⇴ NICKNAMES

He didn’t have one particular nickname for you, Oscar would just call you whatever came to mind, usually choosing a nickname that he knew would annoy you as he loved being able to wind you up.

O ⇴ OBSESSION

Oscar was obsessed with your smile, it made him feel like he was home. His heart raced whenever he saw your wide grin, knowing you were happy was the most important thing to him.

P ⇴ PDA

The two of you weren’t huge on PDA, however everyone knew that the two of you were together from the little gestures that you shared. Oscar tended to hold your hand and keep you by his side, particularly when you were entering a busy area, wanting to keep you by his side and out of harm.

Q ⇴ QUESTIONS

He asked you for your advice on just about anything, Oscar would ask you for help whenever something was playing on his mind, knowing that you usually had the right answer to help him out.

R ⇴ RANDOM FACTS

One thing that no one knew about Oscar was that in the bottom of his race car he had a picture of you. It was positioned so that no one else could see it aside from him, but when he needed a bit of a boost or to see a reminder of you, Oscar would glance down at it. He’d made sure to pick one of his favourite photos of you so that he could remember why he raced, particularly when he was missing you.

S ⇴ SEX

He liked to take control when it came to sex, Oscar wasn’t particularly rough, but he was the more dominant out of the two of you. It meant a lot to Oscar, he made sure that each time was special and filled with a lot of love. He quite liked being able to show you how much he loved you, words weren’t particularly a strong skill of Oscar’s and so he loved being able to show you with actions instead.

T ⇴ TEXTS

Whenever he could Oscar would text you, especially when he wasn’t at home. He loved receiving your updates and hearing from you, mostly so that he knew that you were safe without him around.

U ⇴ UNIVERSE

He didn’t like to make it too well known, but Oscar’s little bubble knew exactly just how much you meant to him, you were his priority and by far the most important person in his life.

V ⇴ VACATION

Whenever he had a bit of time Oscar loved to arrange trips for the two of you so that you could escape for a while. Adventuring with you was by far one of Oscar’s favourite things to do, although he saw much of the world, there were always more hidden gems around for you to see too.

W ⇴ WHINING

Although he wasn’t particularly needy, when Oscar wanted your attention, he would kick up quite the fuss to make sure that you knew all about it.

X ⇴ XXXXX

He loved kissing you when you least expected it, creeping up on you and pressing a kiss to your cheek or against the top of your head. He wasn’t the biggest kisser in the world and so Oscar knew that when he did kiss you it would usually come as a surprise. He didn’t like to just kiss you, he loved kissing you with sentiment and love, knowing that his kisses would often leave you feeling nervous with adrenaline.

Y ⇴ YOU

You were his team mate, the two of you were the perfect duo together.

Z ⇴ ZZZ

When he falls asleep, Oscar loves to hold onto you. His grip is as tight as possible wanting to keep you warm and make sure that you’re right by his side and not going anywhere.

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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wonsdoll · 3 days

Text

( ✉️ ) CLEAR HEART ✷ 니키

PREC𝓲S ｡｡ 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝖺𝗒

니키 ／⠀ female reader ── fluff + non idol au ｡｡ ⠀for my sia bia ps: i love u :( @elysianiki !! . . . more

the door creaked open as you stepped inside your apartment. exhaustion weighing down on you like a heavy brick. it had been a long day, the kind of day that drains you, leaving you in your thoughts, feeling a mix of different emotions.

school had been rough—an overwhelming amount of work, too many people, and zero patients to deal with it. as well as home, it hadn’t been any easier. you felt alone in your thoughts, felt as if they weren’t anyone to comfort you within this hard time.

you sighed loudly, kicking off your shoes and dropping your bag in its usual corner. you weren’t expecting any company today—especially not your boyfriend riki.

“baby?” his voice startled you a little. riki’s voice was soft, full of concern.

you walk into the living room to see him sitting back on the couch. riki’s face softened as he sees you, a huge smile on his face. his eyes quickly take in your expressions and without another word, he gets up from the couch, wrapping you into his embrace.

riki didn’t say anything at first, he just held you. his arms were strong yet gentle, his chin rested on the top of your head as you buried your face in his chest. somehow, everything about riki’s presence made you feel a little lighter. the weight of your hard day wasn’t entirely yours to carry anymore.

“you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, baby.” riki whispers softly into your ear, his fingers gently run through your soft hair, leaving you feeling relaxed. “but i’m here, okay?”

you nodded against him. it felt as if the whole day was bubbling under your skin, too heavy to even place into words.

when you finally pulled back, riki tucks a few strands of hair behind your ear. “rough day?” he asks, his voice barely below a whisper, as if he didn’t want to break the fraglie air between the two of you.

“yeah.” you admitted softly, your voice a bit shaky. “school was awful.. and the rest of my day just got worse.”

riki frowned, concern filling his eyes. “i’m so sorry baby..”

you shook your head. “it’s fine.. i just don’t want to even think about it anymore.”

“then don’t.” he says simply, his lips curling into a smile. “let’s forget about today okay? now come here.”

riki leads you over to the couch, pulling you gently down with him until you were both laying together. your head rested near his chest, hearing every beat of his heart. riki adjusts a blanket over you both, wrapping you in more warmth. one of his hands stroke your back soothingly.

“it’s alright baby.” he murmurs, his voice soft and steady. “you’ve had a rough day and it’s okay, i’ve got you now.”

you closed your eyes, feeling yourself relax after hearing his words. his heartbeat was steady and very soothing to hear after a long, tiring day. riki didn’t even need to say much; just being this close to him made everything better.

“i love you.. you know that right?” riki whispers against your smooth hair.

“i know.” you smile, softly.

“and you’re amazing. even on days like today, when the world feels like it’s against you, you’re still the strongest person i know.”

you snuggled closer to him, allowing his words to wrap around you. “thank you for making it all better..” you smile, a smile quickly falling onto his face.

riki laughs lightly, pulling you closer to him. “you never have to thank me baby, i’m always here.”

you and riki laid on the couch for some time, his soft hums sending you into a light sleep. as you slept, his hands rested gently on your back, holding you from harm’s way and protecting you.

“tomorrow will be a better day baby, i promise.” riki whispers softly against your ear, wrapping his arms around you a little more tighter before closing his own eyes.

💌 : for my sia, i love you always my love 💗 && the rest of my 3ki if you ever need comfort !! two posts in 24 hours? i’m on a roll (not for long)

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l4ndonorizz · 1 day

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sleepless nights / lando norris

pairing: lando norris x reader

song: chase atlantic - falling

summary: unable to sleep, lando calls you in the middle of the night, seeking comfort. What starts as a late-night conversation turns into an emotional confession, as hidden feelings come to light and change everything between you

wc: 1.6k

The soft buzz of your phone on the nightstand broke the silence of your room. You blinked groggily at the screen, trying to focus as the late hour made everything seem hazy. Lando’s name lit up the display, and a small knot of concern formed in your chest.

It was nearly 2 a.m.

Swiping to answer, you held the phone to your ear, voice thick with drowsiness. “Lando? It’s really late. What’s going on?”

There was a pause, the quiet sound of his breathing filling the space between your words. “Yeah, sorry,” he replied, sounding hesitant. “Did I wake you?”

You sat up a little, pushing the sleep from your mind. “It’s okay. I wasn’t really asleep yet. What’s up? You sound… off.”

He let out a deep sigh, the weight in his voice unmistakable. “I can’t sleep.”

Your concern deepened. Lando was usually carefree, the type who always found a way to joke through anything. But this time, he sounded different—worn out. “Again?” you asked softly, knowing he’d struggled with sleepless nights recently.

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice quiet, almost defeated. “It’s been like this for days. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders, settling deeper into your pillows as you listened. “What’s on your mind? You wanna talk about it?”

Lando hesitated, and you could almost picture him running a hand through his messy hair, trying to find the right words. “It’s just… everything, I guess. Racing, the pressure, what’s next… I can’t shut my brain off.”

Your heart ached a little at how tired he sounded, and you wished you could be there to help ease whatever burden he was carrying. “I’m sorry, Lando. That sounds exhausting.”

“It is,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration. “I hate it. I lie there for hours, and my head just keeps spinning.”

You listened as he vented, the words pouring out now that he had someone to talk to. Lando rarely let people in like this—he preferred to keep things light, brushing off the hard stuff with a joke or a smile. But tonight, he was raw and unfiltered, and it made you realize just how much weight he carried on his shoulders.

After a few moments of silence, Lando spoke again, his voice softer, almost hesitant. “Do you think… do you think I could come over?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Come over? Now?”

“Yeah,” he replied, and you could hear the vulnerability in his voice. “I know it’s late, but I don’t want to be alone right now. I think… I think I just need to be around someone.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and without hesitation, you nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “Of course, Lando. You can come over.”

“Thanks,” he said softly, the relief in his voice palpable. “I’ll be there soon. Can we stay on the phone while I drive?”

You smiled at the thought of him wanting to keep talking to you, even during the short drive. “Yeah, of course.”

You heard the faint sounds of him moving around, probably grabbing his keys and pulling on a hoodie. The soft rumble of his car’s engine started in the background, and then he was back on the line with you, the quiet hum of the road accompanying his voice.

“What’s been keeping you up the most?” you asked gently, not wanting to push too hard but knowing that sometimes it helped to talk through things.

Lando sighed, the sound tired and heavy. “Honestly? I don’t know. It’s like… I’m trying to be everything at once, you know? The perfect driver, the perfect teammate, even the perfect friend. But no matter what I do, it never feels like enough.”

The vulnerability in his words hit you hard, and you wished you could reach through the phone and just hold him. “Lando… you don’t have to be perfect,” you said softly. “You’re allowed to have bad days, and you’re allowed to feel overwhelmed.”

“I know, but it’s hard,” he murmured. “I keep thinking about the future, what’s next, what I’m supposed to be doing… and I just don’t know.”

Your chest tightened with empathy as you listened to the quiet frustration in his voice. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now, Lando. You’re doing your best, and that’s all anyone can ask of you.”

There was a long pause, the sound of the road faint in the background as he processed your words. “You always know what to say,” he said finally, his voice quieter. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the warmth in his tone, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. “You’d be just fine,” you joked lightly, hoping to ease the tension, but even as you said it, you knew that wasn’t entirely true. He leaned on you in a way that felt different from how he leaned on others, and deep down, you’d always known that.

“You think?” he teased, a hint of his usual playful tone creeping back into his voice. But then, after a brief pause, he added more softly, “I don’t know. I think you’re a bigger part of my life than you realize.”

Your breath caught at the unexpected honesty in his words. There was something about the quiet of the night, the intimacy of the late hour, that made everything feel more open, more real. “I think you’re a bigger part of my life than you realize too,” you confessed quietly.

Lando didn’t respond right away, but you could hear his breathing on the other end, slow and steady, as if he were thinking carefully about what to say next. “I’m almost there,” he said softly, his voice carrying a weight that told you he wasn’t just talking about the drive.

A few minutes later, you heard the faint sound of his car pulling up outside. “I’m here,” he said, his voice gentle as he stepped out of the car.

You climbed out of bed, pulling your blanket around you as you padded to the door. Opening it, you found Lando standing there, his hair tousled from the drive, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. His face was soft, tired but relieved, and something in his eyes made your chest tighten.

“Hi,” you said quietly, stepping aside to let him in.

“Hi,” he replied, offering you a small smile as he stepped inside, kicking off his shoes by the door. You closed it softly behind him, the quiet of your apartment wrapping around you both like a warm blanket.

Lando stood in the middle of your living room, looking around for a moment before turning back to you, his expression soft but serious. “I’m sorry for showing up like this,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me,” you reassured him, stepping closer until you were standing just a few feet apart. “I’m glad you came.”

He looked down at his hands, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie, and for a moment, he seemed almost unsure of what to say. “I’ve been thinking about a lot of things lately,” he said softly. “Mostly about you.”

Your breath hitched at the confession, and you took another step closer, your heart pounding in your chest. “About me?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I’ve been thinking about how much you mean to me. How you’re always there for me, even when I don’t deserve it. And… how scared I am of losing you.”

The vulnerability in his words made your chest tighten, and you felt the urge to reach out and touch him, to reassure him that you weren’t going anywhere. “You won’t lose me, Lando,” you whispered, taking his hand in yours. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He looked down at your joined hands, his thumb brushing softly over your skin. “I care about you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “More than just as a friend.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and suddenly, everything felt clear. The late-night phone calls, the way you always felt so safe around him, the way your heart fluttered every time he smiled—it had all been leading to this.

“I care about you too,” you admitted, your voice soft but sure. “More than I’ve let myself realize.”

Lando’s eyes softened, and he stepped closer, his free hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. “I didn’t want to mess this up,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your skin. “But I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way.”

You smiled, your heart swelling at the tenderness in his voice. “You’re not messing anything up,” you whispered back.

For a moment, you just stood there, the world falling away as Lando’s gaze locked with yours. Then, slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours in a kiss that felt like a promise—gentle, warm, and filled with everything that had been left unsaid.

When you finally pulled back, Lando rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I think I can finally sleep now,” he murmured with a small laugh.

You smiled, your heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks. “I think I can too.”

#f1 one shot #formula 1 #f1 fic #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #lando imagine #lando norris #lando norris one shot #lando x reader

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itneverendshere · 3 days

Note

the way i can see rafe rolling his eyes when he hears you yell across a party for jj to knock it off in picking a fight, and laughs at jj when he listens to you, and is like an embarrassed little dog.

a perfect world where rafe realizes he and jj are the same person in different fonts <3 thank you for the request, i love jj in this lmao😭🩵

you say you got it & you have to let me see - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

The annual boneyard party was in full swing, and like clockwork, someone was trying to start shit.

You stood close to Rafe, your hand loosely gripping a beer bottle as you watched the mess unfold in front of you. "JJ!" you called out, voice loud and clear across the sand. "Knock it off!"

Rafe felt the corner of his mouth twitch, suppressing a grin. It wasn't even surprising anymore.

JJ Maybank—still the same hot-headed teen who grew up a few doors down from you—was in some guy's face, already half a second away from getting clocked.

His first instinct was to roll his eyes. Every year. Every damn year, JJ managed to start up some bullshit. Rafe glanced down at you, saw how your brow furrowed in annoyance, and the urge to laugh took over instead.

It was kind of funny, watching JJ go from ready to swing to immediately backing off the second you opened your mouth.

JJ turned like a kid caught stealing cookies from the jar, hands half-raised in defense as he looked at you with wide eyes. “Chill! I wasn’t even—”

"Yeah, yeah," you cut him off, pointing your beer in his direction. "Save it. Just walk away, okay?"

And, of course, he did.

Like a scolded puppy, he muttered something under his breath before shoving his hands into his pockets and trudging off. Rafe snorted, shaking his head. "Little brother still listens to you, huh?"

You shot him a look, half-smiling. "Someone's gotta keep him in line."

"Yeah, well," Rafe glanced at JJ’s retreating figure, still chuckling under his breath, "It's funny watching him tuck his tail between his legs every time."

He wasn’t usually one for parties like this anymore—too many reminders of who he used to be—but being here with you made it easier. You grounded him. Three years of dating, living together, dealing with life’s shitstorms, and somehow you still managed to make everything feel lighter.

You narrowed your eyes, “Don’t think you’re so different from him Mr. No one talks down to my girlfriend.”

Rafe’s grin widened, and he took a long sip from his beer, savoring the burn of the carbonation on his throat. You had him there. Not that he was gonna admit it. “That was different,” he drawled, flashing you a smirk.

“Uh-huh,” you said, arching an eyebrow. “How, exactly?”

He scratched at his jaw, the familiar prickle of stubble reminding him he hadn’t shaved in a few days. “I mean, I didn’t throw a punch every time. Just made it clear no one’s gonna talk shit.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your lips twitched. “You’re lucky I love you, Cameron.”

Rafe’s heart did that stupid thing it always did when you said stuff like that, even after all these years. He could play it cool all he wanted, but you knew how to get to him. Always did.

“Yeah, I am,” he said, stepping a little closer, his body blocking the cool breeze coming off the ocean. He could smell the saltwater and smoke, but all he cared about was the warmth radiating from you. He took a swig of his beer, watching the flames from the bonfire dance against the night sky. “How many more times you think you’ll have to pull him out of a fight tonight?”

You tilted your head, thinking for a second before shrugging. “Depends on how much he’s had to drink.”

JJ was like a golden retriever sometimes—quick to rile up, but just as quick to bounce back. Rafe watched him for a second, the way he moved through the crowd, all ego and no direction. It reminded him of himself when he was younger. He chuckled, shaking his head.

“He’s gonna make it hard for me to take him seriously if you keep saving his ass.”

"Like you’ve ever taken him seriously," you shot back, giving him a playful shove.

True. Rafe couldn’t remember a single time in the last few years where JJ had been more than an annoyance.

"God, it’s like he’s still twelve or something," you muttered, shaking your head. You took a step closer to him, your arm brushing his. The firelight flickered in your eyes, making you look impossibly warm.

