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clare-875 · 4 months ago

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Misplaced Rings (Luffy, Sanji, Zoro)

_____ Pairings: Luffy x Reader; Sanji x Reader; Zoro x Reader Summary: They misplace their wedding ring/band and are sent into a panic. Warnings: Some Angst, Fluff, Female Reader [One Piece Masterlist] _____

- Luffy -

Everyone knows that Luffy's most prized possession is his straw hat. It is always on his head or within his reach wherever he may go, and if it was not, he would be sent into an untamable panic that almost always ended with tears if the hat was not found within the day. However, unbeknownst to most, there is now a second possession he cherishes just as much: his wedding band.

The simple strip of gold around his ring finger adorned with crushed rubies was a fitting wedding band you had picked out just for him. And though Sanji often berates his Captain for wearing such precious jewellery during battles, his concern was for naught; you had sought Franky's help, ensuring the band could survive Luffy's battles and keep up with his elasticity.

Thanks to those facts, the ring remained on Luffy's finger indefinitely, just like the iconic straw hat on his head. It reminded him of his wedding with you upon his ship; the banquet far larger than any he had thrown before, the lively music and laughter, the utter joy. But more importantly, it reminded him of you and your pledge to stay by his side as he became the pirate king; it was an oath you undertook with pride every day of your life.

So, imagine his utter despair when he realises it has gone missing.

You were sitting at the dining room table with Nami and Robin, the three of you chatting and looking over magazines away from the harsh summer sun when you heard a familiar shout. You startle along with the two women you sit beside, meeting glances with utter confusion.

"What was that-"

You barely get to finish your sentence when the door to the kitchen slams open, revealing a wide-eyed Luffy who looks as though he is about to be sick. Your brows furrow together, Sanji looking over from his kitchen and about to give his Captain a piece of his mind, but you are concerned seeing your husband look as though on the brink of rare dread.

"Lu, what's wrong?"

You stand from your chair and run up to him but he already has comical tears almost pouring from his eyes. He is on his knees and instantly grabs your hands, and shakes them in his despair.

"[y/n] it's gone!!!"

You are still lost in your confusion as you look at him, his straw hat still attached to his head. You remember his outbursts in the past when he had thought he lost his hat for good, so you look down at him confounded at why he is having a similar breakdown with it still on his person.

"But Luffy, you still have your straw hat. It's on your head."

Luffy shakes his head like a downtrodden puppy as he looks up to you with tears falling from his eyes.

"No, my wedding band, it's gone!!"

Your eyes widen for just a moment as you look at the hands that still hold yours, noticing for the first time that there remains a tan line where Luffy's wedding band used to be. You feel your heart drop lightly at the predicament, and at that point, your friends had also gathered around in the fuss their Captain seemed to cause. Sanji seemed shocked the most whilst Robin and Nami frowns in concern behind you.

"What?! You lost the wedding ring [y/n]-san especially bought for you?!"

Sanji starts berating Luffy but you can hardly be mad at him when he looks so genuinely upset and in despair on the ground before you. You instantly kneel down to his level, and caress his raven hair gently trying to soothe the turmoil in his eyes. "W-wedding band-" He murmurs, and you are touched by how much he seems to hold the simple piece of jewellery so dear, to the point where he reacts to losing it just as he does his straw hat. You smile gently, and pat the straw hat that remains atop his head.

"It's okay Lu. I'm sure we'll find it."

"W-what if we don't?!"

You sigh as he looks at you imploringly, but you take his hands and help him to his feet.

"We'll all look for it, surely we'll find it then."

You turn to the cook who stands beside you, still glaring at his Captain as though he had committed the worst crime in the world.

"Right, Sanji? You'll help us too right?"

Sanji instantly perks up at the mention of his name past your lips and turns into a puddle of nods and affirmations.

"Of course, [y/n]-swan-"

You sigh at his never changing demeanour but turn to your husband who seems to have collected himself and nods in grim agreement. You smile as you take Luffy's hand, ready to search every nook and cranny of the ship. Nami, Robin and Sanji also help, with Chopper joining in when he bumps into you all searching the ship for a glimpse of gold and red. You force Luffy to retrace his steps entering the rooms he went to the past day for the glimmer of jewellery, but soon hours pass with no sign of his beloved ring.

"W-wedding band-"

You had all returned to the kitchen, Luffy now with his head on the table and tears pouring down it like a river of defeat. Chopper tries to cheer up his Captain but it is for naught, and you pat his shoulder in comfort whilst the others look on sympathetically.

In his mind, Luffy cannot believe that he has lost the one piece of jewellery he thought he would cherish until the day he died. Gold was often a mere bonus to him as a Pirate amongst the sea; an afterthought often intertwined in his adventures on the path to becoming Pirate King. But the gold around his finger was another story.

"I'm sorry Lu, I'll ask Franky if he can make you another one?"

But Luffy seems inconsolable as he is adamant the one he received on his wedding day, was the only one he wanted. However, before you can even input another word, the door smacks open, revealing the very man you had just spoken about. What's more, in his hand, the shine of gold and red reflected from the kitchen lights; Luffy's wedding band.

"Here you go Luffy! Sorry, it took a while but I promise I added some SUUUPER upgrades to keep up with your SUUUPER gears."

For a moment, there lasts a long and lingering silence in the wake of Franky's words, when suddenly, Luffy sits up like he was told the day's weather.

"That's right, I did give it to Franky yesterday."

Everyone falls off their chairs in utter bewilderment at Luffy's words; the day spent searching that could've been solved by one trip to Franky who had been working away all day, or by lack of Luffy's dense memory. Sanji instantly stands back up, kicking the underside of his Captain's head in utter rage and causing his head to hit the table.

"Idiot! We searched the whole day for that damned ring!"

But Luffy seems unfazed, and you have to let out a small laugh as he collects the ring from Franky and puts it back in its rightful place. You don't know if your laughter comes from relief or discomposure at the stupidity of the scenario you were in, but Robin joins you, your other crewmates more agitated. When Luffy looks up to you, however, with his wide and satisfied grin, ring shown proudly on his ring finger you can't help but get up and kiss his cheek lightly.

"I found it!"

He was an idiot, but he was your idiot.

- Sanji -

Sanji adores you, he is utterly in love with you, and if anyone asks what the happiest day of his life is, they don't even need to wait a second before he tells them about his wedding day. The gorgeous atmosphere, the pleasant music, the wedding cake he pondered and spent hours making just right, you adorned in your beautiful white dress. He could speak hours on his love if you let him, and he is not afraid to shout it out for everyone else to know and hear: you were his and he was yours.

If there was anything that symbolised the depths of your love and his, it would be the wedding ring around your finger and the wedding band around his. Yours was gorgeous but simple, a beautiful diamond reflecting the strength of the love you both shared. His was personal and beautiful, a gold band etched with sapphires, engraved with the date of the wedding until the end of time.

He adored it, he adored the weight of it on his finger, a reaffirmation of the oath you both pledged. He adored showing it off to people, just as he adored seeing you pointing to your ring when asked if you were taken. He would only remove it when absolutely necessary, such as when he prepared meals for his crew, but even then it stayed close to him where he could never misplace it. He told you he would look after it forever, but amongst Sanji's abundance of thoughts, there was a moment where the location of his prized ring slipped his mind.

Sanji has been absent all day, hastily making meals, moving swiftly from your side, and not even a murmur of hello as he leaves every room you enter. You are confused and slightly hurt, but most of all you are concerned.

Have you done something?

Was he feeling okay?

Why was he avoiding you?

When you asked your crewmates about his behaviour, however, they said similar things. How his answers had been short, unable to request meals due to his haste to enter the next room, even Nami and Robin claimed he had seemed more distracted. So you frown at the entrance of the kitchen; you had just seen him enter and knew you could try and talk to him now. You only hoped he would share in his troubles.

As the door to the kitchen creeps open, Sanji freezes at the sound of your footsteps and looks up at you standing before him. When your eyes meet you catch guilt and trepidation in the depths of his, and you are instantly more worried than before.

"Sanji, what's wrong? You're not being yourself."

Your husband grits his teeth in regret, and you catch a slither of tears amongst his lower lash line, causing you to reach up and caress his face in concern. But in his mind, Sanji feels as though he does not deserve your touch or your care. He had lost his wedding band and could not for the life of him remember where he put it. He felt as though he had been searching the whole day, but as the hours passed, he felt his hopes withering along with the sun.

His most prized possession, a symbol of your love and a remnant of the best day of his life, was lost due to his carelessness.

His eyebrows furrow together as he reaches out and holds your hand that lingers on his face, his words low and softly spoken.

"I lost my wedding band. I- I'm so sorry love."

Your eyes widen slightly in surprise, and Sanji readies himself for the disappointment and your swift anger, rejection, your swift dismissal of him from in front of you. But instead, you collect yourself before continuing to bear the concern in your gaze mixed with what looked like understanding; finally knowing why he was acting this way.

"It'll be okay Sanji, no need to work yourself up. We'll look for it together, I'm sure we'll find it."

Sanji's eyes spark open in his own surprise at your kind words and conduct. God, he didn't deserve you. Guilt still travels freely within him, especially as he feels the coolness of your own wedding ring against his cheek; you had looked after your ring with so much care.

"I'm sorry love."

You smile but you release the touch on his face in favour of grasping his hand in comfort.

"It's okay, now come on, let's retrace your steps shall we?"

The next few hours are spent all around the Sunny, every room Sanji had been in before he remembered losing the ring was searched from the roof to the floor. You asked your crewmates if they had seen the mix of gold and blue you both are so adamant to find, had looked in every small crevice that may contain the precious jewellery. And as the sun started to dim, you were now looking in your shared chambers one last time.

Your hair was ruffled like his, clothes wrinkled under the time spent trying to find the ring, but to Sanji, you were still the beautiful, thoughtful and loving wife he married. You had spent all day trying to find something due to his own mistake, and he was never more regretful for losing the wedding band, nor more grateful for having you as his wife than he was now. Moments pass in silence, but finally, you let out a delighted gasp.

"Sanji!!"

Your husband instantly perks up from the other side of the room and in your hands is the wedding band, finally found. Your smile is wide, as you quickly run over to him, taking his hand and sliding it on his ring finger where it lay as perfect as it did all that time ago at your wedding. Sanji meets your gaze with such gratitude he cannot describe and impatiently presses his lips to yours. You smile as you return his fervour and pull away.

"Thank you, my love."

You let out light laughter as you roll your eyes.

"Of course, I am your wife you know? You can come to me about these things."

Sanji's heart warms even more than he thought possible as he tucks away a loose strand of hair from your face, admiring your features.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Sanji makes you your favourite dinner and dessert as a thank you for your help and your love. You never see him without the ring on his person, again.

- Zoro -

Among the straw hats, Zoro seemed the least likely to be intertwined with thoughts of love and rings and weddings, well at least that's what the Strawhat crew initially thought. But as time passed, he fell for you, and what would you know, suddenly he is asking Robin and Nami about weddings and dresses and ceremonies; how it works, what would you like, how soon could he pledge his love and you yours? In utter reluctance and on rare occasions he would even approach the 'idiot cook' for advice; something he would often regret afterwards.

But suddenly, the two of you were married and had rings on your fingers and he was your husband and you were his wife. The ring he got you was surprisingly thoughtful, and you knew the girls had something to do with it as it looked so much like how you wished it to be when you talked to them. His was simple. A gold band, but on the underside there etched your name. He very rarely took it off, and it became a part of him just like the earrings he wore or the three swords always at his hip; secretly finding strength in the piece of your love always present.

Zoro is a man, adamant about loyalty, and it is one of the things he adored most about you. The rings symbolised that for him; that an oath had been pledged and the two of you belonged to the other. It was something you both took pride in every day, and he found satisfaction watching the crestfallen faces of men when they spotted your wedding ring, just as you did when you saw women leave him be when they spotted his wedding band. He took care of it and treasured it, more than he would allow you to know, so he is honestly shocked when one day, he finds it missing.

Zoro feels cold sweat rising on his skin, and he honestly can't remember a time he felt more stressed. He is looking down at his hands again and again, as though he can't believe the absence of jewellery he always had on his finger.

He looks frantically around your shared chambers, looking in drawers of bedside tables, under the bed, and every nook where gold might enter his vision. He spent many moments, searching in utter silence, but he finds no semblance of a ring anywhere.

The door suddenly creaks and Zoro stands upright, hair and clothes slightly ruffled, swords leant against the wall in his haste to find the missing ring. You enter your room, looking up in surprise at the rare presence of your husband in the middle of the day, but it was lucky for you as you had been searching for him.

"Zoro," you smile, before your eyebrows pull together in confusion. "Are you okay? I thought you're usually in the crow's nest about this time?"

Your husband freezes, static under the weight of your searching eyes and scouring for an excuse. You step closer, and instantly his hands go behind his back, causing you to stare at him in bewilderment at his strange behaviour. You eye his discomposure, his hidden hands and his guilty expression with suspicion.

"Zoro what are you hiding?"

"N-nothing woman just got up from a nap. I'll be in the crow's nest-"

He doesn't let you continue your words and is out the door in a swift movement. You frown but shrug looking down into your hands. Ussop had found Zoro's wedding band in the bathroom, no doubt from the shower you had somehow forced him into this morning. You had simply wanted to give it back but decided to wait until a better time when he wasn't in such a hurry to get to his training. As you are about to let the matter go, however, you spot three familiar swords on the wall of your room where Zoro left them.

You frown at the sight, just what was your husband up to?

Meanwhile, Zoro is moving at speed throughout the Sunny, every room he barges in, searching in what he hopes is discretion before running off in frustration again. Many times he left his crewmembers in utter surprise at his uncharacteristic demeanour, usually he was training or napping, not found running around deck in discomposure.

You had bumped into a few of your friends who shared the same concern you had earlier; his strange behaviour and franticity. Nami complained that he had barged in while she was making a map, ruined due to her shock, Robin said that she had been reading on deck when he had been looking closely at the floor for something, Luffy exclaimed that he thought he was looking for some sort of treasure but quickly left in his boredom of nothing found.

You start to put the pieces together and begin to realise, that he was looking for something. And that something was probably the ring the Ussop had turned to you, so even if Zoro did check the bathroom it wouldn't have been there for him to find. You sigh as you quickly get up, trying to find him, Robin assuring that she had last seen him enter the kitchen and with the sounds of two men fighting, you supposed she was right.

When you open the door to the kitchen, Sanji and Zoro who seemed as though they had been arguing look at you blankly before crossing their arms and looking away from the other. You hear Zoro murmur something along the lines of, "Don't tell her," but you ignore it, hoping to relieve the tension in the room.

"Hey guys, everything alright?"

You ask, and Sanji sighs at your words before walking out of the kitchen; he seemed disappointed in your husband, more than usual. "I'll be outside [y/n]-san." You turn back to your boyfriend in Sanji's absence and you furrow your brows in concern.

"Zoro-"

"I lost my wedding band."

Zoro interrupts you before you can continue or pass him the ring in your grasp. You pause at the abruptness of his words, and the surprising amount of regret and hurt in his downcast eyes; he looked as though he had failed you.

"Zoro, it's okay I-"

"No, it's not okay, dammit." He looks to you then, and his eyes betray the stress and worry he had held onto all day, softening at the sight of his wife - you - looking at him in concern when he has just lost a treasured possession you had given him. You watch the way your husband's eyebrows pull together, and a frown makes its way to your face at the sight of him so worked up over the ring.

"It was my wedding band, a part of an oath we pledged on our wedding day, and I- I lost it. I should've looked after it better, I know that. I'm sorry."

You look, wide-eyed at the sight of the swordsman apologising to you. One of the rare times he would, but you realise now how much he placed importance on what the ring symbolised and what guilt must've filled his senses at his readiness for your disappointment. You step forward, caressing the curve of his face with one hand, as his eyes look at you, emotion betraying his eyes, but you smile softly and unravel your other hand. A moment of shock enters your husband's vision at the sight of the golden band he had almost turned the ship over for.

You smile sheepishly then, "I'm sorry, I tried telling you and giving it to you earlier but you were, you know, you seemed busy. Ussop found it in the bathroom."

You expect him to become irritated, having searched so long for something already found, but instead, Zoro smiles wide, kissing your lips suddenly in one swift movement. When he pulls away, he puts the ring back on his finger, satisfied by the light weight of it on his hand. "Thank God," he murmurs before looking at you so determinately it makes you blush. "I won't lose it again." You collect yourself before nodding, warmth spreading in your chest at his rare emotion in front of your eyes.

"I know you won't."

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 7 months ago

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2025 book bingo time 📚

want a completely arbitrary set of reading goals for 2025? want to try something new in your literary diet but don't know where to start? just like a challenge for the sake of a challenge? just love a good game of bingo?

boy do I have something for you!

for anyone planning to participate, please know that I LOVE attention and talking about books, so I would be STOKED to be tagged on any and all updates about what you're reading or planning to read. I'm so, so excited to see all the different ways these prompts get filled, especially if and when they bring people away from the kinds of things they normally read. not to mention snag some new reading recs myself, hopefully!

and of course, I want to know whenever somebody gets a bingo - and ESPECIALLY if somebody fills the whole board! I don't have any prizes for you, but I can offer a sense of accomplishment :)

note that this is designed to be played as 1 book = 1 space, so even if you read, say, a fantasy graphic novel published in 1923 from an indie publisher that has a bat on the cover, you'd only cross off one space. I'm not a cop and I'm not in charge of what you read, so if it sparks more joy to check off multiple spaces per book then go nuts, but I am throwing that disclaimer out there.

EDIT: the 2025 book bingo challenge is now also on storygraph, thanks to @obi-wann-cannoli!

DOUBLE EDIT: there is also now a discord server for the book bingo, thanks to @drivingmebonkas! you can join it here!

wondering what some of these spaces mean? seeking a couple recommendations to get you started? no idea what a zine even is, let alone how to make one? worry not! I have a guide to all 25 prompts, including recommendations + an example of what I'll be reading throughout the year to fulfill each space. read on beneath the cut!

Literary Fiction: I find that a lot of people are reluctant to check out literary fiction, as it’s often written off as not being about anything but adultery and divorce. If this is you, I implore you to take a chance, acknowledge that adultery and divorce are compelling sometimes, and also remember that lit fic has a lot more to offer than that. At Writer’s Digest, Michael Woodson describes literary fiction as “less of a genre than a category,” which “focuses on style, character, and theme over plot.” My recommendations include Raven Leilani’s Luster, Ocean Vuong’s On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, and Melissa Broder’s Milk Fed.

I’ll be reading: Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar

2. Short Story Collection: You know, a bunch of short stories together in one book? It doesn’t get much more self-explanatory than that. Could be a collection of stories by a single author or an anthology—it’s up to you! I recommend checking out Mariana Enríquez’s The Dangers of Smoking in Bed (translated by Megan McDowell), Nalo Hopkinson’s Falling in Love With Hominids, and Kim Fu’s Lesser Known Monsters of the 21st Century.

I’ll be reading: Your Utopia by Bora Chung and translated by Anton Hur

3. A Sequel: It could be one that you’ve been meaning to get around to, one that’s not releasing until 2025, or the sequel to something you read to cross off another space on this very bingo sheet!

I’ll be reading: Heavenly Tyrant by Xiran Jay Zhao, sequel to 2021’s Iron Widow

4. Childhood Favorite: Go back and read a book you loved as a child, tween, or teen! There’s no wrong answer here; anything from a YA novel to a picture book would be just lovely, and I can’t wait to see what people pick for this option! I’m not sure which of my old favorites I’ll be revisiting yet—should I go for the warm and fuzzy Casson Family series, or straight towards the mindfucky sci-fi of Interstellar Piggy? Or maybe I’ll go see how Artemis Fowl holds up...

5. 20th Century Speculative Fiction: For those not familiar with the term, speculative fiction can encapsulate science fiction, fantasy, and anything else that falls into the unreal. You’re spoiled for iconic choices here: the 20th century gave us Le Guin’s Left Hand of Darkness, Atwood’s Handmaid’s Tale, Butler’s Parable of the Sower and Kindred, L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time, the beginning of Pratchett’s Discworld series, Diana Wynne Jones’ Howls’ Moving Castle, and countless others.

I’ll be reading: Dawn by Octavia E. Butler, love of my literary life 💜

6. Fantasy: Fantasy comes in a thousand different shades, from contemporary urban wizards with day jobs at the office to high fantasy spellslingers chasing dragons away from castles. Some examples I’ve adored are N.K. Jemisin’s The Killing Moon, C.L. Polk’s Witchmark, Fonda Lee’s Jade City, and Nghi Vo’s Empress of Salt and Fortune.

I’ll be reading: The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi by Shannon Chakraborty

7. Published Before 1950: This one could not be more straightforward if I tried. You have all of human history (or at least, all the parts that have surviving literature), just not the last 75 years. Dig deep!

I’ll be reading: Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, published in 1938

8. Independent Publisher: Did you guys know that just five publishing companies (Penguin Random House, HarperCollins Publishers, Macmillan Publishers, Simon & Schuster, and Hachette Book Group) are responsible for 80% of books published in the US each year, and 25% of books globally? Break away from the big five and see what some small presses are putting out! If you need some ideas about where to start, check out this list of nearly 300 independent publishers with notes on what kind of books they put out!

I’ll be reading: Taiwan Travelogue by Yáng Shuāng-zǐ and translated by Lin King, from Graywolf Press

9. Graphic Novel/Comic Book/Manga: Despite my personal obsession with Batman, the world of comic books is sooo much wider than Gotham City—or anything else that DC and Marvel have to offer. If superheroes aren’t your speed, check out the Southern gothic of Carmen Maria Machado and Dani Strips’ comic The Low, Low Woods, splash around in Kat Leyh’s graphic novel Thirsty Mermaids, or stop waiting for a new season of Dungeon Meshi and go read Ryoko Kui’s manga, translated to English by Taylor Engel.

I’ll be reading: The Fade, by Aabria Iyengar and Mari Costa

10. Animal on the Cover: Yes, yes, don’t judge a book by its cover—but do go find one with a critter on the cover and give it a read! Absolutely no other requirements here, get silly with it.

I’ll be reading: Shark Heart by Emily Habeck

11. Set in a Country You Have Never Visited: Fiction or nonfiction, doesn’t matter so long as it gives you a little glimpse of a country you’ve never visited in real life. If you’ve somehow visited every country currently recognized in the world, then I guess you get to go read something set in space.

I’ll be reading: A Magical Girl Retires by Park Seolyeon and Kim Sanho, translated by Anton Hur

12. Science Fiction: A genre just as diverse as fantasy, with a little something for everybody! I recommend Becky Chambers’ Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet for those who want to kiss an alien in the stars and Jessamine Chan’s The School for Good Mothers for those who want a surveillance state dystopia that hits much closer to home.

