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f1byjessie · 3 months

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A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part one.

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yourusername a smiley lando is the best lando in my books! to celebrate the end of the 2023 season, here's a handful of my favourite photos from throughout the year!

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mclaren What a happy lad! We can't wait to see that smile again in 2024 😁🧡

↳ yourusername you and me both! 🤝🧡

user she's got the dream job omg

↳ user IKR??? imagine just getting to follow lando around and take pictures of him all day, i'd be dead within the first hour

↳ user he'd smile at me and i'd be asking “what are we” on god 😩😩😩

↳ user is that literally all she does??? she just follows him around and takes pictures??

↳ user there’s probably a technical term for what her position is and i just don’t know it, but bc there’s so much going on around the track at any given moment, sometimes the press and other media workers are focused on something or someone else, so she’s hired on by mclaren to specifically focus on mclaren to make sure that there is content for mclaren or mclaren sponsors to use. she’s not just lando’s photographer, she also takes photos of oscar, the pit teams, and the other staff that work in the garage, but she was hired on when lando started so her portfolio is pretty full of him. hope this helps!

user didn't know i could need so much orange in my life but here we are

user LANDO NORRIS SUPREMACY

oscarpiastri i see who the favourite is 🫤

↳ yourusername you literally SAW me picking photos for your post too

↳ oscarpiastri yeah but you posted his first 🫤

user guys this is the face of the 2024 wdc winner take it in now

user i could write a 50 page thesis on the importance of these photos and what they mean to me and how the serotonin they make me release could replace my depression meds

user lad’s like a mini danny ric with how smiley he is

landonorris best photog right here folks

↳ yourusername you're only saying that bc i always get your good side

↳ landonorris i'll have you know that all sides are my good sides 🤨

↳ yourusername whatev helps you sleep at night luv 😊

In 2019, when you took on the job of being McLaren’s lead photographer, you hadn’t expected it would garner you the amount of attention it has, or that it would slingshot your career to levels of success you never could have anticipated, or that you would get a best friend out of it.

When you first met him back in those early days, you’d thought Lando Norris was an arrogant, pretentious, self-righteous prick who thought he was hot shit because he was a Formula One driver. However, he’d quickly proven you wrong when he’d admitted to you that a lot of the confidence was an act━ carefully constructed to hide his insecurities about his performance both on and off the track.

“I mean, we’re drivers, yeah?” He’d said. “But we’re also actors. We’ve got these personas that we have to uphold even out here on the paddock, and I’m always worried I’m not playing the part well enough.”

It hadn’t made a lot of sense to you then, you thought he was pulling off the persona of Total Douche remarkably well, but in Shanghai, things changed.

After the Chinese Grand Prix, things were dour. Lando had DNFed━ the first in his Formula One career━ which contrasted greatly with his previous accomplishment of P6 in Bahrain. Carlos Sainz hadn’t been doing very well, either, and it didn’t paint a very pretty picture for McLaren so early in the season. You’d thought he’d throw a hissy fit, tear Daniil Kvyat apart for his role in the crash, or at the very least throw some shade his way, but he hadn’t done any of that. He’d accepted his fate with grace, joked to the media about how boring the race had been because of what had happened, and then gone on to congratulate Carlos for at least finishing.

What was even more shocking, was that despite his disappointment and the frustration he must’ve been feeling, instead of going back to sulk in his lonesomeness or drown out his feelings with booze and loud music at some club, he’d comforted you later that evening.

The morning of the race, as you’d been getting ready in your hotel room, you’d gotten a text from an unsaved number admitting to you that they’d been taking part in a months-long affair with your boyfriend but had been previously unaware that he was already taken and therefore wanted to let you know to clear their conscience. You’d managed to hold yourself together then━ mostly because you’d already done your makeup and, quite frankly, didn’t have the time to sob it all off and then attempt to salvage it━ but as the day drew to a close and the adrenaline of the race and its excitement wore off, and with nothing else to keep you distracted, you were struggling to keep yourself composed.

Lando had somehow noticed in that weirdly perceptive way of his that something was off, and he’d sat with you, asked what was wrong, and listened when you━ through tears━ explained the situation to him.

“He sounds like a total fucking muppet,” he’d commented after you’d said your piece, and he’d done it with such a deadpanned expression that it had startled a genuine laugh out of you. Because yeah, you’re (now ex) boyfriend had been a muppet.

After that━ and after all the rom-com and ice cream binging you’d both done in his hotel room afterward much to the chagrin of Lando’s nutritionist and the displeasure of his PR officer━ you’d rescinded your initial judgment of him. He was significantly less dickish than you’d originally thought, and it let you finally understand what he’d meant when he’d talked about putting on a persona.

The cocky, know-it-all prick that Lando pretended to be half the time was all just an act to hide his overly self-critical nature fueled by his insecurities.

By the end of the season, he’d gained a little confidence of his own and had subsequently toned down the assholery when he no longer needed to “fake it til he makes it,” and you were calling him your friend.

It’s 2023 now, and he’s since been upgraded to best friend status━ a role he takes very seriously, and constantly reminds you of.

“I’m your best friend━” case and point, “━you have to come to Bali with me. Literally, like, what am I gonna do without you there? Do you expect me to just go by myself? What if I get lost? Or what if somehow the mafia, who have unknowingly had a hit out on me for years, track me down there and I’m kidnapped and ransomed off for billions of dollars? What will you do then?”

“You just want me to take pictures of you,” you answer, rolling your eyes only because you know he can’t see you through the phone.

He gasps in mock offense. “I cannot believe you think I value you so little! I want you to take pictures of me and be here to help me make fun of awkward tourist spray tans so I don’t feel like a total asshole for being the only one who laughs.”

You laugh at that. “Well, unfortunately laughing at bad fake tans doesn’t pay the bills.”

“But taking pictures of me does.”

“Yeah, when McLaren is paying.” You turn back to your laptop, a photo put on pause mid-edit splayed across the screen. It’s of Lando, as most of your photos tend to be despite your attempts at keeping things even between the McLaren boys. It’s the last of the images you need to send over for their 2023 sendoff, and when it’s finished you’ll officially be without work for a painstaking two months. “I’m on break too, technically, until they need promotional shit for the new season.”

He huffs, and you can almost imagine the childish pout on his face. “What are you even doing, then?”

You hesitate, not because you don’t want Lando to know about your winter plans, but because you don’t really know how he’ll react, which means it could be anything between genuine happiness for you and congratulations, or abject horror and feigned screams of anguish. He’s always been dramatic like that, but even more so now that he’s comfortable enough with you and himself to have crawled a decent way out of his shell.

Even still, he’s your best friend and it would make you a pretty shitty person if you didn’t tell him.

“Believe it or not,” you start, wringing your hands together, “but Manchester City actually hit me up with an inquiry. Asked if I’d be interested in working with them on a project documenting their training throughout the winter months. I said I would love to.”

He pauses for a good long moment, and you prepare for the screaming, but all he says is━ “Man City? You traitor. I thought Man United was our forever!”

“Be so fucking real right now, Lando Norris,” you answer, laughing as you do so. You’re relieved, at least he hasn’t gone the feigned anguish route, but you also can’t tell if he’s happy for you or hiding his true feelings behind humor like he’s prone to doing. “You know damn well you only watched them for Christiano Ronaldo and he hasn’t played with United since 2009.”

“Technically he played for them in the 2021-2022 season,” he grumbles.

“Yeah,” you deadpan, “and he was dogshit. We both agreed to pretend it never happened.”

He groans, “I can’t believe this. My day is ruined and my disappointment is immeasurable.”

“Oh, get over yourself. It’s only for the winter. I’ll be back in McLaren Papaya by February when they need me snapping shots of you and Oscar next to the new livery,” you promise.

The reality is that it’ll probably be sooner. McLaren has always been good about getting you back at HQ pretty quickly, either to get some snapshots of the beginning of Lando and Oscar’s pre-season return or to just capture some material of the engineers at work to promote their readiness. You understand why they can’t keep you around all year━ no Lando and no Oscar means no you━ and with the sheer amount of content you capture and edit for them throughout the season, they’ve got enough to last them the handful of weeks you aren’t working.

Unfortunately, you aren’t working with a driver’s salary to keep you sustained over the break and rent certainly hasn’t been getting cheaper. In past years, your bank account has been chirping with crickets when you’ve returned to work after the winter, and that was before your landlord had decided to make your life a living hell.

You have an important job, but it’s by far the most important, and sometimes sacrifices have to be made. Working in sports media taught you that early on.

“Who knows?” Lando’s voice snaps you back. “Maybe Jack Grealish with his perfect hair and perfect calves will steal you away and you’ll be in sky blue forevermore.”

You laugh, “Jack Grealish is a happily taken man, and although he does have perfect hair and perfect calves, I’m more of a Haaland girl anyway.”

He guffaws. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. You’re so far gone that you already have a preferred player. Jack Grealish is England’s poster boy! Everyone loves him whether they like City or not!” He heaves a dramatic sigh. “Christ, I can already feel you slipping through my fingers. I give it a week over there at Etihad before you call me up telling me I can find a new best friend because you’ve replaced me with Phil Foden and Julian Alvarez.”

“For someone who supposedly hates Manchester City, you’re certainly well-versed in their roster.”

“Well duh, I need to know my competition,” he says, like it’s obvious.

“Ah, yes,” you snark back sarcastically. “Because you, a Formula One driver, have to be worried about the football players of Manchester City.”

“Apparently I do if you’re calling yourself a Haaland girl now!”

You burst into cackles and he’s following shortly after with chuckles of his own that eventually peter out into a comfortable silence. You are really going to miss him for the few months you aren’t working with him.

The Formula One schedule is so jam-packed across the season that it typically means you’re getting to see him every day for an hour or two at least, if not for the entirety of the time he’s at the track. You follow him and Oscar to their sponsor obligations, their interviews, and everything in between. It’s honestly rare if you’re not getting a moment to goof off and dick around with one another━ and it’s even rarer for you to not actually see one another face to face in passing at the very least.

The off-season is your least favorite time of the year for this very reason, and though it makes you feel a bit full of yourself to think so, you imagine Lando doesn’t enjoy this time of year much either for the same reason.

“I promise I won’t replace you with any of the City boys,” you say after the silence has stretched on a moment longer.

He huffs again, but you can envision the smile tugging at his lips. “I suppose even if you do, I’ll just show up to a match and steal you away again.”

“As if. Have you seen Grealish’s calves?”

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footballfansofficial BREAKING: Manchester City Forward Garrett Ward caught with mysterious woman revealed to be well-known Formula One photographer Y/N L/N! The two were seen sharing a romantic evening on Friday, the 5th of January, ringing in a passionate start to 2024. Garrett Ward has been with Manchester City since 2021 but was out on loan to a lesser-known Championship League team until 2023. He has just recently begun to play for his team again, but an injury early into the season has seen him benched for a majority of his time back. Y/N L/N is a photographer for Formula One racing team McLaren and has been working with them since 2019. Recently, she has been working with Manchester City to help promote a new docuseries following the men’s team’s winter training. Check the link in our bio for the full article!

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user OMG GARRETT WARD??? NOTORIOUS BACHELOR GARRETT WARD???

user who is she? like genuinely how is she relevant 🤔

↳ user no literally cuz like who even gives two shits about formula 1?

user girl works in f1 why can’t she stay there

↳ user i’m sure there are plenty of drivers who’d smash her idk why she needs to try and get footballers too like bffr 😒😒😒

user aint no way this bitch is kissing my man rn

user literally what does he even see in her??? she’s not even cute AND she’s wearing man united colors 💀💀

user Y/N L/N??? I THOUGHT SHE WAS WITH LANDO NORRIS???

↳ user LITERALLY ME TOO?? like she posts him all the time on insta so i just kinda thought they were an item or smth?? trouble in paradise maybe

user she’s fucking ugly wtf

user i wish these footballers who get with regular women would realize there are so many better girls out there that would ACTUALLY treat them well and would support them in their careers. like i bet this girl doesn’t even know anything about football. she works in f1 and that’s where she should stay bc nobody cares about that shit round here. she probably doesn’t even know the first thing about how football works, but i bet she’ll be at matches pretending like she knows what’s happening. garrett ward is gonna flush his career down the troilet for this chick bc she’s gonna convince him his busy schedule ain’t worth it and then city will be down a great forward for good, and it’ll all be her fault

user i mean she’s kinda pretty tbf

↳ user stfu she really isn’t

↳ user she gen looks like any random bitch off the street

user these comments are not it…. 😬

↳ user maybe you f1 fans just don’t know how to handle constructive criticism

↳ user is the constructive criticism in the room with us rn?? cuz all i’m seeing is bullying and hatred directed towards an innocent woman who’s only “crime” was going on a date

user ok so she can take photos?? 🙄🙄 maybe she should get a real job

↳ user she’s probably only with him so she can mooch off of him like a fucking gold digger

user AINT NO WAYYYYYY

user it’ll last a month max 😌 i’m calling it

user ayo lando come get your girl

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette

━━ a/n: here we have it! took me a bit longer than the start of american smile did, but lando's story is officially here! (and it's a whopping 2.9k words to start us off). first and foremost, before we get started, garrett ward is 100% an oc and obviously does not play for manchester city, and this is bc i would feel absolutely horrible portraying a real person in the way that garrett will be later on. gather from that what you will haha! regardless, i hope you enjoy this first part and stick around for the rest!

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #social media au #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 #oscar piastri

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lixie-phoria · 1 year

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ੈ✩‧ 🎀🩰 ➛ hyunjin thinks he's subtle as he pines over you

pairing : hyunjin x gn!reader

genre : fluff !

hyunjin thought he was subtle. he thought he was smooth, so sly, so creative. he couldn't have been more wrong.

he loved sketching. everybody knew that. he loved colors. he loved picking up a pencil and drawing whatever came to his mind. but most importantly, he loved drawing you. your smile, your eyes, the arch of your brows, the texture of your hair, the roundness of your face. everything was engraved in his mind. he could probably draw you with his eyes closed.

but he couldn't be obvious about it, of course. he only ever drew a few of your portraits, and shared even fewer with you. he was just so shy somehow when it came to you.

he would hurriedly deny if any of his members teased him about it, but they all knew, and they could only hope you would catch onto his crush soon because it was getting nauseating seeing hyunjin giggle in excitement every time you liked one of his posts or lose his concentration whenever you came around for practice.

"are you painting y/n? again?"

hyunjin startled at the voice as changbin peeked over his shoulder to see what the younger boy was drawing.

"what? no." hyunjin scoffed, hastily trying to cover up his reddening cheeks. "does this look like y/n?"

"yes."

"it's not!"

"whatever you say, lover boy."

hyunjin groaned, hiding his face in his hands as the other members gathered around his sketch pad.

"can't wait to show this one to them," lee know joked, lightly pushing hyunjin's shoulder as the latter's head snapped up.

"absolutely not!"

"scared they'll catch on to your little crush?"

this has happened on several occasions; more times than hyunjin could count, in fact.

every live he went on to show his drawings to stay, or to show them his sketching process first hand, was a somewhat cleverly disguised way for him to just hope and catch your attention.

maybe you'll join the live? maybe you'll notice that the figure he's painting or sketching looked a lot like you? maybe he wouldn't have to confess outright?

"just tell them you like them, hyung." seungmin encouraged, noticing how almost every detail had been perfectly captured.