The kind of warmth Rafe had gotten used to over the years. The kind he was lucky to have. He turned to face you, an easy smile forming on his lips. “Yeah, but at least it’s entertaining.”

You smirked. "For now. I give it an hour before he’s passed out in the sand."

He tilted his head, giving you a mock-serious look. “You wanna place a bet on that?”

You squinted at him like you were actually considering it. “What’s the wager?”

Rafe leaned in, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Winner gets to pick what we do tomorrow.”

You raised an eyebrow, your smirk deepening. “And what exactly do you have in mind?”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool but knowing exactly what he’d want if he won. He could feel the stupid velvet box burning in his pocket. He carried it everywhere, hoping he’d man up and do it already. He couldn’t do it now—not here, not like this, not with JJ stumbling around somewhere in the background and the sound of half-drunk partygoers laughing around you.

“I don’t know. Maybe spend the day out on the boat. Just the two of us.”

“Alright, deal,” you said, holding out your hand for him to shake, “Sounds nice.”

Nice wasn’t even close to what he had in mind.

He took your hand, but instead of shaking it, he pulled you in closer, wrapping an arm around your waist. You let out a small laugh, leaning into him. The beer bottle in your hand dangled lazily at your side. You leaned up, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Rafe let out a breathy chuckle, turning his head to capture your lips with his. The kiss was slow, lazy even, like there wasn’t a party around you. “Still think I’m cute, huh?”

You gave him a look, lips curving into a shit-eating-grin. “When you’re not acting like JJ.”

He groaned, tipping his head back dramatically. “Don’t compare me to that fuckin' idiot.”

You just grinned, pulling away slightly, though your hand stayed on his chest. “Relax. You’re cuter, baby.”

“Damn right,” Rafe muttered, tugging you back to him. He liked having you close like this—reminded him that no matter how much shit had changed, some things stayed solid. You. Him. This.

He kissed the top of your head, breathing in the familiar scent of your hair, and let out a contented sigh.

JJ had somehow found another beer, and as Rafe glanced his way, he saw Kie giving him a hard time, probably for almost getting into it earlier.

“You think they’ll ever figure it out?” you asked, following Rafe’s gaze.

“Who, JJ and Kie?” He shrugged, taking another sip of his beer. “Maybe. Probably not, though. They’re both too stubborn.”

You hummed in agreement, resting your head against his shoulder. “Sounds familiar.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, we turned out alright, didn’t we?”

You smiled up at him, the firelight dancing in your eyes. “Yeah, we did.”

Just as you and Rafe were starting to get lost in your own little world, a sudden shout cut through the noise of the party. Rafe glanced up and spotted JJ again, this time charging toward some guy who was standing way too close to Kie.

Oh for fuck’s sake.

JJ's posture tense, fists clenched at his sides, and his voice already rising in that familiar way that screamed trouble. "Hey, man, back the fuck off!" He growled, pushing the guy away from Kie. The dude barely had time to react before JJ was already up in his face, looking like he was seconds away from throwing a punch.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Rafe muttered under his breath.

Without a second thought, he downed the last of his beer and started striding toward fight. You followed, a little concerned but mostly impressed by how quickly he handled it. He was always the one who kept things calm now—so different from his hot-headed younger days.

“Maybank!” Rafe’s voice boomed across the beach, and you could hear the change in tone.

He was done playing around.

JJ, too focused on trying to defend Kie’s honor, didn’t even hear him. Rafe didn’t hesitate. He grabbed him by the back of his shirt, pulling him away from the guy before anything could escalate further.

The younguer blonde whipped around, ready to argue, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Rafe. “Dude, I—”

“Start walking,” He hauled him a few feet away, practically dragging him while the other guy quickly disappeared into the crowd.

You couldn’t help but watch the way Rafe took control of the situation, handling JJ like a dad trying to wrangle a rowdy teenager. You could see the way he deflated in response. He’d grown to respect Rafe too much to keep pushing.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Rafe said, his grip still tight on JJ’s shirt. “You’re gonna get yourself knocked out one of these days if you don’t stop acting like you need to throw hands over every little thing.” JJ scowled but didn’t say anything, and Rafe shook his head, letting him go. “Seriously, Kie can handle herself. And if she needs backup, that’s what we are for—not you getting your ass handed to you every time some guy breathes in her direction.”

JJ kicked at the sand, muttering something under his breath, but he knew better than to argue. Rafe’s voice softened a little, seeing JJ’s shoulders slump. “Look, I get it. But not like this. Not here.”

He nodded once, reluctantly, and Rafe gave him a rough pat on the shoulder before turning back to you. He caught your eye, and you felt the pride bloom in your chest. The way he handled himself, the way he diffused situations—it wasn’t just about being strong anymore, it was about knowing how to lead, how to take care of the people he loved. And, honestly? It was a turn-on.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes lingered on him as he came back over to you. He looked so composed, so solid, and that arm of his, the way he pulled JJ back without breaking a sweat—it had your mind going places. Rafe raised an eyebrow at you, a playful smirk on his lips.

“What?” he asked, already knowing you were checking him out.

You stepped closer, trailing your fingers up his arm, feeling the strength in the way his muscles flexed beneath your touch.

“Nothing,” you murmured, biting your lip as your eyes met his. “Just proud of you.”

Rafe chuckled, his hand slipping around your waist, pulling you against him. “Proud, huh?”

“Mhm,” you whispered, pressing yourself closer, feeling the warmth of his body. “It’s kinda hot.”

“That what does it for you now? Me playing babysitter?”

You laughed softly, your hand still resting on his arm, fingers trailing along his bicep. “Not just that. The way you handled it. You’re just—”

Rafe’s hand slid down your back. “Just what?” he asked, his breath hot against your neck.

You bit your lip, feeling your heart pick up speed. "Strong.” You smirked, letting your hand slide lower, down the curve of his chest. “Kinda makes me wanna—”

He cut you off with a kiss, his mouth moving against yours with a kind of slow intensity that had you melting into him. His hand gripped you tighter, pulling you even closer, because he could never have enough of you.

When he pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours, both of you a little breathless, he smirked down at you. “You keep talkin' like that, we might need to leave this party a little early.”

You grinned up at him, your arms wrapping around his neck. “Might not be the worst idea,” you teased, your voice low. “Think we’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

Rafe chuckled, his lips brushing against your forehead before he pulled away just enough to glance over his shoulder, making sure JJ wasn’t about to start up more trouble.

When he saw everything was calm, he turned back to you, “Let’s get outta here, baby.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

He pulled you in close as you reached the car, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your lips, making your head spin all over again.

"You're somethin' else, you know that?" he whispered against your lips, his hands sliding up your back, fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

"Get in the car, Cameron.”

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writeriguess · 2 days

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Could you write something with Love and Deepspace Sylus x female reader, where they are always bickering and reader has a huge crush on him but she thinks he hates her. But one day, after Sylus sees her being tender with someone else, he gets so incredibly jealous of her and they have a makeout session against the wall.

The ship hummed quietly beneath your feet, its distant sounds blending with the ambient noise of the deep space beyond the hull. You sat at one of the control panels, fingers deftly typing in commands. Everything on board was routine—far too routine, considering the heated tension that had been building over the past few weeks.

"Are you even paying attention, or are you just pretending to know what you're doing again?"

His voice cut through the silence like a sharp blade, and you rolled your eyes before turning around, already anticipating the sight that greeted you. Sylus leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, that smug expression of his plastered on his face. His fiery red eyes gleamed under the dim lights, standing out against his pale, almost ghostly white hair that framed his angular face. His lips curved upward, taunting, always taunting.

"Well, look who's finally decided to grace us with his presence," you shot back, unable to resist the usual banter. It had become second nature by now, the back and forth, the teasing, the bickering. Sylus always had a way of getting under your skin, and you hated how easily he did it. Worse yet, you hated how it made your pulse race, how it made your heart stutter every time he was near.

He sauntered over to your side, leaning close enough that you could feel the heat of his body. His breath tickled the side of your neck, but you didn’t dare show how much it affected you.

"If you mess up one more time, I swear I'll—"

"You'll what?" You snapped, spinning in your chair to face him. The space between you was minimal now, the tension palpable. His smirk widened, and those red eyes narrowed slightly, as though he was enjoying how easily he could rile you up.

"I'll take over, obviously. Can't have someone as incompetent as you handling sensitive equipment." His voice dripped with mockery, but there was something else there—something darker, something unspoken. And for a split second, his gaze flickered, betraying an emotion that was neither mockery nor irritation. It was gone as soon as it appeared, leaving you questioning if you’d imagined it.

"I think I can handle myself just fine, thanks," you muttered, trying to ignore the way his presence made you feel. Every time he was near, it was like your nerves were on fire, every word out of his mouth was like gasoline to the flame that burned deep within you.

The truth was, you had a huge, embarrassingly intense crush on Sylus. But he made it impossible for you to act on it—he was always pushing you, always teasing, always acting as if you were beneath him. There were days when you wondered if he truly hated you, and others when you thought, just maybe, he might feel something different. But then he'd pull some stunt like this, and you'd remind yourself that it was probably all in your head.

You stood up abruptly, needing to put some distance between you before you lost control of the situation—before you gave away too much. "If you're so worried about it, why don't you handle the panel yourself?"

His smirk widened, but you didn’t stick around long enough for him to respond. You strode out of the control room, down the narrow hallway of the ship, your heart pounding far too hard for what should have been a simple interaction.

You needed to get a grip. Sylus was nothing but trouble, and you knew it. Yet, you couldn’t help the way your stomach flipped every time he was near. It was pathetic, really, but that didn’t stop the way your thoughts constantly drifted back to him.

Several hours passed before you found yourself in the ship’s common area, trying to distract yourself by talking to one of the crewmembers. He was a newer recruit, younger, eager to please, and he hung onto your every word. You laughed at something he said, a soft sound, but genuine. It felt good to relax, to have a moment where you weren’t constantly on edge.

That was, until you felt the weight of a familiar gaze on you.

Sylus stood at the entrance to the common room, his eyes locked on the two of you, his expression unreadable. But his eyes—those crimson eyes—burned with something dangerous. You could feel the intensity from across the room, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

You tried to ignore him, turning your attention back to the conversation, but it was impossible. Sylus was like a storm, unpredictable and overwhelming, and you were helpless to escape it.

After a few minutes, you excused yourself from the conversation, your nerves frayed by the feeling of Sylus’s gaze still boring into you. As you moved to leave the room, you barely made it past the door before a hand grabbed your wrist, yanking you sharply to the side. You were slammed up against the wall, the breath knocked out of you as Sylus’s body pressed against yours, trapping you between the cold metal wall and the heat of his presence.

"Sylus, what the hell—"

"You think I don’t see what you're doing?" His voice was low, dangerously quiet, but filled with something wild, something possessive. His eyes were darker now, the red burning brighter, and the usual cocky smirk was gone, replaced by something raw and fierce. "You think I didn’t notice you laughing with him? Touching him?"

You blinked, taken aback. "What are you talking about?"

"Don’t play dumb with me." His grip on your wrist tightened, and you could feel his breath against your skin, harsh and uneven. "You think I’ll just stand by while you… while you act like that with someone else?"

Your mind raced, trying to piece together what he was saying. Was he—was he jealous?

"Sylus, it was nothing. I was just talking to him."

"Talking?" His lips curled in a sneer, but there was a vulnerability in his eyes, a fear, even. "That’s not what it looked like."

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could say anything, his lips crashed down on yours, rough and demanding. Your body tensed in shock, but it only took a second for your instincts to take over. You kissed him back, hard, matching his intensity, your fingers gripping his shirt as his body pressed tighter against yours.

His hand slid up to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place as his lips moved over yours with a fierce hunger, as though he’d been holding back for far too long. The kiss was messy, desperate, both of you pouring weeks—no, months—of pent-up tension and frustration into it.

You gasped as his teeth grazed your lower lip, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue invading your mouth, claiming you. Your head spun, overwhelmed by the sheer force of him, of the way his body moved against yours, pinning you so completely to the wall.

Every touch, every movement was filled with heat, with want. His hand slid down your side, gripping your waist possessively, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear to have even an inch of space between you. His other hand tangled in your hair, tugging slightly, sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, but he didn’t stop. His lips moved to your neck, hot and insistent, and you couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped your lips as he sucked at the sensitive skin just below your ear.

"You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he growled against your skin, his voice rough, filled with an emotion you hadn’t expected—desire, need, and something more. "No idea how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you."

Your heart pounded in your chest, your mind reeling. Sylus—arrogant, infuriating Sylus—wanted you? You didn’t have time to process it before his lips found yours again, and you were lost in the intensity of the moment, in the way his body moved against yours, demanding, unrelenting.

And in that moment, you realized that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t hate you after all.

Requests are open. Send as many as you like at once.

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buddie-buddie · 1 day

Text

It rains on the way home.

Something about it feels fitting, Buck thinks. He leans his head against the car window, staring as a large droplet snakes its way down the glass in a slow, winding trail. Outside the car, the streetlights flick on, soft halos of light reflected in the shine of the wet pavement.

The rhythmic patter of raindrops against the windshield and the steady beat of the wipers is steady and soothing, almost enough to drown out the ache in his chest.

Almost, but not quite.

The soft glow of passing headlights casts fleeting shadows inside the car as they make their way back downtown to the loft.

The night feels heavy, pressing down on him in a way he can’t shake. His mind is 800 miles away, somewhere in the suburbs of El Paso.

Tommy glances over at him from the driver’s seat, the air between them thick with things unsaid.

“You’ve been quiet,” Tommy’s voice cuts through the silence, soft and gentle in a way that makes Buck’s heart squeeze. “You want to talk about it?”

Buck swallows hard, sighs. “I don’t know,” he mutters, his voice strained. “It’s just... tonight sucked. Seeing Chris like that... not reacting, not even looking at us—” He cuts himself off, draws in a deep, shaky breath. “I know he’s hurting. I know it’s between him and Eddie. But it feels like... like…” he trails off, unable to find the words to properly articulate the ache that’s settled deep inside his chest.

“Like he’s pulling away from you, too,” Tommy finishes for him, his voice gentle but certain.

Buck glances at Tommy, a flicker of something passing through his tired eyes—relief, maybe, at being understood. Tommy’s hand moves from the steering wheel to rest gently on Buck’s thigh, a welcome, reassuring warmth. His thumb rubs a slow, soothing circle against the fabric of Buck’s jeans, grounding him with the simple touch.

“Yeah,” Buck breathes. “And Eddie... God, I hate seeing him like that. He was trying so hard, and Chris...”

Tommy’s eyes flick between the road and Buck’s face, reading him effortlessly. “I know,” he says. “This is… it’s hard right now. But it’s not forever.”

Buck lets out another shaky breath, his chest tight. It’s not just about Christopher practically ignoring them tonight. It’s deeper than that— seeing Eddie struggle, watching helplessly as his own bond with Chris starts to fade, feeling the sting of that loss himself. It hurts in a way he can’t quite describe.

He leans back in his seat, closing his eyes as he swallows down the lump in his throat.

Tommy parks outside of Buck’s building, but he doesn’t make a move to get out. Instead, he turns to face Buck properly. There’s a warmth in his eyes, something so soft and so fond, it has Buck’s heart swelling in his chest.

“Hey,” Tommy says gently, squeezing Buck’s thigh reassuringly. “He’ll come around. He’s a kid. He’s hurting, and he’s still angry, but he’s not gone forever. He needs time, and so does Eddie. But you and Chris? That bond? It’s ironclad. A rough call and a few months apart won’t even crack the foundation, let alone undo it.”

Buck closes his eyes for a moment, letting Tommy’s words ease the knot in his chest. Tommy shifts, leaning in closer, his hand moving up to the back of Buck’s neck. Buck’s shoulders slump, his breath shaky as he leans into Tommy’s touch, finally letting himself feel the weight of everything. “I just want him to be okay,” he murmurs. He’s not sure who he’s talking about— Christopher or Eddie.

Maybe both of them.

Tommy’s thumb brushes over the nape of his neck, a quiet comfort that settles something deep within Buck’s chest. “He will be,” Tommy says, pressing a soft kiss to Buck’s temple. “And you will be, too.”

For the first time all night, Buck feels a small, tentative flash of hope breaking through the heaviness still weighing on him.

His heart still breaks for Eddie, still misses Chris so much it physically hurts. But here, with Tommy, the weight of it all feels a little less crushing.

also on ao3

#911 spoilers #911 8x01 #coda #it’s 2:30 am and i have to be up in 3 hours but my brain would not rest until i got this out #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #tevan #kinley #firepilot #the ally and the beast #8x01 coda #my writing

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aphroditelovesu · 1 day

Note

NSFW WARNING

I hope this doesn’t come across as a request, cause I’m genuinely not trying to ask you for a dedicated piece of writing, I just wanted to say that I think Achilles is the kind of man who would want his fem lover to sit on his face. And he’d get pouty and annoyed if she hovered, like sit DOWN he can TAKE IT, and if she chokes him to death or breaks his neck then he’ll die a happy man

Again, not a request I’m just throwing an idea at the wall to see what you think of it, cause I adore your writings of Achilles. Hope you’re having a nice day!