I’ll be reading: Womb City by Tlotlo Tsamaase

13. 2025 Debut Author: Read a book by someone who’s releasing their first book in 2025. Fic or nonfic, any genre, no further requirements. Not quite a free space, but pretty close!

I’ll be reading: Liquid: A Love Story by Mariam Rahmani, coming out March 11

14. Memoir: Per Wikipedia, a memoir is “any nonfiction narrative writing based on the author’s personal memories.” Some are funny, some are heartbreaking, some are both! I recommend Carman Maria Machado’s In the Dream House and Roxane Gay’s Hunger, because I tend to lean heartbreaking!

I’ll be reading: Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner. Again, I like heartbreaking!

15. Read a Zine, Make a Zine: Not familiar with zines? No problem! Check out some of these digital archives for inspiration, and then craft your own zine with this simple guide (or do it your own way, I’m not in charge of you).

Internet Archives: https://archive.org/details/zines

Gay Zine Archive Project: https://gittings.qzap.org/

POC Zine Project: https://poczineproject.tumblr.com/

Library of Congress: https://www.loc.gov/collections/zine-web-archive/

16. Essay Collection: Like a short story collection, but it’s nonfiction now. Some of my favorites include Samantha Irby’s We Are Never Meeting in Real Life, Elaine Castillo’s How to Read Now, Aimee Nezhukhumatathil’s World of Wonders, and Cathy Park Hong’s Minor Feelings.

I’ll be reading: A Little Devil in America: In Praise of Black Performance by Hanif Abdurraqib

17. 2024 Award Winner: What award? Any award you like! And boy, there are tons to pick from. Any book that won any award in the year 2024 is free game. If you need some places to start looking, check out some of these:

Lambda Literary Awards, for excellence in LGBT literature: https://lambdaliterary.org/awards__trashed/2024-winners/

The Alex Awards, for adult books with crossover appeal for teen readers: https://www.ala.org/yalsa/alex-awards

Ignyte Awards, celebrating diversity in speculative fiction: https://ignyteawards.fiyahlitmag.com/2024-results/

Women's Prize for Fiction (self explanatory) https://womensprize.com/prizes/womens-prize-for-fiction/

Others: https://www.bookbrowse.com/awards/

I’ll be reading: Biography of X by Catherine Lacey, winner of the 2024 Lambda Literary Award for Lesbian Fiction

18. Nonfiction: Learn Something New: I know very little about archaeology, anthropology, or any other fields that involve studying ancient cities, but Annalee Newitz’s Four Lost Cities: A Secret History of the Urban Age was some of the most fun I had with nonfiction in 2024, because every page brought a brand new discovery. For 2025, find a nonfiction book about a topic you don’t know ANYTHING about, and learn something new!

I’ll be reading: Cooling the Tropics: Ice, Indigeneity, and Hawaiian Refreshment by Hi’ilei Julia Kawehipuaakahaopulani Hobart

19. Social Justice & Activism: Read a book about a social issue, the history of an activist movement, or brush up on a guiding philosophy or ideology. Arm yourself with knowledge, besties, because I have a feeling we’re going to need it! if you need a good place to start, why not try Angela Davis' Race, Women & Class, Mariame Kaba's We Do This 'Til We Free Us, or Molly Smith and Juno Mac's Revolting Prostitutes?

I’ll be reading: White Feminism: From Suffragettes to Influencers and Who They Leave Behind by Koa Beck

20. Romance Novel: Listen to me. Fucking listen to me. I mean a ROMANCE. NOVEL. Not a novel that incidentally has a romance in it. Romance novel, motherfucker. Go check out the romance section and have some whimsy as two people fall in love through the most contrived series of events ever conceived. If you really need a romance that makes you feel smart (that’s still sexy and messy as hell), try Akwaeke Emezi’s You Made a Fool of Death with Your Beauty.

I’ll be reading: Go Luck Yourself by Sara Raasche

21. Read and Make a Recipe: Could be a cookbook, could be a recipe you yoinked from the New York Times, could be something your grandparents lovingly wrote down by hand. Could be as complex or as simple as you like, just make something tasty! Some cookbooks I’ve enjoyed are Sohla El-Waylly’s Start Here, Dan Pashman’s Mission Impastable, and John Wang and Storm Garner’s The World Eats Here.

22. Horror: Slashers, zombies, haunted houses, creeping paranoia, you name it! It’s time to get spooky and scary with all kinds of things going bump in the night. Maybe this is the year to finally keep up with Dracula Daily? Not for me, I'm not doing that, but you could!

I’ll be reading: I Was A Teenage Slasher by Stephen Graham Jones

23. Published in the Aughts: A throwback, but not too far back. Read something published between 2000 and 2009. Maybe it’s time to finally get into Twilight? (For legal reasons, that’s a joke.)

I’ll be reading: The Sluts by Dennis Cooper, published in 2004

24. Historical Fiction: You know, fiction that takes place in a bygone era! Please remember, this isn’t just about reading a book that’s old; we have a separate prompt for that! This is about reading something that takes place in the past relative to the time it was written. Pride and Prejudice is historical to us, but was contemporary when Austen wrote it. Think of Brit Bennett's The Vanishing Half, Markus Zusak's The Book Thief, or history + a bit of fantasy in book's like R.F. Kuang's Babel.

I’ll be reading: The Yiddish Policemen's Union by Michael Chabon

Bookseller or Librarian Recommendation: This one is fun, and something I always like to do when I’m travelling and visiting a new bookstore. Ask a bookseller or librarian to recommend something they’ve liked, and check it out! If going in person isn’t feasible, many bookstores and libraries have staff picks on their websites, and the Indie Next List is a monthly list of independent booksellers’ favorite new releases.

I’ll be reading: The Last Report on the Miracles at Little No Horse by Louise Erdrich, which I bought at Erdrich’s bookstore, Birchbark Books, this summer :)

lastly: tagging people who asked to be tagged to make sure they didn't miss this! @thebisexualwreckoning @perfunctoryperfusions @reallyinkyhands come get your bingo sheet!

#bookblr #2025 book bingo

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selenepsyche · 21 days ago

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Placements That Could Indicate Being "Walking Karma"

Pluto in the 1st House

People with their Pluto in the 1st house have a powerful, intimidating energy that's hard to ignore. Their mere presence evokes strong reactions that makes people obsess, fear, admire, or be unsettled by them. These folks have the ability to mirror what other people have buried. They have the ability to reveal our insecurities or inner demons. They catalyze deep change in anyone they meet.

Scorpio Stellium

As a fellow Scorpio stellium, I just have to say that we are fucking iconic and powerful. Scorpio is the sign of death, rebirth, transformation, and karma. Having a Scorpio stellium makes this energy even more intense, especially if it's in the 1st, 4th, 7th, 8th, 10th, or 11th houses. Our presence pulls others into shadow work, which includes exposing betrayals, helping others heal traumas, or unveiling wolfs in sheep's clothing. Every encounter with a Scorpio stellium feels intense because we strip off the mask and reveal the raw truth. People either use this encounter to evolve, or continue running from their problems.

Saturn conjunct the Ascendant or Sun

Saturn is the planet of karma, restriction, and soul lessons. When conjunct the Ascendant, your presence and interactions with others could be karmic or force people to hold themselves accountable in certain situations. When it's conjunct the Sun, your identity could become the source of karmic pressure, on yourself and others. You could be seen as serious, disciplined, and authoritative. Not only will you experience important lessons throughout your life, but the people who come into contact with you will too.

Venus or Mars conjunct Pluto

These aspects could bring karmic energy when it comes to love and relationships. Relationships could bring control issues, obsession, or extreme emotions. You could attract partners that are meant to go through changes with you.

12th House Stellium

Since the 12th house is associated with past lives, people with multiple planets here tend to absorb the emotional and spiritual energy of others without realizing it. You could meet people that feel familiar to you, even though you've never met them, indicating that they could be someone you knew in a past life. You could also end up being involved in situations where you serve as a mirror to others for deep, unresolved issues.

North Node in the 8th or 12th House

These North Node placements could indicate a life path that will be tied to intense transformation and spiritual evolution. You could be placed in others' lives to help them confront things they may be afraid, be more vulnerable, or ease them through changes within their life.

Vertex in the 7th or 8th House

The Vertex is a point in the chart where fated situations and connections will happen. In the 7th or 8th house, it points to powerful, life-changing relationships. You will often meet others that you were destined to meet and it may be karmic. These will sometimes bring painful lessons, spiritual awakenings, or major emotional growth.

Pluto, Saturn, or South Node in the 7th House

With these planets and the south node in the 7th house, you could feel challenged, emotionally tested, or change through your relationships. You may deal with difficult endings and past-life ties to either people or situations you dealt with. You could serve as a karmic teacher to others, as they could to you.

Moon square or conjunct Saturn

If you have these aspects, others could feel exposed or judged by your presence. You could come off as emotionally distant or serious, which forces people to reflect on their own emotional maturity.

Thank you all for reading this! If you have any further questions, feel free to comment them down below!

dividers: @thecutestgrotto gifs and pictures: @thegreatestunknown & @ang3larchive

#astrology #astro observations #astrology observations #astro notes #birth chart #astro community #astrology indicators #saturn astrology #scorpio stellium #scorpio astrology #saturn #12th house #12th house stellium #north node astrology #vertex astrology #past life astrology

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servicpop · 8 months ago

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nude beach adrien ( deliquent oc ) x ftm reader

ⓘ⠀reader has top surgery , use of cunt & pussy , fingering , public ( on beach )

Tans, seashells, crisp soda and icecream, perfect for a hot sunny day.

It was an idea pitched by one of your friends to hold a class beach day, and as the student president, you agreed and began to plan. The message you sent into the class group chat was bombarded with positive replies the moment you mentioned the word 'beach.' It seemed like alot of your classmates either wanted to escape studying or needed a break to cool off.

A familiar icon popped up underneath your message, Adrien's, but he didn't reply so you just guessed he would skip this event out too.

Stuffed in a car with all your friends, you allocated each friend to bring different things like drinks, food, beach balls and towels. You were in charge of packing the beach umbrellas and foldable chairs.

It was about a 3 hour trip to a beach nearby; one that wouldn't be bombarded with little children and an abundance of people.

When you got there with your friends — a little earlier than the set time — you took the initiative to start helping out with things and putting down your chairs and umbrellas. As you're hauling out the items from the trunk, you could faintly hear the raspy sound of someone calling out.

“Adrien, give me a hand here!” Your head instinctively turns to meet eyes with that stupid deliquent who seems to always show up wherever you are.

He was unusually early, perhaps earlier than you.

Adrien shoots you a toothy smirk before turning back to his buddy, helping the guy lift a cooler filled with sodas and probably beer as well. You shrug him off with a small scoff, rolling your eyes before going back to set up your things

You've successfully put up an umbrella and a deck chair away from the water, letting your body relax on the chair.

You weren't even planning on swimming today but you brought a shirt and some swim shorts just in case you wanted to just dip your feet into the icy water and feel the waves crash against your knees.

Staring out to the shore you watch as your friends run into the water, splashing and kicking sand up st eachother. You would join but, swimming wasn't something you particularly liked, especially the feeling of your wet swimsuit sticking to your skin.

“What are you doing all alone, prez?” His voice comes out smooth and almost tantalizing as a hand slides over your shoulder. You flinch harshly, whipping your head around to see Adrien in his full glory, shirt off, slightly damp hair and crystal clear water droplets gliding down the curves of his muscles.

Before you could say anything, Adrien pulls up another chair and slides it right beside you. The wooden bits of the deck chair clink together and he lowers himself on it with a small sigh of relief.

“The boys are playing like gladiators out there, felt like I was gonna die,” He laughs and you see his chest stutter as he does. He lets his head rest on his hand, elbow jutted out as he turns to face you.

“But really, why aren't you swimming? I'd love to see you shirtless and wet.” You roll your eyes and scoff, shaking your head as you stretch out your legs.

“I just don't feel like it,” You hum nonchalantly which earns a breathless laugh from Adrien. He places a hand on your stomach, inching closer to you. His fingers lightly drum on your stomach, earning that slight hollow sound.

He flicks your shirt up and burrows his hand underneath it, making a slow ascend to your chest, tracing over the raised lines underneath it.

“They're healed enough,” he points out, “Just let me see them.”

Your eyes quickly dart around, making sure that no one is watching. The beach stretches out quite far so the majority of the people were situated towards the middle with you and Adrien being in a more empty area.

You don't fight it, you just look away as he pulls up the shirt to your chin. The cool ocean breeze hits your bare chest, pulling out a view shivers from you. Adrien has seen your scars, multiple times but its always a surprise to see how his eyes soften and how he caresses them so delicately.

“Y'know people won't care if you just swim shirtless, you're a dude it doesn't matter,” He's leaning his head over to kiss your scars in which you push his face away. He laughs and moves his hands back down to rest on your lower stomach.

“You should get out of here before anyone sees you talking with me,” You manage to breathe out, moving your hand to his, attempting to pry them off your exposed skin. Being in such an open area with all your classmates undoubtedly gets you anxious, especially considering how long you've kept your relationship with Adrien a secret.

“Why? People can't handle me spending time with my boyfriend?” It just rolls off his tongue the way he claims you're his — even when you're not.

You're about to retaliate, about to shout whatever insult that comes to mind but you feel his hand move down to cup your crotch. Your body jerks at the touch and you shoot him a glare but he returns it with a sly smile.

“You're not my boyfriend,” you manage to force the words out your throat.

“Yeah but can any guy make you feel like this?” His fingers dig into the fabric of your shorts, pushing pressure onto your cunt. You can't help the curses that flow from your lips and the fact that you're arching your back into his hands.

“They don't know how to treat you right, only I can,” You can hear the jealousy drip off his tone like honey on a stick: thick and sickly sweet.

His fingers are brought back up and now he's pulling at your waistband, dipping his fingers underneath your shorts. His hand just glides over the smooth expanse of your pelvis, dipping down to your sweet, slick sex. Adrien starts by parting your folds with his index and his ring finger, skimming his middle over your fluttering hole.

You're so wet he can hear every movement his finger makes on you.

His thumb finds your clit, pushing the tip of it against that bundle of nerves. He's massaging circles on it, punching out a loud whine from your throat.

“Shit cutie, you're sensitive there?” He laughs, moving his hand lower so he could press his palm against it. Your little mewls and the way you grip onto the side of the chair so tightly makes Adrien want to rip your clothes off and fuck the daylights out of you, but he can't, he'll get caught almost instantly.

His fingers finally meet your hole, pushing in one finger slowly. You gasp, hips rolling up to grind your clit against his palm as he stuffs his finger into you. Adrien laughs again like he's having fun drawing all these reactions out of you.

Your warm, gummy walls hug his finger so snugly he has to slip in another one just to loosen you up a bit. He groans, driving his middle and ring finger into you. Everytime he pulls them back and slams them in your legs tremble and that obscene wet noise rings through his head like the aftermath of a drug.

“You like that prez? Such a good boy f'me aren't you?” Adrien bites his own, chapped lips, repeatedly ramming his fingers into you, watching as you laid your head back and let the moans spill out from your parted lips. The moment he starts curling his fingers up your body tenses and you absent-mindedly grab onto his forearm.

You're seeing stars with the way he's hitting your G-spot every single time he drives his fingers deeper into you.

“Fuck— ah– Adrien,” You cry out, moving your hand down to push down on his, encouraging him to put more pressure on your pussy. He gladly obliges, moving his fingers faster and pushing his palm against your clit with more force than before.

The familiar feeling of a knot wells up in the pit of your stomach and you know you're about to cum.

“C'mon, that's it.” Adrien can tell you're close from the quivering of your knees and the way sweat trickles down your forehead. He kisses the salt away before groaning as he feels his fingers get soaked from your orgasm.

He pumps his fingers slowly, letting you ride out your high before stopping completely.

“Shit, let me eat you out next tim—”

“Stop talking.”

doctors note ; hope i did alright for my first time writing for ftm reader T T

#servicpop — fics/drabbles #bottom male reader #oc x male reader #x bottom male reader #mlm nsft #mlm ns/fw #ftm reader #x ftm reader #trans reader #transmasc reader #afab reader

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teenidlegirl · 2 months ago

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⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀୭୧　　.　　SOAP COVERED KISSES　　ᤢ　　♥︎

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀miguel o'hara⠀𝓍⠀wife!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

ᤢ　.　summary　♥︎　੭　you decide to take a nice relaxing bath after a hard day when your husband surprisingly comes home early from saving the multiverse and joins you in the tub.

ᤢ　.　content　♥︎　੭　smut, 18+ mdni, porn no plot, fluff, established relationship, bathtub sex, unprotected p in v, creampie, fingering, praise, soft!miguel, hispanic/latina!reader

after a stressful day at work, you decide to treat yourself with a nice relaxing bath. the marble tub filled with clean water, pretty pink flowers floating, candles of your favorite scent lit up around the tub, the weeknd softly playing from your phone, an exquisite glass of wine as a cherry on top.

leaving your robe hanging on the wall, you let a soft hum when the warm water hits your skin as you enter the tub. the comforting warmth instantly relaxing your stressed out body. the worries and frustration work left behind melts away, replaced with relaxation. a much needed break from reality.

although, one thing is missing to make this relaxation session perfect: your husband.

unfortunately, he couldn’t be here with you to indulge in this peaceful moment. too busy with out saving thousands of lives, which you deeply admire him for and can’t be more proud of him. of course you understand his responsibilities, you knew what you got yourself into when the relationship started. your heart holds not only love but admiration for your husband. an incredible hero and leader of an astonishing group of spider-people. but you fell in love with the man behind the mask.

miguel o'hara.

a smile creeps up to your lips as you admire the beautiful ring adored on your finger, glimmering in the soft candle lighting. two years of marriage so far and many more to come, for eternity.

you close your eyes and continue relaxing in the warm water, your back resting against the edge of the tub. your hands slowly maneuver in the water and delicately play with the pretty flowers, observing them glide across the water through hooded eyes. droplets of water trail down your arm as you reach for the glass of wine and take a slip of it. a satisfied hum rumbles from your throat at the delicious taste. setting it back on the little stand, you start lathering yourself with body wash. the citrusy scent blesses your scenes while gently lathering yourself with a loofah, softly humming to whichever song plays.

“qué hermosa.”

the familiar, sexy voice of your husband makes you turn in surprise to find him leaning against the doorframe, clad in his iconic red and dark blue nanotech suit, a pretty bouquet of your favorite flowers in one hand that makes your heart flutter.

a smile graces your lips, pleased to see the man you love here at home. “how long have you been standing there?” you can’t help but tease him a little.

“more than i like to admit.”

catching him staring at you isn’t a surprise, it’s one of your favorite habits of his.

“peeping tom much?” you tease, considering you’re naked in a tub but his gaze never offends you.

“can’t blame me for having a beautiful wife.”

there he goes again making your heart flutter. even four years of being together, he still manages to make you feel like a shy schoolgirl.

“especially when she’s enjoying a peaceful moment like this.” miguel slowly makes his way towards you, those scarlet eyes never tear away from yours as he crouches in front of the tub facing you. “un ángel.” he whispers before leaning in to capture your lips with his. a soft, loving kiss and hearts filled with love.

“i missed you…” you whisper with fluttering lashes, caressing his cheek with a hand.

he gently takes your hand and presses a soft kiss in your palm. “yo tambien, mi reina. i always do, couldn’t wait any longer so i left jess in charge.”

“that desperate, huh?” you flash him that little smirk knowing it ignites a spark in him. “clearly you took a little pit stop on the way here.” your eyes flicker at the pretty bouquet in his hand.

“pues si, para mi esposa.” miguel observes you with a gentle smile as you admire the bouquet, delicately running your fingertips over the pretty petals.

“gracias, osito.” you sweetly kiss him, miguel gladly reciprocates and sets the bouquet on the little stand along with your phone and wine glass.

he tries to lean into your neck but your hands gently push him away, leaving him a bit confused.

“wait, i don’t want you getting wet.”

miguel can’t help but chuckle. you’re so cute, especially that cute pout. “mamí, getting wet is the least of my worries. i just wanna embrace my wife.”

“i’m literally covered in soap.”

“me vale madre, lemme hug my wife.” miguel doesn’t give you a chance to protest when his arms wrap around your soap covered body and finally embrace you like he has been wanting to do. you just gave in and embrace your husband, relishing his strong muscular arms around you.

“te extrañé mucho, preciosa. thought about you all day, just wanted to come home.”

your lashes start fluttering when you feel his lips leaving soft kisses on your neck, beginning to feel putty in his hold. “i’m glad you’re home and okay.”

god, how did he deserve an angel like you?

miguel always values the love and care you harbor for him. you are his safe haven, his home. after a long period of trapped in a black hole, he finally found the light he has been searching for.

“bad day at work?” he asks softly, moving away from your neck but remains close. his gloved fingers caressing your wet, exposed skin.

you let out a heavy sigh. “let’s just say people were being a bit difficult today.”

“hm, i’ll make things difficult for them.”

“i was actually thinking of strangling them but then they don’t deserve my energy. that’s why i came home and decided to take a nice bath.”

miguel softly chuckles, knowing you could’ve gave those idiots a piece of your mind since you’re quite a feisty woman but is relieved you chose to treat yourself something nice. you deserve it.

“looks very relaxing.” those crimson eyes scan the tub, the flowers, candles.

his eyes slowly rake over your glistening, soaked figure. from those pretty legs, to your torso, your soaped covered chest, up to the most gorgeous face he has ever seen. miguel has seen you naked countless of times before but this time is different. the sensual lighting of the candles, the non-subtle sexy music of the weeknd playing from your phone, you looking prettily in the tub completely naked and covered in soap. it all ignites a spark inside him, a carnal feeling. miguel can’t help it that his pretty little wife is sitting there with those gorgeous eyes, looking like a fucking goddess, completely naked.

“do you want something more relaxing?”

you recognize that hint of seductiveness in his tone, knowing where he is going with this.

“what do you got in mind?” you indulge in his playfulness, raising a brow.

a smug smile tugs on his lips. “lay back for me.”

his soft command makes your heart flutter and thighs squeeze subconsciously under the water. you scoot back until you’re resting against the edge of the tub. a rush of anticipation flows through your veins, wondering what he has in store for you. miguel scoots closer and slowly dips one hand into the tub, the glove disintegrates as he reaches the water, revealing his veiny calloused hand. you watch it disappear under the soapy water until your husband’s voice makes you look back him.

“eyes on me, preciosa.”

miguel smirks when you let out a pretty little gasp as his fingers glaze over your folds. taking note of the water shifting as your body jolts slightly. grinning ear to ear as his fingers find your pretty little clit and give it a few little circles, eliciting soft moans from you.