"no."

the younger boy sighed but walked away nonetheless, watching hyunjin take a picture of the almost completed painting and no doubt sending it to you.

[ hyunnie ] : [ 1 image attached ]

[ hyunnie ] : hi :)) do you like it?

it was like routine. the members watched as hyunjin jumped up from the chair, a wide grin splitting across his face and a deep blush coating his cheeks at whatever you had said.

"they said they loved it!!"

"when have they ever said otherwise?" felix joked, watching his friend in amusement.

"no but they said they really liked it this time."

"and they probably really like you too, hyung. just confess already."

"not yet."

the other 7 collectively sighed as they watched hyunjin go back to excitedly typing away at his phone, his eyes shining like a child's.

one day. hopefully one day, you would catch on and spare them from having to watch this same scene multiple times a week.

©lixie-phoria, 2023

🏷️ @foxinnie8 , @lethallyprotected [ send an ask to be added/removed from the taglist :) ]

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myszie · 12 days

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I think your Tutor likes being called a Good Boy

Sub!Matt x reader

Trigger warning - Smut, Dom/Sub dynamics, Throat play, major Corruption kink, maybe Dub!con, degradation.

MDNI

First time writing smut, constructive criticism please!!!

Matt fidgets with his pencil, hands roughly bundled in his lap, You’re supposed to carry over the power” he mumbles, his words terse. I look up at the boy sitting across from me in the prickling sweltering heat of the school library, “Matttt I swear you’re writing in another language at this point” I murmur exasperated, lips drawn into an exaggerated pout.

Matt shifts in his seat - red flush coating his porcelain skin, as he reaches over to correct my mistake. “It’s not hard, you’re just not doing it properly” he adds attempting to joke and look away from my face, and the way my skin shimmers in the heat….so mundane yet so provocative. “You whore, why must you attack me like that” I laugh back tugging at my thin tee so it it doesn’t stick to my body. Not hearing a reaction, and worrying I pushed too far, I lean into Matt only to see him squirming in his lap as diverts his gaze from the dip of my collarbone.

“You don’t look so good Matty….its too hot in here…wanna study in my car?” I offer cooing at the boy as I help him gather his things, perfectly disguising the ways my hands linger as I help him put stuff in his bag.

The boy shuffles behind me, his hands firmly plastered to the front of his body…the heat, your lips and the ways your words were just on the precipice of his desire. Watching Matt struggle ever so much under my gaze, the battle behind clinging to his perfect image is downright tempting. Like a white canvas begging for colour, begging to be ruined.

“Does that feel better?” I murmur, softly rubbing his thighs, to comfort him of course and not anything else. The hitch in his breath is loud and clear within the silence of the car, but I’m more than happy to indulge in this game of cat and mouse a bit longer. “The heat was really getting you huh?” I coo again, this time pressing a cold beer near his jugular. “Mhm this should help the flush” I say smirking slightly as I hover over the boy, but seeing his blush darken and eyes look wide and dazed…my temptation peels and I can’t help but dip the bottle lower…near his chest.

Matt gasps biting his lips, “Yea that feels…better” he manages to force out even though the ice did nothing to calm the raging hard on he was packing. He was too far gone at this point, he needed you to keep touching him. “I think I know what will feel really good though Matty, what hill help ……this” I whisper in his ears as I drag the cold beer bottle close to his navel. Matts eyes widens and before he can process what you’re proposing, I pull my hands back and settle in my chair acting nonchalant. “Feel better Matty?” I lilt, stressing the syllable. Matt eyes turn to mine, completely wide and his chest heaves as his brain tries to cope with the fact that he hadn’t just imagined your hands near his cock.

I stare back at him, a challenge and invitation clear in my eyes, “No…need help” he finally murmurs out his words stressed and broken. “Mhm you were quite rude you know, you should ask me nicely” I rasp as I let my hands and nails ghost over the skin of his thigh. Matt hands ball in his laps as his body shakes under my touch, “please help me…please” he finally manages and I smile my touch getting bolder as it palms the bulge in his pants. “Help you do what bunny?” I say smirking, having fun while breaking down matts composure. “Touch me please” Matt moans his hips rising up as they grind up into my hands.

Smirking I’m immediately on him, straddling his heaving frame in the small car. My red manicured hands grasp both sides of his face, as I look into his eyes….”You thought you were being subtle huh, palming your dick in the library like a slut” I rasp roughly kissing his perfectly pouty laps. Matt all but whimpers as his hips ground up to mine, moving desperately for friction. I squeeze his mouth, “Open” and spit in his mouth as he spreads open his mouth, “god such a desperate slut, now swallow” I say licking a line of sweat down the side of his neck. I’m well aware of the fact by this point he’s practically humping me, but I let him…he was too pure yet to ruin completely and besides I didn’t wanna reveal all my cards.

“You desperate boy, I thought you needed me to touch you, but here you’re more than happy humping me like a Rabid bunny in heat….fuck perfect Matt is such a little slut…doing all this when anyone can see the fucked out look on your face” I tease my hands grasping his throat as I too grind down on him. Matt tries to answer, his words muffled in moans and I laugh, “You don’t gave permission to speak doll” I say biting his lips.

Matt is all but reduced to to heap of grunts and moans, his hips chasing the rhythm of mine. Feeling himself get closer, he can’t help but moan out, “Fuck feels so good” as he cums in his pants against the heat of my centre. I ride him through his orgasm drawing out the sensitivity, until I address him with a hard glare.

“I said you’re not allowed to speak doll”

Y’all want part 2? I’m not sure?

Tag list

@chr1sgirl4life @sturniolos-bae @sturnsfave @somegirlfromasgard @solarsturniolo @vecnasnose0 @ev3rgreenxtrees @sleepysturnss @namelesssaviour @lov3burns @tillies33ssss @sturnpooks @ladyvenera @malirosee @sluttformatt @yo123itsme @hypnotizedsturn @stellarsturns @lolasturniolo @namelesssav

#matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo

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gay-dorito-dust · 8 months

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syzoth fluff hcs ? 😩😩 i love himmm

This is so ooc for him but fuck it. 🦦

Imagine if you will, you’ve been noticing that Syzoth was having trouble sleeping due to either his cold blooded nature and or nightmares that forced him to relive the trauma he’s suffered through. You’re heart broke for him and being the kindhearted and patient person that you were, you offered up the suggestion of being his personal heater but completely understood if this was too uncomfortable for him to do as of right now.

Syzoth, never use to such treatment from anyone -never less his own kind- decided one night, when everything was starting to take a toll on him, to take you up on your generous offer but he was so stiff and awkward in going about it that when he does get to your room. He either ends up dozing off across from you out of respect for your personal space or just straight up watches over you the entire night due to his unwillingness to wake you up from your slumber.

He’s such a sweetheart.

You’d wake up to see him slump over, fast asleep and you couldn’t help but smile at image of him standing/ sitting awkwardly in your room throughout the night as you would then scoot closer to him and drape your cover over him, immediately waking him up, making you freeze in place but upon realising that he wasn’t in any danger, Syzoth would close his eye again and instinctively cuddle up to you, basking on your warmth.

This soon becomes routine for the both of you as there wasn’t a single night where you weren’t cuddle up to one another with Syzoth leeched off of your bodily warmth by burying his head into the checks of your neck as he clings onto you like a lifeline, whilst you had finally felt that Syzoth had grown comfortable enough for you to rest your hand upon his back in order to keep him close. It melts your heart that whenever you go to pull yourself away, Syzoth immediately pulls you back down and practically caged you with his arms and legs as to keep you tethered to him because your warm and he doesn’t wanna let that go.

I wouldn’t be surprised if you woke up one day to him cuddling against you in his reptilian form. Give his snoot a lil kiss for me while your at it will you?

Upon hearing Johnny making Syzoth laugh one time, you’ve deemed then and there that he had to have the prettiest laugh that you’ve ever heard in your life. So much so that you try your damn hardest to make him let out a little chuckle or wholehearted laugh. All in order to hear the most prettiest sound to ever grace your ears.

Syzoth would be made aware of what you were doing after the first couple of tries by Johnny who was watching the whole thing from afar, finding your attempts humorous and the confused puppy dog look on Syzoth’s face even more humorous.

‘They’re trying to make you laugh dude.’ - johnny

‘Why? Why would they want to hear me laugh?’ -Syzoth

‘They think your laugh is cute.’ - johnny.

‘They find my laugh cute?’ - Syzoth, absentmindedly smiling at the thought.

‘They aren’t exactly subtle about it for starters.’ -Johnny, seeing you rummage through a beat up joke book, muttering ‘that’s jokes shit.’ Or ‘hehe, that’s a good one’ under your breath as you make a list of jokes to use for later.

So now whenever you try to syzoth laugh, he does so but not because the jokes are remotely funny, well some of them are with their straightforwardness but others go over his head, he’s laughing and smiling because of hard you’re trying to make him laugh and smile to the point the determined look on your face is enough wrangle a chuckle out of him. Syzoth thinks it’s very sweet that you adore his laughter, but finds you even sweeter when you do manage to make him laugh and he gets to see how your face just lights up from it in victory.

I genuinely don’t think that anyone has thought his laugh as amazing as you do, so needless to say you’re genuine comments towards him make his fucking day worthwhile. So he tries to reciprocate that kindness by adamantly sticking by your side and protect you from any and all danger, despite knowing that you could protect yourself but hey we all want to be protected by someone so we don’t always have to have our guard up 24/7. Which is exactly what you and Syzoth are to one another.

Johnny once teasingly called you both the others ‘emotional support buddy’ and it kinda just stuck from then on given how much time you spent together.

Will Syzoth use his power of invisibility to mess with you? The answer is always an defiant yes. He’s a secret menace. You can forget playing hide and seek - a game of which Syzoth knows next to nothing about- with this little cheat. For he wins by default because of his ability. Which you’d then have to explain to him how it goes against the rules because not everyone can do that and even if they did, it would only make the game unplayable. So a new rule would have to be implemented that Syzoth was prohibited from using invisibility to win.

It doesn’t matter whether your easily scared or not at all, Syzoth with use his invisibility to get ahead of you from time to time. So I wouldn’t put it past him to use his invisibility to sneak in some kisses upon your forehead, nose, cheeks and if he’s feeling particularly mischievous that day; you’re lips.

You could be looking for the bastard and he’s following behind you invisible, trying his hardest not to laugh whenever you look over your shoulder, not knowing your looking directly at him before looking forward, calling out his name once again. God forbid he ever steps on a creaky floorboard as it was a 50/50 toss up for him, it could either make you shit yourself or give you a hint as to where he is while you’re actively looking for him. However Syzoth trusts his ability enough to not make that vital mistake.

Will he use it to surprise you with back hugs? This goes without question but yes he absolutely would.

I think I’ve gone on long enough so I’ll end this here.

#mk1 #mk x reader #mk x y/n #mk imagine #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat imagine #mortal kombat x you #mortal kombat imagines #mortal kombat x y/n #reptile x reader #syzoth x y/n #syzoth imagine #syzoth imagines #syzoth x reader #syzoth x you #mortal kombat

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willowser · 10 months

Text

bakugou + strawberries ; 2.7k ੈ‧₊˚ for our meet fruit collab ! ‧₊˚✧ ₊˚

mina suggests speed-dating.

first as a joke — you think — after the two of you spend too many weekends in a row watching sappy rom-coms on her couch while crying into a bowl of trail mix, and then a second time, and then a third time, after you refuse.

in her last attempt, she pulls out the big ones: her upcoming birthday. it will be so fun!! she tells you, with her big eyes and bigger pout, looking at you as if you'd hung the stars by saying yes. it's a cheap shot, really, because she knows you or anyone would do pretty much anything when it comes to mina the birthday girl.

— and that's how you find yourself here, sitting in too nice of an outfit to be spending your allotted time listening to a man bash his ex-girlfriend.

you might have found him a bit cuter if he wasn't doing that, or if he showed even an ounce of interest in you whatsoever. instead, he's treating this like a therapy session, and you're not getting paid for it.

when the timer rings, you're more than thankful. irritated enough, even, to spin around the room in search of mina — who is happily watching on as two men grapple with each other for who gets to sit across from her next. you suppose being a top hero is good for that, finding someone who is willing to give you their all.

to yourself, you sigh quietly and turn back to the little bowl of strawberries in the center of the small table, the flutes of champagne on either side of it. mina's bottle, you noticed, is almost totally empty; your last date hadn't even looked at yours, nor did he seem to think to offer you a drink.

it's not that you're jealous. really. you wouldn't even say that you're interested in dating right now, finding your job at the agency to be too much of a whirlwind to balance, anyway. you love mina: she's your closest friend, your home away from home, your cheerleader and personal hero — but working for her is nothing short of a full-time job.

sometimes your bed is a little lonely, when she's not staying the night in it after another rom-com evening, but you really can't think that you'd like someone in it, anyway, much less a stranger. it's hard to explain where your time goes, who it goes with; having to share that with someone, you think, would take more emotional energy than you have right now.

and maybe it also sorta, kinda has to do with the fact that the one and only man you're thinking of outside of work — is the same man you see inside of it every single day.

the very thought of bakugou has your stomach turning, painfully. the image of him in the late afternoons with the sun glowing in his hair, the gentle look he spares you as you wait for the elevator, how he'd looked at you today, when you told him where you and mina were going; you don't know how anyone could make you feel the way he does, at least right now.

the seat across from you is taken up suddenly, then, and you look up into the eyes of someone that looks — nice. a little shy, a little nervous, as they introduce themselves. they decide to pour you a glass of champagne, and they even tell you, openly, voice shaking, how nice you look tonight.

you smile so hard that your cheeks hurt, much to your own surprise.

"i'm actually allergic to strawberries," they tell you with a laugh, gently pushing the bowl closer to you. "that would be a hell of a first date, wouldn't it?"

you agree. "definitely one to remember!"

"well, in that case—" they joke, suddenly leaning forward as if they're going to pull it back towards them, and it's so earnest and sweet that you feel your heartbeat in your throat a bit. "i sound like i'm kissing up to you, but—you have a really nice smile, also."

you have to sit back in your seat, fanning your face dramatically as you both laugh. "wow, i'm not used to someone—"

"time's up, extra."

you blink so hard that your eyes are crossed when you open them, and you look up at the man standing there, waiting for his turn, just as the timer dings and the room comes to life with a bustle. the person across from you only frowns, too timid to say anything in response before they're getting up and casting you a regretful glance. they're barely a foot away before the chair is taken, so aggressively that it scrapes against the floor and shakes the table.

you can't believe what you're seeing. you can't believe bakugou is sitting across from you, right now, ruining everything.

"what—are you doing?" you hiss, though your feelings — with a mind of their own — flutter like butterflies in your stomach at the sight of him.

the scowl he gives you is ugly, as always, but his face is smoother than you remember it being today; freshly shaven, maybe. the cologne he's wearing is strong, woodsy, potent enough that it dizzies you from across the table, that you can only imagine how sweet it smells soaking into the soft skin of his neck. even the shirt he's wearing, you notice, is a button down that you've never seen him in.

"the hell do you mean?" he growls, face pinched as he leans closer, so that his voice doesn't carry as it usually does. "'s'it look like i'm doin'? saving you from some sorry dumbass."