I agree with everything that was said. 😇

Achilles, in my opinion, likes to be able to hold you, his hands almost digging into your skin because he's squeezing you so hard, but he wants to feel all of you. And his grip becomes more possessive and even slightly painful when you sit on his face and he's giving his life eating you out.

And YES! He wants you to sit down and not just float around, no, he wants you to suffocate him and if you say you don't want to because you think you're too heavy or something, he'll laugh out loud, okay? He's one of the strongest fucking warriors in Greek mythology, definitely, your weight would never be a problem for him and he might even be offended by it.

And he'll devour you like a starving man, let that be clear. When you sit on his face, his hands will grip your thighs so tightly that they'll leave marks, but you won't think much about it, not when he's eating you out so desperately.

Honestly, for Achilles, dying buried between your thighs would be a divine way to die for him. Maybe traumatic for you, but that's the nature of the job. 💅🏻

#ask #concept #achilles x reader #x reader #thirsts #😗#greek mythology #yandere greek mythology #yandere achilles #yandere achilles x reader

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hanibalistic · 21 hours

Text

#946C47 | SUN WUKONG.

genre | fluff & angst

word count | 9192

warning | violence, blood, death / potential ooc + not accurate to jttw

note | thank you for reading!!!

part |one, two, three

Opening your eyes from death was like coming to the surface after being underwater for too long.

Contrary to popular belief, or at least the way different forms of media presented it, death didn’t feel like anything.

There was no black space with your floating body or a separate plane of existence where you could walk on shallow water toward an afterlife. There was simply nothing, and that 'nothing' lacked nothingness. It was blank. It was a time skip.

The last thing you remember was closing your eyes on the ground, and the first thing you remember was that you died. Nothing happened in between the two memory spots. Your mind and body were dormant, like a computer shut off.

The first sign of life from death was obnoxious and demanding.

Your ears cleared, but every sound around you fought to be noticed by your newly awakened brain that hearing immediately became an overwhelming action.

Your eyes regained sight, but they hurt to use, like the permanent feeling of the sun in your eyes or an invisible eyelash falling inside.

Your limbs moved regularly when you didn't think about it and stopped when you did, which you figured made sense. You never thought long and hard about moving your body parts before you died. When you walk, you walk.

Your breathing—the worst was retaking your first breath. Your body has been rid of everything human during your death. The motion to return those characteristics, such as blood flow and the traveling of air, was as uncomfortable as breaking out of a life-threateningly bad habit, as claustrophobic as suffocating yourself with a pillow.

But mostly, it was painful. It reminded you of being impaled by Wukong's staff; the jolt of pain and the sharp gasps were familiar.

“Woah! Easy there, mortal!”

Bajie stood up, his rake supporting his weight as he grabbed the gourd by his hooves.

Your eyes rolled up and down, opened and closed without a recognizable pattern. Your mouth remained open since your mind was forcing you to suck in big gulps of oxygen as if it was trying to nail into your body that it was alive and functioning again.

Drool dripped down the corner of your lips as a result, and you whined through each agonizing inhale, which lasted much shorter than your exhales because you were desperate to leave the pain where it resided in your lungs.

Resurrection gripped you by the neck and took you for a fly. Bajie didn't need to see the repercussions to know your mortal soul rejected being brought back from the dead. He figured it would happen before you even woke up. It was punishing you, and your body couldn't fight back. Unfortunately, he has no spell powerful enough to elevate your humanity to the point of enduring celestial phenomena.

“Here, drink some water,” Bajie urged by shoving the gourd at your chin. “It’ll clear your senses.”

He stepped closer to you and tipped the gourd up, letting the water pour inside your mouth. You angled your head upward to swallow the fresh liquid better, relishing the much-needed hydration. Peering at Bajie's familiar face, relieved tears welled in your eyes before you closed them to focus on chugging the fresh river water.

He noticed them and chose to remain silent. Dying was never a trivial matter, and neither was resurrection. It was a destined matter, but nonetheless significant and, to some, traumatic.

Although he would have never cried, whined, or writhed, he understood why you did, and that was no insult to your humanity. It was a deduction made based on the experience of a mortal.

Not a mere mortal, just a mortal.

"Thank you," you managed after you finished panting from the massive water intake.

“You’re welcome.” Bajie sat down with a sigh. “I have to say, it is nice to hear your voice again after so long.”

You looked at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

"You have been dead for more than five weeks. We tried to keep your body within the incense veil of the Keeper's Shrine to accelerate the process, but that was proven unsuccessful. We thought you were gone for good, kid!" he explained.

Brows slightly raised with intrigue, you nodded. You haven't the faintest idea how these things work in their reality, so you've got nothing worthwhile to say. "How long does it usually take someone to return from the dead?"

"Resurrection usually doesn't take this long. Not even for the mortals of this world," he said.

“As I suspected,” you muttered before letting a groan escape. “I need the immortality to get out of my body now!”

Bajie snickered. “That’s a wish I don’t hear often!”

“Yeah, well, I am not fond of living for a long time,” you said. “Life is hard enough as it is. There is no point in extending the suffering.”

You looked down at your hands. A flicker of your home sped before your eyes, and you sighed gently, squeezing and releasing the tension in your fingers. You wondered how much time you’ve lost over there, if you’ve missed any holidays, or important notices from your professors or employers. Were your friends worried? You hoped they didn’t think you’d ghosted them.

“I just want to live a good life. A normal one,” you said. “I don’t want anything grand. Food on the table, a roof over my head, enough clothes…” You leisurely looked up at the trees. “I can learn how to find the tiny things in life enjoyable. That’s not a problem for me.”

Bajie’s smile was arched downward, almost as if he thought you were disagreeable. But there was one thing he knew for sure: he was right. You were no mere mortal. There was nothing mere about you.

“I’m curious,” you started suddenly. “How fast is resurrection for someone who’s not a human?”

"If Wukong were to lose one of his seventy-two lives, he'd return in the blink of an eye,” he explained. “That's the only reason why I haven't tried to kill him to cease his chatterbox of a mouth!"

“Are you sure it’s not because you can’t kill him?” you chuckled airily, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your arms on top. “He is stronger than you.”

"Facts do not equal the truth," he said. "He is stronger than me, but that does not make my inability to defeat him the truth."

“I just woke up, Bajie.” You pressed a hand to your eyes and rubbed them. “Must you speak so strangely?”

“You should learn how to speak more eloquently.”

"If I talked like that in my world, people would make fun of me."

"Gah! Your world is full of dimwits," he scoffed. "I care not for their opinion."

You stared at him with a smirk, then nodded in agreement. You thought the same at some point, so you've decided not to argue with him.

"Where is everyone?" You looked around. The Keeper's Shrine was full of incense, and the forest remained as you last saw it.

“Wukong went on a walk if he’s who you’re looking for.”

You pursed your lips, feeling heat rush to the bottom of your neck at his assumption. He wasn’t entirely wrong, though. You wanted to know where Wukong was—you wanted to see him, especially after the incident that caused your death. It was his weapon that killed you, but you wanted him to know you didn’t blame him for it.

“I was asking about everybody.”

“There is no need to deceive me,” Bajie snorted. “He told us what happened the night you died.”

“I was right, wasn’t I?” you muttered, dipping your chin into your forearm. You remembered what happened, so you could still recall when Wukong fell to his knees from the headache Sanzang caused.

"My Master considers you a hindrance to our journey to retrieve the scriptures. We've had to diverge from the original path to seek hidden temples, and you weren't exactly handling the soul-sucking process well. It was time-consuming, and he thought we had set aside our primary goal of obtaining the scriptures.

Although, make no mistake, my Master is virtuous, especially to humans. But pinning the scriptures against you, he prioritizes the scriptures.

“He thought when the opportunity presents itself, we should not save you from yaoguais. That isn’t to say we cannot protect you from them, only that we should ease off on trying to keep you from dying.”

You rolled your teeth over your bottom lip, the stinging pain in your eyes conjured by your focused stare on the floor.

Bajie provided you with the clarity you have been asking for. A question regarding whether Sanzang has changed his mind due to what happened fell silent on your tongue once your mind realized its obvious answer—no, he has not changed his opinion about you.

As a monk with values, who is true to his religion, he cannot change his opinion about you so long as you continue to hinder their journey.

You weren't so much angry at Sanzang for what he did than you were conflicted. He wasn't off your hook, obviously. There would be undeniable caution toward him from now on.

However, you understood his choices. He has principles that he stood by, and you respected him for that, even though, at times, you thought he was more of a slave than a follower of those rules.

“I just wish he came clean with how he felt about me instead of avoiding it,” you said. “We could have worked something out. I am willing to make accommodations.”

“I don’t believe he thought you strong enough.”

“Must I be?”

Bajie was taken aback. His eyes gave him away, as did the clearing of his throat. He never thought about that. "Well, I–"

“It doesn’t matter," you cut off.

“If something has to happen–for the greater good, I suppose–then it shall happen regardless of my ability. I will always be human, and I will always be unlikely to defeat a monster ten times my size. That is it. My weakness is a factual statement. But… people will always suffer under the hands of destiny. What must happen can't not just because I'm too ill to handle it.

"I will continue to not be strong enough, and I will fulfill my goal while so.”

"Hmph," Bajie scoffed after a moment. There was a hint of laughter in it. He realized that you’ve forgotten an important lesson he taught you: fact does not make truth. But, he supposed there was value in your humble ignorance. “That’s the most grown-up thing I've ever heard you say."

“Thanks,” you laughed. “I learn from the best.”

"Flattery doesn't work on me, kid!" he exclaimed dismissively. "Now go find your monkey! He should be with Sanzang, taking a stroll somewhere. He'll be glad to see you!"

“Who? The monk or the monkey?”

“You know who!”

You carefully got up from the ground. Bajie watched your legs wobble briefly as you rekindled your motor functions. Slowly and steadily, you stepped away from the protection of the Keeper's Shrine, and you halfheartedly threw a peace sign in response to Bajie warning you to be aware of yaoguais.

You tried to be more aware of your surroundings as you traveled through the forest, but the sun was warm on your face, and the ground was solid beneath your feet.

You never thought you would think this, but you were happy to feel alive again.

It felt like summer. Your bloodied sweater was likely abandoned at the place of your death. You didn’t mind that; it wasn’t expensive, and the weather didn’t call for it.

Every heavy step involved planning a proper reaction to finding Wukong and Sanzang. You would be glad to see them again, but you weren't sure if they felt the same. Sanzang probably wouldn't, and the last time you checked, Wukong wasn't happy about your confrontations.

It’d be best to eliminate any possible instances of awkwardness.

After what felt like a half an hour's walk, you stopped moving forward to rest your legs. Bajie said they shouldn't be far, yet you haven't heard a trace of motion anywhere near.

Brows furrowed, with sweat stuck to your skin, you looked around at the trees and bushes littered everywhere in the forest. None have defining features that help you determine where or how far you've gone. You stepped to the side, the friction between the ground and the bottom of your shoes ridiculously vibrant in your ear.

Perking your head down at your feet, your gaze hardened as your ears zeroed in on the environment. Nothing. The cicadas have vanished, the leaves were not blowing, the bushes ceased their rustles, and there was no dancing breeze.

This part of the forest has become silent, and you've learned that it means a predator is lurking.

Pinching the hem of your shirt, you held your breath in your throat as a wavering fear crept around your head like a shadow phasing in and out of sunlight—there was no way. You couldn’t be fooled twice by a yaoguai, could you? The forest housed a variety of creatures and animals. It could just be a grizzly bear!

“Tang Sanzang!”

You flinched at the piercing holler, your hands flying up to your head to take cover until you recognized it screamed a familiar name. With bated breath, your arms fell to your sides, and you spun toward the voice. It sounded everywhere around you, an echo throughout the forest, but you recalled seeing where the birds flew from where they were hiding in the trees.

They wouldn't fly toward the sound of danger, so you should go in the opposite direction.

You jogged, ignoring each stumble at uneven grounds until you eventually came across a spacious field.

An abandoned building stood destroyed as if a terrible storm had blown a hole through it. It had collapsed into itself, leaving no room to check for its interior. In front of the house was an unkept grass field flattened and charred haphazardly by what you could only assume was a forest fire.

The sun shone down like a spotlight at the one you’ve been looking for—Sun Wukong, in the flesh, standing with his waist slightly bent and a desperate expression on his face.

You opened your mouth as you walked forward. You stopped when you almost tripped on something soft, your feet flying up and stomping on the ground behind you to catch yourself.

Instinctively glancing at the blockage, you gasped aloud when you saw the one-eyed yaoguai at your feet. Its mouth opened with an unreleased scream, and blood stained like tears down its eye.

The sunlight panned across the grass field at your attention, an example of your mind clearing out spaces for other things besides Wukong. That was when you finally saw them—the dead bodies. Multiple lifeless bodies were lit atop the bladed grass—your eyes widened at the soaking red grass tips, and then you glanced up at Wukong.

"Why can't you just do this one thing for me!" Wukong screamed at his Master. He pressed a hand to his chest, willing his nails to cut through his body into his heart. "I killed all these yaoguais! I'm going rogue again! I'm becoming a hindrance! You have to punish me. It's your responsibility!"

Sanzang stared woefully at Wukong’s desperation. His hand remained under his chin in preparation, but he did not grant Wukong’s masochistic wish.

Sensing the monk's unwillingness to cast the spell, Wukong bit his lower lip, a frustrated redness doubling across his face. He gritted his teeth and pressed his nails to his head, digging into the flesh enough to draw blood. He hooked his fingers around the gold fillet and didn't try to take it off. He only pretended to because he knew he needed it now more than ever.

"Master, please!" he begged through a hoarse scream. "You were willing! When [Name] was–"he gasped through an irritated growl– "when they were dying! You were willing to let them suffer! You chose to punish them because you thought them an obstacle! I've become one, too, yet you won't punish me! How dare you!"

“You let me kill them! You left that on my conscience!” Wukong accused, but his finger pointed at himself more times than it did Sanzang.

This wasn’t the outcome Sanzang desired when he let you die.

Wukong hadn't been impatient about your resurrection; he was hopeless. If he were told how long it'd take for your body to return, he would have waited earnestly by your side, holding your shell close and keeping it warm. But he wasn't warned about the unpredictable duration, and you never woke up.

He thought you were gone and spiraled back into his beastly nature.

However, Sanzang knew very quickly that the descension to madness was deliberate. Wukong was still clever and disciplined. He still retained what was taught throughout the journey before your sudden emergence.

This murderous spree was not a marker of his return to how he used to be—the supremely arrogant and destructive monkey who nobody trusted or liked. It was a cry for condemnation, a plead to be retributed.

Wukong killed you, so someone else should kill him, too. He can suffer no pain but yours.

Sanzang read him like an open book. Unfortunately, giving in to what he wanted would only reinforce the behavior, so he stepped back and refused to spell, no matter how much bloodshed he caused.

"Wukong..."

"No! You're not listening to me!" The monkey groaned into his hands before harshly rubbing his palm down his face. "What more must I destroy? When will you be satisfied, Master?"

"I am not satisfied by your behavior, Wukong. Understand me," Sanzang said. "I simply will not stand to let you guilt me into hurting you."

"You've already done that," Wukong spat.

"You cannot truly be bothered by this, can you?" Sanzang questioned. "The immortal peach has been consumed. Trust nothing else but the product of the celestial garden. Their death is not definitive."

"They're still dead!"

"Then I suppose they are."

A fiery sensation burned behind Wukong's eyes and painted Sanzang red. The staff appeared in his hand, still uncleaned with the scent of your blood, and he abruptly lunged at the monk, who took the unplanned bait and immediately began to chant the fillet-tightening spell.

Wukong fell to the ground but didn't squirm or writhe as much as usual. Exhausted pants escaped his lips, and he drilled his head against the floor, his eyes squeezed shut as he leaned his senses into the agony. When he looked up at Sanzang again, his body barely able to move at his will, he managed a triumphant smirk.

"Is this what... I must do...?" he gritted out, "I... I have to perform the bottom of the barrel... for you... my Master... to grant me just a little mercy!"

Sanzang pursed his lips in disdain. "You push the limits of my tolerance, you blasted monkey."

Your gaze hardened at the familiar insult you remembered reading in the book. Their conversation didn't provide any context to the argument, but you could tell Wukong had done something forbidden, and Sanzang was punishing him.

After Sanzang's voice fell, Wukong finally started to exhibit signs of discomfort as he scratched at his fillet. You never knew if the spell could adjust the tightness of the fillet, but it seemed Wukong couldn't handle the pain quietly anymore.