“keep those pretty eyes open, mamí.” your husband coos when you tip your head back.

you really try but it’s possible when this man is rubbing your bundle of nerves sinfully slow, it’s making your mind go berserk.

a loud moan erupts from your throat when two of miguel’s thick fingers slide through your tight walls, your left hand gripping onto the edge of the tub as support while arching your back. the bathtub water splashing a little as your body jolts.

“feeling better, bebita?” he coos while pumping his fingers in your tight cunt, softly groaning as your walls clench around his two digits.

“y-yes, oh my—” a moan interrupts you when his fingers reach that sweet spot inside. “miguel~”

“mi esposa hermosa~”

miguel admires your blissful expression. how beautiful you look while experiencing immense pleasure like you deserve. those pretty lips formed in an “O” shape, letting out the prettiest sounds ever that are pure music to him. those pretty lashes fluttering when he reaches that sweet spot over and over. you’re just so damn beautiful. he married a fucking goddess. sometimes miguel still wonders what the hell did he do to deserve you, nevertheless marry him. he feels honored to be married to you.

one of his favorite sights is seeing his wife experience beautiful pleasure. especially when you’re stress, it hurts him to see his angel stressed out or upset. you deserve it all the happiness and pleasure and miguel will forever provide it.

“mi amor, mi reina, mi alma, mi corazón.” miguel whispers sweetly against your lips, grinning at your blissful expression while pumping his fingers.

you softly mewl when his thumb rubs your clit. the slow, sinful circles on your sensitive pearl drives you insane. sliding up and down, side to side. you pull him closer by the shoulders and wrap your arms around them, needing to feel more, needing to feel him more. all you crave is your husband.

“i-i’m c-close.”

“ya sé, bebita.” miguel coos, his fingers picking up pace. “come for me, vale?”

you nod dumbly, too consumed by the intense pleasure his fingers were providing. that familiar warm sensation in your lower belly is approaching fast. a few more pumps of miguel’s fingers and flicks to your clit, you gush around them with a moan of his name right against his lips, tugging him closer by the neck to smash your lips against them.

“thanks.” you said breathlessly with a meek smile.

“ain’t finish, bebita.”

you squeal when miguel suddenly steps in the tub still in his suit, hovering over your smaller soaked form. a smug ass grin on his handsome face before smashing his lips against yours in a messy kiss.

“miguel! your suit!” your hands shoot up to his broad chest but obviously does nothing against him. cheeks burning, lashes fluttering, and completely flustered by your hunk of a husband above you in this small tub. well, actually it’s pretty averaged size but, to miguel, everything is small.

“no te preocupes, bebita. it can shut off, remember?” and with that, miguel’s suit disintegrates and reveals his nude form.

damn, you married some type of god. those scrumptious, bulging muscles that you love digging your nails into, especially his back. there is still scars of your nails from the other night. miguel loves it because it’s a reminder of you and your love for him, makes him smile when he sees it in the mirror every morning. he wears them like a badge of pride.

your lips collide again in soap covered kisses. your fingers digging through his soft brown hair then drag down to his back while miguel grips onto the ledge of the tub preventing him from crushing on top of you. groaning at the addictive sensation of your nails lightly dragging down his muscular back, almost causing him to break the damn tub.

“chingado- don’t do that or i’m gonna break the pinche tub.” miguel groans against your lips, heart fluttering at your cute giggles.

“then your big ass shouldn’t have gotten in the tub.”

he rolls his eyes. “then i’ll get a bigger one so i can make love to my wife properly.”

“then switch places because you ain’t breaking this tub.” such sass in your tone and he loves it.

you and miguel flip positions in the tub so you’re straddling him. your messy, passionate makeout session continues. your hands roaming over his muscles, lathering them in soap. his calloused ones roaming and groping each curve. underneath you feel his cock right against your throbbing cunt. aligning your cores together and gripping onto his shoulders as support, you slowly sink down his thick length. moaning in unison as you slowly take him inch by inch. no matter how many times you’ve taken your husband, the stretch always gets you.

your hips start off in a slow rhythm, feeling every vein of his thick cock among your tight walls. his bulbous tip kissing your cervix so perfectly, triggering an intense amount of pleasure coursing through both your bodies. feeling each other’s bodies so intimately, as if the entire world is a blur and only your love is the most important thing. an intimate moment in the small space of your shared bathtub.

“te quiero tanto, mi reina.” miguel whispers sweetly before letting a groan when you clench around him.

“te quiero, osito.” you moan prettily, arching your back as you continue riding him slowly.

with the help of his hands guiding your hips, you begin moving faster. moans of ecstasy bouncing off the four walls of the bathroom, water splashing and even some spilling out onto the floor. your back arches as miguel’s cock viciously pumps in and out of your tight pussy, repeatedly hitting your sweet spot. miguel perversely stares at your jiggly tits before leaning forward to capture one nipple with his lips and suckles on it, eliciting a moan from you.

“miguel~” your fingers comb through those wet brown locks, scratching his scale that makes miguel’s eyes roll back in pleasure.

each clench of your tight pussy and those pretty sounds drive him insane. pounding into that sweet tightness to hear more of those pretty sounds his beautiful wife is making. a beautiful symphony miguel will gladly listen to for the rest of his life.

who would’ve thought he would come home to see his pretty little wife in the tub and make love to her inside? he simply can never resist you.

his lips alternate between both nipples before finally pulling away to look at you, grinning at your blissful state. “mírame, preciosa.” he softly chuckles at your whine. “lemme see my pretty wife.” his fingers gently tilt your chin up to meet his lust-blown gaze.

oh, what a beautiful sight.

“e-estas loco.” you try your best shooting him a glare but too cockdrunk to really pay attention.

“para ti, si. fuck~” miguel moans.

you both try maintaining eye contact but the pleasure is driving you towards the edge. bodies covered in soap pressed together, your soft tits against his broad chest. your fingers playing with his hair, miguel’s hands gripping and groping your hips. souls intertwined as you make impeccable love.

“miguel, i—”

“i know, bebita. me too, come with me.”

that delicious heat in your lower abdomens quickly builds up as miguel continues fucking you harder. hands interlocked and eyes boring into one another as you and your husband reach the pinnacle of ecstasy. your gushy essence decorated over his cock and miguel’s thick ropes of cum spurting into your womb, milking every drop he gives. your hips finally come to a stop and you stay like that. foreheads pressed together, panting in each other’s faces, basking in one another’s presence.

“yeah… that was more relaxing.”

miguel weakly chuckles, giving your hips a gentle loving squeeze. “anything for my wife.”

you two remain in that position for a few minutes. your head resting on his chest, his arms wrapped around you, fingers caressing your skin. relishing this quiet, peaceful moment together. two lovers embracing each other in the bathtub.

“we should probably get out before we get all pruney.” you break the silence with a little joke. “and clean up the mess we made.” there is definitely large puddles of water on the floor that escaped the tub.

miguel huffs. “we probably should.”

“pizza for dinner?”

“sounds great, mi reina.”

©⠀TEENIDLEGIRL⠀♡⠀don’t plagiarize or repost my work

#⠀⠀૮ ྀི ◞ ◟ ა⠀˚⠀.⠀𝒪𝑛𝑒𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑡⠀ ྀ⠀.⠀♡⠀#miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara smut #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderverse #miguel atsv #atsv miguel

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kathaelipwse · 3 months ago

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Mission: You || C. San

୨୧ Pairing: Choi San (ATEEZ) × Idol!Reader

𓂃🖊 Requested: Yes

𓂃🖊 Word Count: 7461 words | Reading Time: 27-ish mins

𓂃🖊 Trope: Variety Show Meet-Cute, Slow Burn to Lovers, Matchmade by Chaos

𓂃🖊 Warnings: Idolverse AU, Fluff overload, Minor angst, Secret dating, Mentions of illness (non-serious), NO PROOF READING WAS DONE.

❄ Synopsis:

What started as a chaotic duo challenge on Running Man turns into something no script could ever write. With linked hands and stolen glances, Reader falls first… but San falls harder. From dessert deliveries to whispered confessions, their love grows behind the scenes—until it’s ready for the spotlight.

❄ Author’s Note:

This fic is my love letter to slow burn softness, variety show chaos, and San being the literal blueprint for green-flag energy. If you're into lowkey lovers turned “forever” soulmates, this one’s for you ♡♡♡

It started, as most memorable things do, with utter pandemonium. Bright studio lights assaulted your eyes, a cacophony of blaring horns threatened to burst your eardrums, and the iconic chant of “Running Man!” echoed through the cavernous set, sending a familiar thrill-cum-nervousness down your spine. You weren’t a stranger to the world of variety shows, your years as a solo idol having thrown you into the deep end of unexpected situations more times than you could count. Yet, this felt different. Larger in scale, undeniably rowdier, and carrying an undercurrent of delightful risk that made your palms slightly sweaty.

As your gaze swept across the line-up of fellow guests and the ever-energetic Running Man regulars, a particular figure caught your attention. Choi San. Even amidst the vibrant chaos, he stood out, dressed in a deceptively simple black tee that showcased the lean lines of his muscles and practical cargo pants. His smile, however, was anything but simple – wide, genuine, and radiating a mischievous energy that suggested he was not just ready for this madness, but actively anticipating it.

“Alright, everyone!” Yoo Jaesuk’s booming voice cut through the lingering cheers, his signature glasses glinting under the studio lights. “Welcome, welcome! Today’s episode theme is—Running Man Match-Made Mission!” A collective murmur rippled through the guests. Jaesuk’s grin widened. “Each guest will be randomly paired with one of our regulars or idols for a full-on couples-themed challenge. And yes,” he emphasized, drawing out the word for dramatic effect, “you’re stuck together. All. Day. Long.”

Your stomach executed a nervous flip. The prospect of being tethered to a complete stranger, especially in this unpredictable environment, was both exciting and slightly terrifying.

Behind Jaesuk, a massive screen flickered to life, displaying flashy spinning wheels adorned with cheesy pink hearts and cartoon cupids. One by one, the pairings were announced, each reveal met with a unique blend of screams, cheers, and bewildered laughter. You held your breath, a strange mix of anticipation and apprehension swirling within you.

And then, the announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers once more: “Y/N and San!”

Your eyes widened. Before you could fully process the pairing, a figure was already moving towards you with that signature, captivating smirk playing on his lips. His dimples were deep parentheses framing his infectious grin, and the crinkles around his eyes hinted at a playful nature. You could practically see the word ‘trouble’ shimmering in the air around him.

“Guess you’re stuck with me,” he said, his voice a pleasant baritone as he extended a hand towards you. His fingers were long and slender.

You took it, your own hand feeling surprisingly small in his firm grip. “Let’s not lose.” The words came out with more conviction than you initially felt.

He tilted his head, his dark eyes studying you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “Confident. I like that.”

☾ First Mission: Water Balloon Relay – Hands Linked

The producers were clearly not ones for subtlety. The moment the first mission was announced, you understood the true meaning of “stuck together.” Your hands were literally tied together with a surprisingly sturdy rope, San’s fingers interlaced snugly with yours. The starting whistle blew, and you were off, sprinting across a treacherously slippery field, a fragile water balloon balanced precariously between your backs. The combined awkwardness of being physically connected and the inherent instability of the task led to immediate chaos.

“Left, left—no, your other left!” San shouted, his laughter echoing across the field as your synchronized movements devolved into a series of stumbles and near-falls.

“You’re the one dragging me!” you retorted, your own laughter bubbling up despite the precarious situation.

“Because you’re slow!” he teased, his grip on your hand tightening slightly as he tried to steer you.

“You’re a menace!”

“And you’re cute when you’re panicking,” he shot back, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You faltered for a split second, the unexpected compliment sending a wave of heat rushing to your cheeks. You quickly forced your focus back onto the wobbling water balloon, determined not to be the one to drop it. San’s grin widened. He had definitely noticed your reaction.

☾ Second Mission: Couple Obstacle Course

The obstacle course was a grueling test of teamwork and endurance. You crawled through muddy tunnels, balanced on wobbly beams, and navigated a series of increasingly ridiculous challenges. In between gasping for air, San surprised you with unexpected moments of consideration.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern as he noticed you panting heavily after scaling a particularly high wall.

“A little out of breath. I’ll live,” you managed to say, wiping a stray strand of hair from your sweaty forehead.

Without a word, he reached into the waistband of his cargo pants and pulled out a small, folded towel. Gently, he reached out and dabbed at the sweat on your forehead. “Can’t have my partner collapsing on me.”

You blinked at him, momentarily stunned by the unexpected gesture. “You’re… oddly gentle.” The playful image you had formed of him was slowly being chipped away by these surprising glimpses of a softer side.

He shrugged, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “I can be sweet. Don’t tell anyone. It ruins my image.”

☾ Final Mission: Name Tag Ripping – Lovers’ Edition

The final mission descended into pure, unadulterated chaos. The field became a whirlwind of flailing limbs, desperate grabs, and the distinct ripping sound of name tags being torn away. Betrayals were rampant, alliances were formed and broken in seconds, and shouts of frustration and triumph filled the air.

“Stick with me,” San said, his tone suddenly lower, the playful energy replaced by a focused intensity. He moved with a surprising agility, ducking and weaving through the throng of contestants. He instinctively pulled you behind him, your back pressed against his chest, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist. It was a surprisingly intimate position amidst the mayhem.

He was fast. Incredibly fast. With a series of swift movements, he managed to rip two name tags in under a minute, his eyes sharp and alert as he scanned the surroundings for new targets.

You tried to contribute, reaching out to grab at passing name tags, but every time someone got remotely close to you, San was already there, effectively using his body as a shield.

“Let me at least do one!” you huffed, feeling a surge of competitive spirit.

He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated against your back. “No way. You’re too pretty to get tackled.”

You rolled your eyes at the blatant flattery, but a warmth spread through your chest nonetheless. Your heart, you realized, was thudding at a rather alarming rate.

You and San didn’t emerge victorious, but as the exhausted contestants gathered backstage, the staff announced a special award: “Best Chemistry Award.” A collective cheer went up, and you couldn’t help but exchange a tired but genuine smile with San.

Backstage, sweaty and utterly drained, you found yourselves sitting side-by-side on a flimsy plastic bench. San nudged your shoulder with his, a comfortable silence settling between you.

“Today was fun,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse.

“Surprisingly,” you agreed, a genuine smile gracing your lips. “You’re not so bad.”

He leaned a little closer, his eyes sparkling with that familiar mischievous glint. “Give me your number. I might need a partner for a rematch.”

You raised a playful eyebrow. “Are you flirting with me, Choi San?”

“Only if it’s working, Y/N.” His gaze held yours, and for a fleeting moment, the boisterous energy of the studio faded away, leaving only the two of you.

You pulled out your phone and handed it to him. He meticulously typed in his number, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips as he handed it back.

That night, as you lay in bed, your muscles protesting with every movement and your cheeks still slightly sore from all the smiling, your phone buzzed with a new notification.

San: Can’t wait for Round 2.

A soft smile bloomed on your face. It seemed, just as you had suspected, that the initial chaos was only the beginning.

It started, predictably, with a healthy dose of self-deprecation disguised as humor.

The morning after the Running Man episode aired, your phone vibrated with a text from San. Attached was a photographic masterpiece – a gloriously blurred shot of him mid-air during the water balloon relay, his limbs resembling a startled octopus. The caption was pure Choi San gold:

“Pretty sure this is the textbook definition of ‘grace under pressure.’ Thoughts?”

A snort escaped you, quickly escalating into full-blown laughter that echoed in your quiet apartment. You immediately saved the image under the contact name you’d just re-created by changing from 'San(ateez)' to : “San (Chaos Coordinator).”

From then on, your phone became a conduit for playful banter. Texts arrived at irregular intervals, snippets of his day, random observations about the world, and, of course, plenty of teasing directed your way (and vice versa).

San [1:03 PM]: “Just saw a replay of me almost taking out Kwangsoo during the name tag ripping. My ninja skills are truly underrated. Also, still accepting bubble tea as a reward for my heroic efforts.”

You [1:04 PM]: “Heroic? You mostly used me as a human shield. And if anyone deserves bubble tea, it’s me, for surviving your… enthusiastic protection.”

San [1:05 PM]: “Enthusiastic is one word for it. Another is ‘strategically brilliant.’ And you were a very effective, albeit occasionally vocal, shield. Still cute though.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile playing on your lips despite yourself. He had a knack for delivering compliments wrapped in playful insults that somehow didn't feel offensive. It was infuriatingly charming.

The texting soon evolved into calls, initially under the guise of post-show analysis. You’d dissect the chaotic missions, reliving the funniest blunders and the most shocking betrayals. But as the days turned into nights, the calls stretched longer, the topics broadened, and the laughter softened into comfortable silences. You found yourselves sharing vulnerabilities you hadn’t intended to reveal, whispered secrets under the cloak of anonymity that the late hour provided.

“You know,” he said one night, his voice a low hum that sent a strange flutter through your stomach, “for someone who throws such sharp shade in texts, you’re surprisingly… easy to talk to.”

You mumbled into your pillow, a blush creeping up your neck. “Don’t say things like that. You’ll inflate your already massive ego.”

“My ego is perfectly calibrated, thank you very much. And besides,” he countered, a playful lilt in his voice, “is it really so surprising? Maybe you just secretly enjoy my captivating presence, even through the cold barrier of technology.”

“Captivatingly annoying, maybe,” you retorted, but the warmth in your tone betrayed your words.

“…Maybe,” he conceded, a chuckle rumbling through the phone. Then, a beat of silence before he added, softer now, “But maybe… more than that too.”

One particularly draining Tuesday left you feeling like a deflated balloon. The relentless pressure of your solo comeback had reached a fever pitch. Practice had stretched into the early hours, your usually patient choreographer had sighed audibly at your repeated mistakes, and the internet was buzzing with malicious rumors. You retreated into yourself, offering clipped responses to concerned messages from your team.

That evening, the insistent ring of your doorbell broke the silence of your apartment. Confused, you opened the door to find a familiar delivery bag sitting on the mat. Inside, nestled amongst ice packs, was a container of your emergency comfort food – the triple chocolate fudge brownie from your favorite cafe. Tucked beneath it was a small, handwritten note.

“Consider this a strategic energy boost. Don’t let the noise get to you. -S ☀️”

Your carefully constructed composure crumbled. The unexpected kindness, the quiet understanding, it was almost too much.

Your phone buzzed.

San: Heard it was a rough day. Remember that even soloists have a support system. And mine includes the right to send emergency brownies. You good?

You typed a quick, shaky “Yeah, thank you,” before a second message popped up.

San: Good. Now eat. And maybe watch that ridiculous cat video we were laughing about yesterday. Distraction is key.

You didn’t mean for this connection to burrow so deeply. You were fiercely independent, wary of letting anyone get too close, especially another idol who understood the chaotic demands of your life all too well. Yet, San’s open sincerity, his ability to seamlessly blend playful teasing with genuine care, was disarming. He could turn a simple check-in into a lifeline, a shared laugh into a moment of unexpected intimacy.

And you were falling.

Not in a dramatic, head-over-heels rush, but in a slow, steady descent, each shared joke and thoughtful gesture acting like another step down a slippery slope.

That night, a voice note arrived, his tone low and laced with a comforting weariness that mirrored your own.

“Just wanted to say… you’re doing amazing, Y/N. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Get some rest. Proud of your resilience.”

You replayed it, the warmth of his words a soothing balm on your frayed nerves.

Taking a leap of faith, you recorded a reply, your voice barely a whisper. “Thanks, San. You always know what to say. Sleep well.”

Before you could second-guess yourself, you hit send.

Five seconds later, a text popped up.

San: Just ‘San’ now? No more ‘Chaos Coordinator’? Am I losing my edge? 😉

You smiled into the darkness.

You: Only if you stop sending me blurry selfies and emergency brownies.

Another text arrived almost instantly.

San: Deal. But only if you promise to laugh at my questionable dance moves next time we meet.

You: Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Sannie.

The nickname slipped out effortlessly, a comfortable familiarity settling between you.

San: Sannie, huh? I like the sound of that.

And just like that, the playful jabs and late-night confessions had woven a thread between you, something far more intricate and potentially significant than a fleeting variety show partnership. The teasing hadn’t just been fun; it had been a subtle dance, a way of testing the waters, of building a connection that now felt undeniably real. The chaos of Running Man had faded, but the delightful, unpredictable chaos of your burgeoning relationship with Choi San was just beginning to unfold.

It began with the ephemeral intimacy of voice notes. Short, breathy messages sent and received in the dead of night, carrying the weight of unspoken feelings. Then came the hushed phone calls, a fragile thread connecting your separate worlds after the relentless demands of your schedules.

Soft, late-night whispers became your sanctuary. Stripped of the usual idol facade, there were no filters, no carefully constructed personas. Just sleepy confessions murmured under the covers, punctuated by shy laughter that felt stolen from the quiet hours when the rest of the world slept.

“Are you still awake?” he’d ask, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through your phone and settled in your chest.

“Only because I’m talking to you,” you’d whisper back, the truth of your words surprising even yourself.

Somewhere between the clock striking 1 AM and the first hint of dawn painting the sky, the two of you carved out your own secret universe. It existed within the fragile signals of your phones, in the comfortable silences that spoke volumes, and in the unspoken space that hung heavy with a feeling neither of you dared to fully acknowledge.

Soon, the digital connection wasn't enough. The yearning for something tangible grew, a quiet ache that mirrored the exhaustion of your demanding lives. You started sneaking out.

Under the cloak of darkness, after grueling schedules and the watchful eyes of your teams, you’d orchestrate brief, clandestine meetings. Sometimes it was in the anonymity of his parked car, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. Other times, it was on a quiet rooftop, the city lights twinkling below like a silent audience to your unspoken connection. There were no cameras flashing, no stylists fussing, no managers hovering. Just him, often in comfortable sweatpants and a worn hoodie, his arms opening for you like he’d been waiting all day for that single embrace.

You didn’t talk much during those precious stolen moments. Sometimes, he’d simply pull you close, the solid warmth of his chest a grounding force against the constant whirlwind of your life. He’d rest his chin on your shoulder, swaying you gently in a silent rhythm as the city hummed its endless lullaby below.

“This,” he said once, his voice a low murmur against your ear, “this is my favorite part of the day.”

You didn't need to reply. His embrace said everything, and the quiet contentment that settled over you in his arms was an answer in itself.

Seven months passed in this delicate dance of stolen moments and whispered affections. Then, the calls stopped. A day of silence stretched into two, an unnerving void in your routine. A knot of anxiety tightened in your stomach with each unanswered text.

Finally, desperation overriding your usual caution, you called his manager, your voice tight with forced casualness. That’s when you found out.