"bakugou," you grit, though the room quiets as everyone takes their seats again, and you have to swallow back your annoyance so you don't draw anymore attention to yourself.

you're not dumb enough to think he'd get away without some people fighting for his attention, too, the same way they did to mina, and — as irritated as you are, suddenly, at his appearance — you're not exactly keen on sharing him, either.

"they were very nice, thank you very much,"

"psh," he rolls his eyes, a muscle in his jaw jumping. "couldn't even look me in the eyes to tell me to fuck off—"

"maybe because they were worried you would blast them through the window—"

"and i would have—"

"oh!" you clench your hands into fists and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to will your anger back down. losing your cool isn't a good look, especially in a room of people that are trying to get to know you. "are you serious right now? why are you here?"

"you really wanna spend our five minutes doin' this?"

and there's something about the way he says it — our five minutes — that has your stomach turning in that horrible way it always does, whenever you bite into the softer parts of him. the look on his face is pensive, nervous if you thought that he was capable of being nervous. his shirt, his shaven cheeks, his alluring cologne; he's here, right now, on a date with you. pushed his way into it, even.

you straighten in your seat and sit back, dropping your eyes to the table, ashamed at the fire you've just thrown at him. "can you at least tell me why you're here in the first place?"

bakugou is silent for long enough that you can't stand not to take him in, how appealing he is to look at, how your heart sings when he looks back. one shake of his head has him sighing and then he's leaning back, too, staring only at the strawberries.

"this is her birthday thing, ain't it?"

"yeah," you murmur in agreement quietly, fiddling with your own fingers in your lap as your nerves harden into bitter disappointment. he's here for the same reasons you are, you tell yourself: for your friend, only.

distantly, you try to remind yourself that this nothing out of the ordinary. that you shouldn't be thinking of him this way, getting so hung-up on someone that's never expressed an interest in you to begin with. there have been a few late night conversations in the stairwell, that ran longer than they should have, that revealed more than they should have — but it doesn't make him yours. not in the way you want it to.

in an attempt to swallow down your own sourness, you reach for a strawberry, picking through them until you find the fattest one, and then bite it to the stem. a little stream of juice sprays out, dripping down over your bottom lip as you scramble for your napkin. you lick after it before patting at your face, spreading the sugar, the sweetness.

bakugou leans across the table so suddenly that you startle, mouth twisted like he's struggling to say what he's about to say. "alright, look—"

the timer rings, horribly, but his ruby stare never dims, never leaves yours and yours never leaves his, either, as if you're both suddenly trapped in a weird limbo of in-between; in-between the quiet moments, in-between the loudest ones, in-between everyone else, together.

and then mina notices.

"oh my god, blasty, you came!" she shouts, springing up from her seat to wave at you both from across the room. her earrings jingle loudly, bracelet beads knocking together as she leans too far to the left, champagne-drunk already. it snaps the moment between you and him, worry filling the gaps as you think about how you're going to get her out of here, once the night is over.

bakugou sinks a little further into his chair, as if it will hide him, before grumbling to himself. cheeks reddening, you realize; strawberry-kissed. he heaves a heavy sigh before digging his fingers into his eyes, deep enough that an ache develops in your own, and he opens his mouth to speak again when someone else approaches the table.

"okay, time to switcheroo!" he sings, grinning too cheerily at you, enough to make you laugh at his enthusiasm.

it darkens bakugou, considerably; "piss off," is all he says, scooting his chair further into the table as if to claim it. he barely gets another word out before the man is starting to protest, and the look he gives him then is awfully viscious: nostrils flared, looking up from beneath his long lashes and furrowed brow, as if this stranger had pissed in your champagne. "i said, fuck off, before i howitzer you through the—"

"okay!" you interrupt, reaching across the table with both hands to close one of bakugou's. his fingers are curled dangerously, and you swear you can see little sizzles of steam slipping between your linked fingers. "let's just—do an extra skip this time, okay? how about you just gives us this one, and you go to the next table?"

the man frowns — which is a bit flattering — but ultimately takes the lifeline you offer, trailing away without another word down to the next table. you can feel the couple on the other side watching you and bakugou now, a little open-mouthed, and your heart quickens at the worry that they're noticing him, that your new five minutes are going to be wasted, too.

—but his hand hasn't moved from yours and his eyes have returned, full to the brim with some emotion you can't read. if you had to guess, you'd say regret, maybe, but you aren't sure how to take that, and so you don't.

you should let him go, literally and figuratively, but the solidity of your logic is no match for the soft beat of butterfly wings in your gut.

"what are you doing?" you ask him again, softly, surely, because you want to hear the answer whatever it is. he either needs to deny you, here and now so you can move on — or he needs to acknowledge the confliction on his face, the soft intertwine of his fingers into yours.

bakugou looks at you now the way he does in the stairwell, the way he does when the sun is painting you warm, too. "i told you," he murmurs, "savin' you from some dumbass."

"but why do you even care?"

another heavy sigh falls from him and you can feel your glass-fragile heart breaking when his hand slips from yours, a little roughly. it surprises you when he grabs the champagne bottle from the center of the table and pours himself a small glass, downing it in one, bitter go before filling up your flute, too.

liquid confidence, maybe; his cheeks darken, noticeably, before he's running a rough hand over his face, still struggling to wash out the words.

"why the hell do you think?" he finally says, though his harsh question lacks the abrasive tone his voice usually has; instead it's gentler, more sincere, bakugou — katsuki — in his rawest form. "why d'you think i do—any of this shit?" one hand waves around to gesture to the span of the dining room, but you know he means more than that, much more. "you think i spend that much time after work just 'cause i have time to waste? jesus."

"i don't know," you say, earning a flat look. "why do you?"

"why do you?"

you take the glass from the center of the table and peer down into it, how it bubbles. maybe you're playing dumb and maybe that's what's really bothering him, but — someone like bakugou deals in absolutes, and you need him to do it now.

the struggle is clear, though, across his face, thickening how he swallows and turning down his lips that much more. you feel a bit bad in the silence, when the timer rings and the muscle in his cheek jumps again.

before anyone can even approach the table, he simply sticks his hand out, and the man beside you was definitely watching on, because he doesn't spare you a glance before going around.

and maybe, you think, decidedly, that's enough.

"because i don't want to go home yet," you tell him honestly, trying to ignore the blood rushing in your ears with his mouth twists and he starts to squirm at your truth. "because i'd rather spend the night with you in a stairwell, than anywhere else."

there's a ludicrous amount of tension that leaves his shoulders then, so much that you didn't notice it until it was gone, and he slumps back into his chair with pink ears, now. the sight makes you smile, widely, as if the sight is a confirmation.

maybe for him, it is.

"yeah, well," he grumbles, eyes dropping to the strawberries before darting away, as if he'd thought of something he shouldn't have. "that's what 'm sayin', too."

"no, you're not!" you laugh, nose crinkling when he side-eyes you with a frown. "you're not hardly saying anything!"

"i'm here, ain't i?" he argues, huffing like a bull. "makin' a damn idiot of myself just to stop you from—"

"—going home with some dumbass?"

"well, yeah!"

"so you want me to be going home with you, then?"

"yeah! no! i mean—" he scowls when you laugh again, lip pulling up over his teeth as if he means to bite into your softest parts, too. the thought is more thrilling that you're willing to admit — at least for now. "quit laughin'!"

but it's not just you; across the dining room, you realize mina's giggling, too, turned around in her seat, ignoring the chatty man that wouldn't shut up about his ex. when bakugou turns around to glare at her, she nearly tips out of her chair by throwing her head too far back, and when he moves to stand up like he needs to help her, all she does is wave at him to turn back around.

and he does, to you, cheeks flaring as he grabs the bottle of champagne again, pouring himself his own glass to glare into. he mutters out another quiet, "jesus" before slamming both his elbows on the table, rudely, and holding his glass up for — what you belatedly realize is — a cheers.

behind him, the afternoon sun has long since set, replaced now by nightfall and stars that shine through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows — but he glows regardless, and the look he gives you is just as warm.

#IT'S DONE I'M FREEEEEEE #literally i wrote both of these TODAY my brain is WORN OUT #somebody never let me wait this long again LMAOOOO #sorry that these are both dog water !!! :) i have no one to blame but myself !!!! :)#but it's DONE WEEEEEEE #WAAAAHH nikuniku gave me the idea of speed dating with bakugou 😭 where he just — absolutely refuses to play LOL #cuuuteeee #will edit in the morning brain sleepy.....#✿ willow writes #✿ one shot: bakugou

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sandy-the-glader · 3 months

Text

Is That Me?

Character: Adrian Chase x Gn!Reader

Type: Fluff

Length: Drabble (500 words)

Summary: All month you have been ranting to your best friend about your celebrity crush and Adrian gets a little jealous. Little does he know that the face is quite familiar.

Trope: established relationship

A/N: Since Peacemaker confirmed that a lot of celebrities exist in the DC universe I thought this was adorable. Also, I saw someone do this with a different celebrity a long time ago so credit to them! Hope this will tie you guys over until I finish the requests since they are taking longer than I thought they would.

"Who is he?" Adrian stood in the doorway of your guy's shared bedroom with folded arms and a concerned look on his face. You looked up from your phone with a confused look.

"Who are you talking about?" You sat up on the bed with your phone in front of you. Adrian sighed heavily

"You know who. The dude you've been talking about non-stop." You couldn't help the smile that broke out on your face. You had been ranting to your best friend over the phone for weeks about this really handsome actor you came across recently because he looked exactly like your boyfriend.

A giggle bubbled up inside you and you started to laugh hard. You couldn't keep hiding the celebrity from Adrian.

"What's so funny?" He frowned at my reply. You almost felt bad but once he realized who it was he would feel much better.

"Are you jealous Adrian?"

"Gonna be honest yes I am a little bit! Who is he?" He came closer to me making me look up at him. Seeing him jealous was honestly really attractive.

"Do you really want to know?" You teased trying to keep pulling a reaction out of him.

"Yes." He whined. You unlocked your phone and typed up the actor you had been obsessing over. You hesitated to show him because the joke was really enjoyable. But you finally flipped over the phone to him and showed him.

At first, he squinted and adjusted his glasses to see the man better. Then his face morphed into confusion and shock.

"Is this me?" He exclaimed scrolling through the images that popped up of him. "He's me but blonde?" He looked so startled.

"No! Freddie Stroma." You giggled. Adrian sat down on the bed absolutely starstruck by the information of him having a look alike.

"Oh my god, I was in Harry Potter." He muttered. You continued to smile and laugh at his reaction. "Are you sure this isn't me? Did you like photoshop my face on some random guy's body?"

"I definitely did not." You watched his face morph into so many emotions. Curiosity, confusion, and some sort of happiness.

"So this whole time you've been obsessing over a guy that looks like me?" He still continued to scroll and look at everything he's done. You nodded a couple of times. "But I'm right here." He shrugged his shoulders. Adrian narrowed his eyes at the screen still flabbergasted by the whole situation.

"But do you have a hot British accent?" you joked.

"Yes. I do now!" He put on a fake voice making you kiss his cheek.

"I just wanted to see how you would react baby." You hummed hugging him from the side. "And now there's an actor that looks like my boyfriend," You repeated to kiss him on his cheek making his face go all warm.

"Please don't say you're going to leave me for actor me." He turned his head and had a look of genuine fear in his eyes for a minute before you cupped them and told him no.

"No honey I'm not going anywhere." He leaned in to capture your lips in a heartfelt kiss that made your heartbeat quicken. You didn't need a celebrity that looked like your boyfriend because you already had him in your arms.

"Are you still jealous?" you joked making him smile.

"Defiantly not because it's me." He smiled like a dork. You were happy to have your love in your life. "I guess I'm an actor now." You shook your head.

"Nah my boyfriend is the badass Vigilante."

#Adrian chase #freddie stroma #peacemaker #adrian chase x reader #freddie stroma x reader #vigilante peacemaker #vigilante x you #vigilante x reader #vigilante #pookie bear alert #i love him sm #hes so cute #adrian chase fanfic

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the-dumpster-fire-of-life · 10 months

Note

HEY! (I love the new look of your account!!!) could you make a Tokio Hotel x fem!reader with a tired look? (dark circles under the eyes, pale complexion generally tired look, "dead eyes") practically zombie look🧟‍♀️

(as a bitch with this look, I understand)

Bill Kaulitz

Bill I feel like would be obviously concerned

But more like firm with wanting you to get better

Even if it's not a health issues, he worries it's about your mental health, like depression or something

Even if it's not he wants to make sure that you're okay

He loves you man and does not want to see your health deteriorated

He's not overly protective, just careful and understanding enough to get his point of wanting a healthy partner across

Your dark circles, he saw them grow, worried him a bit because of lack of sleep

He saw your messed up sleep schedule and was like

"Nah, we're sleeping now."

Does whatever he can to help you sleep now, even if it means staying awake for hours

Your pale complexion didn't worry him to much, just thought you needed more sun

Unless he found out it's about something else

He is constantly scolding you for your habits and always trying to help you

He can't have his bae wandering around like a zombie

Tom Kaulitz

I feel like he would cover up his concern with jokes

Like little small teasing about your dark circles, or your tired look

If you need extra sleep, or if you're not getting any at all, he's obviously gonna be like

"How the hell do you even stand up?"

He's so concerned but in adoration on how you're even still functioning

Your sleep schedule is horrible let me tell you

He would do anything and everything to help you sleep

Bendaryl, melatonin, letting you sleep on his chest or hugging you to sleep

He is not above making you lay down and keeping you there to make you sleep

It's all out of love though

He makes excuses to bring you into the sun to give the skin at least some sunlight

He doesn't mind your complexion, you look beautiful but he heard it could be some health issues

Isn't totally worried, or concerned, but just thinks he needs to help with that

If your tired look, or actions or looking like a zombie the things that worry him the most

He thought it was you were tired and needed something to eat

But he noticed you never really did any of that

So he would buy you food, set it in front of you and be like

"Eat." and he would sit next to you eating his own stuff, at least making sure you have a little bit in your stomach

He's not forcing you to eat it all, just wants to make sure you're okay

Gustav Schäfer

He noticed immediately how you acted and looked

I feel like he would ask questions on how you got so pale or the circles under your eyes

He doesn't pressure you, just tells you he wants you to be healthy

He starts off slow with helping you

Letting you sleep in more, or helping you sleep a little better with sleep aids, or just by being there

He still thinks you look pretty but again, concerned on how pale you are

"...there's a thing called the sun, yknow-"

He didn't understand at first, but he's getting the hang of it

He lets you run rampant and free but something he will not let you do or witness you do is destroy your health

He asks if it's a mental health issues, or if it's just how you look

I personally think he loves your dark circles

He thinks you look pretty with them

Idk I just feel like it

Your zombie look actually kills him sometimes

You wander around like nothing looking dead inside

He knows you're not because you look at him with love but he just finds it surprising

Especially if your clothes and hair help that zombie image

He's not above doing your hair for you, simple styles though

Or just helping you pick a less zombie like outfit

Georg Listing

He thinks ya lot hot man's

Out of everyone I feel like to Georg your looks just make you hotter in his eyes

But again, if it's health or mental health he will do his best to help

He won't overprotect you or force you to do stuff ya don't want to

It's mainly just making sure you ate or taking some small walks in the sun, when it's not so hot, to get you some vitamin D

He knows the circles under your eyes are dark due to not good sleep, but he doesn't really know how to help with that

When you guys can he will let you sleep in, turn off your alarm and everything and make sure to keep everyone the fuck away from you so you can sleep in peace

He don't play about his bae

If you like wander around zombie ish, he's gonna be following and holding your hand

With half lidded eyes and a dead look in them, you can sometimes worry Georg like that

Especially with the dead look in your eyes

He wants to make sure you're okay mentally and that does not help, dude

Your pale complexion didn't worry him much

He just gave you some sunlight, make sure you ate and that's all he could do much

He doesn't want to change you, just wants to make sure you're healthy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @billsjum6ie @bigbootahjudy @dead-tapes @ilovebill-and-gustav @r3dheadedw0rld @kiwitsune @V4mpyboyy @novaaisstupid @billybabeskaulitz @yas-v @iischafer @dilfverz @ahswhore0 @graciegizmo3184 @sweetpuffy12 @elenacgn08 @80s-tingz @ryiana @yuriayato5 @juliarc28 @bunnysenpai31 @banshailey @bellastoner420 @victryzvv9 @Hvvrtbrvken @Yukkimy00 @stxngnr

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel imagine #tokio hotel x reader #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz imagines #bill kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz imagines #tom kaulitz x reader #tokio hotel georg #gustav tokio hotel #gustav schafer #gustav schäfer x reader #gustav schäfer #georg listing #georg listing x reader #georg

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acidnhuskerdust · 3 months

Note

A bit of something to rattle on your brain: Angel makes it into heaven, but freaks out and demands/begs to send a message to heaven because he knows what had to happen to get there

"No, no no fuck no! Husk! I have to get a message to Husk, tell him okay." ;x;

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

This is a good one, because even though getting into heaven is supposed to be a good thing, I feel like Angel would be absolutely devastated to be there without Husk.