His cries filled your ears, making you wince. It wasn’t that the novel didn’t describe it well enough or the actors had lousy acting. The reality of the band-tightening spell was simply much more painstaking.

You quickly stepped over the dead yaoguai to run toward him. Your knees gave out when you were near Wukong, and you fell, your palms scraping the dirt. You ignored the mild pain and scrambled over. You grabbed onto him and pulled him to your chest, a hand over his shoulder and the other at his hand, and then you snapped up at Sanzang, your brows furrowed with anger.

"That's enough! Stop hurting him!" you shouted, tears rolling down your face uncontrollably. You didn't think you were particularly upset, only that Wukong's cries affected you like most people's agony. Or, perhaps you were just afraid you couldn't convince Sanzang to stop.

"He understands. He won't do it again, whatever it is. He gets it, so just stop!"

Sanzang looked at you, his voice trailing off to a pause. You gulped nervously, your hands squeezing Wukong closer to your side as if that was any help. You looked at Sanzang like he's a cautionary tale, eyes cowering but gaze unwavering—confronting him bravely and silently, watching him like he's a demon but cradling Wukong like the opposite.

"You're back." He glimpsed at Wukong, whose ear pressed against your chest. "Please return to the Keeper's Shrine by sundown. The night is dangerous."

Walking away from your fallen figures, he untied his horse by the tree and left, holding on to the rope, slowly strolling further away from the bloodbath on the floor.

You gritted your teeth into a frown as a hand clumsily wiped at your wet eye. Confusion tinkered above your head like floating question marks at Sanzang's attitude. Undoubtedly, he wouldn't express much excitement considering his present grudge, but you thought he almost looked relieved. Not because you resurrected but because Wukong has finally calmed down.

He stared at the grass with his arms around your waist, silently waiting as the world calmed around you. His hands no longer trembled as they did—an initial reaction to your sudden presence. Dry eyes made wet by trapped tears and bare neck made hot from a veiny and sour sensation, he relished even the fabric of your shirt against his skin.

Your heart palpitated irregularly, and Wukong suffered gentle panic from that. Discarding the logic that your heart was responding to the worrisome event just now unfolded, your racing heartbeat filled his head with unhinged outcomes that served to take you from him again.

There were no yaoguais around; he's murdered them all. Those who were smart had fled long before the altercation with Sanzang. The bugs whispered in their home, and nature resumed its daily wandering, moving leaves and blowing breezes.

The longer you embraced on the floor, letting the sun kiss you warm, the more you relaxed. The world felt brighter than before, and your stillness in each other conveyed feelings hidden snuggly within the thousand words your exhausted bodies couldn't express.

Your heart began to slow down to how a human heart was meant to beat: soft and steady. Alive. He wasn't entirely human, but Wukong thought his heart moved in identical shapes. He measured yours and matched it with his own, his senses isolating and gathering to hear inside your chest and his body, an overdramatic calculation to further prove to himself that you were alive.

But his relief traversed your aliveness. It was a much-needed release from remorse. It was vindication. You being here was permission for him to stop physically and emotionally tormenting himself. You being here, hugging him so gently, unlike his feared expectations, where you'd flinch away because your memories wrote that he was your killer—your endearing hands spoke: you can stop punishing yourself. You no longer have to pay for a sin you thought you committed.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry it went down like that.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” You shook your head. “I don’t blame you. Honestly, I don’t think I blame Sanzang either.”

Perhaps nobody is the problem. One thing merely led to another. If one backtracks too much, one would end up at the wall of God's home, and it just wasn't possible for him to take the fall for everything.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Hm?” You glanced at him, the gaps of your fingers decorated with the rough fur atop his head. “What?”

“Are you well?” he rephrased.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“That’s good.” It was barely audible.

“What about you?” you asked. “Are you okay?”

Wukong felt the shape of your waist on his palm. Solid, pudgy, human.

“Yes,” he replied. “I’m okay.”

Wukong joked that you should exercise more, and you reluctantly agreed.

Instead of using the Nimbus cloud for faster travel, you and Wukong decided to walk back to Keeper’s Shrine together. It was an opportunity to reconcile, and since there wasn’t much to catch up on about you being stuck in a void, you gave him space to discuss the recent downward spiral of his mentality.

He tip-toed around the notion that he descended into total abandon after your death. A core part of himself that was so carefully nurtured by years of religious practices and those around him was gone just from you closing your eyes. Even someone like him could understand the significance of that, the significance of you.

You read between the lines and didn't say anything. Instead, you changed the topic. You shifted to talking about trees, specifically about climbing them.

“I want to say–“ you paused briefly to reach a hand up for the tree branch above your head– “you are part monkey, so climbing a tree is an ability built into you at birth.”

"It remains that I can climb a tree with ease, and you cannot," he retorted, peering down at you leisurely from above, where he laid cross-armed on the tree branch you were trying (and failing) to get to.

His snarky remark didn't motivate you. It wasn't his intention to anyway, as he flashed you a mischievous grin when you clicked your tongue and glared at him. His tail danced below the branch, taunting you by curling and uncurling, creating the illusion of a support hook and taking it away. You heaved a sigh; you wouldn't have grabbed his tail to pull yourself up anyway.

"You know–"He sat up, his legs dangling over and his waist bent down to lean toward you. "You really need to train the muscles in your arms."

"Tsk. I bet you don't even know the anatomically accurate terms for the muscles," you muttered and then peeked away when you realized neither did you know them. "Shut up if you're not going to help me!"

Wukong laughed, but it sounded like a holler. Slapping a hand to his knee and staring at you with a gaze you shouldn’t trust, he pursed his lips and agreed. He extended his arm out for you to hold.

Brief words of encouragement (to receive his help, not to climb the tree) had to file out of his mouth for a few seconds before you decided he was trustworthy enough.

You sucked in a deep breath in preparation. Gripping the tree branch extra tightly with one hand, you let go of the other hand and pulled yourself up with all your might to grab onto Wukong. But he retracted his arm abruptly, leaving you to scramble the air with your fingertips.

You gasped, your forearm clumsily curling around the branch for your safety, your brows furrowing, and a string of scolding words ready at your opened mouth.

“Sun Wukong!” His shameless laughter drowned out your words. “I could have died!”

He paused immediately. The speed of the emotional shift was eerie. You awkwardly folded your upper lip between your teeth and shrunk your head between your shoulders at his widened, disbelieving eyes. You hadn't meant to say that. It wasn't retaliation. You said it because it made sense—if you fall from the height of this tree, you'll die.

“How could you joke about that?” Wukong whispered, and then he turned away dramatically, with the back of his palm against his forehead and the other wiping an invisible tear from his eye. “I told you how much I went through when I thought you were dead. You know how much you mean to me!”

It took you a moment. When you realized he was fooling around—still—you rolled your eyes.

“Haha, very funny.” You blew a large knot of air out of your mouth. “Help me up, damn it! Stop being annoying!”

He jolted at your shrill voice. A sneer crept onto his face, but when he reached for you again, he held your arm and swiftly hoisted you upward into the empty spot beside him. His hand hovered before your body as you adjusted to the seat.

"See? That wasn't so hard," you mused when you were done.

"You're being dramatic."

You chuckled through pursed lips, which made you sound triumphant. Looking over at him, your eyes squinted knowingly, you pointed out, "You remember what happened the last time you told me I was being dramatic, right?"

"Oh dear," he groaned, closing his eyes tightly and facing skyward with his hands on his head as if he were airing out his grievances to Heaven. "I'm never going to live that down, will I?”

"Not until I leave this place."

Wukong opened his eyes slowly.

Sky blue is a blinding color, or perhaps the Sun. He never cared to know. He didn't look up too much because of all the enemies who lived there. But he became curious recently. You made him curious. He wondered if your sky was as difficult to observe as his.

“What do you plan to do when you go back?” he asked.

It wasn’t something you thought about until he asked. Everyone was working to find a way to bring you home. Erlang Shen has, surprisingly, sent you a few update letters on his progress, occasionally requesting a written reply to gather more information.

You never thought it was an impossible feat; if there’s a way for you to arrive here, there’s a way for you to leave. But the operation completely slipped your mind these days.

"Eat an actual meal?" you slurred from a pout. "Sandwiches, french fries, ice cream…" A faux, tearful sob choked up your throat as your eyes squeezed, and you covered your head with your hands. "I'll kill for a can of Pringles even."

“It sounds like you miss home a lot,” he commented.

“Not really.” A disagreeing scrunch showed up briefly on your face as you shrugged. “Outside of the food, a select group of people… and the internet, I guess. I don’t think I miss it that much.”

Wukong nodded. Unlike you, he’s obsessively thought about your departure since Erlang Shen began sending letters to you through any form of a flight animal. He understood there wasn’t anything more to think about. Any emotional obstacles he encountered have been dissected and analyzed so thoroughly that, at this point, he was merely recycling his thoughts and worrying himself.

How wonderful would it be if you decided not to leave? If there wasn't anything you missed, why couldn't you stay? But he knew better than to ask you of such a huge favor—abandoning your life, leaving all that you've built behind, discarding your potential to be greater over there than here. For him or not, he couldn't ask you to do that, and he wouldn't.

His head was lowered, and his eyes fixated on his lap to avoid showing the microchanges in his expressions. But you weren't looking at him. When he discreetly turned to you, you were staring at the sky.

Contentment filled the air around you; you seemed to enjoy the view as if you never got to properly look at the blueness back where you came from. He smiled to himself and faced forward.

Whatever time you’ve got left with each other. Months, weeks, days, or even just hours—Wukong considers all seconds of it destiny.

He understood if something has to happen, then it shall.

“I’m going to miss you,” he said.

You widened your eyes faintly and turned to him.

His confession was unexpected. It was well-received because you somewhat returned the sentiment. When you leave, Wukong's world, full of magic and adventures, won't remind him of you. But your world full of stories and sculptures would always remind you of him. Rather than missing him, you supposed you would think of him a lot.

“I’m going to think of you,” you returned.

He smirked briefly and fiddled with his thumbs, letting the silence eat away at the end of that conversation before he opened his mouth to speak again.

“I’m still sorry,” he muttered, “about everything.”

It wasn't lost on you how groundbreaking it was that a character designed to be as arrogant as Wukong opened his mouth to apologize to you. You honestly didn't think you cared too much about what happened. The void didn't make you suffer. You fell asleep and then woke up—the process of them was painful but not enough to justify a grudge.

“过去已成往事,” you said. “Water under the bridge.”

Wukong raised a brow, a somewhat impressed hum sounding from his throat. “How many idioms did that pig teach you?”

"He didn't teach me. He just says it a lot."

"He does. Sometimes, I pretend I understand what he's saying, not to give him satisfaction. Wukong scoffed, the hair on his body almost trembling in distaste. "Oh, by the way," he said through a sharp inhale and sat up. "What is Pringles?"

“Oh! Uh, it’s a brand of chips, but you don’t know that.” You held up your hand and pressed your fingers into a thin line. “It’s about this big. Depending on the flavor, it can be salty, spicy, or even sweet–“ you inhaled before returning to your previous mourning position– “Oh my god, I might actually kill for a single Pringles chip.”

Wukong scoffed and crossed his arms. “You can’t even climb a tree.”

“Hey, strength is not the only factor that makes up a killer,” you argued. “There’s motivation. There’s, uh, cleverness, calmness, wit–“

“Out of all four of them, you only have one,” he mused, leaning toward your face. “And it’s none of the latter ones.”

You smiled sarcastically before abruptly slapping a hand to his shoulder, surprisingly shoving him off the tree branch. A gasp ripped through your mouth, and you covered it. Carefully but quickly, you leaned your torso forward to glance at the ground.

There wasn't a shadow of Wukong anywhere, which didn't make sense. The tree was tall, but it wasn't giant. You were still able to get a clear view of the ground! Either he has a secret hidden power of teleportation that he never told you about, even though it might have been handy in furthering the process of finding your way home, or he whisked himself away at the last second and went into hiding to prank you.

Couldn't say you missed those pranks, really.

"I know you better than believing you would fall to your death, Wukong, so come out–gasp!”

A sharp wind cut over your hair as the Ryui Jingu Bang extended in length at lightning speed. The leaves around you shifted, opening doors to let the sun in.

Wukong, crouching on the top of his weapon with impeccable balance, was elevated to your face level. He grinned with amusement as he waited for you to slowly reveal yourself from your forearms, which covered your face from the gusts of wind just now. You opened your eyes to see him; under the sunlight, he thought they looked whimsical like water.

"Hey," he greeted, bringing a hand off his knee to softly flick the tip of your nose with his fingers. "You know, I wish you would still worry about me a little, even though you know I'm competent."

"I do worry," you said. "I'll worry about you for a long time."

He whistled playfully. "For a long time?"

When you leave, there is no knowing how much chaos he'll cause and how much he'll suffer from it. You never wanted him to suffer, so you worry—you worry a great deal.

You worry about him, and you are afraid for him. You grieve for him, and you cheer for him. Here or there, together or separate, it'll all be for him.

"Yes," you confirmed.

Wukong grinned. It was silly, but his heart knocked with an irregular rhythm, and he was both flustered and bitter.

“Come on,” he reached a hand out, “let’s head back.”

You stared at him dubiously before taking his invite. He carefully tugged at your arm, and you let him, maneuvering your body to allow him more accessible access to pull you to his chest. His hand went under your knees, holding you sturdy, and you didn't bother to hold onto him for extra stability.

“Hey, you know–“ you looked up at his chin–“the last time you held me like this, I asked about those dreams you had of me. You still haven’t told me anything about that.”

He grimaced. He still didn’t plan to.

Wukong didn't want to leave you alone with Sanzang, but under Bajie's physically violent persuasion (repeatedly knocking his back with a rake), he caved and went with everyone else to the nearby river for some water.

You weren't nervous because you knew it wasn't a confrontation. There was nothing serious the monk had to confront you with; you didn't count his opinion of you being incompetent and weak as a subject of a confrontation. His problem with you being a hindrance to their journey was but his speculation.

His feelings were valid, but they were also of his own making.

Sitting across from him by the fireplace, you remained silent and waited for him to speak. He didn't look at you. Either he didn't want to, or he felt too awkward. You didn't mind. His white horse, all curled up a few feet behind him, was a sight for sore eyes.

"Erlang Shen sent us a letter."

"Oh?" You perked up. It has been a while since you last received news from him.

"They think they've found a way to bring you home, and he has requested that you go back to test the method."

Jaw dropping slowly at the surprising news, you managed a few absentminded nods before looking down at the ground.

Your shoes weren't new anymore. They were stained with dirt, dried petals, blood, and barely scraped-off substances. The bottom of it felt thin because of all the walking you've done. Perhaps you were wrong. The first thing you'd do when you return should be to get a new pair of shoes.

"I've been here long enough," you said. It was a thought that resulted from your shoes, perhaps. "They're bound to figure something out one of these days."

"I agree." Sanzang nodded. "Except, there is a problem."

You squinted your eyes and squeezed your hands together. It felt like your heart should beat faster, in rage, disappointment, or dissatisfaction, but you were steady as a log and calm as the mountain.

It didn't take him too long to reveal his intention, and you caught on immediately. No wonder he shooed everyone away and requested to speak to you privately. This wasn't a confrontation. This was a request, a shameful request.

It has been cleared up whether Sanzang hates you, but the solved mystery merely turned into a problem that could only be solved by your departure, which cannot happen until you lose the remainder of your lives.

Sanzang wanted you to deal with your immortality faster.

"I heard from Bajie that you find me bothersome," you said.

His face was still like a rock. He didn't so much as twitch a muscle. If the tension weren't evident, you'd find the time to admire the stoicism.

"How surprising that you didn't figure that out from my actions alone," he said. "But he tells the truth. I do find you bothersome to our original journey."

"You must understand I cannot be faulted."

He paused for a prolonged second, his fixated eyes a loose image of gears turning in his head.

You were correct—to some level, at least. You never asked to be here; teleportation was beyond your control. You never asked to consume the immortal peach; even he cannot blame you for falling for that insolent monkey's many tricks. You never asked to undergo excruciating pain; your human body would never be fit for magical trials.

Nothing was your fault, except everything was because you're here. Everything happened because you're here. It may not be your intention to be here, but you were—results trump intentions. That has always been the curse.

"You are not at fault, yes," Sanzang said. "But I blame you still. Just for being here, for being the clog that springs it all to life."

“But… that is not the only problem," Sanzang said.

You rolled your eyes and groaned, giving him a pointed raise of your brows to continue.

"You distract Wukong."

"That–" You poked your tongue at your inner cheek and squinted curiously. With an acknowledging hum and a sudden position that expressed intrigue in the conversation, you nodded at Sanzang. "Do you know about his dreams?"

It was the first time Sanzang's features ever shifted. He leaned back at your abrupt interest and frowned. "I don't know what you're speaking of."

"Really?" Your voice was low and dubious, but then you remembered Sanzang would, at any given chance, snitch on the blasted monkey he spoke so lowly of, and all your doubts vanished. He would have told you to embarrass the monkey. If he didn't, it was either he really disliked you or was telling the truth.