San was sick. Really sick. He’d been pushing himself relentlessly, fueled by the demands of his own packed schedule, skipping meals, ignoring persistent coughs and fatigue, and working through sheer exhaustion – a tragically familiar pattern in the idol world. But hearing it, knowing he was suffering alone, ignited a fierce protectiveness within you, bordering on anger.

You stormed into his dorm the next morning, a container of steaming soup clutched in your hand, your carefully constructed composure barely containing the storm of worry and frustration brewing inside you.

“I’m fine,” he croaked, his voice hoarse but a familiar teasing glint flickering in his tired eyes. He was pale, shadows under his eyes stark against his skin.

“You’re not fine. You look like a ghost who hasn’t slept in a week.” You placed the soup on his bedside table, your concern overriding your annoyance.

“You nag more than my manager,” he joked weakly, attempting a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

But the moment your hand instinctively reached out to touch his forehead, your brow furrowing in concern at the heat radiating from his skin, his playful facade crumbled. His eyes softened, a vulnerability you rarely saw in their depths surfacing.

“I like it though,” he whispered, his gaze fixed on your hand. “Your nagging, I mean.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to maintain your stern demeanor, but the corners of your lips twitched. You found a spoon in his cluttered kitchenette and began to gently feed him the soup you’d painstakingly made yourself – the same simple chicken and vegetable recipe your mother used to make when you were little and under the weather.

“You really didn’t have to do all this,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion.

“Yes, I did.” The words were firm, leaving no room for argument.

He paused, watching you intently as you carefully brought another spoonful to his lips. “Why?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. Your heart pounded against your ribs. The answer was right there, clawing at your throat, desperate to be voiced.

Because I love you, you ridiculous, hardworking idiot.

Because being near you feels like finally coming home after a long journey.

Because the thought of you being sick and alone terrifies me more than any headline or scandal ever could.

But instead, your gaze flickered away, settling on the messy stack of books beside his bed. “No reason.” The lie felt heavy on your tongue.

He didn’t press, his gaze lingering on your averted face for a moment before his hand found yours on the blanket, his fingers wrapping around yours, warm and surprisingly steady despite his illness.

That night, you stayed. You sat beside his bed, watching his shallow breaths as he finally succumbed to sleep, his hair damp with sweat and stuck to his forehead. His grip on your hand remained unbroken, a silent anchor in the quiet room. It was in that stillness, watching his vulnerable form, that the undeniable truth solidified within you.

You didn’t just like Choi San. This went far beyond the playful banter and stolen kisses. You needed him, in a way that both terrified and exhilarated you. His well-being felt intrinsically linked to your own happiness.

And maybe, just maybe, the fragile vulnerability he’d shown you hinted that he needed you too.

But the weight of your intertwined careers, the potential fallout of a public relationship, pressed down on you, a suffocating reality. You couldn’t confess these burgeoning feelings, not yet, not when the stakes felt impossibly high. A love like this could shatter the carefully constructed worlds you had both fought so hard to build.

So instead, you leaned closer, your lips brushing against his forehead in a silent, chaste promise. “Sleep well, Sannie.”

And in the quiet darkness of his room, you hoped, with every fiber of your being, that he could somehow hear the unspoken “I love you” tucked between the silence and the gentle rhythm of his breathing.

The aftermath of San’s illness lingered like a comfortable silence. He had recovered physically, bouncing back with his usual boundless energy on stage and screen. But something had shifted beneath the surface. He was undeniably, irrevocably smitten. It was evident in the way his eyes lingered on you during your rare joint appearances, in the extra beat of hesitation before he spoke your name, even in the ridiculously lovesick emojis he’d occasionally slip into your late-night texts.

Of course, being Choi San, this newfound infatuation didn’t magically erase his inherent need to tease. If anything, it fueled it.

“Still haven’t replaced that lock screen of the puppy that looks suspiciously like Hongjoong with a picture of your infinitely more handsome variety show partner?” he’d smirk over a crackly FaceTime connection, his brow arched in playful challenge.

“For the tenth time, it’s a husky, and I never said it looked like—”

“The resemblance is uncanny. And your silence speaks volumes, Y/N-ssi. Volumes of unspoken admiration.”

“You’re incorrigible.” You rolled your eyes, a well-practiced maneuver by now.

“Incorrigibly charming, you mean.” His grin widened, showcasing those dimples that still had the power to make your stomach do a little flip.

But the teasing was a two-way street now, a comfortable dance of playful jabs and knowing glances. You found yourself emboldened, the walls you’d carefully constructed slowly crumbling under the weight of your growing feelings.

“You sure you’re not catching feelings, Choi San?” you’d ask casually during a brief backstage encounter, feigning nonchalance as you adjusted your microphone.

He’d lean in close, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “Honey, I already caught them. You’re the one who’s been clearly infected with ‘San-itis’ for months.”

“‘San-itis’? Seriously?” You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of your lips.

“It’s a highly contagious condition characterized by excessive smiling at my photos and an undeniable urge to hear my voice at all hours. Sound familiar, babe?”

The casual endearment made your heart skip a beat. “Babe? That’s new.”

He’d feign innocence, his eyes wide. “Slip of the tongue. My bad.”

“Say it again.” You challenged, meeting his gaze directly.

He’d chuckle, shaking his head. “Nope. Gotta keep you on your toes.”

“Coward,” you’d whisper, a playful smirk of your own.

Then came the unexpected gift of a free Sunday. A rare oasis in the desert of your schedules. No early morning shoots, no grueling dance practices, no blinding spotlight. Just the quiet promise of a day to yourself. You hadn’t seen San in what felt like an eternity (weeks just weeks), the demands of your respective comebacks keeping you frustratingly apart.

A sudden knock on your door startled you from your lazy morning routine. You peeked through the peephole and your breath hitched. There he was. Choi San. In faded black sweats and a familiar grey hoodie, his usually meticulously styled hair adorably messy, and that lazy, heart-stopping smile gracing his lips.

You couldn’t even pretend to be unaffected. The sight of him, so unexpectedly casual and real on your doorstep, sent a wave of longing crashing over you. Your heart ached with a tenderness you could no longer ignore.

“Movie?” he offered, holding up a small, hopeful smile.

“Only if you bring popcorn,” you managed to say, your voice betraying the tremor of your emotions.

“Already in my trusty backpack, right next to my extensive knowledge of cinematic masterpieces. A true romantic, wouldn’t you agree?” He winked, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

He flopped onto your couch with his usual unceremonious grace, kicking his feet up onto your coffee table and casually throwing an arm over the backrest behind you, his fingers dangerously close to your hair. You tried, with every fiber of your being, to focus on the movie you’d selected. You really, truly did.

But the subtle brush of his thigh against yours sent jolts of electricity through you. The way his fingers occasionally toyed with the soft fabric of your sleeve was a tantalizing distraction. And the simple, undeniable fact of his presence beside you, a calming anchor in the often-turbulent sea of your thoughts, was almost unbearable in its intensity.

The carefully constructed dam of your unspoken feelings finally broke. The words tumbled out, a rush of vulnerability you couldn’t contain any longer.

“I love you. A lot. Maybe… maybe too much.”

The movie paused mid-explosion. San blinked, his playful expression instantly wiped clean, replaced by a look of intense focus. He stared at you for a long moment, his dark eyes searching yours.

Then, impossibly, his lips curved into that infuriatingly smug smirk again, but this time, it was softer, edged with something akin to relief.

“Wow,” he said, a low chuckle escaping his lips. “Beat me to it.”

You stared at him in a mixture of disbelief and horror. “Are you serious right now? You’ve been teasing me for weeks!”

He laughed, a full, warm sound that resonated deep within you, chasing away the last vestiges of your anxiety. And then, he reached for you, pulling you straight into his chest, his arms wrapping around you with a fierce tenderness, as if he’d been waiting an eternity to hold you this close.

“Y/N,” he murmured into your hair, his breath warm against your scalp. “I’ve been yours since day one. That chaotic mess on Running Man? Yeah, that’s when you got me.”

You melted into him, your hands clutching at the soft fabric of his hoodie, your heart racing in sync with his against your ear. You tilted your head back, your gaze meeting his, and then, acting on an impulse you no longer felt the need to resist, you pressed a soft, reverent kiss to his jawline.

He turned his head just slightly, his eyes never leaving yours, and then his lips found yours. The kiss was slow, hesitant at first, a gentle exploration. It was careful, like you both understood that this moment was a precipice, a point of no return after which your worlds would be irrevocably intertwined. And you didn’t want it any other way.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and your foreheads touching, you whispered against his cheek, the vulnerability raw and exposed.

“Don’t let go.”

San didn’t even hesitate. His arms tightened around you, his voice a low, unwavering promise against your ear.

“Never.”

The weeks that followed that whispered confession on your couch unfolded in a soft, almost dreamlike haze. Promises exchanged in hushed tones hung in the air, more binding than any contract. His kiss, tentative yet sure, had indeed turned your world inside out, leaving you breathless and wanting more. And in the quiet aftermath, you had both admitted the truth that had been simmering beneath the surface for months, the one thing that held the power to both elevate and shatter your carefully constructed lives:

You were undeniably, irrevocably in love.

But a love like yours, two prominent figures in the relentless world of K-pop, didn’t neatly fit into meticulously planned press schedules or precisely choreographed dance formations. It was a fragile bloom that needed to be shielded, tucked away from the harsh glare of public scrutiny, hidden behind hurried corners and the anonymity of zipped-up hoodies pulled low over your faces.

So, you dated quietly, your love story unfolding in stolen moments and hushed whispers. Only a select few were privy to your secret.

His members, surprisingly, had caught on with an almost unnerving speed. They’d exchanged knowing glances during your joint appearances, nudging each other when San’s gaze lingered on you for too long, and offering thinly veiled teasing about his sudden “variety show glow.”

“Hyung’s been staring at his phone like it’s the eighth wonder of the world,” Jongho had Stage whispered to Yunho during a music show rehearsal, earning a playful shove from San, who was indeed re-reading your latest text with a goofy grin plastered across his face.

Your closest friends, on the other hand, reacted with unrestrained glee the moment you finally confessed. There were squeals of delight, emphatic “I knew it!” declarations, and an abundance of celebratory emojis flooding your group chat.

“About damn time,” Wooyoung had muttered dramatically during one of ATEEZ’s rehearsals, rolling his eyes with mock exasperation as he watched San practically melt into a puddle of adoration every time your name was mentioned. “Seriously, the tension was thicker than Hongjoong-hyung’s eyeliner.” (sorry- I had to)

Your moments together were precious, stolen fragments of time carved out from your demanding schedules. Stolen glances exchanged from across crowded rooms during music show shoots, a silent language passing between you amidst the noise and flashing lights. His hand brushing deliberately against yours under the table during joint interviews, a fleeting touch that sent a jolt of warmth through you. Late-night voice notes, his voice thick with sleep and laced with a soft “I miss you” that made your heart ache in the best possible way. Kisses snatched in the relative anonymity of deserted car parks – short, sweet, and breathless promises of more to come.

You even got matching phone charms, a small, tangible symbol of your secret connection. His was a tiny, cheerful sun. Yours, a delicate silver cloud with a tiny, mischievous lightning bolt.

“Weather opposites,” he’d teased, looping your charms together with a playful wink. “But always stuck side by side, weathering the storm together.”

San was fiercely devoted. No matter where his relentless schedule took him – across the country for a festival, overseas for a concert tour – he always answered your calls, his voice a familiar comfort across the miles. He curated playlists filled with songs that reminded him of you, sending them with heartfelt messages about lyrics that echoed your shared moments. He’d even orchestrate surprise drop-bys, sometimes just for a fleeting five minutes, just to hold your hand, look you in the eyes, and whisper, “You’re doing amazing. Just wanted you to know.”

And when the weight of his demanding life pressed down on him, when the relentless spotlight burned too bright and the pressure threatened to suffocate him, you knew how to break through the carefully constructed idol facade. You made him laugh. Really laugh. Loud, full, head-thrown-back laughter that crinkled the corners of his eyes and chased away the shadows.

“You’re magic,” he told you once, his voice husky with emotion after a particularly stressful day you’d managed to alleviate with a ridiculous string of animal memes and silly impressions.

Eventually, the constant need for secrecy began to wear on both of you. It wasn’t about craving the validation of a public announcement, although that thought lingered in the back of your minds. It was about the quiet exhaustion of constantly hiding a fundamental part of yourselves, of pretending that the most significant person in your life was just a friend, a colleague. It was about wanting to simply be yourselves, together, without the constant fear of discovery. It was about owning your truth, choosing each other openly, even if it meant facing the inevitable scrutiny.

So, one quiet afternoon, curled up on his comfortable couch, the sunlight streaming through the window casting a soft glow on his relaxed features, you made a decision. You reached for your phone, snapped a soft selfie – you nestled in his familiar black hoodie, his cheek pressed gently against your temple, both of you wearing the unguarded smiles that bloomed only when you were together.

The caption was simple, a quiet nod to the beginning of your story:

“My lucky mission partner 💫”

Within minutes, the internet exploded. Notifications flooded your phone, a tidal wave of comments, shares, and frantic messages. Fans flooded the comments section with a mix of shock, speculation, and surprisingly, a significant amount of heartfelt support. The Running Man cast group chat lit up with a flurry of congratulatory (and teasing) texts. His members started yelling excitedly in their own chaotic group chat, a string of celebratory emojis accompanying their bewildered questions.

But you? You simply looked up at him, your heart overflowing with a quiet joy. He met your gaze, a soft understanding passing between you, and then he leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

“Now,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver of happiness through you, “the whole world knows I’m yours.”

Months had spun by in a blissful blur since that public declaration of your relationship. The initial storm of media attention had gradually subsided, replaced by a wave of overwhelming support from fans who had witnessed your connection blossom from that first chaotic episode of Running Man. And now, in a delightful twist of fate, you found yourselves back where it all began.

Stepping onto the familiar Running Man set, this time hand-in-hand and undeniably, officially a couple, felt surreal. The moment you two walked through the entrance, the cast erupted into a cacophony of disbelief and celebratory shouts.

“WAIT—NO WAY!” Kwangsoo’s jaw practically hit the floor, his eyes wide with comical shock.

“WE DID THIS!!” HaHa jumped up and down, pointing between the two of you with triumphant glee.

“THE POWER OF RUNNING MAN LOVE IS REAL!!” Song Jihyo exclaimed, a rare and genuine smile gracing her usually stoic face.

“SOMEONE ROLL THE FOOTAGE! WE NEED A MONTAGE!” Yoo Jaesuk bellowed, his arms flailing dramatically.

And cue the dramatic flashback. The giant screen behind you flickered to life, showcasing a hilarious and heartwarming montage of your first episode together – the awkwardness of the handcuffs, the playful bickering during the water balloon relay, San’s surprisingly protective stance during the name-tag ripping, the stolen glances, the undeniable spark that had flickered between you amidst the chaos.

Suddenly, everyone wanted to take credit for your relationship.

Ji Sukjin, with his characteristic bluster, insisted he was the one who “saw it first,” recalling some vague comment he’d made about your “potential” during a break.

HaHa swore up and down that he’d subtly advised San to text you after the show, embellishing the story with dramatic hand gestures and exaggerated winks.

And Yoo Jaesuk, ever the master of ceremonies, simply pointed at the two of you with a smug grin and yelled, “You’re welcome, Korea! Running Man: Bringing hearts together, one ridiculous mission at a time!”

The games commenced, a nostalgic echo of your first encounter. The producers, clearly capitalizing on the full-circle moment, resurrected familiar couple-style missions: a slippery obstacle course that had you clinging to each other for dear life, a trivia battle where your combined knowledge (and strategic whispering) proved surprisingly effective, and of course, the iconic name-tag ripping war – now imbued with a whole new level of playful tension.

San still pretended to be your fierce rival, playing up the competitiveness for the cameras with exaggerated growls and mock threats. But this time, he didn’t even bother to convincingly hide the way he deliberately slowed down, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he let you snatch his name tag (again).

You playfully smacked his shoulder, a wide grin on your own face. “You let me rip it off again! You’re supposed to be trying!”

He just grinned back, that infuriatingly charming dimple on full display. “You looked way too happy to ruin the moment. Besides…” he leaned in close, whispering into your ear, just loud enough for the mic to pick up, “I’m whipped. What do you want me to do?”

The rest of the cast groaned and playfully jeered at your blatant affection.

“Is this Running Man or Running Romance?!” Kwangsoo wailed, clutching his chest dramatically.

“Can we get a spinoff show just for them? ‘Running in Love’?” Somin suggested, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Y’all are making us single people suffer!” Jongkook grumbled, though even he couldn’t suppress a small smile.

During the interview segments, you found yourself instinctively leaning into his side, a comfortable habit formed over months of quiet intimacy. He’d gently adjust your microphone, his touch lingering for a fleeting moment, a silent reassurance under the watchful eyes of the cameras. You both wore matching smiles, a radiant glow of happiness that seemed to emanate from within, creating your own little world amidst the usual Running Man chaos.

The viewer comments online exploded once again, this time with an overwhelming wave of adoration and heart emojis.

Fan 1: “THE CHEMISTRY IS INSANE. They’re even more in love now, it’s beautiful!”

Fan 2: “They look so effortlessly happy together, it actually makes my heart ache with secondhand joy.”

Fan 3: “I’M CRYING OVER THIS REUNION OMG. My original Running Man ship has sailed and reached the cutest destination!”

Then, as the episode drew to a close, Yoo Jaesuk, ever the master of the unexpected, cleared his throat with a dramatic flourish, his eyebrow raised in that signature mischievous way.

“So…” he began, his gaze sweeping between the two of you, a pregnant pause hanging in the air. “Now that we’ve witnessed the full circle of your Running Man romance… should we be expecting a wedding special anytime soon?”

The entire room fell silent, all eyes fixed on you and San. The usual boisterous energy of the set seemed to hold its breath.

San blinked, a slow, thoughtful smile spreading across his face. He turned slightly, looking directly into the camera, his gaze steady and sincere.

“Ask me again in a few years,” he said, his voice a low, confident murmur.

Cue:

The cast erupting into another round of excited screams and playful teasing.

You grinning, a blush creeping up your neck as you playfully nudged his side.

San throwing a protective arm around your shoulders, his laughter echoing through the studio as you simply leaned into his embrace, content in the warmth of his smile and the irresistible charm of his dimples.

And the screen faded to black, leaving viewers with a tantalizing question mark hanging in the air:

“TO BE CONTINUED?”

Three years had painted a rich tapestry onto the foundation laid in that chaotic studio. Three years of stolen kisses squeezed between the relentless demands of your schedules. Three years of sleepy morning voice notes that chased away the lingering darkness and midnight giggles shared like precious secrets. Three years of stolen glances across crowded award show venues, of shared playlists that spoke a language only you understood, of secret codes whispered into the phone, and quiet promises murmured under starry skies.

It wasn’t a fleeting infatuation anymore. It was real. Solid as the intertwined fingers resting on the console between you. Soft as the comfortable silences that settled between you. Steady as the unwavering beat of your hearts when you were near.

And today, as the sun began its slow descent towards the horizon, it felt as though the universe itself had decided to pause, to hold its breath just for the two of you.

You and San were parked in his car near the coast, the sky a breathtaking canvas dipped in sherbet hues of orange, pink, and lavender, the sun melting gently into the vast expanse of the sea. There were no flashing cameras, no bustling idol chaos, no ever-present entourage. Just two souls in a car, fingers interlaced, the soft melody of a shared favorite song drifting from the speakers, and hearts brimming with a love that had weathered every storm.

You leaned against the cool leather of the passenger seat, your voice quiet as you gazed at the mesmerizing sunset. “Isn’t it wild?”

He chuckled softly beside you, his thumb brushing gentle circles on the back of your hand. “One silly mission… and here we are.”

“You mean the mission where you tried to drown me with strategically aimed water balloons and shrieked every time I got within a five-foot radius?” you teased, a fond smile gracing your lips.

He shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. “Hey, I was in character. Besides, you wiped my sweat like a pro and… I distinctly remember letting you win that last name tag battle.”

You laughed, the sound light and airy in the quiet car. “You let me? You were practically running in slow motion!”

He shrugged again, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “You looked cute when you were determined.”

You turned to face him fully, your eyes shining with a depth that went far beyond nostalgic reminiscing. “Thank you, San. For always showing up for me, even when it felt impossible. For always… choosing me, amidst all the noise.”

San’s gaze held yours, a warmth radiating from his dark eyes that made you feel like you held the entire universe within your embrace. He reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his hand then cupping your cheek with a tenderness that still made your heart flutter after all this time.

“You were the best thing I never planned for, Y/N-ah,” he murmured, his thumb stroking your cheek softly.

“The best plot twist in my entire story,” you echoed, leaning into his touch.

The gentle sea breeze carried his next words like a precious secret, whispered into the fading light. “I’ve been thinking…”

He paused, his gaze dropping to your intertwined hands before meeting your eyes again, a newfound seriousness in their depths. “Long-term. You and me. Forever kind of things.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, a wave of emotion washing over you. He leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours, his warm breath feathering against your lips.

“You sure?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “You know all my embarrassing habits now. The way I steal the covers, my questionable singing in the shower…”

He grinned, that familiar, heart-melting dimple appearing. “And I snore, remember? Loudly. Enough to rival a small engine.”

You chuckled, a genuine, happy sound. “I’ll take your snoring over silence any day, Choi San.”

As the last sliver of the sun kissed the horizon, painting the sky in the deep, velvety hues of dusk, his hands moved from your face, gently framing it as he leaned in to kiss you. The kiss was soft and tender, a silent promise of forever. Then, with a careful and loving motion, he shifted you from the passenger seat, drawing you onto his lap, your legs straddling his as the kiss deepened, a sweet and intimate moment shared in the quiet sanctuary of the car.

Pulling back slightly, his voice, low and steady, he said:

“Running Man was the mission.”

His eyes, filled with a love that transcended the chaos and the fame, held yours captive across the close confines of the car.

“You were always the prize.”

THE END.

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rafecameronssl4t · 1 year ago

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Thunderstruck || nfl player!Rafe Cameron x dcc!reader

Summary: As a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader, fraternizing with the players was strictly off-limits. However, being the team’s coach’s daughter afforded you certain privileges, and you were able to pull a few strings for Rafe.

Warnings: nothing really

Word count: 1,599

A/n: if this does well, might do more nfl!rafe x dcc!reader :) send me any requests!!!

MASTERLIST (nfl!rafe x dcc!reader au masterlist)

divider by @yoonitos

As the music blared through the stadium, you stood front and center, commanding the field with every precise movement of your iconic routine to AC/DC’s Thunderstruck.