Instead of Sir Pentious getting into heaven, Angel does.

i need him (Husk x Angel)

Dark.

That's all Angel could perceive, an all-consuming blackness so deep he couldn't even discern his own form. It left him wondering if his eyes were truly open. The sensation was more than unsettling; it was downright terrifying.

The final imaged seared into his memory was that of Husk, with tears glistening in those golden eyes, begging for him to stay.

"Don't go, I need you. I lov-"

He clung onto those unfinished word as if they were his life line. He knew what he was going to say, and fuck would he do anything to say it back.

As his mind races with too many thoughts, he closes his eyes tight. Maybe, just maybe, if he let himself fall asleep, he could escape this torment. He yearned for never ending unconsciousness, he didn't want to face these thoughts, didn't want to acknowledge this existence. He should be dead, more so then he already was.

But just as he willed his eyes to seal shut, a piercing light sliced through the darkness, searing through his closed eyelids. With a sharp intake of breath, his eyes snapped open, instantly surrounded by hues of blue and gold. His gaze darted around frantically, is this some corner of Hell he's never seen before? Was he safe?

Then, his eyes locked onto two pairs of eyes staring back at him, one radiating sheer excitement while the other wore an expression of what could only be described as disgusted surprise.

Angels?

"What... What the fuck?" Angel stammers, instinctively taking a step back. "Where am I?"

One of the angels clasp her hands together, her entire being seeming to shimmer with excitement. Her eyes, wide and filled with wonder, locked onto Angel's "You're in Heaven!"

Angel recoils, taking another retreating step, his pulse thundering in his ears. "H-Heaven..." The word felt foreign, surreal as he echoed it. His gaze sweeps across the room again, a frown settling on his lips. "Is this... Some sorta joke?"

The taller angel, exuding a more composed aura, shook her head. "I'm afraid not, it appears Charlie was correct..."

Angel falls silent, his eyes flitted from one corner of the room to another, unable to settle on one thing. He should have felt a wave of relief wash over him, he was safe, in Heaven no less! But instead, a deep seated ache throbbed in his heart, and a weight seemed to press down on his chest.

Husk.

"No..." The word slipped from Angel's lips, a mere whisper laced with dread.

"No?" The elder angel echoed, a hint of confusion lacing her tone.

Angel runs a hand through his hair, his breaths coming in short, rapid gasps. "N-no! I need ta get back, right now!" His voice grows more desperate, more insistent.

This wasn't his home, this wasn't his friends, his... Family. He doesn't want to be here, he never really wanted to in the first place, not since Husk and him grew closer...

The smaller angel rises from her seat, a gentle look etched on face as she approaches Angel. "I understand that you're shocked, we are too, but-"

"Ya don't understand," Angel cuts in, his voice strained. His hand clutches at his hair, "I gotta see him, I need him." His plea was raw and real, he didn't care for anything else besides Husk.

"You can't." The elder angel asserted with a voice that brooked no argument, rising up from her seat.

"What do ya mean I can't?!" Angel's voice spiked with desperation. "Ya guys come down to slaughter us, and now ya tell me ya can't ferry me back?!"

She raises her hand, a silent request for quiet. Angel drew in a deep, ragged breath. "You can't right now. We need... To understand how you are here in the first place." She explains.

"Ta hell with that! Ya can't just hold me captive, please, you're not getting it." His voice was laced with rising panic. He shouldn't be here, he can't be here, Husk wasn't here. What was the point of being in Heaven if he was kept from the one he loved most?

He was scared. So fucking scared.

The smaller angel bridged the gap between them, her hand reaching out to tenderly grasp his own. As he gazed down at her through a veil of tears, his breath hitched, a sob wrenching free from the depths of his being.

"It's going to be okay," She murmurs in a soothing tone, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I promise you'll be able to see whoever you want, just give us some time, okay?"

Angel clenched his eyes tight, his tears carving warm, damp trails down the fur of his cheeks. He fought for the need to plead, to go back, because in the end he should count his blessing he was here.

Finally, he nods his head. "O-okay." He wipes away his tears with the back of his fist. "Can.. Can we at least send him a message? Let him know... Let him know I'm okay?"

"We sure can." The younger one smiles up at him. "My name is Emily."

"Angel."

"A fitting name for where you are now, huh?" She lets out a soft giggle, filling the space between them. "Come on, let's go and get you a room. You can stay here for as long as you'd like."

Angel feels his breath steady as the seconds pass, Emily's presence provided him a comfort that he needed so very badly. He can be patient, he can wait, he will see him again.

He will tell him how much he loves him.

#angel dust #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #huskerdust #angelhusk #my writing

157 notes · View notes

wttcsms · 4 months

Note

WAIT DON'T CLOSE IT YET!!!!! the 'love story told in untraditional format' prompt and DABI??? mm.

would like to meet, touya todoroki ;

pairing touya 'dabi' todoroki x f!reader word count 1.9k synopsis the dregs of society run rampant on hinge, and everyone knows you're not going to meet The One on there. but you know the saying... love does come when you least expect it. alternatively: catching feelings through the hinge dms. content contains one reference to jumping off a building, some sexual jokes author's notes OK not necessarily a love story, but there are feelings in involved, i swear. this is supposed to be fun & silly!!!!

You nearly throw your phone across the room. Download Hinge, your friends encouraged you. It’ll be fun!

You frown at Shigaraki’s ever-so-eloquent opening line of I’d blow yo back out. Yeah, you can see why this app was designed to be deleted. The fucking dregs of society are crawling all over this thing. Just one nice, well-adjusted individual. That’s all you’re asking for!

Apparently, any decent guy is either taken or not on Hinge. You debate throwing in the towel and just meeting someone organically, like, out in public, exactly as the good lord intended, but right before you do, your phone vibrates.

New Notification!

Hinge | Dabi liked your image!

Hinge | Dabi sent you a chat!

It’s a Friday night, and you know for a fact that there is not a single sane man on this app, especially at this hour. Considering the fact that you’re sitting in bed right now, about to rewatch Pride & Prejudice for the sixth time this week, what else do you have to lose? Dignity? You open the app.

Apr 22 10: 24 PM

Dabi: You’re hot, what’s wrong with you

You: ??

Dabi: You’re too hot to be single and on here. What’s your deal

You: you’re on here too? 🤨

Dabi: Would you say I’m too hot to the point where it’s suspicious I’m on here

You: i’m not here to give you an ego boost

Dabi: Then what’s the point of being on here

You: so you just get on here for free compliments?

Dabi: Maybe I have premium. Maybe I pay for these compliments

You: yeah, you look like the type to pay for hinge premium ngl

Dabi: Bye I’m going to talk to girls that are easier to manipulate

You: please do 🙏

Apr 23 1:21 PM

Dabi: Did you miss me

Apr 23 3:15 PM

You: so much

Apr 23 4:47 PM

Dabi: How much

Apr 23 6:01 PM

You: i was going to jump off a bridge if u didn’t text me

Apr 23 8:01 PM

Dabi: Damn that’s crazy

Dabi: How I don’t care

Apr 23 10:15 PM

You: don’t you have anyone else to bother

Dabi: I want to bother you though

You: you probably scared off every girl you’ve ever come in contact with

Dabi: True

Dabi: Except for you because you’re stupid

You: you pay for hinge premium, there’s an idiot in this conversation but it’s def not me

Dabi: I was joking

Dabi: I don’t have money like that

You: i can tell

You: you probably take girls out for coffee as a first date, and then make them venmo u their half of the bill

Dabi: Nah

Dabi: I make her pay the full amount

You: i’m not surprised

Dabi: That was a joke too

Dabi: I never take girls out

You: thank God

You: you’d probably be every girl’s worst date story

Dabi: Want to test that theory out

You: no thanks, i don’t feel like being content material for some crime podcast

Dabi: Smart girl

Apr 24 12:13 PM

Dabi: Wyd

You: at the police station, filing a restraining order on you

Dabi: Damn

Dabi: You want to be the one to put me in cuffs

You: the officer here actually has pink cuffs, i know some guys find that emasculating but you seem like you wouldn’t mind

Dabi: I love pink actually

Dabi: I’m so down

You: i think you’re my dream guy

You: more like my sleep paralysis demon, but same difference

Dabi: Aw you think of me when you sleep

Dabi: You’re that obsessed already

You: stfu

Dabi: Don’t feel bad

Dabi: I’m a munch fr

Dabi: I need u

You: what you need is to be put on some medication

Dabi: Yeah you’re my medication

You: you need to be psychologically evaluated

You: r u a social experiment

Dabi: Stop flirting with me

You: you’re so childish

Dabi: Am I bothering you

Dabi: Do I elicit strong emotions

You: you don’t look like someone who knows the word elicit

Dabi: I’m in grad school

You: wow

You: this is the first time you’ve left me genuinely speechless

Apr 24 3:55 PM

Dabi: Yo when’s ur bday

Dabi: Do you have any siblings

You: are u gonna ask for my mother’s maiden name too

Dabi: Yeah actually

Dabi: Give me your ssn while you’re at it

You: ur a creep, ur lucky ur cute

Dabi: Wow, you can’t have deep convos with anyone any more without being accused of trying to get answers to their security questions

You: tell me something abt you first

Dabi: My dad sucks

You: yeah you look like you would have daddy issues

Dabi: Lmao

Dabi: I’m being fr though

You: yeah, a lot of dads do suck. what abt the rest of ur family?

Dabi: I haven’t seen them in years

You: oh

You: do they suck too?

Dabi: Nah

Dabi: I moved out as soon as I could

You: your dad was that bad?

Dabi: The worst

You: are you trying to get pity pussy rn???? don’t tug on my heartstrings if it’s all just a lie

Dabi: Damn wtf

Dabi: But also depends. Do u wanna give me some pity pussy rn

You: bye i thought we were actually having a serious moment

Dabi: I wasn’t lying. Swear

Dabi: Now tell me something too

You: im an attention seeker. that’s why im on here

Apr 25 1:56 PM

Dabi: Did u miss me not giving u attention

Apr 25 3:56 PM

You: sorry, i was having really crazy sex waiting for u to come back

Dabi: Fire

Dabi: You deserve it

Dabi: Me next?

You: only if you promise to tell me u love me before the post nut clarity hits

Dabi: I love manipulating women during sex

Dabi: Anything for u

You: you say that but someone else is in my dms telling me that i can be his housewife and raise our kids and never work a day in my life again so pls top that offer

Dabi: DAMN

Dabi: I bet he’s boring

You: he’s not boring, we’re actually getting married and gonna have a big family

Dabi: Well clearly the fact that ur talking about him to me shows that u aren’t interested in him

You: i’m telling u abt him so u have something to aspire to

Dabi: Damn you should date him then

You: that’s the first intelligent thing you’ve said

Apr 26 7:00 AM

Dabi: I hate you

Dabi: Wyd today

You: pls mind ur own business

Dabi: Smd

Dabi: Tell me or I block you

Apr 26 8:19 AM

Dabi: U suck

You: and swallow

Dabi: No you don’t

Dabi: You probably spit it out

Apr 27 9:34 AM

You: true but in my defense, you look like you would produce something that tastes like toxic waste

Dabi: Were u deadass ignoring me

You: don’t be so needy, dabi. it’s not a good look

Dabi: Sorry that was a moment weakness

Dabi: So what now

Dabi: Is this when u give me ur insta

You: i don’t have any social media

Dabi: Nah you’re a catfish

You: maybe

Apr 27 1:34 PM

Dabi: Wyd

You: you’re a true wyd warrior, do u realize that

You: i’m currently getting my back blown out by a dude who posted his headshot as one of his hinge pics. i am not even faking my moans.

Dabi: Stfu 😂

Dabi: Do u even know what sex is

Dabi: Name one position

You: easy, missionary

Dabi: Well you’re on your phone so obviously the sex you’re having isn’t that good

You: im just a good multitasker

Dabi: tell me if ur shit is grippy

You: hold on, let me ask him

Dabi: Whats his name

Dabi: Whats he saying

You: don’t worry abt his name

You: he told me im gripping him so tight, it’s like i’m trying to take his blood pressure rn

Dabi: LMAO

Dabi: That means ur not attracted to him

You: wow, a guy who knows that tight doesn’t equal aroused, i’m genuinely impressed w you

You: and for the record, i would never actually fuck a guy who posts a professional headshot as one of his pics on hinge

Dabi: Oh now you tell me

Dabi: Guess I have to cancel the appointment I just made to get a headshot done

Apr 28 6:20 AM

Dabi: Im leaving Okinawa to go back to work. I’m sad, cheer me up

You: just commit a crime so they won’t let you leave

You: also i think maybe u need a psych eval or smth bc why are u still talking to me 🤨

Dabi: Nah tbh you’re the most interesting person on here

Dabi: I’m gonna go to tokyo and commit a crime on u

You: yea, u not being in my guts rn should be a crime

Dabi: Chill my dick isn’t big enough for that 😂

You: i want you to seek professional help

Dabi: I want u to seek these nuts in ur mouth

You: when should i ghost you

Dabi: Whenever u want bae you can ghost me anytime

Apr 28 7:26 AM

Dabi: REPLY

You: u literally told me i could ghost u anytime WHAT IS UR DEAL

Dabi: Damn ok well when you do at least say goodbye

You: when i do, i’m reporting ur hinge account in the hopes that u get banned and have to resort to meeting women irl

You: i’m actually reporting ur account rn

Dabi: Good idea

Dabi: I’ll report u too

Dabi: Before you get banned from hinge, can I have your number

You: no

You: i don’t give my number out to random ass strangers online

You: and ‘dabi’ is a weird name to have saved in my contacts

Dabi: Touya

Dabi: That’s my real name

You: oh

You: who the hell uses a fake name on a dating app??? 😭

Dabi: Stranger danger is real

Dabi: If I take you out on a date will you give me your number

You: a REAL date???