"He is distracted around you. Less cautious, more naive, and making careless mistakes. It’s as if he's lost his head.”

"Doesn't he always act like that?" you questioned. Walls of texts—blurred texts—from their novel flashed slowly before your eyes, and you faintly shook your head. "Actually… no. Wukong doesn't act like that. You…” The minor accusation fell weakly on your tongue. Your unwillingness to stir trouble made you backtrack, and you sighed. "Never mind."

“He enjoys your presence,” Sanzang said. “Surely, you’ve noticed that.”

"You don't think I got the memo when he fed me the immortal peach?" you grumbled through a sardonic chuckle. "I'm leaving, Sanzang. I shouldn't feed into it."

“How do you feel about him, then?”

Arching your neck to stare him down, you wondered why the monk would be interested in how you felt outside of hoping he'd find leverage against Wukong. It felt like a trap. A normal conversation with him about potentially romantic feelings felt like a trap. But, more importantly, you weren't sure how you felt about him, so you got the perfect excuse not to answer the question.

“I’m not telling you that,” you replied monotonously.

“That’s fair.”

"I also won't force myself to do what you want," you added firmly. "I will try my best at the temples, but if it's physically impossible to continue, I will stop whenever I want. I do not care about your peace. I won't push my limits for you. You'll just have to wait it out."

Silence engulfed the air.

“That’s fair, too,” he replied.

You have been here long enough to watch the seasons change.

If you had the exact date, you could tell if Winter already arrived or if it was still late Autumn. To combat the cold, they had brought you to a town mid-journey and bought you a thin cloak. White fur was sewn to the collar to form a makeshift scarf. Those were the only options; you'd rather not freeze in the occasional snow.

It kept you warm, and it kept you safe. You had pulled it closer around yourself when the Buddha you met this morning notified you that you were rid of your immortality.

“Can’t sleep?”

You peered up at Wukong, who sat beside you with one leg propped up.

"No," you replied.

"Me neither." He tapped his index finger against his knee. "Oh, by the way, it's not real fur."

"Huh?"

He turned to you and pointed at your cloak, which you then wrapped tighter around yourself.

"I went back to the store to ask. It wasn't the best idea. I nearly scared that old man half to death showing up at his home," he snickered faintly and rubbed the back of his head. He stared at the floor almost bashfully. "I noticed you were doubtful when we got you the cloak. That was the only problem I could think of, so I had to go back and make sure. I just kept forgetting to let you know."

You stared at him, subconsciously reaching up to touch the warm softness around your neck. A smirk played on your face, and you turned away to hide it. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

"No problem," he muttered. "So! Tomorrow, early in the morning, you and I will head back to see that third-eyed freak! I can't say I'm excited to see him ever again!

You pressed your legs closer to your chest and pursed your lips. Wukong was trying too hard to fill the awkward silence that wasn't meant to be awkward. It was an anxious sadness—the anxiety of experiencing an impending sadness—bottled and replaced by awkwardness. It was a facade. You two just didn't know what to say to each other before the eternal separation.

A bitter taste developed around your mouth, forcing you to salivate uncomfortably. You swallowed the knots, feeling them drop past your throat and bounce on your heart to make it beat irregularly.

You enjoyed being around Wukong. If you allowed it, you might even let your feelings for him develop and eventually admit that you liked him. But you didn't allow that, as you've decided to prioritize returning home.

Nobody accused you of making that choice, not even Wukong. He would never. It was you who felt guilty for choosing to leave, and that still plagued you to this day.

"I'm so sorry," you said suddenly.

Wukong slowly met your eyes. The confusion initially sitting in them vanished when he saw your furrowed brows and tearful eyes—whimsical like water. He wasn't wrong about that. Panicked, his hands hovered around your face, and he wiggled about, unsure what to do.

"What happened? What did you do?" he asked. "I'm sure you didn't do anything bad. Don't worry, I'll help you, okay? I promise."

You closed your eyes and cried quietly to yourself; flat whimpers, breathy hiccups, tears that were too cold against your cheeks, and comically placed hiccups. Wukong raised his brows, amusement bubbling at the brim of his quirked-up lips upon realizing how ridiculous (just a little!) you appeared.

"Wukong, I wanna go home, but... but I–I don't want to leave. I don't–gasp, I don't want to leave you." You closed your eyes to squeeze more tears out. "I'm sorry. Maybe I should... I should just stay. I should stay here with you."

"Now, what about your Pringles chip?"

He chuckled when you cried harder at the mention of a past conversation. Putting his hand flat on the ground, he pulled himself closer to you and leaned his torso forward. His free hand gingerly wiped at your face, being extra aware of his sharp nails. You kept crying, and he didn’t feel like he could say anything to make you feel better besides agreeing to your sudden change of decision, but he couldn’t.

"Don't be silly," he said.

He would be happy to have you stay with him forever, but you didn't want that. You were doubting your decision now because of him because you didn't want to leave him. But Wukong understood more than anyone else that he wasn't the significant marker that made up who you were.

Your home, your school, your hobbies, your friends, your family, your potential career choice—those things made you who you were. Besides not wanting to be the reason for you making a spur-of-the-moment choice, he also wanted you to be surrounded by what you knew.

You wouldn't achieve anything great in his world, but you would in yours. You deserve that chance.

"You have to go home," he whispered. "You can finally eat a proper meal. I want you to eat well."

You sniffed. "But I'm never going to see you again.”

His hand paused and hovered around your face. The established consequence felt much more threatening when you said it out loud. He calmed his nerves, pressed his palm against your face, and then urged you to move toward him. You did. Releasing the cloak on your shoulder, you climbed onto his lap and lay on his chest, snuggling close for warmth.

“Yeah, I guess we won’t see each other again,” he muttered, looking ahead at the forest. He tilted his head, inhaling thoughtfully. “I’m okay with that.”

“You are?” Your brows furrowed.

“Not the way you’re thinking!” he exclaimed. “I just… we can’t change that. No matter how much we beg or–“ he looked down at you– “cry, that’s never gonna change. We live in different worlds. We probably weren’t even meant to know each other.”

You threw your head back on his arm and groaned lowly. “Why are you saying all of this now?”

“What? No! I just meant–“ He laughed and pushed your head up so you’d look at him. “You’re going home. You have to go home. If we can’t change the fact that we’ll never see each other again, I guess I’d rather you never forget me.”

“That…” You rolled your eyes. “That won’t be an issue for me, but you!”

“Me?”

“Yes, you! 可以不爱我但绝不可以忘记我," you said. "You don't have to love me, but don't you dare forget me."

He cracked a smirk. "I do love you."

"It's for the later future!" you gently exclaimed as your head went slack against his shoulder. “Please don’t get in trouble, Wukong. Don’t get hurt, don’t do anything bad. I want you to live.”

“Oh, I’ll live,” he mused. “Not sure about the other ones, though.”

You knew those were wishful thinking. If his journey went the way the novels detailed, you also knew he would be okay. You weren't sure why you said those things—perhaps you wished him a smooth journey, but that wasn't why people admired him so much. Looking at him, you figured it's okay for him to get hurt occasionally. Hell, he might even deserve it once in a while, but you didn't say that out loud.

Wukong stared down at your suppressed grin, his hands soft around your limbs to remember their shape.

You didn't know that he would love you for far longer than you'd be here with him.

The Tanghulu almost fell apart when you bit into the strawberry on top. You caught the sugar pieces with your free hand.

The line leading toward an opened temple continued to move. It was mainly occupied by tourists, at least you believed so. There was hardly any reason for a local to be at a tourist attraction on a regular weekday except for you. You had a reason.

Taking a broad sweep across the crowded area, you arched your neck to look above the sea of heads at the food stands lined up in a row at the back. You chewed on the cold fruit as you debated what to eat next. There was a stall selling Liu Sha Baos, and next to it had an array of condiments set out for bagged Lou Meins. Humming in agreement, you decided to hit those stalls first after visiting the temple.

Erlang Shen’s method worked. He had suggested going back home the same way you came, which would be through turbulence on an airplane. Creating a makeshift turbulence was easy for just about anybody there, and you remembered Wukong waving goodbye at you a second before the clouds, picked up by the wind, covered your sight. And then you were gone—you suddenly woke up in the emergency room, startling a nurse.

Time barely passed when you were there. You slept through the rest of the flight after the turbulence, possibly causing inconvenience to the passengers seated by the window whenever they needed to use the restroom. They probably noticed something was wrong when you didn’t wake up even after the plane landed. They called an ambulance, and you had only just arrived at the hospital not too long ago.

You didn’t turn back. You visited your family and stayed with them for however long you had previously planned. It was a great way to distract yourself from the out-of-world experience. But nothing quite pulled Wukong off your mind.

You went hiking with your mother for the first time. The mountain reminded you of him. Heading to the supermarket and seeing the fruit section made you think of him. The way your grandpa talks reminded you of Bajie a little! And there was a newly released game about Wukong himself! You haven’t bought it yet. Maybe you would sooner or later.

“Hey! Can you walk?”

You jumped at the voice behind you and instinctively bowed in response, an apology leaving you like a ghost. Seeing that you were next ahead to admire the statue, you put the Tanghulu on the paper plate and back inside the plastic bag it came from. As you walked ahead, you dusted your hands on your jacket and stopped at the center of the opened temple. Looking up, you bit your lower lip to avoid laughing.

The Sun Wukong statue looked nothing like Sun Wukong.

But your memory made it look every bit like him.

“I found you,” you said. “I’m sorry it took so long. I was out of the country with my family. But I went to many places and ate a lot of good food.”

He stared back at you, unmoving. Your eyes softened at the replacement in your head—you wondered what he was doing now.

Subconsciously walking forward, your heart beating gently at your ear as you ignored the unnoticeable ‘Do Not Touch’ sign, you placed a hand on the statue’s feet and smiled.

“I remember you,” you whispered. “I love you.”

“Hey! Please don’t touch the statue!”

You turned your head at the warning. A strong breeze blew toward the direction of the voice just as you turned, enough to knock the security storming at you to the ground. You slowly released your hand from the statue, mouth slightly agape as you watched passersby help the security stand up. Pulling at the strap of your bag, you glanced at Wukong one last time, the weird coincidence lingering in your mind, and then you went to apologize.

Before you could walk out of earshot, you faintly heard a little boy speak to his mother behind you.

“Mom! Did you see that? The words on his staff lit up just now!”

#black myth wukong #jttw sun wukong #sun wukong x reader #sun wukong

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dollishbabess · 2 days

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A new kind of love??

A/n this fic is based off the song “a new of kind of love” by frou frou <3 I hope you enjoy!

Suggested nsfw? (Not really, if your gonna smth like this credit please or Aleast reblog this

Divider @cafekitsune - dollish

The rain pelted the windowpanes, echoing in the dimly lit apartment. It was the kind of evening that made Jason Todd’s mind wander into the shadows of his past, the memories of blood, betrayal, and endless battles. But tonight was different, for you were here, sitting across from him, tracing the rim of your coffee mug, completely unaware of the effect you had on him.

He leaned against the window sill, gaze drifting toward you as you spoke about something that happened earlier in your day. He was only half-listening, not out of disinterest, but because he was too focused on memorizing the way your lips moved, the softness in your eyes, the faint smile you wore when you thought no one was paying attention.

“… and then he spilled his entire coffee on himself, seriously I think he might’ve had too much to drink? After all it was a Sunday morning!” you finished, laughing lightly.

Jason smirked, shaking his head. “Sounds like he had a rough day.” (🐻‍❄️)

You nodded, then shifted your gaze to him, eyes softening. “You seem distracted. Are you okay?” Your feeling a bit hurt ‘what if he he found you cringe?’ But you shook it off

Jason hesitated. He was never good with words, not when they mattered. “Yeah, just… thinking.”

“About?” you pressed, leaning forward, curiosity dancing in your eyes.

He rubbed the back of his neck, stalling. How could he explain it to you? How could he tell you that every time he was with you, he felt something he thought was long dead, something he had buried beneath layers of pain and anger? “You make me feel…” He trailed off, searching for the right words, then gave a small, almost defeated laugh. “You make me feel things I didn’t think I could anymore.”

Your brows knitted together, concern etching into your features. “Is that… bad?”

“No,” he said quickly, and then softer, more vulnerable, “No, it’s not bad. It’s just… new.”

He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, “You know, when you’ve been through as much as I have, you start to think that you’ve seen it all, that you’ve felt it all. But then you show up, and it’s like I’m experiencing everything for the first time.” He swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving yours. “It’s a new kind of love.”

You didn’t say anything, just watched him, your heart pounding in your chest. The silence stretched on, not awkward, but heavy with the weight of unspoken words, of shared feelings that neither of you were quite ready to acknowledge until now, it felt like a situation ship at first but.. he really loved you.

When you finally spoke, your voice was barely above a whisper. “You’ve seen the worst of the world, Jason. You’ve faced things most people can’t even imagine. But maybe…” You took a step closer, your hand reaching out to rest gently on his arm. “Maybe that’s why you deserve something new. Something good, I got a feeling you are-“ you cut off worried of how he looked at you.

He stared at you, a million emotions flashing in his eyes—hope, fear, longing, disbelief. “You really think I deserve that?” he asked, his voice cracking just slightly.

You nodded, not a hint of doubt in your expression. “I do. And if you’re willing to take the chance, I want to be the one to give it to you.”

Jason let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his heart thudding painfully against his ribs. And for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to hope, to believe that maybe, just maybe, he was capable of this—of loving and being loved in return.

He closed the distance between you, pulling you into his arms, his head resting against yours. “I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice muffled against your hair. “But for you… I’m willing to try.”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around him, holding him close. “That’s all I ask.”

And in that moment, with the rain washing away the remnants of the past, Jason Todd found himself falling into a love he had never known before—something raw, something real, something entirely new.

Later on patrol with dick “dude, are you falling in love? Or what you totally fumbled the confession.” said dick grinning at his younger brother or little wing he called him, the same grin Jason swore he thought of committing just not to see it, “shut up dickhead.”

(🐻‍❄️)

—love is the embodiment of you and Jason, you fill each other perfectly, he never felt like he’s been loved this hard ever by anyone which gives him suspicions that your a spy but your perfect in his eyes always and forever you always find each other in different universes together.

Made by @dollishbabess please do not put in any other platforms ty ever much!

Again divider credit @cafekitsune

I ACCEPT REQUESTS PLEASE REQUEST MY LOVES!

#jason todd headcanon #fanfic #jason todd #batfam #batfamily #dc universe #hcs #dc robin #jason todd x reader #writers on tumblr #jason todd imagine #dc comics #jason todd x oc #fem!reader #dollishbabess #recommended #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n

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tinytennisskirt · 1 day

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i need more vampire art

more vampire boyfriend! art headcanons with a plot, super simple tied together 💋🍒🥤🧛🏻

warnings: mentions of biting, some slight smut, kissing, mentions of alcohol and marijuana, more plot less headcanon

pt 1 here

- vampire art biting your hand, specifically when you go to cup his face, his teeth against your skin, never piercing, but biting. or when you use a hand, thumb on one side and fingers on the other side of his mouth just to squish his face endearingly and he bites that little place between your thumb and fingers. sharp teeth. cute sharp teeth. like this:

- vampire boyfriend, so of course he remembers a lot more than he should. simple things, but before he turned you, he was remembering things you did that even you didn’t remember- with ease, too.

- vampire boyfriend who is still gentle when he touches you just because he’s used to thinking he can hurt you. he can’t anymore, or he can try, but it’s hard to. but it doesn’t stop him from being gentle when he kisses you, when his hands slide over your skin. he feels less cold than he used to, but that’s because you’re as cold as him now. you remember the ice of his hands over you and now he feels warm, almost. and you never knew him to be warm, so it’s different but it feels good. and safe.

- you don’t sleep anymore, so losing the comfort of sleeping next to him is tough, but it’s still just as lovely to lay in silence with him because boredom is hard to come by when you’re a vampire. especially a vampire in love.

- when twilight comes out it’s so funny to watch and know. honestly not far off from your reality and you are confident you’re the only people in theatre who are able to relate remotely. you spend the whole time after talking about it and laughing over things.

- when you kiss, you like to bite his lip. he loves!!! it when you do. more than most things. he loves how your teeth feel against the plush of his lips and it’s a weakness, if you weren’t already his weakness as a whole.

- it’s only you, he knows that- it can’t be anyone else, nor would he want it to be. you both can’t die a normal death but it’s good to know he’s all in for until whenever that abnormal ending comes. just how it is. how could you both be almost immortal and waste that on anything else?

- when the sex is good, it’s good. he’s gentle, you’re not, he loves it. mess of teeth and bodies and god- the speeds at which you’d never be able to handle if you were still a regular person. stamina like nothing you’ve ever felt and are the orgasms,.., better? all you know is that it takes a few hours to come down from that sort of high.