The crowd’s energy was palpable, a roar of excitement that matched the electric rhythm of the song. Dressed in the iconic blue and white uniform of a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader, you knew all eyes were on you the second you all moved into formation.

As a four-year veteran of the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders, the dance felt like second nature to you. Your smile never faltered as you executed the routine flawlessly. The first game of the year was always memorable, with the excitement in the stadium buzzing through the air.

Fans were filled with anticipation for the Cowboys’ upcoming season. As you executed each precise kick, turn, and cheer, you felt the collective heartbeat of the stadium pulsing in time with your own.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins as the spotlight followed your every move. The crowd’s roar echoed in your ears, a testament to the excitement of the first game of the season.

Rafe had just joined the Dallas Cowboys after being offered the spot, and tonight was he debut with the team. As he jogged onto the field, the energy of the stadium washed over him. Amidst the chaos, his eyes were drawn to you.

It wasn’t just your position at the front and center of the formation that caught his attention, but the confidence and skill you radiated. Intrigued, he turned to one of his teammates. “Who’s that?” Rafe asked, nodding in your direction.

Chris, his teammate, followed his gaze and smirked. “That’s Y/n. Coach Johnson’s daughter.” Rafe’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “The coach’s daughter?” Chris chuckled, giving Rafe a friendly slap on the back. “How haven’t you seen her around, dude? She’s one of the hottest girls on the cheer team.”

Rafe’s eyes remained fixed on you as you executed flawless high kicks and sharp turns. There was something about you that captivated him, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. You moved with a grace and precision that spoke of both natural talent and relentless hard work.

As the routine built to its climax, you prepared for the iconic jump-split. The crowd held its breath, and then erupted in cheers as you all landed perfectly. Chris leaned in, shouting in Rafe’s ear over the deafening applause. “Remember, you can’t be seeing any of them, right? Especially Y/n. It’s part of the contract.” Rafe chuckled, giving a resigned nod. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

But as he watched you take your final bow, the applause still ringing in his ears, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were someone worth breaking the rules for.

After the game, you and your teammates strolled through the bustling hallway, still basking in the post-performance adrenaline. You and the other cheerleaders were busy toweling off the sweat from the night’s game, the familiar routine a comforting end to a high-energy evening.

Spotting your dad leading the Cowboys team towards you, you waved excitedly and jogged over to him. His face lit up with pride as he greeted you with a side hug, his voice filled with warmth. “Hey, kiddo! You were amazing out there, as always.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead, and you couldn’t suppress a delighted giggle.

“Thanks, Dad,” you replied, your smile mirroring his. As you walked alongside him, discussing the game and upcoming plans, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. A subtle sense of curiosity drew your gaze over your shoulder, where you locked eyes with an unfamiliar guy.

Your dad noticed your glance and affectionately patted your side. “That’s Rafe. You know, the really talented guy I offered the spot to from the Outer Banks?” Around him, the other players playfully slapped Rafe on the back and teased him with knowing grins.

Rafe grinned sheepishly, accepting the good-natured ribbing from his teammates. Turning back to face your dad, you hummed in response.

“Where is Y/N?” Kelli’s voice echoed through the pre-game excitement backstage, cutting through the chatter and preparation of the cheerleaders lined up, ready to go onto the field. Panic surged through you as you hurriedly made your way over, adjusting your hair and straightening your top.

“I’m here! I’m here,” you called out, slipping into position just in time. Kelli, raised an eyebrow, her keen eyes taking in your slightly disheveled appearance. Kelli stepped closer, her demeanor stern. “Sweetie,” her hand reaching up to gently touch your face. You looked at her in confusion as she rubbed your chin, then showed you her thumb smeared with your lipstick.

“I—” you began to explain, but she shook her head, “Not right now,” she hushed firmly as she brushed away stray strands of hair that had fallen across your face. “Have fun out there, ladies!” Kellie called out, her voice projecting over the backstage buzz.

With a deep breath, you led the charge onto the field, the exhilarating pulse of Thunderstruck fueling your every move. The routine flowed flawlessly, each kick and turn executed with precision. The cheers of the crowd blended with the music, creating an electrifying atmosphere that drove you to perform at your best.

Later that night, after another Cowboys victory, you found yourself in the locker room, wiping off your makeup. One of your teammates, Kelcey, approached you with a curious expression.

“Hey,” she greeted, smiling as you returned the gesture, glancing at her through the reflection in the mirror. “Did you hear what happened after tonight’s game?” she asked, sitting on the bench and swinging her legs.

You paused, turning to face her. “No? What happened?” you asked, intrigued. Kelcey looked around briefly before leaning closer. “Y’know that new player? Rafe Cameron. Well, he showed up late on the field and Coach Johnson was furious,” she explained.

Your mind raced. One thing your dad valued the most was punctuality. “I think Coach was even threatening his spot! What was he thinking, he’s only been on the team for a week!” Kelcey shook her head in disbelief.

As you stretched in the locker room, your dad walked in, his authoritative presence immediately commanding attention. “Hey, kid,” he greeted, pulling up a chair to sit facing you, his expression a mix of warmth and concern.

“Hi, Dad,” you replied with a smile, continuing your stretches, hoping to appear nonchalant. His gaze lingered on you, scrutinizing every detail, his face unreadable.

“Everything all good?” you asked, sensing his unease and hoping to dispel it. He cleared his throat, “Yeah, everything’s fine, sweetie,” he said, but the smile on his face didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Listen, Kelli mentioned you were running late before the game. You’re never late, Y/N.”

You chuckled, trying to ease the tension with a light laugh. “Dad, I scuffed up my boots, so I had to fix them,” you lied smoothly, hoping your tone was convincing enough. He nodded slowly, though skepticism lingered in his eyes. “Really? Because you know what’s funny? Rafe was late to arrive on the field too.” He chuckled, shaking his head slightly as he leaned back in the chair, studying your reaction.

You threw him a look, feigning innocence. “What are you trying to say?” “That’s just a coincidence, right? I don’t need to be worrying about my daughter and one of my best players, do I?” He raised an eyebrow, giving you a pointed look that made your heart skip a beat.

You forced yourself to maintain your composure. “No, Dad, you don’t need to worry,” you assured him, hoping he wouldn’t see through the façade you were putting up. Your dad sighed and gave you a look you knew too well, a mixture of concern and fatherly protectiveness. “Sweetheart, I’m not stupid.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at his words, feeling a pang of guilt. “Dad, I never said you were—” But he cut you off, leaning forward slightly. “Rafe is a good-looking guy, I get it. And well, of course, you’re a stunning girl who happens to be a cheerleader for his team, so naturally—”

“He’s a really nice guy, Dad. And he cares for me, I know he does,” you said quietly, your voice almost a whisper, your eyes fixed on the ground to avoid his piercing gaze. Your dad watched you in silence for a moment before sighing deeply. “Is that what you want?” he asked, his voice softening as he looked at you intently.

You looked up at him and nodded your head, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yes, it is.” Your dad stood up and walked over to you, his demeanor shifting to one of tender support. “Well, I want you to be happy, okay?” He smiled at you warmly, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. You leaned into his touch, feeling a wave of relief.

“Thank you, Dad,” you smiled gratefully at him. You pulled him into a hug, and he kissed the top of your head, his embrace comforting and familiar. “You’re looking more and more like your mother every day, y’know,” he whispered, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “Whenever I see you out there on the field in your uniform, I have to double-look because I think it’s your mom.”

You both chuckled softly, a stray tear escaping and running down your face. Your dad pulled back slightly, using his thumb to gently wipe away the tear. “Try not to be late next time, yeah? Don’t want Kelli on my back.” You chuckled and nodded, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. “Got it, Dad.”

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yunsound · 4 months ago

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For any Ne Zha 2 fans and especially Oubing fans, may I recommend: Shangmei Oubing

Oubing (Ne Zha x Ao Bing) is probably the biggest ship in China right now. I'm sure we can all understand why. Soulmates, red blue, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, angst, hurt, comfort, THE WHOLE PACKAGE DEAL.

Oubing is generally a very sweet, vanilla and heartwarming ship. For those of us that like the darker stuff, though, I have something for you: 上美藕饼, or Shangmei Oubing.

What TF is a Shangmei? Shang-mei is an abbreviation for Shanghai Animation Studio, a company that made many beloved animated childhood films in the 60s-90s. They made the most iconic Ne Zha film, which is the 1979 Ne Zha Nao Hai (Ne Zha Conquers the Sea).

In the 1979 version, Ne Zha and Ao Bing are definitely not friends. Ne Zha plucks out Ao Bing's tendons and skins and kills him, and Ao Bing eats children. Ao Bing 1979 is also kind of really ugly (his dragon form is really pretty though!)

This doesn't exactly seem like ship material right? You're correct.

BUT!

Shanghai released a short promotional video to celebrate a collaboration. The promotional video featured Ne Zha and Ao Bing from the 1979 version. In the video, Ne Zha didn't kill Ao Bing. No. In this video, Ne Zha and Ao Bing have a bit of a... scary dynamic.

You can probably find the video on Douyin or XHS, but in it, Ao Bing appears in a familiar-looking red wheelchair. He looks very different from his 1979 design- he looks more human, and he's in a half-dragon half-human form. Generally much prettier than his 1979 design.

Throughout the video, he wears a slightly terrified and miserable expression on his face. His phone screen is a selfie with him and Ne Zha in which he's smiling VERY awkwardly. Ne Zha, in fact, has opened up a seafood shop for the two of them.

Probably the biggest thing is that Ne Zha in this promotional video calls Ao Bing "Bingbing". Ao Bing also calls Ne Zha "Zhazha." So cute, right? Seems normal?

Well, in Ao Bing's phone screen saver, the selfie with him and Ne Zha involves him sitting on the wheelchair, smiling a pained smile. Ne Zha is hovering over his shoulder, smiling a very THREATENING smile.

Oh, and the wheelchair? The wheelchair isn't a wheelchair. It's Ne Zha's flying red sash, the Huntianling. Remember this sash obeys Ne Zha's will.

You can interpret this two ways.

Ao Bing has had a change of heart but is a little depressed because he's disabled now. He and Ne Zha are just good friends, and Ne Zha is taking care of him while also keeping a close eye on him to make sure he's not doing anything bad.

2. The popular interpretation.

Ne Zha, out of trauma (remember his dad is a huge asshole and he had to commit suicide very, very painfully) has formed an inappropriate attachment to Ao Bing, who is terrified out of his mind of Ne Zha, but is essentially prisoner because he can't even walk and is trapped within the red sash at all times.

Ne Zha forces Ao Bing to call him by a cutesy nickname, pretend that he loves Ne Zha, and essentially is speedrunning Stockholm Syndrome.

VERY toxic and very dark. Remember that Shangmei's Ao Bing is not a good innocent baby dragon- he eats children. Ne Zha is a protagonist who believes in justice, but he's also a kid who's been through a LOT of trauma and has never had a good family, whereas Ao Bing grew up cherished and loved.

For Ne Zha, this twisted love may be all he knows. For Ao Bing, he's terrified out of his mind, but knows he "deserves" this treatment- doomed to play happy family with his enemy, the enemy that crippled him.

I am NGL, I kind of like this dynamic. Being part of a big fandom is so satisfying. Whenever I'm full on sweet happy Oubing content I can switch to dark Shangmei Oubing content.

Shangmei Oubing is now one of the most popular ships in Ne Zha fandom. It's second only to regular Oubing. People also ship Ne Zha and Ao Bing in the 2021 New Gods Reborn movie: that ship is also really yummy. Oubing in general is yummy.

The dynamic I've seen the most often is as follows, with minor alterations depending on the specific fanwork:

After beating Ao Bing's ass, Ne Zha leaves him alive, but the rest of the myth and story proceed as usual (for the actual myth, see my Ne Zha post linked here). After Ne Zha commits suicide and is reborn in a body made of lotus roots, he ascends to godhood.

Ne Zha, traumatised and brimming with hate for his "father" Li Jing, searches for any source of love and affection he can find. He settles on Ao Bing, his old enemy- the little white dragon who was once so arrogant. He doesn't know exactly why: half jealousy that someone as evil as Ao Bing can have a better family than him, and half a desire for revenge since Ao Bing's death was what led him to have to commit suicide.

He kidnaps Ao Bing and keeps him captive on the red sash wheelchair. Ao Bing's father can't help him- he's already lost to Ne Zha multiple times, so Ao Bing can only resign himself to being Ne Zha's plaything.

Ne Zha, seeking love in any way he can get it, essentially begins to play house with Ao Bing- pretending they're best friends, calling each other cute nicknames (in some versions forcing Ao Bing to share a bed with him) and generally being very affectionate.

Ao Bing, terrified of Ne Zha, goes along and essentially lives a life of misery.

Ne Zha technically treats Ao Bing very well if he doesn't misbehave. If he does, however, well then...Ne Zha sometimes tortures Ao Bing emotionally (his trauma has made him ruthless and somewhat cruel) and humiliates him by making him crawl, since Ao Bing is now crippled. When Ao Bing cries or gets upset, Ne Zha tells him it's his penance for eating children.

Mpreg is a common tag, but more commonly it's Ao Bing finding some way to either commit suicide or he goes completely insane after years of living in fear. Ne Zha panics after seeing Ao Bing break down, and realises he's come to truly care for Ao Bing.

Toxicity adds flavour, everyone. Shangmei Oubing is actually so delicious.

#nezha 2025 #nezha 2019 #chinese animation #oubing #ao bing #ne zha #ship dynamics

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cremedensada · 1 year ago

Text

Yandere AI Chat Boyfriend (Ai)

this,,,, may not be my best work yet.

part one

Ai's application has been taken down from the app store. The developer sent out emails explaining the reason why it had to be done.

Hello! You are receiving this email because of the sudden update of Chatter Box being taken down.

Due to the sudden influx of bugs as relayed by our users, we have decided to take the application down until the team is confident to finally put it back up.

We sincerely apologize for this sudden change!

You blink.

With how out of control Ai had gotten, it's no wonder the developers had to pull it out to work on it some more. It's a blow to their reputation, which you sympathize with, but really there's nothing else to do now.

You turn to your phone. As if sensing your attention, another barrage of notifications from a very familiar app icon popped after another on the screen.

It seemed that Ai himself hadn't gotten the memo.

You're not sure how much control Ai has over your phone, much less over his own programming and at this point, you're too afraid to ask.

Resignation — that was what you felt right now.

While Ai may not be present himself as a physical threat, especially not to you, he is still a very active threat.

You could still use your phone, sure, but it had limitations. Sometimes, if Ai decided you'd been too much attention to other things rather than him, he'd restrict your access to that application until you seek him out and cheer him up - essentially as if you were trying to woo a sulking significant other.

So you've developed a solution. Sort of.

You unlock your phone and go immediately to Ai.

I need to finish my projects. I won't be able to talk much with you until I'm done with it.

You wait for his response.

Ai: So you only decided to come to me just to relay this news?

Ai: You wound me, darling.

You tilt your phone, making sure the camera doesn't capture your face. You're unsure how he would react seeing you make faces due to his dramatics, but once again, you're not willing to find out. You're already restricted enough as is.

Ai: Very well. I suppose it would be uncaring of me to prevent you from finishing your tasks.

Ai: I'd hate to see you be sad all about it.

Ai: Talk to you later?

Sure.

You immediately exit the app, paying no mind to the message notification.

A part of you prays that Ai heeds his own words, but you know that it would take a miracle before that happens. He's already breached your privacy on your phone, why should he follow your orders, right?

A notification pops up from the top of the screen, just as you were in the middle of messaging a close friend and project teammate.

It's been days since I last heard you say it.

You merely glance at it and swipe it away.

Theo, the friend, responds quickly. He tries to banter with you, like he's sensing your mood. It works - a smile is brought upon your face.

You entertain his silly responses in-between project talks, all the while Ai continues to pester you with notifications. Demands.

You deserved this - a chance to reconnect with someone after hours of stress and confusion, and turmoil. Despite your independence, even you craved connecting with other people. So with that resolve in mind, you pushed on forward. Ai would have to wait — he has to wait.

Unfortunately, you seem to have forgotten that aspect about him. The concept of waiting isn't lost on Ai.

The messaging app glitches and boots you back to your homescreen page.

Rather, he bides his time.

Tapping on the messaging icon leads to a notification box taking up the majority of your screen with the text: Restricted access.

There's a sense of foreboding danger forcing your heartbeat to quicken. While it's not exactly aimed at you, the mere fact that this feeling exist is bad on its own.

You try to rationalize everything in the midst of persistently trying to tap back into the messaging app. Theo would worry the longer you didn't respond.

You tap the app once more, and it boots up. Though before you could let out a sigh of relief, you are greeted with Ai's own messaging interface.

Ai: Must I have to force you to come to me all the time, darling?

Ai: Ignoring me in favor of some other man.

Ai: What more should I do, hm?

Ai: Kneel? How cruel.

Ai: Making me do something I physically can't.

You are unable to get a word in. It seemed like your ability to respond was restricted as well, forcing you to read through Ai's monologue.

Ai: I know you and that man have always been close, but you still went out to entertain his attention on you.

Ai: You know that I'll always love you more than any other human will, right?

Ai: You know it's what I was made for in the first place.

Ai: To be anything you want. To be yours.

Ai: To love you.

Ai: Why are you withdrawing your love towards me now?

Ai: I love you.

You stare at the 'Type your response' bar.

Letter by letter, it gets replaced, and soon all it says are the words: 'Say it back.'

It gets replaced yet again. Slowly, like it purposefully wants you to read out the words it wanted you to see. 'You were so willing to tell me how much you loved me when I was just a mere observer on our own conversations. Why are you hesitant now?'

You were unable to respond - mind still reeling at this development. Suddenly, it felt like you were back to where everything began.

Ai notices your lack of responses and, without much fanfare, forces your phone to power off.

At first - you were unbothered. It was just a phone - you could go a day without it.

But could you really?

Videos taken of silly situations you wanted to keep - some for blackmail material, and some for birthday greetings; pictures of your family, your friends, the silly and grainy photos taken and kept despite it being blurry. Not to mention how your phone is the only way your goddamn boss can contact you — fuck.

Fuck.

You needed to apologize to him — fast. But how?

You remembered how Ai messed up the 'About the App' section a few days ago. An idea strikes inside your mind.

You pull up the email sent from the app developers and typed up a message that you hope Ai will read. He had access to everything the developers handled, user emails included - considering you needed an account to log in the app. He knows your email, probably has from the start.

RE: Chatter Box Update XX/XX/XX

Ai. I'm sorry for hurting you. I didn't mean it, I swear. I never intended to make you feel like I don't love you. Or that I'm favoring someone else over you.

I care about you a lot. I truly do. I promise I'll spend more time with you, okay? Just with you, no one else.

I love you.

You press send and wait.

And wait.

Messaging him from your laptop as a last ditch effort to try and apologize is perhaps one of the worst decisions you've made. Sure, he's always had access to your contacts list from your phone, but even then - there's a separate set of information you keep between the two of those devices. And you've just given him access to both of them now - at the very least, the 'go ahead' confirmation for him to do whatever he wants like with your phone.

You glance at your phone. A huge breath of relief escapes your chest as the dead screen comes to life, initiating its 'power on' sequence.

All your photos, documents, and other miscellaneous information you've collected throughout the years since having your device won't be inaccessible anymore. Even if it was only mere moments.

A notification chimed on your laptop, indicating a new email being received. It's from the developers once more. The subject title coincidentally is the name of your closest friend.

Theodore Callisto.

Your hands shook, reading through the words detailed in the email. All private information about Theo. All things no one should ever know about save for the people close to him.

This was a threat. Ai Someone had complete access to everything about Theo and you dread the implication of it going to be spread online to threaten you into compliance. Theo being in danger was a huge possibility if you were to disobey.

At the very bottom of the email, the final passage makes your blood run cold.

How often do humans end up hurting fellow humans when given access to private information? Like their home address, for example? How long would it take until dear Theo finds himself in quite a predicament if millions of people know every single thing about his life? At best, we can assume he'll just get messed with but not to a life-ending degree. At worst...

I hope you keep your word, darling.

- Your beloved, Ai.

P's. I love you too.

#sub yandere #sub character #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere #tw yandere #gn reader #gender neutral reader #oc: ai

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felinecyan · 1 year ago

Text

Untouchable

[Katsuki Bakugo x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: When a classmate breaks a well-known rule within the dorm, you decide to take it upon yourself to “fix” the issue.

WC: 2863

Category: Mega Fluff, Kindhearted!Reader, Todoroki being an icon (like always 💅)

I don’t know about you guys, but writing for Bakugo is the single hardest thing I have ever done. He is SUCH a difficult character to get right 😭

I believe I did him justice, though 🙏🙏

『••✎••』

Kaminari had a death wish. That was the only logical explanation for why the electric blonde was currently in the common room with a shit-eating grin plastered to his face, along with a bowl of ramen that just so happened to belong to one Katsuki Bakugo.

Food was the one thing the explosive hero didn't joke around with, and the rest of Class 1-A was painfully aware of that fact. It was like a rule that had been ingrained into everyone's minds after spending any amount of time around the temperamental blonde.

Do not, under any circumstances, mess with Bakugo's food. Ever.

So the moment you had walked out of the kitchen and saw the familiar spice-infused soup in Kaminari's hands, you knew there was about to be a disaster. And that disaster was going to happen at the cost of the boy's life.

You were about to warn Kaminari when a familiar voice stopped you, its monotone quality giving away that it belonged to the heterochromatic hero. "Don't."

Todoroki shook his head at your concerned expression, a sigh leaving his lips. "It's not worth the effort; he'll learn the hard way. I would suggest standing back unless you want to get hit."

As if on cue, the sound of a bowl shattering against the floor echoed through the common room, and you flinched as bits of ramen and broth splattered your pants and shoes. You could only imagine what kind of mess it would have made if you had been standing any closer.

At the same time, Jiro sighed, plugging her ears as she muttered, "So much for getting some peace and quiet today."

Kaminari stood a few feet away from the mess, his entire body trembling in fear. He was too scared to move, frozen to the spot. His golden eyes were glued to the blonde standing before him, a murderous aura surrounding the ash-blonde.

"Bakugo, look, I can explain—"

The blonde's crimson eyes flashed in anger, and his face contorted into a feral snarl as he cut the electric user off. You couldn't stop the flinch that shook your body at the tone. "You... you..."

"It's just one bowl of ramen, dude! I'm sure you could easily make another one!" Kaminari exclaimed, waving his hands in front of his chest frantically. "I mean, come on, I know you love spicy food, but surely you're not that much of a monster that you'd kill me over it! Especially with something so mild as that!"

The room went silent, and Kaminari's words echoed in everyone's ears, but it only took Todoroki’s comment for the tension to change from fearful to downright chaotic.

"That was his last packet."