Dabi: Yeah I’m actually a gentleman in case you couldn’t tell

You: i don’t know how i could’ve missed that fact.

Dabi: I’m being fr though

Dabi: Dinner reservations and everything

You: are you paying the entire bill 🤨

Dabi: Why wouldn’t I

You: hmmm

You: every sex joke i made was definitely just a joke though, pls don’t get any crazy ideas

Dabi: Obviously you were joking, I’m not an idiot

You: you’re not gonna try to hit on the first date?

Dabi: If it’ll make you more comfortable, I’ll tape a 10 ft pole to my chest so I can’t get anywhere near you

You: cute

Dabi: Dinner tomorrow?

You: yes, dinner tomorrow

Dabi: And if I do well, I get your number?

You: hmmm

You: i guess

Dabi: Fuck yeah

Dabi: I’m tired of texting you through hinge

You: you only get it IF you do well

Dabi: I’m gonna rock your shit

Dabi: Romantically

You: sure you will

Apr 30 12:01 AM

Are you sure you want to delete the Hinge app?

Yes | No

You selected Yes! Reason for deletion?

[ ] No new matches

[ ] App is difficult to work with

[ ] Found another app to use

[ X ] I met someone

#dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #one shot #drabble #fluff #imagine

175 notes · View notes

proxima-writes · 7 months

Text

𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬

pairing: dieter bravo x ghost hunter!female reader word count: 4.9k rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲

The producers of your hit ghost hunting show, Spirit Seekers, have picked your next celebrity guest. Dieter Bravo. You’re not looking forward to being locked in a reportedly haunted mansion with one of Hollywood’s biggest divas.

𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

the first of my october spooky specials is here! ghost image in title art is from TO LIFE, TO DEATH by Jean-Marie GITARD. if you enjoy this fic, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment and thank you for reading!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), drug use - weed, smoking, dub con - sex following drug use, vaginal fingering, handjob, dry humping, getting locked in a haunted house together, misunderstandings. let me know if any tags are missing!

It’s not often you get called into an actual meeting with your producers. You’re on the road a lot filming for your hit ghost hunting show, Spirit Seekers, so they usually spare you from attendance and send you an itemized e-mail recap.

Not today, though. Today, all five producers were CC’d on the e-mail that requested a meeting to go over your next episode, which is set to start filming in two days. You tap your fingers against the shiny wood conference table, staring out at the Los Angeles cityscape through the panoramic windows as you wait for the suits to join you.

They all arrive at once, three men filing through the doorway with veneered smiles and abnormally smooth foreheads. They shake your hand one by one before taking their seats.

It’s Alec, a paunchy man with grey hair and round glasses, that speaks first, starting with a mumble of your name followed with, “I’ll cut to the chase. We’ve got a celebrity guest for the McCallister mansion episode that you’ll need to work into your production this week.”

“This is pretty late notice,” you reply, mind already running through what you’ll need to do to adjust for the format of a guest special. “Who is it?”

The three men exchange wary glances and you sit up straighter, bracing yourself for the response.

“Dieter Bravo,” Alec finally says, smoothing his tie with his hand.

“You’re shitting me.” If there’s one person you can’t stand, it’s Dieter fucking Bravo. “Is this how I find out Ashton is filming Punk’d again?”

The joke doesn’t land. Alec clears his throat before saying, “This isn’t a joke. And it’s an excellent opportunity to—”

“To what? Pander my show to a diva who’s just going to make my job difficult?”

“He has a very strong fan base that could bring in a large number of new viewers. Your show is popular, but only to a limited demographic,” Alec says. “We’re doing this for you. Spirit Seekers has a lot of potential but if you’re going to remain at the top and have a chance for another Emmy nomination, maybe even an award, you need to be willing to work with the guests that will bring in views.”

You sigh heavily. “I hate that you’re right.”

“I know. But I always am.” He slides a folder across the table to you. “Here are his requirements.”

“Requirements? He does know this isn’t a blockbuster production set, right?”

“This is the modified list,” the man to Alec’s right, Stephen, says. “Trust me, this is significantly better than it once was.”

You open the folder, scanning the document. “Alkaline water, glass bottle. Absolutely no plastic,” you read. “Organic, non-GMO, dye free, gluten free crackers. Did he just pick every Whole Foods buzzword and stick them together?”

“We will make this as easy for you as we can. We just need you to focus on the episode. Okay?”

“Fine,” you mumble, shutting the folder. “He breaks any of my equipment, I’m billing you.”

“Deal.”

Two days later you’re sitting in your makeshift command center with your crew mates, Andrew and Mike, making sure that all the monitors are displaying the feeds from the static cameras set up inside the mansion. You’ve already filmed solo interview segments with the owner, an elderly man who inherited the house over thirty years ago but left it untouched because of what he believes is a ghostly presence.

The sun is low behind the gorgeous Queen Anne Victorian home, orange sky haloing the steep roofed mansion. The historic building sits on six acres of land surrounded by a wrought iron fence that the owner, Paul, had to unlock for you to set up for the night filming session you would be doing this evening. He stands behind you now with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches you connect your equipment.

“So you’ll be in there all night?” He asks, voice wary.

“Most of it. We’ll get three hours of footage with Andrew following us through the house and then a few more hours of single camera action, coupled with the static night vision feeds that will roll all night. We’ll be inside until 3 a.m. and then work out here for a bit before packing up,” you reply. “Thank you so much for letting us come in and do an investigation.”

“I’ve got a bet going with a buddy of mine,” Paul says, puffing his chest out. “If you find something, he owes me a hundred bucks.”

You laugh. “I can’t guarantee anything. My goal isn’t to make a ghost where there isn’t one.”

“I know, I know. But I’m telling you, this place has always been weird.” He glances up at the house, his frame shivering despite the California warmth. “Doors always opening and shutting on their own, footsteps, voices. Whole nine yards. S’why I never moved in.”

You knew all of this, of course. You’d done a walk through of the property with one of your camera guys, letting Paul tell you his first hand experiences in the old house. You’re about to reply when the sound of a car barreling up the gravel driveway pulls your attention away from the conversation.

A black Escalade approaches, coming to a stop in a cloud of dirt that makes you cough. Paul pats your back as the back door opens and designer boots drop onto the gravel.

Dieter Bravo stands with one hand gripping the door of the car while he uses his other hand to tilt his sunglasses down his nose to squint at you. He’s wearing black joggers and a faded gray t-shirt with a hole near the collar, his hair a fluffy mess of dark curls.

“Hey,” you say in greeting. You hold a hand out and give him your name, forcing a smile on your face. “Welcome to the command center.”

“Command center? This some kind of secret army operation or something?” He asks, shutting the door and walking past you, leaving you with your hand out stretched for an unreciprocated handshake.

“Michael keeps an eye on the static cameras in case one needs to be fixed,” you explain, gesturing to the man sat in front of the wall of screens with a headset on. “Now that you’re here only,” — you check your watch — “an hour late, we can get started. Andrew, could you get him mic’d?”

Andrew approaches with a wireless microphone and the actor steps back and holds his hands up. “Hold up, I gotta make sure you got everything.”

“Got everything?” You ask.

“Yeah. My snacks and water?” He looks around expectantly.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Yes, they got your snacks. They’re in the cooler. Can you please let Andrew get your mic on? We have to start the guest filming before the light is gone.”

Andrew approaches Dieter again, who lets him get close enough to hook the mic to the waist of his pants. Dieter smirks as he says, “You could at least buy me dinner first.”

You groan, grabbing your own mic. “Let’s get started.”

“The mansion itself was built in the late 1800s and has only been home to two families since it was finished. It’s been in Paul’s possession for thirty years,” you say, walking backwards towards the house as the camera man follows. Dieter stands off to the side of the wraparound porch, waiting for his cue. “And tonight, we’ve got the exclusive opportunity to explore this gorgeous home with a special guest. Tonight’s Spirit Seeker is none other than Emmy Award winning actor, Dieter Bravo!”

Dieter steps into frame and gives a smile to the camera, clapping his hands together. “Let’s catch some ghosts!”

“Now, Dieter, we’re not the Ghostbusters,” you say, your voice deadpan. Dieter raises his eyebrows at you.

“That’s the best you’ve got?” He asks. Your brows pinch together.

“Excuse me?”

“‘We’re not the Ghostbusters’? Really?” He waves his hands to the camera. “Come on, sweetheart, give it a little more energy.”

Your teeth are clenched so hard your jaw aches. “I had energy over an hour ago. You know, when you were supposed to get here?” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Can we just get inside?”

He holds an arm out, gesturing for you to enter in front of him. Having toured the mansion already, you signal to Andrew to focus the camera on your guest for his reaction.

Dieter looks around the foyer, grand staircase and marble floors the centerpieces of the large space. “It’s a damn shame they don’t make them like this anymore. Look at the carvings! This has gotta be all original, right?”

“Yep. They’ve only upgraded the internal stuff, like plumbing and electrical,” you confirm. “The owner, Paul, inherited the house after his grandfather passed thirty years ago. He used to spend his summers here when he was a child and vividly remembers experiencing some…unexplained events that have left an impression on him.” You approach a table that’s been set up with your usually line up of equipment. “Tonight, we’re going to see if we can find an explanation for the inexplicable.”

“That’s so cheesy,” Dieter laughs. “You’ve got the cutest serious face, though.”

He thinks I’m cute? Your treacherous brain says, your face heating in response to the compliment. You quickly look at your equipment.

“Anyways,” you say, clearing your throat. “Let’s go through the equipment.”

You start with the basics. A digital recorder for capturing electronic voice phenomenon, night vision cameras, and dowsing rods. Further down the table you have thermal cameras, electromagnetic field meters, REM pods, and spirit boxes. Dieter listens attentively, to your surprise, and even asks a thoughtful question about the spirit boxes.

“How about we divvy up the gear? I can take the recorder and thermal camera, you can take the EMF reader—“

“No can do,” he interrupts, holding his hands up. “I don’t fuck with EMF.”

You blink. “What do you mean?”

“That shit is toxic. It’ll warp your DNA.”

“Dieter,” you say incredulously, “The entire planet is comprised of EMF.”

“No, that’s the geomagnetic field,” he argues.

“It’s the same thing!” You take a deep breath. “You know what? I’ll take the EMF detector. You can have the thermal camera,” you compromise, shoving the camera into his hands. You hastily gather the rest of the devices.

“Alright. Let’s do this.”

It’s the last hour of the main filming session where Andrew films you and Dieter using the equipment. So far, there haven’t been many notable experiences. You’ve captured a few creaking floorboards and the EMF meter has gone off a few times, but nothing that you can undoubtedly point to as proof of the paranormal, which is par for the course. What people don’t realize when watching your heavily edited show is that you cut out hours of silence and empty footage.

“Alright, Andrew, you’re welcome to head out. We’ll do a bit more upstairs,” you tell the camera man. “Thanks for you help.”

“‘Night, boss,” he replies with a little salute. Dieter watches him as he leaves.

“So, it’s just us now, huh?” He says, his eyebrows raised suggestively. “All alone in a haunted house…pretty hot.”

“Oh, please,” you say nervously, fiddling with your thermal camera, “We haven’t gotten any evidence that this place is haunted.”

“Maybe the ghosts are just shy,” he suggests.

You grab the REM pod and turn on the device, the LED lights flashing. “Let’s do a REM pod session. Here, hold the camera.”

Dieter holds the expensive equipment delicately, staring at the night vision screen to keep you in frame. “Not often I get put behind the camera,” he comments.

You spend the next twenty minutes asking a series of questions in the quiet room, your digital recorder running in your hand. Dieter remains focused on the screen.

“Why don’t you playback the recording?” He suggests. You glance at him, his face illuminated in the dark by the lights of the camera and the faint moonlight that filters through a window.

“Good idea,” you admit, hitting the stop button and running the tape back. There’s some static feedback before your voice announces the date and time of the recording.

“Is there anyone here with us?” Your recorded voice asks. There’s a beat of silence and you fully expect your voice to be the next thing you hear but instead there’s a garbled, “Yes.”

“Holy shit!” Dieter shouts. “That was a fucking ghost!”

“Shhh!” You hiss, flapping your hand at him. You play it back and sure enough, the same disembodied voice echoes through the room, clear as day. “Holy shit!”

“Play the rest, play the rest,” Dieter demands. He steps closer with the camera trained on the recorder.

Together, you listen to the rest of the recording. There’s another moment where you think you might have gotten a response, but it’s not as clear as the first one. You play it back again and again, and finally Dieter takes the recorder from you.

“Alright, enough, if I hear you ask, ‘Do you mean any harm?’, one more time, I’m going to have to tattoo it across my ass,” he says with a laugh. “Actually, that would be kind of cool, right? Very…provocative.”

“Oh my god.” You can’t help but laugh and the man’s face lights up with a cute smile, the corners of his brown eyes creasing with the force of it. “Let’s go check out the study.”

“How does this one work?” Dieter asks as you turn on the spirit box, the staticky feedback noise filling the room.

“It sweeps through different radio stations rapidly and, theoretically, a paranormal entity can manipulate it and use it to speak. Just ask question.” You fix the camera on him. “Ready when you are.”

“So…do any of the ghosts think I’m hot?” He asks, glancing around the room. You bite your lip to hold in your laugh as the static continues. “Tough crowd.”

You roll your eyes. “Be serious.”

“Okay, okay, fine. Uh…did anything like…bad….happen to you?” No response. “Do you…like having guests?”

“No.”

Dieter jumps, eyes wide as he looks at the spirit box. “No fucking way,” he says excitedly. “Okay, uh, why don’t you want guests?”

“Loud.”

“Oh my god,” you murmur. “Keep going!”

“Do you want to hurt us?” Dieter asks. The device is silent, no responses coming through. His shoulders drop in disappointment. “Damn. Some confirmation that we’re dealing with Casper and not that fucking thing from Insidious would have been nice.”

“Try one more question? I’m going to get the thermal cam,” you tell him, rushing to the desk in the center of the room for your equipment. You hastily power it on and point both cameras at him. “Ok, go.”

“You’re supposed to say action,” Dieter says, making you roll your eyes. “But I’ll let it slide. Hmm…ghost, is there a room we should explore next?”

It’s silent for a beat, and you think maybe the session may be over, but suddenly the device spits out the word, “Attic.”

Dieter stares at you with wide eyes. “Guess we’ve gotta go higher.”

“Let’s do it.”

You open the door to the attic, revealing a dark, narrow staircase that looks particularly haunting. The man stands at your back, looking up into the inky black darkness. He audibly swallows.

“Uh…how about you go first? You’re the professional,” he suggests.

“You scared?” You tease, taking a tentative step forward. “It’s just a little attic.”

“In a very haunted house!” He hisses. “What if it’s luring us here to kill us?”

“Then you would have had to film for this ‘stupid show’ with nothing to show for it. Tragic,” you reply sarcastically, placing quotes around the words stupid show.

Because that’s what you’ve heard him call it. Your show was up for a Primetime Emmy award last year for your Halloween special and it was your first time attending an award show. Dieter was there to present an award and was seated only a few seats down from you, talking to another actor you vaguely recognized, when you overheard his feelings for your show.

“I can’t believe they put such a stupid show in this category,” he said, loudly. “It doesn’t even belong here.”