- art will continue to buy you flowers, even though they seem to die all the time, but it’s just the way you perceive time that makes it that way. he replaced them the second they start to go so you don’t have dead flowers in your presence ever. he’s always speedy and replaces them for you. it’s a new bouquet every few days.

- vampire art who does the killing for you when desperate and in need of something. animals only. you’re SO twilight for this. ‘vegetarian’ vampires, but he takes care of everything. you miss regular food a lot and sometimes it’s a little upsetting, the way you eat, what you eat- and art is always there to comfort you through any of those periods. he’s sweet, running a hand up and down your back, telling you that you need to do it to keep going and that eventually, you’ll get used to it.

- and he’s like that every time you miss what used to be. he’s there, always, on his knees sometimes just to comfort you, running hands up and down the sides of your legs to comfort you, wide-eyed, crooked grin with those sweet little sharp teeth. he’s there every time you feel low about vampirism. you miss your life, he knows that, he won’t ever dismiss it. he misses it too. more than anything. but you’re in it together and he makes sure you know that. and that he’s sorry. it’s his fault. but you never let him take blame because you wanted this. it was your choice and you’re happy with it, just not all the time. and that’s okay.

- the entry thing is so real. obviously, you’re young forever but at least you’re old enough to go to bars. however, it’s tricky when you have to get in. funny, like a sitcom, asking to go into the bars and clubs when you’ve already been pat down and asked for ID. you and art can’t stop laughing the first time it happens, leaning against each other- the bodyguard guy thinks you’re already drunk. you’re asking to talk to the owner, laughing. only the owner can let you in since the guy lives in the place above the fucking bar.

- or worse, when patrick starts living out of his car early twenties and swears it’s a temporary situation and you both can’t get into his car without asking first. a drive with music turns into a whole ordeal when patrick refuses to give permission saying to just get in. but he lives there, you can’t!

- patrick learns a few months later why. and it’s a shocker but he’s been cracking jokes about it since art turned, so it’s not really that big of a thing. just takes him some time. he wants in on it too.

- you sit in a circle talking and patrick is the only one who can get drunk off of alcohol but you and art found some creative way to feel something, i don’t know what but imagination might work. so you’re tipsy in your own way and you’re talking to him about it and he really wants in. it’s a thought…

- being drunk is fun when you’re a vampire but with patrick around it’s a little dangerous. number one, he’s still human duh! and two, your alternative to alcohol acts the same way wine does… red, dark, lustful. so when you kiss art, the kissing doesn’t stop because you’re into it. so into it. and patrick who was originally minding his business rolling a joint, looks over at you and art kissing on the bed and he can’t take his eyes off of you both. you kiss him with so much force, it’s more than he knows he could take.

- when you take a break from kissing and the conversation starts up, the vibe slowly begins to change. you wipe your lip and grin, sitting a little dazed against the wall. patrick comes and sits on the bed, lights the joint. he asks if sex is better as a vampire, to add to his list of pros in the persuasion list. he thinks it’s going to be fun to be a vampire. and you answer honestly, with a few more details than needed and it gets things rolling and establishes the fact there’s an ask coming from patrick without him saying the words. asking questions, getting closer to actually asking.

- art is yours. he will always be yours. vampire boyfriend! but it doesn’t always need to be just the two of you. and soon, with everything in the room seeming to get hotter and hotter, patrick asks them if they’d still ever fuck a human- given an alternate reality where they aren’t together and art has his answer, technically he had you while you were still human and yeah, in an AU, you’d do it. so he proposes it then. there. and in a few minutes, patrick has art pinned to the bed and they’re kissing.

- you intently watch their mouthes as they kiss. watching. noticing. seeing. and it’s not long before their mouthes get traded out for yours and you and art, vampire boyfriend and girlfriend are sharing patrick tonight. it’s easy, you’re all friends. it’s a good thing patrick likes it rough- with your guards down, it’s easy to get carried away.

- you don’t really talk about it later, but it’s not a taboo topic. it’s been referenced a few times since in good context. patrick, however, can’t get rid of the idea that he wants to be a vampire. you tell him as a friend that he doesn’t want it and it’s not as great as it seems. but he still wants, which is fine. just… not a great idea.

- vampire art has taken up journaling because it might be fun to document the years and you do stumble across his notebook. he took up journaling one month into being with you and it documents everything you’ve been through, his inner thoughts, and it’s filled with words of love and thoughts about you that could come off as poetry. he’s really well-spoken, you knew that, but he was good with written words too.

- he has all these ideas for your future together. saving for a house, getting jobs round the clock for a year and saving for a place of your own out of stanford. talking about the fence- he loves to daydream about it. it’s you and he knows it. he wants everything that he can have with you. kids are now out of the question, but there’s ways. and you’re so young too… with so so so very many years ahead.

- he’s learning to rougher with you, taking what you have to give and adding onto it. his walls are falling down around him and god, he’s good when he’s not obsessively gentle. not to say that isn’t amazing, but change is always fun.

- you get into a fight one night. you’re on the couch and you don’t think art should turn patrick. art wants him to, patrick is his best friend and he knows what he’s getting into. but you tell him that you know patrick thinks it’s all fun and strength, speed, and sex- not considering the fact his future is screwed up. that eventually people would wonder why you aren’t ageing. saying patrick only sees the pros and never the cons. and that turning him might be a mistake. art is opposed, but he hates to offend, so he’s trying his best not to. and you’re distraught. the way you are when you miss being human. and he wants to comfort you, but his position needs to stand. though when you look at him like that he can’t do it. he’s sorry.

- his apologies do mean something. when he says sorry he does what he can to make sure it’s a permanent change. he wants to keep you happy, he never wants you to hate him. he looks at you with his eyes soft and he means what he says when he says things. he’s sorry. you’re sorry too. and you talk about it calmly.

- it’s decided that you talk to patrick again before deciding. so you do. you tell patrick all the negative things and he still wants it, so art makes the plan. and it’s okay. it’s what he wants. it just takes a while to get used to.

- it’s good that the three of you are the same now. the diet he regrets. you told him he would. but the three of you hang out a lot more. tennis is a lot more fun with those accelerated features and it’s fun to watch the boys go. it’s dangerous and exciting.

- art makes almost too much time for you. he worries that you might think he wants more time with patrick, the now-vampire- you didn’t think so. but he’s curled in your lap and he just wants to ‘make up for his time with patrick’ pretty much tenfold. cancelling on patrick, even. just to sit and watch something with you for hours. just to kiss you. he will cancel on everyone for you. shamelessly to them- he tries to keep it from you.

- in those hours that a person would usually sleep, it’s usually spent awake, eyes closed, non-talking. it’s a good time to think and destress and unload all the experiences that no sleep comes with. constantly up, constantly doing something. art respects it, always. if he has something urgent to tell you obviously you wouldnt be ‘asleep’, but it’s never so important. quiet downtime is important and he’s gentle, he would never ruin that.

- he brags about you to anyone who will listen. he’s got a lot of time to brag and he’s going to take every chance possible.

- the plan to work your asses off with multiple jobs a day for a year goes by in no time, and soon enough you have enough for your house. patrick pitches in and takes the basement apartment of the house. and it feels normal. three vampires living life. it’s going to be a long one but you’re in the right place.

#art donaldson #challengers #tinytennisskirt #vampireboyfriend!art donaldson #challengers x reader #art donaldson x reader #challengers fic #challengers blurbs #challengers headcanons #vampire!au #mike faist #art donaldson fluff #art donaldson fic

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captain-joongz · 3 days

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Thinking about free use husband!Joshua…

Coming home to him and wrapping your arms around him from behind while he is cooking .. kissing his neck and shoulders and teasing him until he gets hard

Making him keep cooking while you start to touch him cruelly, praising and degrading him in the same breath

And he loves it, letting you do whatever you want to him, making him submit, even though he would do it willingly, this way makes his body shake, until he has to turn off everything and stop before he collapses on the floor…

Maybe this doesn’t make any sense, maybe it does, I cant really tell im too tired 😭

- ✨

(Btw you’re gonna get that job!!)

so sorry for the delay darling, i ended up taking a little break for dinner and a shower, but now i'm back and more ready than ever to tackle this delicious scenario~

and thank you for the encouragement! i honestly don't know how to feel about the interview today, but hopefully it didn't go completely awfully haha! i have another one tomorrow afternoon, so there's more awaiting ! but that one is for an english teacher, which i think should be perfect for me <3

here's your delicious little story ✨anon <3 and as always, hard hours continue and will continue for another week !!

warnings: cursing, marking, subby Shua, handjob, cumming in pants

ooooh now, Joshua is a little bit of a wild card, isn't he? i feel that he has a strong and easy-going enough personality that people would assume he'd like to naturally lead, but also there's this air of gentleness and prettiness about him that just screams "i'll let someone take care of me", not to mention that he's a sassy little bastard

so maybe he would sometimes brat out a little, have some cheeky remarks, but deep down he just loved submitting to you, especially when you came home all fired up from a long hard day at work. oh he'd know that you'd need to get your hands on him and unwind with the fierce aura of exhaustion and frustration enveloping you

he'd at least hoped he'd be able to finish the dinner he was preparing for the two of you, but then you were in the kitchen, wrapping your hands around him in a back-hug, smushing your face into his shoulder

"hard day?"

"oh god, you don't even know. janet from accounting is being a cunt again, it's crazy."

for a few moments the chatter between you flowed without interruption, you hanging off of him and loudly complaining about a coworker that's been making your life ten thousand times harder, and he'd started to relax and focused back onto cooking

but that's what you were waiting for

the second you could feel him untense in your hold, your hands started to wander. at first only slowly caressing his sides or across his tummy, touches that could easily be read as comfort, but then your hand strayed a little too up and pressed up on his nipple just as you pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his neck, both feeling and hearing his breath hitch under you

"baby..." he'd say breathlessly, trying to reprimand you but his body would already be heating up with the promises it came to understand from your hands

you wouldn't stop, for anything, busying yourself by leaving hot laving kisses to his neck and behind his ear, one hand carefully massaging his scalp and tugging at his hair while the other one slyly made its way under his t-shirt to tease his nipple without the barrier of clothing

you'd love the feeling of him tensing under you, his body going all high-strung when you'd press down on the stiff little peak and push it around with your lazy fingers, breaths leaving him in huffs and sighs every time you'd tug his hair a little harder

he'd still try to pretend to be fully focused on cooking, but it would all grow hazy in front of his eyes, his lids threatening to fall shut with every electrifying rush of lust and pleasure from your ministrations, and soon he'd start messing up - clumsy hands dropping the spoon, crushing the ingredients in his palms on every hard bite you distributed to his neck, and you'd chuckle at his plight

"what is it, baby? aren't you a little clumsy tonight?"

he'd huff at your words but say nothing, stubbornly trying to ignore you and your games - and that would only stoke your fire and provoke you into upping the ante

now sticking your both your hands under his clothes, one migrating to give attention to the other nipple while the second naughty hand travelled south until you were cupping his half-hard cock and punching a moan out of him

"Shua, baby, you're not paying attention to the food at all, i'm so disappointed. i was looking forward to your cooking all day, but you can't focus long enough to not burn it..."

"don't be so mean" he'd whine and you'd tsk at him

"is that any way to talk to me?" gripping him harder, you'd love the way he'd groan under you, hands abandoning the utensils to grip at the counter, but you'd quickly grab them and push them back to the pot

"go on, baby, cook for me if you want my praises"

and Joshua would give it a valiant try, he really would, stirring the food in little aborted motions while you rolled his nipples between your fingers and kissed at the bitten and marked skin of his neck, hand massaging and squeezing the growing bulge in his pants, and the kitchen would be full of the sounds of hissing cooking food and his little sighs and breathless moans

but he'd know it's game over town the moment your hand slipped into his pants and gripped his cock. the skin on skin contact was almost enough to send him crashing to the ground, knees buckling and knocking into each other with the surge of pleasure. and yeah, he definitely didn't even see what he was doing anymore, head tipped back and whines spilling out with every slow measured stroke on his cock

you'd see his hands shaking on the utensils, you'd see how he'd start losing focus, not moving them anymore, instead jerking his hips in tiny little circles to fuck into your hand - and of course you'd still him and tell him he needed to do better - and of course he'd moan at that, his cock jumping in excitement

"i c-can't, fuck, wanna cum please-" you'd recognise the tell tale signs he was close, the way he'd squeeze his eyes shut while his mouth fell open, the way his whines got more and more high-pitched and his hips shook as he supressed the need to pump them into the tightness of your fist

"go on, baby, you've been such a good boy for me"

and that would be all it took for him to frantically start turning the stove off, barely managing to catch onto the counter before the combined stimulation of you biting his ear and squeezing the tip of his throbbing cock sent him over the edge and he came in his pants, shaking in your arms with soft cries

Shua would turn to jelly in your embrace, barely even holding up on his own two feet while the half-cooked food cooled down on the stove, but it would be hard to pay attention to anything else except for his body thrumming with the release and the gentle kisses and praises you whispered into his lips for listening to you so well

divider by @cafekitsune

#hard hours #svt hard hours #svt smut #seventeen smut #joshua smut

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phone4pills · 20 hours

Text

Matt x sick!Reader

Matt rubbed your back gently, giving your forehead a kiss. “You okay?” He whispered, wanting to keep quiet because of your headache. All was silent in the dim room apart from the airy notes of your deep breaths.

You struggled quite a bit with migraines, most of which you dealt with alone. But when Matt came into the picture, your fear of being solitary during the sleepless nights and days of rotting in bed subsided. He would worry about you. You didn’t feel as though you had to explain every detail of your situation to him, and when you did tell him those things that you thought would go unmentioned otherwise, he’d listen intently.

Matt was a good listener. The kind that always found a way to understand what you were saying. It was so easy for him too. Naturally, he could hear you out. And he wasn’t the type to get bored and do something else, or forget what you said. Every comment you made, every phrase that revealed that little bit more about you stuck with him, like post-it notes on his brain.

“Yeah…” You pondered rather than answered. Because you didn’t really know. Your head was pounding, causing your vision to spin and blur relentlessly. Your grip on the plate of pasta in your lap became more intense as you attempted to ground yourself. You tried to remember the soft, cushioning of the sheets beneath you. The warm caress of Matt’s hand on your back. However, it was almost impossible to tell the difference between your mind and your body. The ringing in your ears wasn’t helpful either. Things were said that you couldn’t process before replying. You weren’t even sure if you’d said anything out loud or if it was all internal speech.

Matt raised his other hand, turning your chin so he could see your face and you could see his. His thumb caressed your jaw with utmost care. “You know you can tell me if you need something.” Despite the stern tone laced within his voice, Matt’s words brought warmth to your dull eyes. You truly did feel safe with him.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I can eat right now.” You stated, pushing the plate away from you. The walls around the room became less and less distinct as every piece of furniture folded and turned in your retinas. The more distorted everything became, the more you wished you hadn’t even woken up that day. The more you wished that each breath was a snore or better yet, a choke. You’d rather have been in need of air than have to witness the world contort in front of you. Behind you. On either side. All around you.

Matt took the plate from your grip with a feather-light touch, placing it on the bedside table. It sort of reeled you back in, reminding you of what was reality and what wasn’t. You could hear the warm water filling the bathtub in the en suite. You could see the plants on the window sill gently moving, leaves brushing each other. Matt spoke again. “C’mon, you should take a bath.”

Gonna keep it so real with you guys, it’s been a long week and I tried real hard to finish this one but I gave up. Hope you guys still enjoy what there is available. Plus there’s more in my masterlist. Wanted to post something for you guys before I hit the sack. Nighty night!

-phone4pills

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wickedscribbles · 2 days

Text

whoever makes my baby cry (is gonna lose some teeth tonight) ch. 4 (final)

Masterlist

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch.3

Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x Logan Howlett/Wolverine

Rating: Explicit

Tags: smut, fluff, pet names, biting, rimming, enthusiastic consent, multiple orgasms, messy sex, power bottom Logan, top Wade, teasing/banter, dirty talk, anal sex, mild genderplay

Word Count: 5K

If you like what I write and can afford to do so, please consider buying me a coffee! It would be much appreciated.

Wade has him on his back so fast the world tilts.

Logan’s willing to go where he wants, especially if that place is upside down on their mattress. He lands hard enough to bounce a little, huffing out a laugh, the sound ending in a pleased hum as Wade goes right back to kissing him. He wraps his legs around Wade’s waist, cups his face in his hands, wanting to touch him everywhere. This is the kind of prelude to sex that leaves him breathless; not too fast, not too slow, the anticipation of it all clinging to their skin like static.

Above him, Wade can’t seem to decide if he wants to keep kissing him – rough and enthusiastic – or talk about everything that's coming next.

“God, you looked so fucking hot punching that walking protozoa –” he gasps the words right into Logan’s mouth, and Logan can only grin back, chasing Wade’s lips for more. “Love it when you’re mean like that –”

“Oh, do you?”