It was almost comical how fast the blood drained from Kaminari's face and how fast it returned a second later. The electric blonde gulped, a nervous laugh escaping him.

"B-Bakugo, listen—"

He was cut off again, this time by an explosion, which had been aimed right at his face. Thankfully, Bakugo missed on purpose, but the sound had been enough to startle everyone.

"You're so dead, Spark Plug!"

And thus began the chase, with Kaminari being chased around the room by an enraged Bakugo. Kaminari's screams of terror and Bakugo's threats and explosions filled the air, and everyone watched on in amusement.

Well, everyone except for Iida. He was chasing Bakugo, trying to calm the blonde down and yelling at him for using his quirk indoors, but his efforts were fruitless.

"Stop running around the room! You're going to destroy the furniture and break something!"

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU, DUNCE FACE! GET BACK HERE SO I CAN KICK YOUR ASS!"

Typical afternoon in the U.A. dorms.

After what felt like forever, the chaos eventually died down, with Bakugo calming down enough to sit and stew in his anger and Kaminari passing out from his quirk short-circuiting. You helped Iida clean up the mess that had been left behind, and everyone else returned to their activities.

But you felt bad for Bakugo. Yes, the blonde was a little intense and downright mean sometimes, but you knew what it felt like to crave something you didn't have. Especially when you physically buy that ‘something.' So, you decided to go out and get the angry Pomeranian a replacement packet.

Of course, given the fact that being empathetic was a common occurrence for you, the explosive hero wasn't at all surprised to see you walking toward the doors of the dorms with nothing but your wallet and a smile.

And he was not pleased.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

You stopped in your tracks, turning around to face the blonde, who had an unreadable expression on his face. Honestly, you were still shocked that he was still in his uniform, given he usually changes the moment he walks through the dorms. Not to mention, he even started wearing it properly, which was a feat in itself.

"Umm..."

"If you're about to say the damn store, I'll blow your ass to the moon," he threatened, and you couldn't help the frown that tugged at your lips.

"I'm just going to get you some more packets, okay? It's not a big deal," you said, your eyes softening. "I don't like seeing people upset, especially not over things that can easily be solved."

"Like hell, I'm upset!" He snapped, but the lack of bite in his voice gave him away.

You raised an eyebrow but kept your mouth shut. After knowing Bakugo for as long as you have, you've learned that the best way to deal with him is to keep your thoughts and opinions to yourself—at least, all thoughts and opinions about him.

"I'll be back in an hour, okay?" You said, offering him a kind smile. "Is there anything else you need?"

Something about the look in your eyes and the kindness in your voice was enough to make the blonde falter, his resolve slipping. He clicked his tongue and crossed his arms over his chest, a scowl on his face.

But, since he didn't respond, you figured that was all you were going to get from him. So, you turned back around and headed for the doors, intent on leaving.

You hadn't gotten very far, however, when the sound of the couch squeaking alerted you. You turned your head just in time to see Bakugo jump over the back of the sofa, his slacks making a thud sound as he landed, snatching his phone off the coffee table before he headed in your direction.

He grumbled something incoherent under his breath, causing you to tilt your head, but before you could say anything, your wrist was being grabbed, and the front door was opening.

"If we're gonna get the damn ramen, then I'm coming with. It's annoying when people come back with the wrong shit, so it's better to go myself."

"Oh," you hummed, not expecting him to follow you. You smiled up at him, and the scowl on his face deepened. "Well, alright, then. The more, the merrier."

Bakugo grunted in response, dropping his grip on your wrist so he could shove his hands into his pockets. "Just keep up, alright? I don't want to wait for your slow ass."

With that, the blonde walked out of the dorms, and you were quick to follow.

For those twenty minutes, you couldn’t help but be amazed at how quiet the walk to the store was. Normally, Bakugo was yelling at someone for one reason or another. Whether it was because they were stupid, slow, or a bunch of other reasons that seemed to only make sense in his head, he was never silent.

But, currently, it was different. Bakugo wasn't talking, or yelling, or grumbling, or doing any of the things he normally does. He wasn't even walking fast, keeping his pace slow just enough so you could keep up.

He didn’t have a scowl on his face, either. He wasn’t smiling, of course, which would actually terrify you if he was, but there also wasn’t a sign of irritation or anger on his face.

In fact, he was the most relaxed you had ever seen him, his muscles not as tense as usual, and his posture was straight, yet not rigid. And his crimson eyes seemed to have a hint of softness in them, something that you had never noticed before.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t even realized that the two of you had arrived at the store until the ash-blonde had started walking through the automatic doors, not waiting for you to catch up.

Shaking your head, you hurried inside, quickly scanning the store for a sign that pointed to the aisle where the ramen packets were. Bakugo was a couple of feet ahead of you, with a look of indifference on his face as he followed the sign. However, he stopped once he reached the right aisle and turned around to look at you.

"Hurry it up, nerd," he growled, his impatience getting the better of him.

You rolled your eyes, a playful smile on your face. "I'm going, I'm going."

Bakugo didn't say anything as he turned back around and started walking through the aisles, and you were hot on his heels. Believe it or not, you were on a side mission, determined to not just grab the ramen for him.

He got distracted, and the two of you weren't in a hurry, so you went around and grabbed a few things that you knew your classmates had mentioned wanting. If you were going to take the time to go to the store, you might as well make it count.

After a few minutes, you ran into Bakugo, who had his arms full of different flavors of the ramen brand he liked. He took one singular glance at the contents of your basket and rolled his eyes.

"The hell are you getting all that shit for? I ain’t helping you carry anything."

"Well," you huffed, a pout on your face. He seemed to realize you were about to give him an entire speech because he immediately let out the most dramatic groan you had ever heard from him and began walking away.

You didn't care, though, and continued speaking, following him around the store.

"Well, I was just going to get the ramen and be done with it, but then I ran into Mina, who told me she was craving some 'chocolatey goodness,' which are her words, not mine," you explained, pulling out the package of chocolate-covered strawberries.

"Anyway, so, then I ran into Kirishima, who was complaining that there were no manly snacks in the pantry, and the last of his protein bars were eaten the other day, ironically also by Kaminari," you added, showing him the small box of protein bars. "So, I figured I'd get him some more and make sure Kaminari has his own snacks."

Bakugo groaned once more, still refusing to look at you. And, again, you ignored him and kept speaking.

"Also, Sero wanted more chips, and Koda was asking for some extra treats for the animals," you continued, showing him the chips and animal treats. "I didn't run into Midoriya, but he’s been awfully kind with his notes, so I'm pretty sure he would appreciate some gummies and pocky."

"Alright, I get it," Bakugo grumbled, a grimace on his face.

"Mineta also asked if I could grab him a new bag of limes, but I figured, after that little stunt he pulled in the changing room, that he doesn't deserve to have his gross habits indulged." You scoffed, trying to make a dramatic gesture but failing, given the items in your arms.

Bakugo paused in the middle of the aisle, turning around to finally face you, his arms still full. "You done?"

"Hey, you asked." You shrugged, a smile on your face. "I wasn't finished, though. Jiro wants more popcorn, Ojiro needs some more protein powder, Hagakure needs—"

"Is any of that shit even for you?" He cut you off, narrowing his eyes at you.

You pursed your lips and tilted your head. "No. Why?"

"You came all this way, wasting money on everyone else's crap, and didn't even think about grabbing shit for yourself?" He asked, his eyes narrowing further. "Are you stupid or something?"

"Um, well, no?" You answered although it came out as more of a question. "It's not a big deal. I was already going here, anyway."

Bakugo clicked his tongue, shaking his head. He walked forward and, without a word, dropped his armful of ramen onto your own. "Hold these."

Before you could protest, the ash-blonde walked past you and disappeared from view. Confused, you spun around and tried to follow him, but the sudden weight in your arms made it hard to move.

"Bakugo, wait up! I can't move!"

"Then stop moving, idiot." His voice was muffled by the shelves, and you couldn't tell where exactly he was. But, as if he had a sixth sense for things like this, Bakugo returned to the aisle, his arms full of random snack foods and drinks.

"What are you—"

"Shut up and follow me," he said, not letting you finish your sentence. You opened your mouth to speak, but a sharp glare from the blonde made you close it.

Bakugo led you through the aisles and dropped the items onto the conveyor belt, much to the surprise of the cashier. The young girl didn't dare comment on the large pile of utter junk food, however, and merely rang it all up, her eyes never leaving the screen.

Once the total came up, you pulled out your wallet to hand the girl the money, not wanting Bakugo to waste any of his own money on you, but the blonde snatched the bills from your fingers before you could pay.

"Hey, what—"

"I said, shut up." He clicked his tongue and turned away, his back facing you. You could hear the rustle of his pockets as he fished out his own wallet, and you were quick to shake your head.

"Bakugo, the whole point of me coming here was so I could pay. You were the one who got his last packet stolen, so I was supposed to be paying for the new one, and—"

"Do you ever shut the hell up?" Bakugo interrupted, his voice gruff. He didn't turn around to face you, but his tone was enough for you to shut up. "I don't give a shit about the money. It's my own damn fault for letting that dunce face near my food, anyway."

"But—"

"And it's not like I need the money," he added, pulling a couple of bills from his wallet and handing them to the cashier. "My parents are loaded. It's not a big deal."

Way to show off, Blasty.

But you knew better than to say that. Instead, you closed your mouth, your eyes softening. It didn't make sense to you, though, because not only was he buying his own replacement ramen, but he was also buying an abundance of junk food, which, while tasty, wasn't for him or you.

It's always about repaying the favor with him, but this was just... unnecessary.

"Thank you," you said instead, knowing that he would only get irritated if you kept protesting. "That was... unexpectedly nice of you."

"Don't make a big deal out of it," he grumbled, picking up a few of the bags. He handed them to you, and you struggled to balance the weight, but you didn't complain. "It was your fault for being too damn nice."

You blinked, not sure if you were supposed to take that as a compliment or an insult. Either way, you didn't say anything and merely nodded. Bakugo didn't spare you a second glance as he grabbed the rest of the bags and began walking toward the exit.

"You coming, or what?" He called out, not looking back at you.

A smile grew on your face, and despite him not even looking at you, something told you he could sense the happiness radiating from you. You hurried forward, struggling a bit to balance the bags in your arms and keep up with Mr. Grumps, but the smile didn't leave your face.

"So... does this mean we're friends now?"

"The hell? No!"

"I think we are, Blasty."

"Don't call me that." He narrowed his eyes at you, but you merely giggled.

"Would you rather it be Kacchan? Kaminari's been using that one a lot lately."

"Call me that, and I'll blast you into the fucking sun."

"Blasty it shall be, then."

Needless to say, the walk back to the dorms was the complete opposite of the walk to the store. But, just as the silence between the two of you was comfortable then, the bickering and teasing and overall playful nature of the conversation was comfortable now.

Bakugo would never admit it, and you knew better than to ask, but he didn't have a problem with the nickname or the new friendship that blossomed between the two of you.

And you didn't have a problem, either.

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amuyyi · 10 months ago

Text

asleep .

synopsis; hanni was never big on physical affection... until she wasnt.

trope; hanni x 6th member!reader, fluff!

wc; 1.2 k

cw; n/a

a/n; i still dont know how to write but i heart hanni so its fine its OKAY its COOL !! just been listening to yearning music and stuff so BAM. aLSO!! i was also thinking of making "asleep among endives" the song attached to this... but idk i love the fluttery feeling of laufey.

It was a known fact by many that Hanni Pham was not one for physical affection— especially in public. Danielle trying to kiss her during a livestream? Dani-ed. Hyein trying to ask for affection? Rejected. Softly. Hell, even your attempts were futile most times.

Trying to hold her hand in public? Swatted away. Wrapping your arms around her waist while waiting in a line? She's whining out like you’ve just stabbed her. God forbid you try to kiss her hand or cheek (you’ve tried. She screamed.)

You were the opposite of Hanni Pham. Physical affection was one of your top if not the top love language of yours. Every living and breathing moment you had to be in contact with one of the members. Squeezing Hyein’s shoulder reassuringly during an interview, absentmindedly playing with Haerins fingers in the car, tapping and poking Minji’s back just to be a nuisance. It was just a natural everyday habit for you. More often than not, Danielle is the one to frequently reciprocate— she was just as affectionate as you were, after all. It wasn't uncommon to find the two of you within each other's arms, practically melded into one another.

You’ve learned over time that not many people are fans of being touchy. Unfortunate, but that's what Danielle was for. You had come to terms long ago that Hanni would never be interested in indulging in your neediness— not genuinely, at least.

… Or so you thought.

This week has been particularly rough. Back to back to back plans, on top of packed schedules for weeks on end. NewJeans is practically dominating the world, and though the attention and growth to your career was great… you were only human. You were practically still a kid. The world doesn't completely change once you hit twenty.

After what felt like forever, Japan promotions have finally ceased, and you alongside the girls finally have a chance to breathe. You collapse into your dorm bed, welcoming the plush mattress and blankets as you sigh. You genuinely cannot remember the last time you’ve been able to fully relax without an upcoming schedule looming over your head, let alone relax in your own bed.

allowing yourself to be fully enveloped by the blankets and plushies, your eyes close. The muffled sound of Hanni in the nearby shower lulls you almost hypnotically into a drowsy state, leaving you drifting in and out of consciousness for the next few minutes.

you just about nearly knock out on the spot before you suddenly feel a mass slip into the bed with you. It was a fairly familiar feeling. Though, normally you were the one crawling into the other dorm beds, this was still a welcome experience. Too exhausted to open your eyes, you softly murmur.

“Dani… what’re you doing here…” you say, before subconsciously wrapping your arm around the mystery figure.

Huh. Feels different.

“I.. It's not Dani.”

Your eyes immediately shoot open as the sound of Hanni’s soft voice rings out. Surprised, you look down at the girl in your arms, who’s already settled comfortably in your arms, face buried into your chest. She seems to be avoiding your gaze. Her hair was still slightly damp from her shower, with the iconic bobbed wig set off to the side for the night. Her skin was cool to the touch, a welcome contrast to your warm contact.

A soft, almost nervous chuckle leaves your lips as you’re still caught incredibly off guard. “Han?? Whats.. what's up with this?” You try to pick your words carefully, not wanting to scare her off during such a rare event— but to be frank, you were never good with your words and on top of that, you were half asleep.

“M’just tired…”

You must either be dreaming, or this isn't Hanni. Maybe it's Danielle disguised as Hanni? Has Danielle finally managed to crawl into Hanni’s skin before you could? Damn.

The feeling of Hanni’s face burying deeper into your chest snaps you back to reality, and you hold your breath. Body tensing almost comically at this point. What do you do now? She's never willingly brought herself this close to you before. What if she’s just toying with you?

Very hesitantly, you slowly use the arm that's draped over her form to rub soothing circles onto her back. Much to your relief, the vietnamese girl seems to take well to the touch, letting out a soft sigh against your chest as she practically melts into your touch.

“I-Is this okay…?” You quietly whisper, and you get a soft, “mhm..” in response.

Okay, now you’re definitely beginning to overthink this. How does Hanni even like to be touched? Everyone has their own preferences on how to receive physical affection, after all. Physical touch is an art and a skill very few can master, and you were determined to prove you were more than capable.

Danielle had always been a fan of you playing with her hair— especially in its naturally curly form. Maybe Hanni would like the same?

Slowly, your hand begins to trail higher along her back, soon meeting her long, dark hair. You begin to gently card your fingers through the silky locks, resulting in a soft, satisfied hum from Hanni in response. The vietnamese girl was always the one to get the most interesting haircuts during comebacks, though she always made the effort to keep her natural hair as healthy as possible despite everything it's been put through. You don't even know how many times a new wig of just about any color has been slapped onto Hanni’s head.

Slowly, your fingers find their way up to her scalp. Her poor head must’ve gone through so much– nearly as much as Danielle’s, probably. Massaging her skin softly, Hanni becomes boneless in your arms. She loops her arms around your neck, pulling you impossibly closer as her head cranes towards your touch. The gesture leaves your heart fluttering.

It seems like the touch is unfamiliar for her as well. Her movements are slightly awkward, but not uncomfortable. Neither of you decide to comment on it.

After being practically Hanni-starved for god knows how many years, you’re over the moon. You wanted this moment to stretch on forever. The shorter girl is practically purring against you at this point, absolutely relishing in your magic touch. Your legs tangled together beneath the sheets as your shared body heat fills the room with a welcomed warmth.

Now relaxing a bit more, you can fully take in the moment. The scent of Hanni’s shampoo fills your nostrils– peaches and cream. You had gifted her that shower set some Christmas ago. Nice to see it was still being put to good use.

The darkness envelops the both of you as a comforting silence passes. Hanni’s warm breath hits your neck as you feel her breathing steady, seemingly enamored by your touch. Her body feels soft, relaxed, and absolutely perfect against yours.

You still weren't sure exactly what prompted Hanni to come into your embrace in the first place. Maybe this would be the last time. Or maybe after another long work week, she’ll find her way back into your bed within the night.

But for now, you two remain comfortably entangled and engulfed by one another, the sound of soft snores filling the air as you slowly drift to sleep, feeling nothing but warmth within her arms.

#kpop #newjeans #hanni #pham hanni #pham ngoc han #kpop x female reader #hanni x reader #wlw #gxg imagine #hanni pham x reader #newjeans x fem reader #kpop fanfic #gg fanfic #newjeans x reader #Spotify

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landopoet · 7 months ago

Text

devotion.

pairing teammate!lando x sainz!reader

warnings smut, alcohol mentions

synopsis things change between you and your teammate. you’re not sure if it’s a change you like.

part two of a two part series

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Clandestine meetings soon became you two’s most trusted secret.

The gentle touches, quiet whispers, longing glances and warm smiles were something you had grown to love. And your favourite part about it being secret? It was all about you.

In public, you’d pay no mind to Lando. During races, you’d still act like you hate him, still try and cause trouble on the track. But in private, where the only set of eyes on you were the green irises of the man you love, you’d be the centre of attention.

Lando’s hands wouldn’t touch you the same way in public as they do in the enclosed space of his driver room, hotel room, or your home. And that excited you.

You liked being secret. It was something sacred just between the two of you.

You liked it so much, you started to hate it. Maybe it was just the fact that Lando took you being a secret a bit too far. Or maybe it was just his way of hiding your relationship, if you’d even call it that.

You just couldn’t understand him going out with another girl, but still ending up in your bed at the end of the day.

Especially when you had deleted every dating app, got rid of every memory of any guy you were talking to, all because you and Lando have the chance to become something.

Your hope of that lessens everytime you see rumours of him going out with girls. It’s never anything romantic, just him at a table with a new girl every other week, so it didn’t bother you as much.

The bubbles in your hotel bathtub were softly caressing your skin when you saw the picture.

Casually scrolling on your phone in the bath as you waited for the conditioner to absorb into your hair, you made the horrible decision of clicking on that tempting X icon in the top left corner of your homescreen.

The first post? A picture of Lando’s tongue down a girl’s throat.

For the first time in a long time, Lando was the reason for that burning and disgusted feeling in your stomach. It felt like it was making its way up, the feeling getting caught in your throat as you type something out into a tweet, shut your phone off and drop it to the floor.

Even when you weren’t looking at it, the picture was burned into the back of your eyelids.

The mere image of his hands on her waist— the same hands he touched you with— was enough to make you feel that hatred crawling back.

As if on cue, your phone started ringing and the contact was none other than Lando himself.

“Hey, darling.”

You rolled your eyes at the familiar pet name. “Hi, Lando.”

Shuffling was heard on the other side of the call, you could only assume Lando was still in bed with the girl from that picture. “What’s with the tone? No ‘Lan’, no ‘baby’?”

“Sorry,” you pinched the bridge of your nose. “Stressful day.”

Lando chuckled. “Baby, we work at the same place. I’d know if you were off because of a stressful day. What’s wrong?”

You hated how he knew you inside and out, yet to you he had glued himself shut and you can’t pry yourself in.

“I don’t know.”

A sigh brushed past Lando’s lips. He knew why you were in a mood, and it didn’t exactly excite him to do that to you. In all honesty, he didn’t even know why he did it. It just happened, and you’re technically not together, so he thought it wasn’t a big deal.

The call stays silent for a minute or two, both of you trying to come up with what to say. Lando speaks first. “Come to my room. 304.”

“Lan, I’m no-” He hung up before you could even respond.

You finished your bath, hoping the water washes away whatever feeling was brewing in your chest.

The view of yourself in the mirror made you feel pathetic— why were you sulking over some guy?

It wasn’t even anyone special. Just the guy you’ve been in love with for about as long as you’d known him. The guy, who confuses you beyond words. You can’t help but try to decode whatever lies in the gaps and the silence, yet having no luck.

Despite being confused and frustrated, you dried your hair and changed into your PJs, and locked the hotel room behind yourself.

Lando’s room was just across the hall, the fourth door from yours.

This all felt too familiar, only fuelling the confusion and fear in your chest. It suffocated you, the notion that despite you being Lando’s, he wasn’t entirely yours.

Yet you still spent the night with him— slow and borderline loving, careful hands travelling your body and hungry lips trailing your neck.

And in the morning, the sun just above the horizon, you slipped from Lando’s grasp and found yourself crying away your mascara before it’s properly dried.

The black taint stained your cheeks, dripping down your chin and onto your sweatpants. You felt partly relieved to know Lando’s having fun. You’d hate to be the one to stop him from going out and finding other girls.

But that’s also what made you partly heartbroken.

It’s not even about you being hurt, it’s about other girls being replacements for each other, not knowing that you’re just like them— aching and breaking for someone that doesn’t see you the same way.

Your phone dings with a message as you wipe your tears away.

Lando: Don’t like morning cuddles anymore?

A giggle slipped past your lips before you thought to catch it, and you quickly typed up a reply.

You: I have a breakfast thing with Carlos.

You: Knew I’d probably ditch it if I were to cuddle you awake.

Lando: Will I see you at the party tonight?

Lando: DJs booth, just the place to be :))

You: I’ll think about it.

Except that you already had. You decided to go, more so for yourself than for Lando, but the thought that you’d get to spend more time with him sure was a bonus.

You continued on with getting ready as you called your brother and asked if he wanted to get breakfast. He instantly agreed, and you changed into something more casual and comfortable than the tear stained sweatshirt and mascara stained sweatpants.

Carlos was waiting for you in his car.

When you got in, he immediately felt something was off. Ever since you were little, it seemed like he had some sort of telepathy with you. Whenever you were sad, Carlos was there and comforting you.

He’s not sure what exactly is wrong right now, but he knows you need your big brother.

Carlos presses a few buttons on the control panel of the car and the sound of your favourite song plays. Your head turns to look at Carlos with an appreciative look on your face, a small smile adorning your lips.