“What are you talking about?” Dieter asks as you reach the open attic. There’s a circular window that looks out over the grounds, caked with dust and only allowing a tiny amount of light into the room. You turn to face him.

“At the Emmy Awards last year. I was sitting two seats down from you and you said — and I quote — ‘I can’t believe they put such a stupid show in this category’,” you snap.

He stares at you incredulously. “Are you kidding me? I love your show. I’ve been begging my agent to get me on as a guest since your first episode!”

“Yeah, okay,” you reply sarcastically.

“It’s true! Just ask him!” He steps closer, eyes wide and pleading, looking like a puppy who’s just been reprimanded. “I was talking about that stupid potato documentary. It was boring as hell and had no reason being nominated!”

“Wait…so...you like my show?”

“I love your show. It’s, like, the closest thing to being in an episode of Scooby-Doo.”

You laugh and Dieter’s face brightens, like he knows he’s in the clear. Suddenly, the sound of a door slamming has you both screaming and Dieter launches forward, his arms wrapping around your shoulders as he leaps into the air.

It catches you by surprise, all of his weight leaning into you and sending you crashing to the floor in a tangle of limbs and an echo of groans.

“What the fuck was that?!” You ask. “Dieter, get off, I can’t breathe!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, rolling off of you with a thump and another pained noise. “You were supposed to catch me.”

“Catch you?” You wheeze, flat on your back.

“Yeah, like in the shows. Scooby always caught Shaggy.”

“Why am I Scooby?!”

“I don’t know,” he shouts. “Listen, let me go check what that was.”

“You’re not leaving me up here,” you hiss. “We go together.”

The two of you make it to the bottom of the stairs, only to discover that the door to the attic has slammed shut. Not only that, but the damn thing won’t open. Dieter slams his shoulder into it as he twists the knob, cursing up a storm as he tries to shove it open with no luck.

“Remember what I said about the ghosts trying to murder us?” He asks.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a radio. I’ll tell Michael he needs to come try to open the door.” You tug the radio free from the waist of your jeans, pressing the button and asking, “Mike? You there?”

Silence fills the room. You try again.

“Mike?”

More silence.

“Fucking Mike,” Dieter grumbles. He heads back upstairs to the attic and you trail after him. He makes a beeline for the small window, feeling around the edges of it. “Maybe we can get the window open and call out to him.”

“Good idea,” you tell him, coming up beside him and pulling a flashlight from your back pocket, shining the light on the windowsill to help him find the latch.

There’s a rusted crank that he starts turning, the hinges squeaking loudly enough to make you wince. The window opens the slightest bit, fresh air flowing into the stale room.

“Can you get it open a little more?” You ask. With a grunt, he forces the crank around, his biceps stretching the sleeves of his shirt.

Not that you’re watching his biceps. Or the muscles of his back as he moves. Definitely not.

“That’s as far as it’ll go,” he says. “See if you can see your little tent down there.”

“Command center,” you grumble, doing as suggested. You can can’t see much except a corner of the white tent fabric, but you call out anyways, “Michael! Mike! Hey!”

There’s no movement from below, no responding shout. You call out for him again and again, but it’s no use. He’s clearly not answering.

“I don’t have my phone during investigations. Do you have yours?” You ask. Dieter pulls his phone from his front pocket.

“Fuck, it’s dead,” he groans, tapping the black screen. You sigh.

“What are we supposed to do now?” You check your watch and find it’s 1:30 a.m. You have no idea where the fuck Mike went, but hopefully he’ll be back by 3 a.m. for debrief and a very stern lecture about abandoning his post. Dieter grins at you.

“Wanna get high?”

“The episode you did at the asylum in Kentucky is my favorite. It’s so fucking scary. The gurney moving? The shadows? Fuck, I was hiding in a blanket the whole time,” Dieter says.

You’re sitting beside each other with your legs out in front of you, your backs leaning against the wall beneath the small window. You’re pleasantly buzzed, your head a little fuzzy and your limbs loose from the joint you’ve passed back and forth for the last half hour and you’ve been talking about your favorite episodes, yours to film and his to watch, the conversation flowing surprisingly well.

“You know, maybe I was wrong about you,” you say when there’s a lull in conversation. Dieter looks at you, his eyebrows raised. “Yeah, I just…I don’t know. I thought you were this high maintenance asshole, I guess. But you’re kinda cool.”

Dieter laughs. “Oh, baby, I’m definitely high maintenance. You weren’t wrong about that.”

Something about Dieter calling you baby makes you feel warm and gooey. You’d like to blame it on the weed but if you’re honest with yourself for once, it’s because of him. You tried not to like him, you really did, but he’s funny and nice and doesn’t think your whole ghost hunting gig is a waste of time like a lot of men you’ve dealt with in the past. Not to mention he’s so hot, with his messy hair and pretty brown eyes and warm tan skin. Sure, he’s a pain in the ass, but you’re realizing now that it’s actually part of his charm.

You must be quiet for too long or fidget too much because he’s smirking at you now, plush lips tilted up mischievously. “You liked that, huh?” He asks.

“Liked what?” You whisper. He’s scooches closer, his thigh pressing against yours and your shoulders brushing.

“Me calling you baaaaby,” he says, drawing out the word teasingly. “You got all quiet about it.”

“N-no I didn’t.”

“Riiiight,” he teases. He twists his body, reaching an arm across to grip your thigh. “C’mere.”

You go willingly, maneuvering your clumsy limbs until your legs are spread over his lap. He looks up at you with glassy eyes and a syrupy smile, sliding his hands into the back pockets of your jeans.

“You wanna try that again, baby?” He buries his face against your chest and you laugh, squirming in his grip. “Come on, be honest with me.”

“Maybe…maybe I kinda like it,” you mumble. His hands drift up your waist.

“Like what?”

“When you call me baby.”

He presses a kiss to your collarbone, the touch electrifying. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

“You’re so annoying,” you huff, trying to pull away from him. He holds you tightly.

“Nooooo,” Dieter whines, peppering kisses along all the skin exposed by your tank top that he can reach.”’M sorry, I’ll be good for you, baby.”

Your eyes flutter as you sink into his hold. His light kisses turn into teasing nips of his teeth that make you gasp and grind yourself over his lap. You can feel him growing hard beneath you, the length of his cock pressing deliciously against the seam of your jeans to give you the friction you’re craving.

Dieter’s hand wraps around the back of your neck, pulling you forward to press his lips to yours. It’s awkward at first, just a lingering peck, but then he licks at your bottom lip and you open up for him, his tongue hot against yours as you explore each other. Your mouths are a little dry from the weed but the kiss quickly grows hot and wet, a little desperate and messy as you move together.

“Fuck,” Dieter groans when he pulls back for a breath. “Keep moving, just like that.”

You have a better idea, though. You move down a little bit until you can get your hands on the fly of his pants, popping the button and pulling the zipper. He helps you out a bit, lifting his hips to shove his pants down just enough for you to reach into his boxers and wrap a hand around his thick cock. His eyes are dark and his mouth goes slack as you slowly bring your fist up, palming the slick head and smearing the bead of precum around the sensitive tip.

You withdraw your hand, bringing it to your face to lick your palm, getting it nice and wet as you keep your gaze fixed on him. He’s breathing hard, chest heaving with the effort and he gasps when you take him back in your hand.

“Fuck, feels so fucking good,” he groans, tipping his head back against the wall with a thump. “Tighter, baby, squeeze it tighter. Fuck, that’s a good girl.”

His words have your clit aching with need and you reach down with your other hand to unbutton your jeans, trying to keeping your motions coordinated as you do. Dieter looks up and notices what you’re trying to do.

“You need a lil something, baby?” He asks. When you nod, his hand smacks yours away, successfully undoing the button and zipper. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

His hand slides beneath your jeans and panties, thick fingers quickly zeroing in on your needy clit with tight circles that have your hand stilling around his cock as you moan. His other wraps around yours, encouraging your movements as he plays with your pussy.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groans, fingers dipping lower until they’re pressing against your slick entrance. “Keep moving your hand, baby.”

You hadn’t even noticed that you stopped, too focused on how good his touch felt. “‘M sorry,” you mumble.

“Don’t be sorry,” Dieter murmurs, one finger pressing slowly inside of you. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

You try to focus on his cock, sliding your tight fist over his length, twisting your wrist around the flushed head, smearing the wetness at the tip around with your thumb. He pumps one finger, then two inside of you in a matching rhythm, the heel of his hand brushing your clit and making you moan.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, rocking your hips the slightest bit. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it, baby, I’m right there with you,” Dieter replies, his own hips chasing your hand. “Come on, come on, all over my hand, baby.”

The wave of pleasure crashes over you, your muscles tightening before releasing all at once as you cum, clenching around his fingers and moaning his name. Warmth spreads over your hand and when you finally open your eyes you see that Dieter has cum as well.

“Uh,” you say awkwardly, “What…what do I do?”

“Huh?” Dieter mumbles, withdrawing his hand from your jeans.

“With the” — you nod towards your cum covered hand — “mess?”

“Oh, right. Uh…just kinda…wipe it into my boxers?” He says. You do as he suggests, wiping the sticky mess into the fabric. “I’ll just deal with it later.”

“Boss? You there?” Mike’s voice calls out over the radio, which sits discarded to the side. You scramble off of Dieter’s lap to grab the device.

“Mike! We’ve been locked in the attic for over an hour!” You hiss. “Come get us right now and maybe I’ll let you keep your job.”

Mike responds that he’ll be right up and you fix your pants, hooking the radio back onto your jeans. Dieter stands, pulling his pants up and gathering some of the equipment. You stand together, waiting for Mike in what you would consider an awkward silence until Dieter bumps your shoulder with his.

“We should do that again sometime,” he says. “Maybe without the audience.”

“Audience?” You ask.

He leans in close, lips brushing your ear and making your shiver as he whispers, “The ghosts.” You shove him away, both of you dissolving into giggles. His face grows serious once more. “No, really. You wanna like…get breakfast or something? I know this good farm-to-table place that opens super early.” You smile at him.

“I’d like that.”

Dieter sits on the couch, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a box of gluten free crackers in his lap. “Hurry up! It’s starting!”

“Your fancy microwave burned my popcorn,” you whine as you rush back into the living room. Dieter sneaks a hand into your bowl, shoving popcorn hastily into his mouth. “Hey!”

“Boyfriend tax,” he explains. “Now, hush, or I won’t invite you over to watch anymore.”

“It’s my show!”

The opening theme music starts, some eerie instrumental that plays over a montage of scenes from earlier episodes. As the music fades, shots of the house and your recorded voiceover explain the location for the episode right before it cuts to you and Dieter.

“…And this, is Spirit Seekers,” you and Dieter say along with your recorded self, matching grins on your faces.

Dieter Bravo masterlist

All masterlists

#dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo the bubble #the bubble fanfiction #tw drugs

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ddarker-dreams · 11 months

Text

How They Flirt / Scarlet Ribbons.

(tl;dr most of them can’t . 🙏)

[Scarlet Ribbons Index]

Giorno

Giorno genuinely has no idea what he’s doing, although you’d never know on first glance. He studies you like he’s a sociologist conducting naturalistic observation. He subtly plays up the aspects of himself he thinks you’d be taken with, adjusting how much he talks or listens, how physically close he gets, etc. Is it a little weird? Yes. In his defense, he’s never cared for someone this deeply, so he doesn’t want to mess it up. Even if he’s making adjustments to how he acts around you, it’s still sincere. He wouldn’t want you falling for a false image of himself, after all. Giorno is easy to get along with due to his polite nature and quiet charm. He makes you feel as if you’ve known one another all your lives within a few weeks. As his confidence builds, he’ll get a little more playful, displaying a mischievousness few expect him to possess. He’ll whisper quips into your ear, lean in to wipe cream off the corner of your lips after you take a drink, and purposefully get ‘lost’ when walking you home so that you spend more time together. He learns fast.

Bruno

Bruno’s flirting is old-fashioned and kinda stiff, but charming in its own way. He has the basics down from watching how his father interacted with his mother before she left. Despite being a prized bachelor, he has no experience in the romance department, he’d been too focused on his ambitions to dabble. Rather than embarrassing himself by trying something he’s unfamiliar with, he focuses on what comes naturally. When you both aren’t working, he’ll lighten up and show a more relaxed side of himself. He has to resist the temptation of spoiling you every waking second. He recalls how enthused his mom would become upon receiving gifts like pearl earrings from his father and takes a similar approach. The concept of there being a reminder of him on your person pleases him greatly, he especially loves giving you necklaces. Surprisingly, he does have something of a possessive streak. He’ll sometimes drape a coat/blazer over your shoulders if you’re wearing an outfit that earns stares, using the excuse that he doesn’t want you to be cold.

Fugo

Lord please help him. Most of his flirting is confined to the realm of theory. He’ll lay awake at night staring at his ceiling, contemplating the most efficient method to get his feelings across. Many hours have been spent penning prose to paper, the parchment ultimately meeting the same fate. He rips it to pieces in fits of frustration so thoroughly, one might believe he used a paper shredder. Fugo already thinks you’re completely of his league and his inability to woo you without internally combusting makes him feel extra pathetic. So rather than go on the offensive, he’s on the defensive, doing what he can to obstruct the other “hormonal imbeciles” from making serious headway with you. For example, he’s always the first to sit next to you in restaurants or on car rides. He also feeds the others false information about you, by saying your least favorite food is your favorite, stuff to that effect. A professional saboteur. Poor guy doesn’t know you’d genuinely be flattered to receive one heartfelt compliment from him.

Mista

He thinks he has mad game (he does not have mad game). Oddly enough, he has more confidence when the others are present? Maybe it’s some caveman instinct that makes him want to show off, but whatever the case, he gets in a decent flow of things. His arm is wrapped around your shoulders more often than not. Mista knows how to make you laugh and you both have innumerable inside jokes. When you’re caught between two dessert choices, he’ll get the one you didn’t pick, so that you’ll ask him for a bite. He then proceeds to feed you said bite while ignoring the death stares from the other gang members present. When it’s just the two of you though, it feels oddly intimate, and he starts losing his cool. He does get better about this over time. Drops some corny lines that you mistake for jokes and laugh at. Honestly, he’s a chill guy, so this outcome doesn’t even perturb him. There’s no better prize than making you laugh.

Narancia

Narancia is the most overt out of all his rivals. He's willing to stab someone for so much as looking at you the wrong way, he really thinks you’re some higher being who has graced him with your presence. His flirting is mostly just him hanging out around you every second he can. It doesn’t matter if you’re doing something fun like going to the arcade or grocery shopping, he wants to be there, by your side, where he feels the most at peace in the world. He laughs at your jokes, smiles when you enter the room, and gets visibly dejected when you leave. Narancia is basically your cheerleader — he hypes you up when you wear a new outfit, offers to paint your nails, lets you test out new makeup ideas on him... he’s down for anything, so long as you’re involved.

Abbacchio

Abbacchio erroneously assumes you’ll be able to piece together his intentions yourself if he drops enough hints. When this proves to be going over your head, he swears that you’re a lethal threat to his sanity. His style is similar to Narancia’s, loath as he is to admit it. He’ll invite you over for a nice vintage bottle he claimed to have happened upon (in reality, a great deal of care went into choosing it), so that you can spend a leisurely evening together. He tries curbing his sardonic comments in your presence, but you never make him feel like he needs to change his personality. You just naturally bring out this softer side to him he didn’t know existed. He is vigilant in looking out for your best interests from afar, helping you in ways you’ll never know about, as he doesn’t expect gratitude. What matters most to him is knowing you’re happy.