“You know I do, smartass,” Wade says, his tone and his face so full of love that he might as well have called him angel. His mouth travels to the sensitive place under Logan’s jaw, teasing with teeth. “Will you tear someone in half for me next time? Will you tear me in half?”

Logan can’t stop fucking smiling. Even as he arches up and into the kisses tracing along the line of his throat, he’s smiling, feeling floaty and stupid and turned on.

“Not in the apartment, ya freak,” he manages.

He isn’t deterred. “Your freak,” Wade says. “And no, I'd wait til we took a little trip out to the woods like you want.”

“I'd like that.”

“Tearing me in half?” Wade's mouth pauses, hot and wet, at Logan's collarbone to ask the question.

“Takin’ a trip,” Logan corrects, panting a little now. Squirming for more attention, his cock hard trapped between their bodies.

“Oh, okay, okay. So we can screw in the woods without having to worry about staining the sheets? And play out the ‘fucking a lumberjack’ fantasy one of us may or may not be harboring?”

Logan raises an eyebrow at the lumberjack bit, but chooses to say nothing. Hey, whatever floats his boat. God knows they’ve done far stranger things.

“Sure. Or fuckin’ up the carpet. Been a minute since we had a real rollaround.”

Wade hums his agreement at that, trailing a delicate hand down the length of Logan’s bicep, then his forearm, until their fingertips are touching. Logan’s fingers twitch when he touches them, their hands intertwining. Willingly, he lets Wade bring his hand to his mouth – knows instantly what he wants him to do. He opens his mouth and takes Wade’s fingers on his tongue.

“Good boy,” Wade breathes, and Logan can feel himself leaking in his boxers, dripping a spot against the cotton. He pants out a shaky sort of noise in answer, maybe an agreement or disagreement to the praise, he doesn't know, can’t think. “Yeah, you know just what to do, don’t you?”

His lips close around what's in his mouth, tight, sucking at them just like he'd sucked Wade's cock this morning. Getting them sloppy, dribbling with spit, some of it stringing out of his mouth and into his facial hair. There are still days when they're in too big of a damn hurry to care, but this foreplay is erotic on its own, too.

For a while, they linger suspended in that moment, Wade straddling his lap and watching with fascinated eyes as his fingers move slowly in and out of Logan's mouth. They look at each other, into each other, long past the shyness.

The way Wade looks at him still makes Logan burn, two parts of him trying to run away from one another. It's nice to be wanted. It's terrifying to be wanted. He thinks that the fear of ruining this is getting quieter, though. He hopes.

“Wanna try something,” Wade says all at once, his face brightening with the type of mischief Logan knows only too well. “Here – lift up for a minute –”

Letting Wade’s fingers slide out of his mouth, he does as he's told, spreading his legs a little wider as Wade reaches behind them for one of the pillows. He places it just underneath Logan's hips, turning his attention back to his naked torso, raining kisses on his body.

“Need these off,” Wade murmurs, almost to himself, tugging at Logan's boxers. Breathing shakily, he obliges him, kicking them to the floor. His cock springs up as Wade sheds him pajamas as well, resting heavy above his abdomen in anticipation. He's fucking restless for something, anything, a flurry of past positions floating past his eyes like a slideshow.

For a few seconds, Logan thinks it's his turn to get sucked off, and he's definitely not complaining. Wade lavishes attention on the meeting of his hip and thigh, biting in just the right way to make Logan jump, smirking to himself when he earns an arch off the mattress for more. Logan's palm rests on his head, encouraging. Trusting.

But he bypasses Logan's cock like it's not there. Instead, he trails past, licking a stripe down his balls, pressing his scarred palms to Logan's thighs to spread them wider, and – oh. Oh okay. Wade’s hot breath hesitates over his hole for only an instant before his tongue is tracing the most delicate circles.

“F-fuck!”

Logan squirms at the unexpected sensation, curling his toes. He feels Wade's hands twitch where they rest on his inner thighs, and looks down to see him looking back.

“Okay?” He asks.

“Yeah, s’good, I just didn't know –” Logan answers, far too quickly. He blinks, a lot, in an effort to remember how to put one word in front of the other. “You can keep going. If you want.”

“If I want,” Wade repeats wryly. “Yeah, okay, champ.”

Only capable of swallowing hard in response, Logan lets his head fall back against the mattress, his whole body tense with the thought of what's going to happen next. He feels Wade's breath back at his hole, and God, it's so sensitive there, his tongue lapping at him as he spreads his legs further.

It's not quite like anything he's felt before. It's good.

“Relax,” comes Wade's voice, light with amusement before his fucking tongue goes right back to Logan's ass. His knee gets pushed up, opening him like an old paperback.

He's aware that his chest is rising and falling and rising and falling, a rapid in and out. The little circles that Wade traces with his tongue shift into broader strokes, something deeper. Logan moans with the change, thrusting up into nothing.

“Feels so fuckin’ good, Red,” he says softly, his voice coming out smaller than he thought it would. “I don’t, I haven’t –n-never –”

He’s aware that he doesn’t make any sense, but Wade doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, it encourages him, a low hum drawn from the other man’s throat as he pulls away to look at him. His eyes are massive between the vee of Logan’s legs.

“Never ever? Am I actually taking a sweet, precious piece of your virginity?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan whines. “Keep going.”

Wade ducks back down, but not before babbling something about best day of his life and definitely going on Tumblr (and it had better not).

He can’t wait anymore for Wade to touch him, fuck him, whatever he’d planned to add to the mix. Getting eaten out is such a tease but he needs more and he needs it now. Logan grasps his cock, already slippery with pre-come, and starts a rhythm that has his head swimming immediately.

With a hiss, Wade digs his nails into the flesh of his thighs, groaning into him. Logan has a feeling that if his mouth were free to say something, he’d be giving him a string of encouragement. Shit, even imagining what Wade would be saying is enough to turn him on.

Moaning out something that strongly resembles Wade’s name buried in a sea of praise, Logan grinds back on his face, chasing more, so so so close.

That’s it, baby, the Wade in his head says. Actual Wade is panting hard against his ass now, getting sloppy. Come for me. Know you want to. Pretty pretty please.

Logan’s eyes roll back. He comes in frenetic bursts all over Wade’s face and shoulder, vaguely aware that now he has pulled away to praise him, kissing up and down Logan's thigh to watch the whole show. Logan's hands scrabble in the sheets, some pathetic little sound coming out of his throat.

“Peanut, Jesus fucking Christ…”

He says something like ungh in answer, looking down at Wade covered in his come. He is so hot with that satisfied smirk on his face, it’s ridiculous. And then he takes a finger and drags it across the side of his face, where there’s a streak of Logan’s spend, and pops it into his mouth.

Fuck, okay.

Barely done from their first round, Logan’s cock twitches again.

“Got me good, Pollock,” Wade comments, still wearing that crooked grin that makes his heart do shit that Logan would worry about if he didn’t know it was always healing. “You liked that, huh?”

It takes a lot to resist the urge to say no shit, but Logan manages. Instead, he runs his hand up and down Wade’s cheek, feeling his spend there all sticky, his mind swimming with sex-drunk praise (you’resofuckingprettywantyousobadithurts).

“Gonna sit on your dick now,” he says instead, and Wade backs off of him fast to allow that to happen.

Their places swapped, Logan palms at Wade’s cock tenderly, not missing the way Wade’s lips part on a soft little ah of need. Wade’s dick is damn near perfect, fulfilling every stupid fantasy Logan had before he worked up the guts to come knocking on his door and do something about it. Bottoming out on Wade still stretches him out so full and delicious, turns him dumb in a way that topping him doesn’t – though he won't say no to either.

He lifts his hips, situating Wade underneath him, when he sees two fingers trailing up his chest.

“Sure you’re wet enough?” Wade teases. “Could finger you a little more, just to be safe.”

Fingertips land on Logan’s mouth, and oh, does this man know how to push his luck. Faking a scowl, Logan takes Wade’s middle finger playfully between his teeth and bites down hard, breaking skin and crushing bone. Blood wells up all at once, his mouth full of copper, and Wade gasps in delight as his cock twitches against Logan’s inner thigh.

“There’s my kitty cat,” he praises, grinning like floodlights. Though broken, his finger is still hanging on after he pulls it away. “Aww, you didn't bite it off this time.”

“‘M feelin’ generous.”

“God!” Wade laughs as Logan guides himself down, trailing off halfway through whatever quip he’d cooked up. He grabs Logan's thighs, moaning at the sensation. “Fuck, princess, you’re still so fuckin’ tight –”

As Logan seats himself fully, he can tell that Wade’s already regretting not being on top. His mouth is doing that cute little scrunch thing it does when he gets impatient. But Logan loves seeing Wade all desperate, too horny to think straight, begging to fuck him or be fucked. If Logan weren’t just as desperate half the time, he’d make Wade wait ages for what he wants. Maybe someday they’ll cool down enough to try that.

Maybe.

Because despite having already come once already, Logan’s not in much better shape. Getting eaten out had eased the way for Wade inside him, but the stretch is still toeing the edge of pain and bliss. He knows as soon as they move, it’ll melt nicely into the latter.

“Hurry up and fuck me,” Wade says, pouting. He’s already breathless, his face flushed, gripping Logan’s thighs so hard that they’re bruising and healing and bruising again in a continuous cycle. It’s so hot. “Please please please, you’re so tight, I’m not gonna last, please.”

If that doesn’t light Logan up from the inside out, nothing will.

Pausing only to give him a yeah, okay, Logan grinds his hips down hard. Wade’s answering whine is like magic, high and keening, something that Logan’s going to replay in his mind over and over like the mixtapes high schoolers used to make for each other to flirt. He could probably pick out each individual note, tell you the crescendo, see the arc of it burned on the inside of his eyelids.

Wade looks like a porn star underneath him, mouth hanging open, eyes unfocused, hips meeting Logan’s perfectly every – fucking – time. Logan’s cock is flushed and hard between them again, slapping skin with every thrust.

“Logan,” Wade moans out.

Logan’s thrusts get just a little harder, a little faster. That tight tight sensation of climax sits somewhere in the bottom of his stomach, in reach if he worked for it, but he’s nowhere as close as Wade is. Wade’s delirious with it, right there sitting on the brink, and Logan feels like he’s on fire with how sexy he finds the man.

“Yeah?” Logan purrs back.

“So fuckin’ close, right there, gonna come –”

“I can tell.”

Later, Wade will give him shit for being such a tease – and tell him how hot it was. But for now, Logan pins both of Wade’s wrists in place, knowing he’ll try to cover his face. He wants to watch the whole show, not just the trailer. He lets his fingers trace through the other man’s, a part of him loving the added intimacy, and greedily takes in every second of Wade coming inside him.

“Lo-ogan, ah, shit shit shit –!”

Wade rolls his hips up slow and deep as he comes, head thrown back, filling Logan with warmth. Logan honest-to-God shivers, knowing his cock is drooling all over Wade’s stomach just from watching him. Playing with him a little, Logan gently thrusts down, stimulating him through the aftershocks just to watch him gasp and jolt. The little sounds he makes after coming, all fucked-out and satiated, are right up there for Logan with the usual sounds of sex.

(Huh. Maybe he likes Wade’s voice even more than he thought.)

Wade's face is still flushed when he can make eye contact again, and Logan only smiles at him, pleased with himself.

“No fair,” Wade grumbles.

Logan leans down to kiss him, bumping their foreheads together. They’re both covered in a fine sheen of sweat, among other things, and he lingers there to get Wade to kiss him back nice and slow. At this point, he really does feel drunk, heavy-limbed and satisfied without the theoretical liver damage.

“Don’t see what’s unfair about it,” Logan replies once they’ve broken away again. “Just gave me a damn good show on top of a phenomenal fuck. If I could reach my wallet right now, I’d tip ya.”

“Peanut, I swear on Fox Studio’s grave, if you keep pulling this kind of dialogue out of nowhere I’m going to have a stroke.” Wade turns to glare at a random corner of the room. “And you had better watch it. We did not talk about this before the chapter started.”

Threats to no one aside, Logan just shakes his head, unfazed. Something makes him want to keep talking, and he’s not sure if it’s how loose and warm his body feels, or the day they’ve had, or a combination of both.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty when you come,” he confesses, and Wade looks up at him with what can only be described as a mix of shock and horror.

“Oooookay, that’s enough for you, big guy –”

Wade struggles to get out from underneath him, attempting to lift his hips, but it’s no use. Logan sees it coming and shifts his weight more fully onto the mattress, effectively trapping him in place.

“Nope,” he says, unable to keep from sounding a little smug. “Think I’m gonna set my big adamantium ass right here until you learn to take a compliment.”

“Yeah? And what if I shoot my way out?”

It doesn’t surprise Logan in the slightest when Wade pulls the .45 from behind the headboard and aims it between his eyes. It does, however, annoy him. He sinks down further, aware that Wade’s gone soft, come slipping loose in a steady stream between their bodies onto the sheets.

“Rhonda’s gonna be pissed if she hears a gunshot, you know that. Slap us with another fee for damages, and I sure as shit ain’t coverin’ it just because you don’t want to hear how goddamn good you look.”

Wade’s finger plays with the trigger, stroking it as if in thought. His mouth scrunches. In all honesty, Logan wouldn’t mind a shot or two – it’s been a while since he’s taken one, and he knows Wade wouldn’t get him anywhere awful. They like each other well enough to spare major head wounds now, and that’s typically the only unspoken rule.

But to his surprise, Wade puts the gun back where he’d stashed it, flopping his head back on the pillows with a dramatic sigh.

“Fine, you monumental pain in my ass. What else do you want to tell me that’s so important?”

Logan pauses a moment, amused. He wasn’t quite sure he’d get this far. Half of him pictured this ending in an all-out bloodbath – the kind they’d have to replace the sheets and the carpet for. Maybe even have to paint the walls again. God, he wishes they didn’t live in a fucking apartment – or the city.

“You’re hot as hell, Wade,” he starts. Wade’s mouth is very scrunched, eyebrows drawn down in a similar pout. He looks like he’d rather be sitting on a stick of lit dynamite than listening to this. “What, you didn’t think I thought that? When we’ve been fuckin’ each other senseless for this long?”

“Just thought maybe I had a magic dick,” Wade mutters.

“Hah. Never said you don’t.”

Logan finally lets Wade’s cock slip out of him entirely, crawling up until his mouth is inches from Wade’s. The proximity makes the other man’s eyes dilate, breath catching, and Logan could live off of the thick smell of sweat and lust and come they’ve created in this room together.

He kisses Wade, quick, just a taste, and leaves him wanting more.

“You’re fuckin’ funny.”

Another kiss, this time a little deeper, Wade reaching up for him with half a grin on his face. He’s getting hard again – Logan can feel it against the muscles of his abdomen. The next time Wade's mouth collides with his, he brings teeth, taking Logan's bottom lip and pulling hard enough to make him moan.

“You’re – wild – to watch in a fight. Sweet – to the people you care about.”

They’re making out in earnest now, Logan gasping to get the words out as Wade drinks him up.

“You –uh!”

Caught off guard, Logan doesn’t have the time to finish his sentence as Wade flips him on his side. Nose to nose with one another now, he lets Wade continue his desperate barrage of kisses, hooking an arm around Logan’s neck. Their stiff cocks rub together, tantalizing friction, and Wade trails his lips to Logan’s ear.

“You like me all that much, get on your hands and knees.”

His voice is low and sultry in a way that lets Logan know that they’re far from done. Laughing softly, Logan does as he asks, Wade moving around him as if they’re different parts of the same body. Planting his palms on the mattress, he closes his eyes in anticipation. Wade slides his cock against his ass, the briefest tease, before placing himself at his entrance.

He doesn't waste time pushing back inside. Logan's body takes him easily, a breathless sound of excitement leaving him as Wade’s hands come to settle on his hips. Though he can't see Wade's face, he can feel the shift in energy – he can hear Wade's heart pumping fast, sense his heightened enthusiasm.

Settled inside Logan up to the hilt, Wade shifts his hips in a lazy figure eight.

“You ready?”

Logan nods, his uh-huh coming out like a groan of pleasure. He stares down at his own spread hands, the ruined sheets, biting his lip as Wade continues to tease him.

It doesn't last long. Less than a second passes between his confirmation and Wade’s first sharp thrust, bullying Logan forward before he can get his bearings. Wade wastes no time in setting a punishing rhythm, leaving him helpless to do anything but arch back into what he's getting.

He pants and moans every time Wade comes close to nailing that spot, feeling his claws start to slip out bit by bit. Their mattress topper is in bits and pieces under the cover of the sheet, more foam chunks than anything now, and he's about to make it a lot worse. Logan lets himself sink claws deep into the padding, leaning his face forward into the pillows to muffle the most embarrassing of the noises he's making.

Wade isn't letting him get away that easily.

“That's my fucking big boy,” he breathes, and Logan lights up with a blush bright enough to color his fucking chest. His cock jumps. “Take me so well every time, don't ya? Every – fuckin' – inch?”

Oh god oh fuck.