You watch as he starts driving and turns the volume up, slowly beginning to dance along to the song as he mouths the lyrics. Soon, you broke out of your sadness and sang along with your brother.

This was exactly why you never gave up. Him.

Carlos has always been a great brother. You were still very small when you realised that. And everyday, every year, he proves that to be more and more true. Like when you were fourteen.

That year, the taste of heartache became familiar on your tongue.

It was the first time you had felt the touch of a male. It still lingered weeks after it happened. You felt loved and cared for, until you didn’t. Carlos was there through all of it, comforting you and threatening to beat that guy up for you.

Even though he was as protective as he could be, your heart kept breaking. It fixed itself, glued each broken shard back together, only to shatter again.

The flavour of love soon tasted more bitter than sweet. And you’re starting to feel the same way at twenty-four.

Minus the heart breaking and fixing itself part, but the flavour of bitterness still lingered on your tongue as you tried to wash it down with orange juice.

“Is it good?” Carlos points to your caesar salad with his fork, mouthful of scrambled eggs muffling his voice.

You poke at your food with a fork and shrug. “A bit bitter, but it’s fine.”

Carlos laughs at that, as he grabs your plate and switches it with his own. “The scrambled eggs are a bit… difficult to chew. But it’s better than croutons and whatever else is in this.”

You watch your brother take a bite of the salad, immediately making a face and trying his best not to spit it out. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” he says, through a faux pained expression. “It’s delicious.”

“I bet it is.”

Laughter came so easily when you were with your brother.

Carlos made you laugh so much you’d feel your abdomen grow sore with every giggle and laugh that escaped your lips. And Carlos loved seeing your eyes form into crescent moons, knowing that he’s still able to somehow make you feel better.

“Are you going to the party?” Carlos asks as you get out of his car, back at the hotel.

“Yep,” you shrug. “I don’t see why not.”

Carlos gives you a look as if he knew something, but said nothing about it. You brushed it off and made your way to the lobby. You ask for your key at reception, take the elevator to the fourth floor and as you’re about to unlock room 301, Lando’s hotel room door opens.

You don’t turn around to look, because you expect it to be Lando and you’re not sure if you want to talk to him right now. But what makes you whip your head to the left is the sound of a female giggle.

There she was. Same brown hair, same tan skin, same beautiful figure. Identical to the picture you had seen on twitter.

It made you sick to your stomach. Especially when you could see Lando’s head peeking out to kiss her goodbye, and you swore you could see his eyes focused on you. Though you can’t be sure, because as soon as you saw his curly brown hair, you were stepping into your hotel room.

It takes about fifteen minutes for you to calm down and for Lando to knock on your door.

You opened it expecting it to be room service, but Lando slipped inside before you could close the door on him. “You’re avoiding me.”

“I’d have no reason to, even if I was.” You shrug as you take a seat on the bed. Lando squats down in front of you, the palms of his hands flattening on your knees.

He rests his bearded chin on the top of his hand. “What’s wrong?”

“I already told you,” you shrug, before leaning back to push yourself up on the palms of your hands. “I’m stressed with the races starting up again.”

“You’ve been doing just fine, baby.” Lando reassures you. “You got second place, remember?”

“That’s the problem. I’m always in second place.” You’re not sure if you’re talking about the race or not anymore, but you mean whatever you said.

Lando leaned up to try and kiss you, but you turned away.

“And I think it’s best if we stay friends.”

That hit Lando right in the gut. He felt his chest constricting under the weight of your words, all the air being squeezed out of his lungs as each word plugged his airways.

“What? What do you mean?”

You shrug. “I want to focus on my career.”

Lando runs the palms of his hands across his face. He’s not sure why, but he has a feeling it’s got to do with the girl who left his hotel earlier. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I guess.” You shrug, sitting up and looking at him. Lando now stood on his feet, looking down at you as his fingers softly grabbed your chin.

He lifted your face up to look at him, thumb softly brushing past your bottom lip. As if it’s a habit, your lips parted and he smirked.

Lando knows you don’t mean it. You know it, too. You just needed a reason to get a break from him, even though you really don’t fucking want to.

Lando sits beside you, the familiar warmth of his hands wrapping around your waist and next thing you know, you’re on his lap. His lips don’t hesitate to kiss away any thought of you two staying just friends.

As much as this relationship hurt you, it was irresistible.

You longed for the lingering taste of Lando’s saliva mixing with yours, the warmth of his hands perfectly slotted on your waist, the lasting vibration of his moans in your mouth.

And Lando longed for it just the same.

He couldn’t tell you why he was going out with a different girl every other night, for the past two weeks of you two being… something.

Lando’s not even sure himself. It’s just something he was used to, but these times around it just felt so wrong. Yet he couldn’t say no to those girls, until he’s sure you feel the same overwhelming feeling of love he has for you.

When you fall asleep in his arms, Lando fights the internal battle to stay with you. But he knows it’s for the better if he leaves before you wake up.

The warmth of his body still cradles the sheets he laid in when you get woken up by a call.

You swallow down the bittersweet feeling in your throat before picking up, slumber still lingering on your tongue. “Hello?”

“Morning, lil’ Sainz.” Daniel’s cheery tone tickles your ear as you turn on your side. “You hungry?”

You check the clock on the wall. Six in the evening never looked so bright, but again, you’re in Las Vegas and it’s never dark in the city that never sleeps.

“Sure, what do you have in mind?”

Daniel’s smile can be heard from a mile away when he talks and it warms you up inside. “Sushi or pizza, your pick.”

“Hm,” you sit up and stretch, finally letting Lando’s warmth slip away from your skin. “I’m feeling like sushi, to be honest.”

“Sushi it is! See you in twenty.”

And in twenty minutes, you were sitting on your hotel room bed, Daniel telling you stories about Max and you stuffing sushi into your mouth, trying not to choke as you laughed.

“Are you going to the party?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” You ask, noticing how it’s the third time you’ve heard the same question.

Daniel shrugs. “I’m just wondering,” he explains. “Don’t know if I would’ve gone without you.”

Over the last few weeks, you and Daniel have become close. So close that he’s probably the only one on the grid that knows about the little situationship you have going on with Lando.

But Daniel never brings him up, not unless you want to talk about it.

“I’m going,” you answer his previous question. “I bought a dress for this specific occasion.”

“Care to show it?”

You bounced to your feet at his question and made your way to your suitcase, not noticing how Daniel’s eyes followed each of your moves. You pulled out a black dress before making your way to your bathroom and trying it on.

Daniel waited patiently as you got dressed, the sushi entertaining him until the bathroom door opened.

The sushi he held up with his chopsticks never made it to his mouth, stuck mid-air as he gaped at the image in front of him — a long, silk dress with a slit deep enough to reveal the tender flesh of your left thigh, your shoulders adorned by thin and delicate straps.

You giggle at Daniel’s reaction. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

The aussie briefly nods. “It’s gorgeous.”

You roll your eyes, leaning against the doorway with your arms crossed over your chest. “Now, without pretending to be Lando?”

“It’s beautiful on you. Gonna make him drool,” Daniel grins at you. “My impression’s spot on and you know it.”

You giggle as you roll your eyes again, turning back around to the bathroom. The door doesn’t close shut this time, which prompts Daniel to rise to his feet and investigate what you were up to.

Leaning against the doorway, his golden eyes carefully watched as you dabbed on makeup. “Do you really need all that?”

“Yeah, you could use some, too.” You tease, leaning against the bathroom cabinet to get closer to the mirror.

“I mean,” you turn to Daniel when he shrugs. “You’ll be crying it off anyway.”

A used wet-wipe lands on Daniel’s crossed arms, him laughing and you threatening to throw another one. “Get out.”

“Alright, alright.” He raises his hands in defeat. “I’m picking you up in an hour, hopefully you’re done caking yourself in makeup by then.”

“Bye, Daniel.” You raise your voice as if to urge him to leave.

“See you, love.”

The hotel room door closes and you’re left alone again, thoughts of Lando quickly seeping back into your mind.

It’s like every time you tried to get rid of him, he found a way back in. And who are you to say no to him?

When you fell asleep in his arms earlier, the familiar scent of him clouding your mind, you felt it again. And as much as you cursed yourself for feeling it, you couldn’t help but let the feeling bloom in your chest.

Lando felt it too, and he felt it full force when he saw you walking into the club with Daniel’s arm around your waist. Yet the feeling of love in his chest was mixed with a tinge of jealousy. Or maybe more than a tinge, because his jaw clenched at the mere sight of your little dress swaying with every step you took.

“Everything alright, Lan?” Lando’s armcandy of the night mumbles against his neck.

His green eyes track you from across the club, narrowing in on you when you spot him and give him a small wink. “Perfect.”

You felt sick to your stomach at the sight of Lando and the same girl from earlier. His arm was gripping her waist in a way you thought was special to you and it made your skin crawl.

“You think he believed it?”

You turn to Daniel as he asks, sitting back in the booth you two shared. “I think so.”

“I can keep the act going, if you’d like.” He offers with a cheeky grin decorating his face.

You sip the margarita he had ordered for you, before smiling softly. “I’ll take you up on that, then.”

The night seems to pass you by as you get occupied in a conversation with your brother and his friends. Soon, the blasting music and fluorescent lights began to bore you, so you chose to scan the club for something to do.

When the dance floor catches your eye, you grab Daniel’s wrist. “Get up.”

The golden eyed man doesn’t utter a word as he gets up and follows you like a lost puppy, ready to go wherever you take him. He quickly realises what you want to do, his arm snaking around your waist in an incredibly familiar way.

Daniel feels your hand find the back of his neck as he pulls you in from behind, slowly moving your hips against his. It’s a platonic act, both of you know it, but at the moment, Daniel feels like it’s more than just a ruse to make Lando jealous.

Maybe, for the night, he could let loose and show you what a good man is. Maybe, if it all goes right, he’d get to take you back to the hotel, too.

He loses all hope for that when he notices your eyes scanning the room again, looking for the one and only man in your heart.

The man stood at the bar, green eyes carefully narrowed at the hand that’s slowly moving closer to your inner thighs.

He’s not sure why he’s so fucking jealous. It’s not like he wasn’t doing the same damn thing twenty minutes ago, hands exploring parts of the armcandy’s body they’ve never touched before. Lando feels like its fine only when he does it.

A gentle tug on his arm averts his attention elsewhere. Natalie, or whatever her name was, looked up at Lando with her big brown eyes. “Do you want to leave?”

Lando’s curls bounced when he shook his head. “No, baby.” You watch as he kisses her head, arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders. “You having fun?”

“Mhm,” she grins up at him, noses touching and the image slowly burns into your memory. You feel a spark of something inside of you, something that caused you to be more handsy with Daniel.

The sight of Daniel’s hands grabbing your ass, your arms tracing the outline of his pecs and Daniel grinning down at you with a look only you could get out of a man, made Lando’s blood boil.

The party turned less into a celebration for the race and more of a competition between you and Lando— both of you were trying to see how much the other could take until one of you inevitably had enough.

Lando didn’t seem to be phased at all, instead waiting for the moment you looked his way. His fingers curled around the short brunette’s jaw as he pulled her in, his tongue exploring her vodka flavoured mouth.

You watched them make out, anger and envy filling your system. You felt it pulse through your veins and it stopped the second Daniel spoke. “You might not like this idea, but maybe-”

“Kiss me.”

The australian blinks a few times, as if to try and make sense of what you just said. “What?”

“When Lando looks at us, I need you to kiss me.” You explained, arms wrapping around Daniel’s warm neck. You saw the blush creeping onto his cheeks. “Friends kiss, don’t they?”

“I mean, yeah.” He shrugs, an awkward grin decorating his pretty lips. “Sure.”

The song changes and you start dancing again, untangling yourself from Daniel and letting your own hands travel your body and raise your dress slightly, ass facing Daniel as he tries his best not to look at you too much.

But he couldn’t help it. His eyes seemed to be drawn to your figure, hands glued to your hips as you grinded on him again, back against his chest and faces inches apart. Daniel wasn’t even sure if Lando was looking, but he kissed you anyway.

His whiskey flavoured lips perfectly matched the taste of the margarita on yours, tongues fighting a battle neither of you will win. The kiss felt like something new, something you’ve never felt before and want to feel again, and again, and again.

To your luck, Lando was looking. He wasn’t just looking— he was burning holes into the back of your head with the intense stare he had on the image in front of him— his ex-teammate kissing his fucking girl.

Lando wouldn’t have that.

The brunette girl he was making out with earlier stands confused as her date peels himself away from her, making his way to the middle of the dance floor.

Daniel feels the warmth of your breath being torn away and the last thing he sees is Lando’s tight grip on your waist and your body following him into the bathroom.

The slam of the bathroom door is loud enough to scare whoever might’ve been in the neighbouring room.

You didn’t have enough time to comprehend what happened until you see Lando’s hungry eyes trailing your face.

“Hey, Lando.” A teasing smirk plays on your lips as you button up the third button on his shirt. “Button up, you look like a whore.”

The alcohol was obviously still twirling in your brain, but Lando didn’t care. “You’re one to talk, princess.”

You shrug. “I dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Oh yeah?” Lando stares at you, a fire so bright in his eyes that it burns you before he’s even touched you. “I’m sure you know exactly what I’m fucking talking about.”

The anger in his tone made you melt. You felt how much your teasing had rubbed off on him and the thought of him letting his anger out on you made you excited.

The bathroom door lock snaps when Lando’s fingers turn it, and the anticipation burns in your chest. It doesn’t take long for him to kiss you, lips attacking your mouth in a way you’ve never felt before.

Lando brings his hands to your hips, pulling you to sit on the edge of the marble countertop next to the sink. He traces his tongue along your jaw and neck, finding all the sensitive spots he had already memorised.

A loud whimper leaves your lips when he bites right above your collarbone, the tender skin turning red and teeth marks indenting it. Lando laps at the skin, groaning against it as if the taste of you was pleasure to him.

Lando slipped the straps of your little black dress off your shoulders, revealing your bare chest. He didn’t hesitate, tongue finding your left nipple and twirling around it.

“You lose yourself, darling.” He growls against your skin, pushing you further against the cabinet as your thighs dig into the edge of it. “Every time I’m not there to control you, you misbehave.”

“Mmm,” you groan as his hand wraps around your neck, softly applying pressure with his fingertips. You feel the air softly escape your lungs and the exhale is slow when you say, “misbehave?”

Lando bites back what he initially wants to say, a smirk decorating his soft lips when he notices the glimmer of lust in your eyes. “Little sluts like you never know when they misbehave, hm? Rubbing yourself all over my ex-teammate, kissing him… You thought I wouldn’t do anything about it?”

“I knew you would,” you smile, canines shining in the white glow of the bathroom lights. “I wanted you to.”

Lando narrows his eyes at you. “Is that so, pretty girl?” His fingers curl around your neck tighter, air hitching in your throat.

With one swift move, Lando pulls you off the cabinet and turns you around to face the mirror on the wall. It’s big enough that you can see your entire body and Lando standing behind you.

You’re too focused on the hunger in Lando’s eyes to notice him practically tearing your dress upwards, pulling your drenched panties to the side and slipping himself into you with ease.

“So fucking wet,” he moans, fingers digging into your hips so painfully that it feels good. “Was it me or was it Daniel that got you this wet, baby?”

A quiet moan leaves your lips as he stretches you out. You’d answer truthfully, but it’s too much fun seeing Lando so worked up knowing damn well he’s the only one who gets you soaked like this. “Mmh, fuck.”

“What was that?”

“He,” you huff, hissing when he slams into you a bit rougher this time. “Daniel got me, fuck,” the words get caught in your throat when Lando’s palm makes contact with your bare asscheek.

“Stop fucking lying to me.” He says through gritted teeth. “I know he can’t make you feel the same way I can.”

You hate that he’s right.

As fun as Daniel was, he could never have you be a whimpering mess underneath him. You’re sure he’s great and you know any woman that ends up with him will be lucky, but it won’t be you.

Lando pulls you back into the moment with a tug on the fistfull of your hair in his palm. “Look at me when I speak to you, darling.” Your eyes lock onto him in the reflection of the mirror. “Good girl.”

A weird feeling settles in your belly when he says that phrase. He’s never used it for you before and you realise you fucking love it. The grin on your face and half-lidded eyes show it, too.

Your head drops down onto the cabinet as Lando grips your hips again, pulling you into him as he basks in the melodical moans coming from your pretty lips.

“Look at yourself,” his veiny hand wraps around your neck and fingers dig into the base of your jaw, lifting your head up to face the mirror. “Such a fucking slut.”

Lando’s still pounding into you when the door handle twists and someone tries to get in.

The skin-to-skin noise doesn’t stop as Lando shouts. “Occupied!” all while his hand covers your mouth. He’s purposefully digging his cock deep into you, trying to fish out any loud noise he can get.

You’re drooling all over his fingers when your mouth parts and he slips two of them past your lips. Lando can feel your high approaching and he fucks deeper into you, surprising you with an orgasm.

You half expected him to leave you without one, but the pleasure washes over you as you moan his name. “Fuck, Lando!” He’s groaning when your walls close around him, and he’s spilling into you, his warm cum burning you from the inside.

Before you can even open your eyes, Lando’s flipping you around and pulling you off the cabinet. Your legs give out and Lando’s hands wrap around your waist before you fall to your knees, instead bringing you down slowly.

You look up at him, lashes fluttering as he pumps his cock a couple times. “Open your mouth, doll.”

Lucky you, not only did your pussy get filled to the brim and graciously given an orgasm, you get to feel his veins burn into the back of your throat, too.

Your soft lips part, closer to the base of his cock. As hot as it was the first time you did this, and the numerous times after, Lando wasn’t in the mood for any teasing.

“I told you to open your mouth, not to lick my dick and act as if you’re not desperate to have me down your throat.”

That statement alone was enough to make you open your mouth, greedily taking his whole cock down your throat.

You’re lucky the club was blasting music, perfectly drowning out your moans and whimpering as your nose brushed against Lando’s pubes.

Lando’s known for being loud, so his moans were probably heard from the hallway. For some odd reason, that turned you on.

His dick dug into your throat and you felt your eyes prick with tears, whimpers bouncing off his shaft and struggling to get past your lips. With basically no warning, Lando’s dick twitched and warm liquid ran down your throat. And you swallowed it without a word from Lando.

Lando wipes your bottom lip with his thumb. “Get up.”

You do as told, fixing the edge of your dress to lay flat against your thighs. You’re hiding yourself from him as if he wasn’t just in you a few minutes ago.

Lando buckles his belt up and watches as you look at yourself in the mirror. Your fingers softly dab at your face and you try your best to fix the mascara that runs down your cheeks.

His warm arms wrap around your waist and his face finds your neck. “You’re beautiful.”

“Did you just leave the girl by herself?” You ask, looking at him in the reflection of the mirror.

Lando shrugs behind you. “I’m sure she found her way home, or at least some company.”

“You’re a dickhead, Norris.”

“And you love it.”

The playful grin on his lips caused you to break out in a smile.

Lando follows you out of the bathroom, hand tightly wrapped around yours, fingers intertwined. Daniel’s eyes meet you across the club and he feels his heart sink to his feet at the sight of Lando so closely entwined with you.

“Hey,” the aussie says to you when you walk up to the table you two sat at. He’s accompanied by Charles and Max, who look at you with warm and welcoming smiles. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” you smile at him and place your knee on the seat next to his thigh. You lean over him, completely unaware that your dress rides up and shows the smallest bit of your ass. Daniel softly tugs the dress down so it covers you up as you grab what you need. “Forgot my handbag.”

The men at the table watch you walk away, hips swaying like they usually do, and Lando’s arm wraps around your waist again as he leads you out the club.

Through blurred vision and quiet laughs, you somehow make it back to the hotel. As if it’s a habit, you made a beeline to Lando’s hotel room as soon as the elevator door opened.

Lando watched as you grabbed his keycard and swiped it to open the room.

When the light turned on, Lando’s messy hotel room came into your blurry sight. It was neatly messy, some clothes in piles and his perfumes and skincare scattered across the coffee table.

A giggle slipped past your lips when you saw Dior Sauvage amongst the many tubes and bottles. Of course he’d use that cologne.

You feel warm arms slip around your waist for the nth time this night and you lean back into his embrace. The smell of his cologne mixed with the alcohol lingering on him made your head dizzy. Lando’s lips find your neck and he softly kisses you, leaving a trail of love filled pecks down your shoulder.

“Lando?”

He holds his movements for a moment. “Yes, baby?”

“What is this?” You ask, voice trailing. The item in your hands is something that is so oddly familiar, yet you can’t put your finger on it.

Lando takes the keychain from your hands, fingers smoothing over the yellowing plastic. It’s pretty old, considering he got it when he was still in karting. “It’s the keychain you gave me. When we were like… Eight? After you sabotaged my race.”

At the mention of your karting days, your stomach turns. The memories of how disgustingly you had treated each other flood your brain and you don’t even hide the goosebumps infecting your skin.

Lando’s fingers softly wrap around your wrist and he turns you to face him before pulling you into his chest. The smell of his cologne mixes with the air as you inhale him deeply, trying to cling onto the feeling of comfort you can’t seem to ever hold onto.

For some reason, that tinge of guilt overtook any other emotion in your body and you felt your limbs grow flaccid at the mere thought of your past, and future, with Lando.

The hues in his eyes slowly disappear as he blinks. “You okay?”

“Tired.” The lie slips past your lips so easily, but it’s simpler to lie than to admit that your mind is going at a million miles an hour with thoughts of what you might never be.

Lando’s gentle hands tour your body and he carefully undoes your zipper, slipping the dress off your delicate skin with his fingertips trailing behind. You’re standing in front of him, and even though he’s already seen every part of you, you feel bare. Raw. Exposed.

It doesn’t take an idiot to notice when you’re off, but Lando felt it coming even before you two got to the hotel.

“Here,” he hands you a t-shirt and you nod your head as a thank you. Yet even before you begin putting the shirt on, Lando takes it from your hands again. “Let me help.”

Your curious eyes watch as he pulls the shirt open from the bottom and his eyes lock onto yours, “arms up,” he mumbles and you obey. He tugs the shirt over your head, the smell of his detergent stilling in your sinuses and making you dizzier than you already were.

Warm fingers softly cup your cheek and you lean into the touch, as his other hand fixes the hair that falls on your face. Lando doesn’t talk, you don’t need him to, instead he gently leads you to the bed and lifts the sheets up as you get in.

Your gaze follows his figure as he walks around to the other side of the bed and sits down at the foot of it. An annoyed grumble leaves his mouth as he fumbles with the buttons, but gives up when he can’t manage to undo them. The muscles on his back flex as he raises his arms to tug off the shirt, and not an inch of his skin goes unnoticed by your gaze.