#giorno x reader #bruno x reader #fugo x reader #mista x reader #narancia x reader #abbacchio x reader #giorno govanna x reader #bucciarati x reader #pannacotta fugo x reader #guido mista x reader #narancia ghirga x reader #leone abbacchio x reader #jjba x reader #vento aureo x reader #part 5 x reader #scarlet ribbons #my stuff

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f1byjessie · 3 months

Text

A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part three.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by mclaren, oscarpiastri, and 314,691 others

tagged: oscarpiastri, landonorris

yourusername is it time for bahrain yet?! can’t wait to see these two back in action again soon! 🧡

view all 4,981 comments

mclaren We keep asking ourselves the same thing! Our engines are ready and we’re raring to go! 🧡

↳ yourusername you truly understand me mclaren admin

↳ mclaren we think you’re the one who truly understands us y/n

↳ user y/n x mclaren admin?? 🤯 the plot twist none of us saw coming

user missing these lads so much lately

user THE RADIO SILENCE ON OSCAR’S SOCIALS WAS KILLING ME I DEPEND ON THESE MEN TOO MUCH THEY KEEP ME ALIVE 😭😭

user the f1 drought is real rn

user MCLAREN SUPREMACY 2024

↳ user i’m trying to be delulu but we all know it’s just gonna be the mv33 and redbull show again this year 🫤

user soooo are we all just gonna pretend like we didn’t see the pics of her with garrett ward orrrrr?

↳ user no bc i was just thinking the same thing 👀

↳ user wait that was actually her??? cuz you can like barely see her face so i thought it was just a joke???

user what a fake ass bitch

user she only posts other ppl on her acc cuz she knows her ugly ass face would scare everyone else away

user homegirl needs to stay tf away from my man fr 😤😤

user god what a hoe 😒 she already has these two that she could fuck with idk why she needed to go after garrett

user SLUT SLUT SLUT

user if she tries anything with anyone else on the city team i’m gonna lose my shit fr

↳ user same omg

↳ user honestly i’m just glad she didn’t go after grealish or haaland 🙌

↳ user she probably would’ve tried if they weren’t taken already 🙄

↳ user nah i bet she’s totally a homewrecker garrett’s probably just the first on her list

user oh… these comments… 😰

↳ user right???

INSTAGRAM.

liked by mancity, mclaren, and 198,131 others

tagged: mancity

yourusername the city boys know how it’s done! and looking pretty good in orange too 😉

view all 3,971 comments

mancity The lads are looking good indeed! This weekend’s match against Newcastle should be an exciting one! ⚽️🩵

mclaren ✍️ Jeremy ✍️ Doku ✍️ and ✍️ Ruben ✍️ Dias ✍️ McLaren ✍️ 2025

↳ mancity Do you think Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri would look good in sky blue? 🤔

user funny how she posts every city man BUT garrett

user god when does she go back to f1??

↳ user march iirc

↳ user well it can’t get here soon enough jfc

user FUCK OFF WE DON’T WANT YOU

user you’re a slag and should accept the fact that any guy would only want you bc of how easy you are

user i’ll bet my left leg that the only reason the f1 boys haven’t shacked up with her yet is cuz they know she’s probably riddled with disease since she drools over every guy that comes near her 😒 like girl needs to bffr and realize that throwing herself at every male in her vicinity isn’t gonna land her a husband and it just making her even more of a slut

↳ user nah i’ll bet they’ve all already done her over in f1 but nobody will touch her now that they’ve passed her round so she had to come over to football just to try and get someone to touch her again 🙄🙄🙄

user i hope garrett realizes how much of a slut she is and breaks up with her

user sick and tired of bitches like this getting with footballers and being all controlling. like i’ll bet she’s gonna tell garrett he can’t go out and party with his mates anymore bc he has to spend time in with her and then she’ll get all pissy about him having female fans bc she’s insecure and knows that if garrett got to meet a REAL fan he’d jump ship immediately. those of us who ACTUALLY care about footballers know their fans are super important to them and we wouldn’t hinder their relationship with them just bc we’re jealous or insecure. garrett needs to be with someone who actually supports him and is willing to let him do what he wants instead of controlling him like he’s a dog on a leash.

user kys like genuinely

user god i can’t wait for this skank to die 😒

“Hey Lando, it’s me. Your best friend. Again,” you give a humorless chuckle. “I could seriously use some of your wizened advice right about now, so, uh, please just give me a call back when you can. Thanks.”

It seems poetic in a cruel sort of way that less than a week ago you were walking Etihad Campus and feeling like you were on top of the world━ working a new albeit temporary gig, adding the Manchester City name to your list of clients, having photos of world-renowned footballers in your portfolio━ and now you’ve resigned yourself to hiding away in the women’s restroom, locked in a stall because it’s the only place you could think of where nobody would be able to find you.

You’re on the verge of tears and feeling rather stupid for it.

It’s the third time today alone that your call has gone straight to voicemail, and with the dozens of unread texts you’ve sent in the last week added to the mix, it’s starting to paint a picture you’re not very happy with. Lando is ignoring you. Or he’s blocked you. Or he’s blocked you because he’s ignoring you━

You bite down on your lip, hard, to keep back the sob crawling its way up your throat.

You’re not a PR officer, you hadn’t been lying when you told Garrett that, but you’ve spent enough time around the McLaren PR teams that you’ve picked up enough tips and tricks to know, at the very least, that the best thing you can do is just ignore the comments.

That’s what they tell all the athletes.

What they don’t tell the athletes is that ignoring the comments is much easier said than done, especially when your career requires you to have such a significant online presence. And the thing is, despite all of these strangers hounding you with every name under the sun and criticizing your capabilities, qualifications, and very existence, the thing that hurts the most is the radio silence from the only person you know could make it all better.

Now, more than ever, you need your best friend. But he isn’t here.

You tuck your phone into your jacket pocket and unlock the stall with great reluctance. You know better than to be hiding away, shirking your responsibilities while crying over a few missed phone calls. You have a job to do, and a real professional wouldn’t let something as simple as a handful of tasteless comments get in the way of that.

You should be used to them. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.

Your first month at McLaren wasn’t entirely different.

When you were first hired on, Carlos had been in Formula One for a handful of years already and had built up a devotedly loyal fanbase with a decently large percentage of possessive fangirls who had come for your head the moment your existence had been announced.

The McLaren Instagram account had posted a picture of you standing between their two grinning drivers, your camera strung around your neck, with a very nice caption welcoming you to the team, and despite no indication that you were by any means involved with either of them in a way that went beyond professional, the comments had been taken over by feral teenage girls who saw the act of you simply standing near Carlos to be a direct threat against their “chances.”

Though it had been frustrating being met with childish threats and petty insults in your comments, you hadn’t really held it against any of them. You remember being a teenage girl and crushing on a celebrity. Deep down you knew you never had a chance with them, but that hadn’t stopped you from hanging posters in your bedroom and doodling their name beneath yours inside of scribbled hearts in your diary.

Regardless, it had taken close to a month for the negativity to die down, and you hadn’t had Lando then, either, so now shouldn’t be much different.

In fact, everyone on the Manchester City team━ trainers, physios, media coordinatiors, and anyone inbetween━ has been very polite about everything between you and Garrett. A lot of them have just avoided saying anything about it, which you’re very grateful for because you don’t think you’d be able to hold back your grimace while thanking them for their well wishes, and the few who have mentioned it typically only say something vague like a wishing you the best of luck or hoping you’re happy.

An intern gave you a sympathetic smile the other day, and you’d nearly burst into tears in the middle of the office of the Director of Communications, so you know you aren’t truly alone in this.

You just feel alone.

Exiting the bathroom is a simple affair. There’s no one standing post outside ready to give you any shit for being hidden away, and nobody comes sprinting around the corner as you make your way down the hall to the press conference room that’s been temporarily turned into your base of operations.

You think you’ll probably be able to go the rest of the afternoon without running into anyone, when you open your door and find━ sitting in the front row of the seats typically saved for journalists and the press, scrolling across his phone with a disinterested look painted across his face━ Jack Grealish.

“Jack,” you greet, a bit shocked. You close the door to the room gently behind you, and cross the distance to your desk. “Did we have a meeting scheduled? It must’ve completely slipped my mind, I sincerely apologize.”

He offers you a polite smile. “No, we didn’t, so no need to be sorry. I actually just wanted to check in. See how things are going with everything.”

You blink at him in surprise. Apart from Garrett, you haven’t really had much time to speak with the other players. They wish you good morning and good afternoon when they see you, and if a ball goes astray they always call out for you to watch your head, but between their morning training and their afternoon training, their strategy reviews at lunch, and the frequent in between meetings with physios, nutritionists, and trainers, they don’t get much time to chit chat with a simple photographer.

You clear your throat, “Erm, it’s going well. I’ve gotten some really good shots these past few days. There’s one with Rodrigo that I’m particularly proud of. It should do well with the fans.”

“And things with Ward?”

You purse your lips.

“Figured.” Jack sighs. “Look, nearly everyone you run into here knows or has at least some inkling into what he’s like. He’s a prick. None of the lads on the team like him, it’s why the managers are trying to get him out of here.”

You lower yourself down into your chair. “He told me they were planning to trade him off because of his reputation.”

Jack scoffs, “Yeah, ‘cause that’s the ‘official’ reason. They can’t cut his contract early for legal reasons, so they’re waiting for it to expire and coming up with an excuse for why they ain’t re-signing him. It’s really just ‘cause the rest of us can’t keep dealing with his massive ego and the fact that he’s a misogynistic fuck who doesn’t know the first thing about respect.”

“Fucking tell me about it,” you mutter with a sigh.

If he expected you to defend Garrett and is surprised by the fact that you haven’t, Jack doesn’t show it. He looks relaxed sitting across from you, like you’re having a casual conversation and not actively shit talking a member of his team. It gives you the impression that he knows significantly more about Garrett than you do, and that because of what he knows he probably figured out that one party in the relationship is not the most willing of participants.

“How’d you get all wrapped up it in then? Didn’t figure you to be the type to go after pricks like Ward.”

You debate over whether you should tell him or not. There isn’t much Jack can do about the situation regardless, but it would at least get things off your chest and if someone else knew then maybe you wouldn’t feel so alone anymore.

There’s only so many days you can spend hiding out in the women’s restroom trying not to bawl your eyes out, and you’ve already reached your limit.

You heave a sigh, “It’s kind of fucked up really.” A pen on your desk catches your attention and you start to fiddle with it, avoiding Jack’s eyes which have focused directly onto you. “He asked if I would help him fix up his reputation by pretending to be his girlfriend so he could show everyone that he’s matured and can hold down a steady relationship. When I told him no, he threatened to make up a lie about inappropriate conduct to get me fired and blacklisted from the industry, so for the sake of preserving my career I agreed.”

“Bloody fucking hell,” Jack murmurs, shaking his head. “I’m real sorry he did that, Y/N.”

You shrug. “It’s happened, so, there’s nothing I can really do except wait it out at this point.”

When you look up and meet his gaze, Jack looks murderous. His hands are clenched into fists on the armrests, knuckles white with the strength of his grip. His brows are furrowed, and his lips are twisted downward in a scowl.

“If you need anything,” he starts, “let me know. And I mean it. We all know how Ward can be. He’s a knobhead. So if you need anything━” his emphasis on the word and what that implies makes you feel more comforted than anything has since the whole fiasco started, “━then you let me know, or you tell one of the other boys and they’ll find me, alright?”

All you can do is nod.

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━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre @chezmardybum @marshmummy @405rry

━━ a/n: no lando yet, but we've got a cutesy little grealish scene to make up for it because i couldn't have a story with manchester city and not include him! lowkey writing this part made me wanna write for a footballer too... anyways! hope you all enjoy!

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starlingflight · 25 days

Text

loml

Written for @corneliaavenue-ao3 TTPD Several Sunlit Daylights challenge.

Read on AO3 or below:

I. lesson of my life

Every illusion Ginny has ever had is shattered over the course of a single night.

She doesn't go into the chamber willingly. She claws, and scratches and fights against Tom's commands with all her might. She cries, and she struggles, but in the end it makes no difference. She isn't strong enough. As the darkness swallows her up, her final childish hope is for a rescue she knows isn't coming.

When she opens her eyes again it doesn't feel like a miracle. The cold from the stone floor has seeped through her skin, a chill has settled deep in her bones and she knows, with absolute certainty, it will never fully go away.

Of course Harry is there, holding a mighty sword, a dead monster behind him. The very image of the conquering hero she's always fantasised about, but this isn't like one of Ginny's fantasies. He's covered in blood, and his eyes are wide with the same terror that's taken root deep within her soul. There's no triumph in this moment, only horror.

This isn't a dream. It's a nightmare. One that Ginny won't fully wake up from for a very long time.

She learns many lessons that night, but the most important one will come later. After she's spent weeks, months, years putting herself back together, because Harry might have rescued her from the chamber, but, as Ginny will come to realise, the only person who can really save you is yourself.

II. light of my life

Harry's never known a darkness like this. It starts when he watches Sirius fall through the veil, tiny tendrils of black slowly leaking out from his heart, unfurling with increasing urgency until he's overwhelmed by a cold, empty abyss that he's sure nothing will ever penetrate again. How can it when Sirius is never coming back?

He doesn't even notice the first ray of light. It happens so quickly. He's in the hospital wing, trying very hard to let Hermione's commentary on the latest news from The Prophet distract him from the aching chasm in his chest, and the unbearable weight of the prophecy, when it happens.

Luna says something completely ridiculous about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks – whatever they are – Harry can feel Hermione's exasperation from across the small gap that separates her bed from Ron's. Ginny's chocolate eyes meet his, and something happens that he'd assumed would never happen again.

Harry smiles.

It's fleeting, lasting less than a second. There's very little time to dwell on it before they're looking away from one another, and the grief washes over him again, a tidal wave that steals the air from his lungs.

That's just the beginning though… or maybe the beginning had been years ago. Maybe the blush he'd once thought of as the setting sun had actually been the opposite; Ginny's light rising, her warm, rosy glow beginning its ascent into his life.

She continues to rise that summer, forcing the darkness back with her sheer brightness. Her smile turns black to grey; her laugh is powder pinks and bright oranges; the jokes she coaxes from him are pure, cloudless blue.

When she runs at him across the common room months later, she's blazing, burning red. When she reaches him, when Harry finally kisses Ginny, the sun reaches its apex and his whole life is awash with bright, brilliant gold.

For a few shining weeks there are only sunlit days.

III. loss of my life

Fittingly, they're at a funeral when it happens. Ginny always knew he had great comedic timing. She's not laughing, however, as Harry lays out all his stupid, noble reasons why they can't be together. She's not crying either, though; that feels like a small mercy. The only one she's going to get for a while.

She does cry when she finally makes it home. It's silly, she knows. Silly, foolish, naive Ginny Weasley, a familiar, cold voice whispers through her mind. For once, she doesn't try to argue with it, but she doesn't try to stop either.

Instead, she buries her face into her pillow and lets herself sob until her eyes run dry. Her tears aren't just for her broken heart, but for everything Ginny's already had to sacrifice; her childhood, her innocence.

It isn't until weeks later that she realises the true magnitude of what she stands to lose.