“Wade,” he says into the pillows, practically mewling out the word. Latched into the mattress with his claws anchoring him in place as Wade nails that incredible place right there oh fuck oh Christ. “Hah, fuck, you gotta slow down, or – I –”

“Or what, sweetheart?”

A clever hand reaches around to jerk Logan's cock, nice and deep the way he needs it, and Logan moans so deep in his throat it comes out more like a growl. Wade matches his thrusts in time, slower now but fuller, getting Logan to cry out louder than he'd ever admit he gets.

“You gotta slow down, Red,” Logan manages to repeat, but he already knows it's no use. “Gotta s-slow down, oh f-fuck!”

He comes much harder than he thought he would, hissing out a string of swears into the poor abused mattress. Coating the sheets below him, watching as some dribbles onto his thigh. Wade pushes his hips higher, fucking him through it like it's easy, his fingers brushing soothing circles as Logan shivers and spills and pants.

His whole body tingles with that sensitive sensation he's come to equate with powerfully good sex, with a certain look in Wade's eyes or a tone in his voice. He's going to feel this later, the honey-hum ache lingering in every muscle, but it's more than worth it.

“Flip over,” Logan insists after the moment has passed. “Wanna watch you come again.”

A cocky tsk from behind him catches Logan off guard. A gentle hand lands on the curve of his ass. Loving.

“Aw, peanut. Baby. Who said you were done?” Wade’s voice comes out light and cheerful, but they both know what the undercurrent holds.

Yeah, he's definitely in his bossy little top mood now, Logan thinks. Not that he doesn't find it incredibly hot. But it's also fun to be a bit of a brat every once and a while.

“Don't think I can,” he tries, sliding his claws out of the mattress but settling firmly. “C'mon, Wade. Fuck me ‘til you finish.” Logan hesitates. “Please?”

An equally long pause. He can almost hear Wade thinking.

“Nahhh,” he decides. “You can do one more for me, then I'll fill you up until you fucking drip.”

This time, the pointed gap in the air is for Logan to really say no, use a safe word, if he needs to. And he definitely doesn't need to, doesn't want to. Besides, he's never been one to back away from a challenge, especially if it's Wade who's handing it out.

“Yes, sir,” Logan says mockingly, lifting his ass back up in the air.

He hears Wade make a strangled little noise of want before gripping his ass tight.

“Good fucking girl,” he growls, pushing Logan down until he's flat on his stomach on the bed.

Logan’s pretty sure he whines at that. It’s hard to tell anymore.

To say that the sheets are saturated in come would be an understatement at this point, but Logan can't focus on that as much as he's focusing on getting hard again, Wade’s teeth sinking deep into the side of his neck. The pain is nothing compared to the pleasure, a drop of water in the ocean – and Logan’s fucking dying of thirst.

He breaks the skin. Granted, it takes a little more effort for him to do it than it does for Logan, but he doesn’t mind the extra gnashing around. Chewing on his neck like it’s a goddamned squeaky toy. He’s flattered by it, in a way, that Wade would do all that just to spill blood for sex.

Wade’s tongue laps at the ring of blood he’s produced as he presses into his ass again, slow, and Logan can tell that he’s trying to hold back. To really spoil him with this extra orgasm, instead of keeping it all tit for tat. He doesn’t know why – he’ll pester him later about it and only get ‘cause I love you and I wanted to, you fuckin’ beefslab of a man, in answer.

But right now, Wade’s hot, panting mouth trails to Logan’s ear, and his teeth pull on the lobe, hard. Logan bares his neck further with a near silent intake of breath, wordless permission, and that’s all that Wade needs. Without further ado, Wade’s teeth seize around the loose cartilage and bite, ripping it off in a gush of blood.

“Fuck –!” Logan hisses, feeling the warmth of it trickle down on the sheets near his face.

“I’m trying my best, dollface,” Wade says sweetly in reply. Logan wishes he could see him. “You have no idea how good you look like that, all spread out like a two dollar whore on nickel night. Really putting my stamina to the test.”

He sighs, moving his hips so gently he may as well not be moving them at all. Despite insisting that Wade come a final time so that they could be finished with the whole romp, Logan finds himself growing impatient. There’s blood in it for him now, literally, and his cock is throbbing where it’s trapped against his stomach and the bed.

“But when a Scout makes a promise, they keep a promise. Right?”

“I promise you’re a pain in my ass,” Logan huffs. “Wade, c’mon, if you’re gonna fuck me then fuck me, don’t just –”

The words screw around are a little lost in the sudden snapping of Wade’s hips. Logan gasps instead, taken off guard by the instant ferocity of it. One of Wade’s hands grips a fistful of Logan’s hair, rough, incredible, while the other palm stays firm at his hip, holding them both in place.

“What were you saying, honey badger?” Though the words are innocent, Wade’s voice hits his (regenerating) ear in a mocking growl, all exertion.

Logan can’t even form a fucking sentence, let alone a smartass response. Wade knows him well enough, is smart enough to know exactly where his prostate is, how deep to press and for how long. He can play his body like an instrument few have taken the time to learn, let alone master.

Sinking his claws back into the mattress, scrabbling for any sort of purchase, Logan presses his face into the pillows with a desperate sound. He wants to tell Wade how good it feels, that he’s nailing his prostate just right, stirring up a heat inside of him that no one’s ever quite hit before, so good he wants to sob, but all he can do is lie there ass up and gasp out with every thrust. He tries to match Wade’s pace, hold the rhythm.

“Am I nailing your g-spot, baby?” Wade purrs, and something like scandal and delight war for attention in Logan’s mind. “Yeah, I feel you, pussy so fuckin’ tight.”

“Wade, o-oh Christ,” he says, breath hitching. Tears sting the corners of his eyes and he’s torn between so many points of pleasure and his cock is gliding as Wade pushes him forward, he’s going to come again, just as Wade had said he would – “ – Wade, Wade, Wade –”

He’s still chanting Wade’s name, voice rising an octave or so, as orgasm hits him like a goddamn train. The warmth of it coats his belly and chest, his face muffled deep into the pillows – tears and spit dampening the material. He arches back hard as Wade thrusts a handful of times to finish not long behind him.

“Fuck,” Wade says under his breath. “Kitty cat, oh fuck yes.”

The quiet that falls after, only their combined breath, is so deep and peaceful that Logan passes out almost right away. He isn’t sure how long Wade lets him sleep – only that he wakes up to his shoulder being shaken gently, Wade standing beside the bed with a fond smirk on his face.

“You’re gonna be stuck to the bed if you stay there like that, cowboy,” he tells him, offering a hand to help him up. “C’mon. Let’s get clean.”

Logan makes a grumpy sort of sound, too comfortable to want to move. “Only if we get to sleep all day tomorrow.”

Wade’s face brightens at the idea. “Fuck yeah – pile all the blankets on the couch and order takeout?”

It sounds like a dream come true.

“Yeah.”

Logan takes his hand. Once they’re clean, with the sheets and blankets replaced, it’s the deepest and most comfortable sleep of his life.

#poolverine #deadpool x wolverine #deadpool x wolverine fic #deadpool x wolverine smut #poolverine smut #deadclaws #logan howlett x wade wilson #logan howlett #wade wilson #deadpool #wolverine #deadpool fic #wolverine fic #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman #ryan reynolds

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l4ndonorizz · 1 day

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the dare / lando norris x reader

pairing: lando norris x reader

song: gorillaz - dare

summary: a casual night of drinks with friends turns into something more when lando dares you to take a leap—literally and emotionally. What starts as playful tension soon leads to confessions of long-hidden feelings, and a kiss that changes everything between you

wc: 2.3k

The evening had started like any other—casual drinks with friends, the sound of laughter and chatter filling the warm night air. You were all gathered at a beachside bar, the ocean in the background, and the atmosphere relaxed. It was the kind of night where everything felt easy, and nothing was planned.

Lando had been his usual self—charming, playful, always the center of attention without really trying. You couldn’t help but be drawn to him, even when you tried to focus on the group conversation. He had that effect on everyone, but lately, it felt like his attention was a little more focused on you.

As the night wore on, and more drinks flowed, the group’s energy shifted to something more playful. A few rounds of truth or dare had already been thrown around, with people taking turns doing silly challenges or confessing embarrassing secrets. You’d managed to dodge anything too wild so far, but when Lando’s eyes met yours, a grin spread across his face that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Alright,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his gaze fixed on you. “I dare you to do something.”

You raised an eyebrow, half-expecting him to challenge you to chug your drink or answer a ridiculous question. “What kind of dare?”

His grin widened. “Something fun. Something that gets you out of your comfort zone.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Like what?”

Lando gestured toward the nearby pier, where a group of people had gathered around a tall diving board that jutted out over the water. The platform was lit by a few scattered lights, and you could hear the splash of people jumping into the ocean below.

“How about a leap off that diving board?” he suggested, his tone light but his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You glanced at the board, feeling your stomach flip. Heights weren’t exactly your thing, and Lando knew that. But the way he looked at you—challenging, playful—made it hard to say no.

You groaned, throwing your head back dramatically. “Seriously? You couldn’t have dared me to sing karaoke or something?”

Lando chuckled, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “You could do that too, if you want. But I think the diving board will be way more fun.”

You bit your lip, debating whether to back out. But you knew you couldn’t—not with the way everyone was looking at you now, waiting to see what you’d do.

“Fine,” you said, standing up and giving Lando a pointed look. “But if I do this, you have to do something just as crazy.”

Lando’s grin widened, and he stood up beside you, extending his hand for a shake. “Deal.”

The group cheered as you made your way toward the pier, your heart pounding in your chest. The cool night air brushed against your skin as you walked, and the closer you got to the diving board, the more your nerves started to kick in.

“Still feeling brave?” Lando teased as he walked beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours.

You shot him a look. “I’m not backing out, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Good,” he said, his voice softening. “You’ve got this.”

There was something in his tone that made your heart skip a beat—like this wasn’t just about a silly dare anymore. The air between you felt charged, like the playful tension had shifted into something more serious, something that neither of you had addressed yet.

As you climbed up the steps to the diving board, you could feel Lando’s eyes on you, watching your every move. The board swayed slightly beneath your feet as you reached the edge, and you took a deep breath, staring down at the water far below.

“Just jump,” you muttered to yourself, trying to psych yourself up.

But then you heard Lando’s voice, soft but steady, cutting through your nerves. “I’m right here. You’re gonna be fine.”

You glanced back at him, standing at the base of the steps, his expression serious but encouraging. And in that moment, something clicked. This wasn’t just about the dive anymore. It was about the unspoken tension between you—the months of playful banter, the lingering looks, the way he made you feel seen in a way no one else did.

Taking one more deep breath, you closed your eyes and took the leap.

The fall felt endless, your heart racing as the wind rushed past you, and then—splash.

The cold water enveloped you, shocking your system but also filling you with a sense of exhilaration. When you surfaced, gasping for air, you could hear the cheers from your friends on the pier, and through the noise, you saw Lando grinning down at you, his eyes shining with pride.

You swam back to the dock, pulling yourself up onto the wooden platform, dripping and breathless. Lando was the first to meet you, his hand extended to help you up.

“You did it!” he said, his voice filled with genuine excitement.

You laughed, wiping the water from your face. “Yeah, and now it’s your turn to do something crazy.”

Lando smirked, still holding your hand. “I’m not sure I can top that.”

“You’d better try,” you teased, your pulse still racing—not just from the jump, but from the way his hand lingered on yours, his thumb brushing over your skin in a way that made your breath catch.

The group began to filter back toward the bar, leaving you and Lando standing on the dock, the sound of the waves lapping against the pier. The energy between you shifted again, the playful tension giving way to something heavier, more charged.

Lando’s eyes searched yours, the playful smirk fading as he stepped a little closer. “You know, you didn’t have to do that. I wouldn’t have pushed you.”

You shrugged, trying to play it off even though your heart was pounding. “A dare’s a dare.”

He nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “Yeah, but I think there’s more to this than just a dare, don’t you?”

Your breath caught at the intensity in his voice, and you realized with a start that he wasn’t talking about the dive anymore. The air between you felt thick with everything you hadn’t said, all the moments that had led up to this—the teasing, the looks, the way he always seemed to be right there, just a little too close for it to be purely platonic.

“What are you saying, Lando?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He took a deep breath, his eyes softening as he reached up to gently tuck a strand of wet hair behind your ear. “I’m saying that maybe it’s time we stop pretending this is just a game.”

Lando’s words hung in the air, his hand still lingering by your cheek as you stood frozen, heart racing. The noise from the bar and your friends had faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in this bubble, on the edge of something you’d both been avoiding for so long.

“Stop pretending?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled softly, his gaze unwavering. “Yeah. I think we’ve been pretending for a while now.”

You swallowed, your mind reeling as you tried to process the weight of his words. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it—about him, about the chemistry that simmered between you—but you’d always brushed it off, convinced that it was just part of the playful banter you shared.

But now, standing here with him, so close that you could feel the warmth radiating off his body, you realized that maybe you hadn’t been imagining it. Maybe there really was more.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “Lando, I—”

Before you could finish, he stepped closer, his hand moving from your cheek to your waist, pulling you just a little closer to him. The proximity made your head spin, the scent of the ocean mixing with the faint traces of his cologne.

“I’ve liked you for a while now,” he confessed quietly, his voice so soft you almost didn’t hear it. “But I didn’t want to ruin what we have. I didn’t want to push you into something you didn’t want.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, every nerve in your body suddenly alive with the weight of his words. “I didn’t know you felt that way,” you admitted, your voice shaky. “I mean, I thought maybe sometimes, but I didn’t want to… assume.”

Lando chuckled softly, his thumb brushing gently against your waist. “You’re not assuming anything. I’ve been trying to hold back because I wasn’t sure how you felt. But now, standing here with you, I just… I can’t pretend anymore.”

The vulnerability in his voice, the way his eyes searched yours for some kind of reassurance, made your heart swell with warmth. He wasn’t just being playful or teasing this time—this was real, raw, and honest.

You took a deep breath, your chest tightening with the realization that you felt the same way. “I think I’ve liked you for a while too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just didn’t know what to do about it.”

Lando’s eyes lit up with a mix of relief and excitement, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. “So… what do we do now?”

You couldn’t help but smile at the simplicity of the question, like the answer was both obvious and terrifying all at once. “I guess we stop pretending.”

Lando grinned, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes, but this time it was softer, more intimate. “Yeah. I think that sounds like a good plan.”

Before you could say anything else, he closed the small gap between you, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was gentle, almost tentative, like he was giving you the chance to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t. Instead, you melted into him, your hands finding their way to his chest as you deepened the kiss, your heart pounding in your ears.

The world around you disappeared, leaving just the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands on your waist, pulling you closer like he’d been waiting for this moment for months—maybe even longer. It wasn’t a rushed kiss, or one filled with the frantic energy of something long overdue. It was slow, deliberate, filled with all the emotions you’d both kept bottled up for so long.

When you finally pulled back, both of you slightly breathless, Lando rested his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed, like he was savoring the moment.

“Wow,” he whispered, a small smile tugging at his lips. “That was… worth the wait.”

You laughed softly, your hands still resting on his chest. “Yeah. Definitely.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything, just standing there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the cool night air brushing against your skin. The playful banter that usually defined your relationship had given way to something deeper, something that felt more real than anything you’d ever experienced before.

After a while, Lando pulled back slightly, his hand still resting on your waist. “So… does this mean I win the dare?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. “Oh, shut up.”

Lando laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he leaned down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “I’m serious! I dared you to do something outside your comfort zone, and look what happened.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t think kissing you was part of the dare.”

“Maybe not,” he said with a grin. “But I’d say it was a pretty good result.”

You shook your head, unable to stop the smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you still kissed me,” he teased, his hands finding their way back to your waist.

You bit your lip, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to break free. “Yeah, well… I guess I don’t regret it.”

Lando’s expression softened, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Neither do I,” he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur.

The weight of his words, the sincerity in his gaze, made your heart flutter in a way that you couldn’t ignore. This wasn’t just some silly dare, or a fleeting moment of fun between friends—this was real. And it was something you both had been avoiding for far too long.

As the night continued, you and Lando made your way back to the bar where your friends were still hanging out, but everything felt different now. The playful teasing between you had shifted into something more meaningful, and as you sat down beside him, you couldn’t help but feel like the air between you was lighter, easier.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter and conversation, but every time you caught Lando’s eye, you were reminded of the kiss, of the unspoken feelings that had finally been brought to the surface. It wasn’t just a dare anymore—it was something more, something that had been brewing between you for months.

And as the night drew to a close and Lando walked you home, his hand wrapped around yours, you couldn’t help but feel like everything had changed. Not in a drastic, life-altering way, but in a quiet, steady way that made you realize that this—whatever it was between you and Lando—wasn’t just a fleeting moment.

It was the start of something real.

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 one shot #formula 1 #lando imagine #lando norris #lando norris one shot #lando x reader

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