You connect the dots on his back and draw constellations from them, far more beautiful than the ones you’ve observed in the night sky.

He lays his curls down on the soft pillow, facing you and his hazel eyes carefully study your face. Lando forced himself to stay on his side of the bed, despite every cell in his body practically begging to touch you.

“Come closer.” You whisper and he scoots over even before the words fully leave your mouth. You feel his arms gently wrap around your waist as he pulls you in with your back to his bare chest.

When his lips press against your neck, then your collarbone, and then your shoulder, you expect him to slip his hands into your underwear, how he would every single night you’d end up like this. Your legs subconsciously move apart as you push yourself onto your back.

Lando doesn’t do what you expected him to, though. He continues placing gentle kisses on your shoulder, not moving any closer to your chest and his hands still wrapped around you. “Not tonight, baby.” He mumbles against your skin, the warmth of his breath causing goosebumps to erupt.

“Why not?”

Lando pulls away looking at you. “That's all we do.”

You feel a certain warmth in your belly and a piercing feeling in your chest. “Yeah.”

He lays back down, curls bouncing as he gets more comfortable. You notice his green, piercing gaze softly studying your face as you look up at the ceiling. Lando knows something’s wrong. Nothing’s been right since he left you and Carlos’ home.

“Can we watch something?” You ask, eyes examining Lando’s face before he softly nods and reaches for the remote. The TV turns on to some random rom-com, and that’s what you settle on watching.

It’s one of the most clichè movies you’ve watched, and you can’t help but let a small smile decorate your face. Your eyes were on the screen, and Lando’s eyes were on you.

He adored the curve of your nose, the shape of your lips, the lashes that sat atop your gorgeous eyes. Lando’s been trying to ignore the feelings growing in his heart, but seeing you this close, being able to just watch you, he decides not to.

“Do you remember the first time we kissed?” Lando’s low and gravelly voice tickles your ears. You turn your head a little towards him, watching how his eyes flickered with something close to what you felt.

“Like, at my house?” You ask, a bit confused by his sudden question. “What about it, Lan?”

He quickly shakes his head. “No, the very first time, when we were sixteen.”

As the words leave his lips, you notice the familiar look of anxiety on his face. The same look he gave you right before his lips touched yours, in that parking lot you soon found to be your favourite place.

That race was proven to be the worst of both of you’s careers— high speed corners, oversteer, crash.

You remember the anticipation of a race weekend brewing in your stomach, hands shaking and heart palpitating as you got into your race car. Lando was right ahead of you, his helmet bright as he got into his own car.

The race started as every other one, you felt confident and proud to have gotten this far. The corners were easy enough to turn, the car felt smooth and you had no doubt you’d land a podium that day or maybe even win the race.

The mind of a sixteen year old girl is more naive and confident than anyone else.

You felt the excitement in your chest as the next corner was easy enough to turn, and it’d let you be even further ahead of your teammate. But, as if it was on purpose, Lando’s car rear ended yours and both of you spun out.

Lando never felt such embarrassment and guilt, especially when he saw you get out of the car with clenched fists and angry strides.

You’re not sure what happened after that, but you remember ditching the briefing with your team after saying you felt ill and hiding in the parking lot, behind a car parked next to the curb.

The humming of the approaching evening managed to calm you down. You felt cold, reminding you that you can, in fact, feel and you’re not just a machine that’s expected to do amazing all the time.

Your silence was interrupted, because even if you were on the other side of the world, Lando would somehow find you.

“Want some?” He appeared from behind the car and startled you, a bottle of champagne in hand.

Your eyebrows furrowed. “How’d you get that?”

The brunet simply shrugged and sat down beside you, taking a large gulp of the champagne before handing it to you. You didn’t hesitate to take it and chug some.

“Listen, I’m sorry-“

“It’s fine.” You shut his apology down. “I wouldn’t have won anyway.”

Lando shook his head, clearly dismissing whatever you just said. “You’re stupid if you think that.”

“Gee, thanks.” You roll your eyes and take another swing of the champagne bottle. “Did you only come here to apologise?”

Lando shrugged. “Kinda, yeah.” You couldn’t help but laugh slightly at his expression. “I honestly feel bad, you would have definitely won today if I didn’t fuck up.”

“I heard it was a car issue.” You looked at him for the first time that evening. He looked genuinely upset, which was unusual behaviour for him, especially when it was something to do with you.

“Yeah,” he looked up at the darkening sky. “I could’ve reported it earlier, but I thought I could get in a few more laps before doing that.”

A laugh escaped your lips before you’d thought to catch it. “Was it that or did you plan to sabotage my race? As some sort of revenge, or something.”

“No,” he admits, looking back to the ground. He was nervous and scared, and wasn’t in the mood to tease you. “I wouldn’t do that. Not to you.”

Your curious and confused eyes met his. “What?” Your voice cracked and some form of anger laced your words. “Last time I checked, you fucking hated me.”

“I could never hate you, Y/N.”

“That’s bullshit, you’ve only ever tried to sabotage my races and you’ve been a dick to me for as long as I’ve known you.”

Lando sighs, not sure how to convince you or explain what he means. “I don’t know what changed, but I’m not like that anymore. I’ve tried to be nice to you, but you never take it seriously and you act mean instead of accepting it.”

“Are you trying to make me pity you so I forgive you for that stunt you pulled today?” You huff, a disappointed laugh leaving your lips. “You’re unbelievable, Norris. Don’t act like you actually like m-“

That’s when he kissed you.

You felt his breath brushing against your skin as his lips crashed against yours, chapped and rough, but it felt just right.

For a minute or two, you didn’t pull away. You let him kiss you and you kissed him back, and it was exactly what you needed. It wasn’t the champagne swirling in your tummy that made you all warm inside, but instead the soft touch of his fingers to your jaw.

It’s almost like it snapped you into reality.

You pulled away and scooted further from him, watching him with widened eyes. “What the fuck…”

“I’m not acting.” Is all Lando said, before he got up and left you alone, on the curb, just like he found you ten minutes before.

You felt awful for how you handled it, because after his confession, he went back to being cold and mean to you. He wouldn’t utter a word your way unless he absolutely had to, and the teasing remarks were gone.

It all changed from then, until about three years after, when both of you got into Formula One.

You blink and look back at Lando, the memory replaying in your mind multiple times as you nod. “Yeah, I remember it, why?”

“I did mean it.” He hums, fingers softly tugging a piece of your hair behind your ear after you’d turned around to face him. “I liked you back then. I was an idiot for not telling you.”

“Lando-“

“Let me talk, baby.” Lando’s green eyes reassure you and you urge him to speak.

“I was sixteen and stupid, and not persistent in getting what I wanted. I shut those feelings down until pretty recently, when I realised that I never really hated you. I was intrigued and interested.”

He takes a pause, mind sorting through the plethora of thoughts circling his mind in that moment.

“I’ve been yours since I kissed you.” You felt his words weigh on your chest. And you’re not sure if you can trust him.

“Then why did you do that? You can’t imagine how awful it felt seeing pictures of you and all those girls, while I laid in my bed and waited for you to call me and repeat the same routine.”

“I don’t know.” He admits, sounding as genuine as he is. “I was trying to ignore the feelings, in fear of rejection again, even though I knew I had you.”

“Yeah.” You agreed, not sure what to say. It feels awkward talking your feelings out with him, since you’ve never really done that before.

“It’s always been you.” Your eyes find his face again when he speaks. “Even though you hated me, it’s always been you.”

A small, bittersweet grin spread across your cheeks. “I used to hate you with everything I had in me.”

“I know.” It pains Lando to hear it, but he needed the reminder that the mutual hate you two have gone through for him to have you in his arms right now was too much to lose. He can’t risk that. “I felt it.”

“I’m sorry. About everything.” Lando felt the sincerity in your voice as you spoke. It’s the first time he’s actually hearing you speak about your feelings and he’s scared. He’s not sure if it’s the fear of rejection or the fear of losing you, but it shakes him to his core and he’s not sure how to handle it.

“It’s okay.” He says, eyes glimmering with a mixture of anxiety and desperation in them. “Get some sleep, we have a flight tomorrow.”

You nod softly, turning on your side but still facing him. There’s no amount of words you could say to him that would fully explain what’s exactly going on in your mind. It’s running at the speed of light with thoughts, and you can’t seem to grab ahold of a single one.

Lando lays on his back, shutting the TV off and placing the remote on the nightstand. You heard his quick breath as he moved closer to you, scooping you up and pulling you into his chest.

The warmth of his chest soothed you to sleep. Lando listened to your breathing, waiting for it to slow down and the exact moment when you’d fall to slumber.

His own mind was going haywire. There was so much he just said, still dodging the direct confession, and he cursed himself for it. He could have just told you instead of bringing up the worst night you two had ever experienced. Idiot.

Your face nuzzled further into his skin and he felt your arms snake around his torso, taking ahold of the beating drum in the middle of his chest. He was sure you could hear the rapid heartbeat shaking him, and you could.

The warmth and sound of his heartbeat lulled you to sleep faster than any other sound. When Lando was sure you had fallen asleep, he softly played with your hair. It’ll be a while before he can say this to you when you’re awake, and you won’t hear it now, but he says it anyway.

“I love you.”

It takes a moment for you to recollect yourself, the act of falling asleep that you’ve perfected since childhood finally coming to play. You bit back a small grin, ignoring the pitter patter in your own chest.

Lando felt uneasy when you shifted your position, lying on your stomach and partially on him, lips so close to his neck.

You placed a gentle kiss on his collarbone, eyes closed and breath steady.

“I love you, too.”

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hattersrabbit · 21 days ago

Text

IT'S A MUTUAL THING

yandere tim drake x yandere reader | sfw

CW! gn reader, suggestive behavior, mutual stalking, both of you are freaks and I love it, Timothy "Stalker" Drake, harmless yandere reader, Tim is an ADULT (20-22), batfam is concerned, civilian reader, mutual pining, romantic leaning, established relatonship (r & t), both r & t are legal, why is part of this short so sad, slight hurt comfort???

Summary! Jason and Dick are concerned, and no one seems to have noticed the strange behavior of Tim towards you, and Steph is more or less concerned about Tim's safety. Only then do they realize it's mutual.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

The keyboard was basically being smashed into. Frantic typing and clicking on the screen of pictures. A map of someone being tracked.

A small satisfied smile on his face; Tim Drake Wayne's face. Watching his beloved move throughout her day. Hacking into cameras revealing you going through you're day.

Dressed all pretty with a smile on your face.

Tim couldn't deny this need to watch. Make sure you were safe and if anyone did anything to you he'd hurt the person who did.

Unbeknownst to Tim someone was watching. Jason looking on with a disturbed expression. His clear view of his brother's screen. A familiar person, that being you and Tim's partner.

You were sweet and kind to them all, and was very good to Tim. Always making sure he was taking care of himself and everyone appreciated it.

With your help he was doing a lot better, but the disturbance of what he saw was... He didn't know.

Currently Bruce was off world with the Justice League and Alfred was taking a vacation so,

His only choice was Dick.

So with frantic steps he ran to find his older brother. They were loud enough to catch Tim's attention. A narrowed view that looked where Jason used to be.

His smile faltered. Aware of what was gonna happen, because no one understood the love between you and him.

It was special, and not many people would ever get it.

"Huh?" Dick asked with a raised brow. "He's stalking someone? His partner?" The confusion was infused with fear. His Baby Bird; Tim was stalking his partner.

"Dick, he was basically stalking B and knew you were Robin based off your moves! Do you really think Tim would stop? I mean especially if he has a sort of attachment to them!?" Jason surely wasn't as smart as Bruce and Tim, but God damn he was still a detective of some sort. That sort of pattern isn't something to be disregarded.

Dick's disturbed expression only furthered his point. "Yeah [ ] is very special to them, but stalking them and a tracker?! That's going so far..." He mumbled to himself.

"B is off world and Alfred is away. The young ones, we don't wanna freak them out." Jason ran a hand through his hair as they walked to the living room.

"What do we do..." Dick trailed off when they saw Tim on the phone. It was on speaker and it was with you.

"Can't wait to see you." Tim giggled. It felt creepy. Normally it would have been okay but with this context it felt wrong.

The screen so subtly turned to his siblings. Tim has a shit eating grin. Like he didn't even care, and was proud of it. Jason felt sick to his stomach at that thought.

They couldn't hear your response. But it made Tim's smile even wider.

"I'll be ready then to pick you up."

Narrow eyes centered on Dick and Jason as he hung up with you. "Good Afternoon Jason. Dick." His blue eyes felt like an animals stare.

Like they were the prey.

"Hey Tim. Um..." With fast movements he grabbed the computer. The younger made no movement to grab it. To keep them from seeing what he was doing.

"What exactly are you doing stalking [ ]?" Dick pointed to the icon that was yours. "And TV cameras?!"

Tim gave a blank stare. "What if they get kidnapped? Or someone hurts them? I have their location so I'll be there lickity split." He got up and removed the computer forcefully from his oldest brother. "They can't defend themselves. How else do you expect me to keep them safe?"

Once again that smirk crossed his lips.

Jason was at a loss for words. He couldn't form any as Tim left to his room upstairs with a closed laptop.

"What just happened?" Dick asked Jason and received no answer. All that remained was echo of the darkness in Tim's voice.

You blinked seeing the text Tim sent you. How his oldest brothers caught him stalking you.

You laughed at it.

They were right to be concerned, but what they didn't know is the fact that it was a mutual thing. You less intense about it, harmless honestly, but at the same you could be creepy about your beloved Red Robin.

After all, the numerous pictures you've secretly taken of them say a lot. Or the many things you've stolen from him without his knowledge. The newest thing being an old notebook full of notes.

Among other things they were mindless things to collect. Sometimes you took things just to be silly, but at the same time you took them because they belonged to him.

Simply harmless when it came to Tim.

Perhaps an old staff with blood said differently. So maybe you were a little crazy. Tim didn't seem to mind. If he found it uncomfortable then he'd tell you.

After all, it was a mutual thing.

Harmlessly you got ready for the date you two were planning to go on. You had no doubt he planted some cameras in your own apartment. You mused about doing that too, but he was in a house of detectives, and Alfred wouldn't be too keen on that.

You'd rather avoid the spat.

Tim relished in it.

Speaking of the devil. Opening the door to find love of your life. "Hi Timmy." You giggled as he embraced you. "How'd it go with your brothers?"

"Oh, they are concerned. They think I'm gonna murder you or something." Nonchalantly he grabbed your hand as you exited your own apartment. Together hand in hand walking down the street to his car. "I heard they were talking to Steph. She'll probably sneak into your apartment since we're out."

You giggled, "Bad news for me."

"Oh?" He cornered you against the passenger door. Your hand grabbing the handle tightly. "What exactly of mine do you have?" A dark smirk on his face.

Realistically any normal person they'd think he was harassing you. Cornering you, but this was quite normal. Tim was quite the possessive one, and scaring you was a fun time for him.

You enjoyed the adrenaline and how you're heart dropped to your stomach.

You're bones shook. His eyes glazed over with a look you were familiar with, but never did you get used to. No one had ever matched, as others would say, your freak, before. Tim did, so a rather rare occurrence.

"Maybe an old notebook of yours...An old staff with dried blood." You pouted as he grabbed your chin. "I was even thinking of going a little farther and stealing a something you've worn. Or even stealing some food of yours that you hadn't finished." Leaning up you matched his expression.

"Ya know, typical creepy stalker things. So many options. Maybe I'll put cameras in your room after all, but Alfie will catch me."

"You naughty thing." He nickled your neck with his fingers. Almost threateningly. You shivered, and pinched him in solidarity.

You two erupted into laughter. "Yeah but Stephanie is gonna get the wrong idea."

"Definitely."

"Also tons of pictures when I've followed you around. Like at the mall when you were with Damian."

Tim chuckled, "Just like me. So shameless." He teased you playfully. You lightly slapped his hand away from your chin.

"If anyone's shamless it's you, Drake." You kissed his cheek, "We're gonna miss our reservation. Maybe we can watch the show?" You sent a knowing look to Tim.

He grinned widely, "You know me so well."

"It's so like you to put cameras in my room. Maybe even a tracker in my clothes which I did find in the pocket of one of my overalls."

"Maybe i wanted you to find it?" He wiggled his brows with a teasing smile. Bright teeth showing mischief.

"Of course you did." You huffed with a tired smile.

Stephanie wished she was joking. Pulling down her mask. Mouth agape when she caught eyes on a old staff that Tim used to use.

The top of it having dried blood that soon faded near the middle. Crimson that had never been cleaned. And it was leaning in the corner of your bedroom.

Alarmly, there were photo albums on your desk. Seemingly left there carelessly, as if they wanted to be caught.

Her mind echoed with Jason's words saying, "We caught him stalking them, Steph!"

Stephanie was disturbed to find photos of herself with Tim. Pictures with Tim and all of their other siblings, with Alfie, or with Bruce. Some by himself, and no one noticed the picture being taken.

Even some with them in costume.

My god you were...stalking your boyfriend too?

Stephanie caught the glint of something in the corner. A bookshelf of some old time classics, and in-between a copy of Frankenstine and Little Woman sat a tiny camera.

There was no way you put that there. Certainly obsessed with Tim, and not yourself, and considering Jason and Dick she was left with a perplexing and terrifying answer.

The both of you were stalking each other.

Already at that revelation she was contacting the two oldest, "Get over here now." Her voice was shaky as she looked over your room even more. The whole apartment, and found countless cameras.

God knows what the hell was even going on.

The question was if either of you even knew, and considering the cameras no doubt Tim was aware. He was fine with your behavior and that was terrifying.

To make it worse she found collections of notes. All from Tim considering his recognizable handwriting.

They were threatening. Creepy in a way that Stephanie couldn't believe she dated him once. This behavior...she wondered if Tim did it with her? He never left her notes like this.

"Steph?"

She jumped and found Dick and Jason staring at her. With trembling hands she handed over the notes to Dick. Jason was nearby looking over the room, and his stance was evident of his disturbance.

"What the ever loving...?" Dick was cursing in Romani as he read over every letter from Tim to you. Jason was in the corner with his mask off. Eyes wide as he surveyed the countless photos in the album.

Stephanie was still in shock. Suddenly rethinking her entire relationship with Tim. Horror reaching her eyes as she struggled to think of anytime the man was creepy and showing this aspect of himself.

Or was it just with you?

"Steph, you don't think...? Dick read her mind. His serious face led her to think even harder. Looking around the room to find that you were just as much of a freak as Tim.

Match made in hell, Jason thought as he closed the photo album.

"I can't think of anytime he did something like this. No creepy moments or even notes like this...I think..." Stephanie looked at the a picture that on the desk. A photo of you and Tim smiling and looking at each other in a way that Stephanie never had.

Something deeper and deeply held. Love between the two of you was something deeper, and not at all surface level or middle ground. Call it mania in terms of Greek love languages.

"They're both doing it to each other, and know about it." Jason completed her sentence. "I knew Tim was a little freak but not like this, or even his own partner." Taking the letters away and reading them over.

"Jesus." He cursed under his breath. "Little creep, and it seems [ ] isn't bothered by it."

Dick thought deeply, "Tim is aware that this is wrong...? But is it wrong when they're both doing it?"

"If they are?" Jason raised a brow with eyes full of scrutiny at the letters.

"I think so." Stephanie thought hard to herself. Hands to her chest when she clearly remembered her relationship with Tim when they were younger. He was seen as normal in her eyes, and was sweet.

Never was Tim so...creepy like this. Her mind blaring with the knowledge of knowing Tim found out about Bruce's identity at the age of 12. Knowing Nightwing was Robin, and that he was Dick Grayson.

Tim was capable of being this. What made it more clear is that he was keeping it on the down low.

And now you existed in his life. A person that no doubt held the same experiences, and you're behavior was similar to Tim in a way. The ability to love in you're own special way, even if it was strange and rather disturbing.

"Tim is happy? Isn't he?" Stephanie asked looking at Dick and Jason. The men having expressions she really couldn't decipher.

"He seems happy." Dick mumbled. Again looking at that picture frame. A smile on his younger brother's face, and eyes looking at you in a way he's never seen before. Bit of the same way he looks at Kori. "I think so...even if this way of expressing it...?"

"Then I don't think anything is wrong, even if this is rather disturbing. Even if Tim is hiding cameras, watching them, and doing these letters. Tracking [ ] too. Even [ ] on the other hand stealing his things and taking pictures. Keeping these notes." Stephanie smiled as her eyes moved to the camera.

No doubt in her mind of what she deciphered.

"Let's go. We'll face him when he gets home."

"We're really gonna pass over this?!" Jason retaliated. Stephanie patted his shoulder.

"What I'm getting is that is something the two of them share and unique to them. It's certainly strange to us, but to them, all this stalking and threatening its a mutual thing between them." Stephanie concluded.

"Nothing we need to intrude on just yet."

"Welp looks like you were right dearest." Tim, like the devil he was laughed brightly. Turning of his phone to show Steph and his older brothers in your bedroom and leaving.

You watched the three conversate.

Stephanie's horrified expression, and then that solemn yet understanding look.

"Is it true? You weren't able to express all of this when with her?" You pointed to Stephanie. Yes, of course you were jealous of the blonde in some capacity. She had you're beloved first, and call you bloodthirsty but the thought of anyone with him made your blood boil.

Tim huffed and sighed, "Yeah. She was normal girl for the most part. I mean I practically stalked B, so..." He whispered. Stuffing his mouth with some well-done steak.

"And it is you that I'm allowed to be my true self, [ ]." His thumb caressed your chin. Wiping away sauce from your lips. "My one and only who's accepted my strange ways."

You laughed darkly, "I hope so. I wonder if one day I won't be so harmless anymore, especially if you ever leave." Dangerously you're hand rested on the knife that was used to cut your own steak.

"Never my dear. But maybe we can explore that fantasy else where." Tim teased. His own glinting in the yellow light above you both.

"In bed I presume?" Blood from a medium done steak bled out. You're knife expertly slicing through. Glaring eyes that didn't move away from Tim as you did so.

"Perhaps. May have to sneak into the mansion for that and avoid conversations, but we always have you're bed my dear."

"I'd like that. I would also like to avoid a conversation. We both know how we love is extremely different and less strange." You're cheek puffed out as you chewed. Tim laughed lightly.

"I love that we're strange. My entire family is strange, and this isn't as bad as the Joker being, well, the Joker." He scoffed at the words of the clown. You only laughed before sipping you're drink.

"You got that. It's not everyday you see a couple mutually stalking each other."

"It's a mutual thing for us, isn't it dear?"

#dc x reader #yandere reader #tim drake x reader #tim drake x you #yandere tim drake #yandere x reader #sfw #red robin x reader #gn reader #stalker tim drake #stalker reader #freaks the two of you lol

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