“And then what does she think's going to happen? Someone else will kill off Voldemort while she's holding us here making vol-au-vents?”

The fork Ginny is holding almost slips from her grasp. Her heart falters in her chest. Harry playing his flippant comment off a joke does nothing to return it to a steady rhythm.

It plays round and round in her mind that night. Her knuckles are ghostly white where they grip her bedsheet. Vaguely, she'd known what he'd planned to do, but vague notions and knowing with absolute certainty are two very different things. The task Harry brought up so nonchalantly in the kitchen is nothing short of a suicide mission. It hits Ginny with the force of a barrage of stunning spells, knocking the air from her lungs; Harry might not come back to her.

Two days later, when she kisses him in her bedroom, it doesn't feel like she's saying happy birthday, it feels like she's saying goodbye.

When Harry follows Ron out of her bedroom door, he takes a piece of Ginny with him, one she prays she hasn't lost forever.

IV. longing of my life

She haunts him like a ghost. What was once screaming colour and pure unfiltered brightness is now just a memory, a pale imitation permanently stuck on repeat in his mind.

Harry moves stoically from one hiding place to another and, though they're separated by miles, Ginny follows him to every single one.

He can hear her laugh in the wind that shakes the canvas sides of the tent. He can see her smile in the sunlight that penetrates the thick canopy of the forests they move between. At night, when he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend the sheet brushing against his skin is her fingertips.

It's worse when he has the locket on. Then, he's tormented with visions like the one he'd imagined on his birthday; of her moving on. Finding someone else. Living a life that can never be his.

Horcrux or no, he can't stop himself thinking about her. Aching for her. Longing for her.

He clings to memories of Ginny like scraps of driftwood, the only thing keeping Harry afloat when he's been set adrift.

V. lament of my life

It's like the chamber all over again. Ginny's whole world is flipped upside down in the space of a single night.

She doesn't see Fred go. She doesn't know the last time she sees her big brother that it's the last time.

“Take care of yourself,” he'd shouted over his shoulder as Ginny had gone hurtling down a corridor in pursuit of a Death Eater.

“Don't I always?’ she'd called back.

What if she'd told him to do the same? Would he have listened? Would he still be there?

There's very little time to dwell on such questions in the middle of a battle. Especially not when every passing second brings another devastating loss.

Lupin. Tonks. Colin.

Ginny's heart shatters into a million little pieces until it doesn't exist at all. Or so she thinks, until she sees Harry's body cradled in Hagrid’s arms.

Then she knows she still has a heart, because it's in unbearable agony. She doubles over from the pain of it. His name escapes her lips on a scream, as though she might be able to call him back to life through sheer desperation.

Tom Riddle talks; for the second time in Ginny's life, she's unable to hear him, but this isn't like the Chamber at all. This time Ginny wishes she was dead.

When the battle resumes, she jumps straight into it with wild abandon. Ginny's lamentation is not filled with tears, or wailing. It's fire and rage for everything that's been taken from her. Tom Riddle already stole her past. Now he's taken her future. She will take everything she can from him, or die trying.

VI. lowest of my life

He's never truly let himself imagine what it might be like to actually defeat Voldemort. If he had, Harry doubts he would have pictured it like this.

If it's a win, why is there so much loss?

He doesn't know whether the grief or the hope is more overwhelming. They mingle together, like waves in the ocean, swelling and breaking, threatening to pull Harry under.

He can feel it crash over him as he stands in the great hall the day after the battle. The bodies are still there; all the people who don't get the second chance Harry does are laid out in front of him. Lifeless eyes staring, unseeing, up at the enchanted ceiling.

The guilt and the pain sweep through him like ice water, filling his lungs; rising up in Harry's throat until there's no possible room for air. He takes a step back, desperate to flee somewhere he can sink down into the cold, lonely depths.

Before he can, a hand, small and warm, slips into his, pulling Harry back to the surface. He releases one, long, deep breath before looking at her.

Ginny's attempt at a smile is tinged with sadness, sunlight peeking through dark grey clouds.

Only hours ago, he'd contemplated all the things he needed to say to her, but now no words are exchanged at all. Only a look. It's all they need. All they've ever needed. Everything has changed. But he's still Harry, and she's still Ginny.

Instinctively his arm comes around her. Ginny buries her face in his chest, sagging slightly against him, as though she was waiting for this moment to let herself rest. Like she needs him as much as he needs her.

Harry's head rests against hers, the floral scent of her shampoo is faint, lingering beneath everything that's happened. It makes his heart falter anyway. He holds her tightly to him, something he never thought he'd get the chance to do again. As he's come to expect, time seems to stop for her. They stay like that for what might only be seconds, or possibly an entire lifetime passes.

Eventually, Ginny pulls out of his grasp. It takes less than a second for her hand to find his again, fingers entwining. She pulls gently, silently commanding him to follow her. Harry almost asks where they're going, but he doesn't really need to. He's free to go wherever he pleases now. He'll follow her anywhere.

Ginny looks up at him as they walk towards the double doors. He can still see the embers of her blazing light smouldering in the dark depths of her eyes. He was right, there will be hours, days, and years in which to talk, but he doesn't need her to say a word now to know where she's taking him. He lets her pull him forward, lets her light guide him to a future he's still not sure he deserves to have.

VII. loser of my life

For a while, Ginny thinks she'll never recover from the loss, from the grief and the heartache. It's not the first time she's felt this way, but this time she doesn't have to face it alone. Once she has Harry back, he doesn't leave her side again.

They fall back together naturally. They stitch themselves back together slowly until one day, years later, the sun is blazing brightly in the sky, the pleasant summer breeze is ruffling the grass beneath her feet, and Ginny feels whole again.

“Ready?” Her father asks, holding out his arm out to her.

“Ready,” Ginny agrees, threading her hand through the crook of his elbow. Holding her colourful bouquet of wildflowers in front of her with her free hand.

There have been times, in her darkest moments, when she wished she was someone else. A girl who hasn't dwelt in a darkness that most people don't ever see even in their worst nightmares; a witch who hasn't looked into the eyes of evil and refused to bend, refused to break; a woman who hasn't lost things that can never ever be replaced.

Now, as soft music begins to swell in the summer air, and her gaze locks on Harry, waiting for her at the end of the makeshift aisle formed by the rows of chairs that have been put out in her parent's orchard, Ginny doesn't regret any of it. Everything she's lost is a step she's taken towards this.

She can feel dozens of heads turn towards her, but Ginny only has eyes for Harry, and he, it appears, only has eyes for her. His smile makes the sun look dim in comparison. Still, the corner of his mouth trembles; even from a distance, Ginny can see emotion well up behind his glasses.

‘Don't you dare,' she mouths, feeling her throat tighten as she does. Her arm stretches out, lifting her bouquet like it's a wand, miming hexing him. She's closer now. She can hear the tremor in his laugh as he puts his arms up in mock surrender.

It's too late; the laughter she's coaxed from him doesn't stop the tear that slips down his cheek. Of course, one of her own escapes only a half a second later.

“We look like such losers,” Ginny informs him, shaking her head, as her fingers slip from her father's arm into Harry's awaiting hand.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, quietly enough for only her to hear. He's still smiling as another tear slides unconcernedly down his face. His free hand reaches up, his thumb swipes away the ones that are currently leaking traitorously from Ginny's eyes. “But you're my loser.”

It takes her a moment to regain her breath. A fleeting second in which she can't quite believe they're here; that they made it. Then she smiles even wider than before. “Not officially – not until we get through this ceremony.”

Harry's gaze holds hers. Ginny almost forgets they have an audience. The world reduces down to just the two of them, grinning madly at one another. Harry's fingers squeeze her hand. “We'd best get on with it then.

VIII. legacy of my life

Books are filled with what many consider to be his finest achievements. Tales of thrilling battles, speculations on unsurvivable curses, and records of great victories are inked across the pages of history.

As are the many titles thrust upon Harry; The Boy Who Lived, Chosen One, Saviour. To him, they're little more than noise, assumptions from people who don't really know him, and never will.

When he slips the wedding ring onto Ginny's finger, Harry gets the first title he's ever chosen for himself: husband. Her husband.

Not long after, he gains another one, this one unplanned, but no less momentous. James, tiny, and so precious, is placed into his arms, and Harry becomes a father.

His real legacy begins there. It's not just his, it's hers too. Their legacy.

It's recorded in baby books and photo albums rather than history books. It's memorialised in finger paintings and handmade Christmas ornaments (made under Ginny's expert supervision) instead of plaques and statues. It's hundreds of little memories of their family that will never see the inside of a newspaper, but that doesn't make them any less noteworthy, not to Harry, who'd never dared to imagine that this life could be his one day.

IX. love of my life

“Dinner!” Her mother calls from the back door of The Burrow, her voice ringing out across the garden.

The sun is setting, dipping below the topmost branches of the orchard. The sky is a tapestry of pinks, purples and golds, stretching out for miles above them.

“What do you think?” Ginny asks as her feet meet the ground, dismounting from her broom. “Could I make it as a pro?”

Harry lands beside her. His eyes sweep appraisingly over her. Ginny's stomach swoops like she's still in the air. “I don't know,” he says thoughtfully. “The League is brutal. It requires rigorous training.”

Ginny shrugs unconcernedly, hoisting her broom onto her shoulder as she does. “Do you know any Quidditch captains who might be interested in helping me with such an undertaking?”

“I know one who might be able to make some time for you this summer,” Harry says as he falls into step beside her. He inclines his head towards her broom.“I can take it for you?”

Ginny's eyes narrow, prepared to tell him she's perfectly capable of carrying her own broom, but, when she turns, the way he's looking at her makes her heart race, and the words die on her tongue. without her permission, her expression transforms into a grin. “Very chivalrous of you.”

A weight is lifted from her as Harry settles her broom beside his on his shoulder. “That's kind of what I'm known for.”

“Only ‘kind of’?” Ginny's eyes wander to the quickly darkening sky above them as she laughs. “In that case, I'll be sure to let people know of this latest act of heroism – personally, I don't think you get enough attention.”

“Well, if that's how you feel, you could always give me more.”

Ginny stops midstep. Her head turns sharply back to Harry. She should keep walking, the words that are on the tip of her tongue will lead to something that neither of them planned for on this particular summer evening.

Harry's eyebrows rise upwards; even in the dusk, Ginny can see the challenge sparking in his eyes. Unbidden, she takes a step towards him. “Are you flirting with me, Potter?”

He doesn't back down, but he doesn't make a move towards her either. The brooms he's holding clatter together as he shrugs with just a bit too much tension in his shoulders to be truly nonchalant. “I might be.”

Ginny's blood thrums in her veins as she takes another step towards him. “Need I remind you that I'm spoken for?”

“How could I forget?” Harry's head lowers despite her reminder, until he's so close Ginny can see the flecks of gold in his green eyes. “I suppose he's deeply in love with you?”

“Yes,” she nods with absolute certainty. “And I feel the same about him.”

Harry's head dips lower, the determination in his eyes making his intention clear. Ginny rises on her tiptoes, unable to fight the pull that always inevitably beckons her to him.

Barely an inch of space remains between them. Her heart flutters wildly–

“Oi!” The loud, obnoxious shout comes from the far end of the orchard, making Ginny jump. She turns towards it and finds a lanky figure glaring at them from where he leans against the fence. “When you're done being disgusting, Nanna says to hurry up – dinner’s ready and the rest of us aren't allowed to start without you.”

James doesn't wait for a response before turning on his heel and marching back towards the house.

Ginny rolls her eyes at her son's retreating back. Her hand slips into Harry's, the most contact they're getting, at least until after dinner. “Remind me again why we had children?”

Harry sighs, allowing her to lead him towards the gate James has just departed from. “You said they'd be cute.”

“Well, they used to be,” she says fairly as she pushes the gate open with her free hand. “I wasn't thinking as far as them becoming teenagers.”

Harry nods seriously. “Really, who could've predicted such an unforeseeable outcome.”

Ginny looks up at him as he follows her through the gate. Brown eyes meet green through the burgeoning twilight. Two identical smiles bloom like flowers in spring.

“Certainly not you, judging by your appalling Divination grades.”

#several sunlit daylights #hinny #harry x ginny #TTPD

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goshilovemesomemonsters · 1 year

Note

… I hear you.. AND BOY DOES THAT GIVE ME IDEAS!! 🤩

An image of how Reader heals the Pilgrim gang~

✨Wukong✨

Gentle as can be~ takes her time to slowly heal every possible (or imagined) scratch and bruise, all with a loving hand~ …. And while teasing the absolute shit outa him… 😜

🤝🏻 Sandy 🤝🏻

Her bestie? Her BFF?? The go to method for healing the big blue good-boy™️ is of course their secret best-friends handshake~ 😎

😐 Pigsy 😐

Every time this guy tries to go in for a hug.. and every time he gets slapped in the face.. healing through violence… somewhat contradictory? Perhaps, but it works~

🙏🏻 Tang 🙏🏻

… She pinches his nose in a firm grip, and start lecturing him.. “repeat after me, I will NOT listen to Pigsy and go near the obviously suspicious Bogota in the distance, especially when everyone else tells me not to!” basically a Mom moment~

🐴 Ao Lie 🐴

Gentle head pats.. after his own Father sentenced him to death, the poor kid deserves some form of genuine affection.. another Mom moment~

YOU. You get it.

And if you don’t mind me adding on to this~ because this in turn gave me more ideas lmao

Honestly Wukong doesn’t even go to you for healing to begin with. He’s the Monkey King??? Immortalx6???? He doesn’t need your healing he can just heal himself 🤨. Yes it does hurt him to have to regrow or repair himself, I imagine it’s less that he heals himself and more just…speeds up the process of the injuries healing themselves meaning he gets a fuckton of pain all at once, but given he is both immortal and impatient, he doesn’t really think much of the pain…or he tries to tell himself that anyway.

But after one of the battles where he’s forced to go to Guanyin for help he finds himself angrily sulking because he doesn’t like having to ask for help. But then you come over and just…place a friendly hand on his shoulder and heal him. He is prepared for it to hurt like how he heals himself but it doesn’t?? In fact it feels nice??? What the Fuck™. He could have been getting THIS the whole time??

Every battle after that he is first in line to get healed (listen it’s just quicker if you heal him ok don’t look too deep into it-) even going so far as to push Pigsy out of the way at points. Don’t come between the monkey and his (excuse to get your hands on him) heals. See he thought he knew what he was getting into. A quick heal and (your touch…) he’s back to full health. He was wrong because reader is wise to his schemes and makes it their personal mission to fluster the shit out of him.

“Why is this taking so long??”

“Because you keep fidgeting”

“Well you need to hurry up!!”

“I’m adding on a minute of heal time for every time you rush me.”

“What?? No just finish up already!”

“Three minutes.”

“Stop going so slow!!”

“Four! Do I hear five?? Goodness your gonna give me the wrong idea if you keep this up. It’s like you want my hands on you~”

All the while you’re slooowly dragging your hands across him and he’s doing everything in his power to not think about how good it feels, how nice it feels to have your gentle and delicate touches on him and looking anywhere other than at you. Jokes on him though he may not blush super easily but his ears are always the first to show it.

Sun Wukong was NOT prepared for this. He’s used to admiration from his subjects, fear from his enemies, respect from those he’s fought. But this??? This is new. He’s not used to this. Even back on flower fruit mountain he was never subjected to this kind of attention. He doesn’t…hate it per-say, but he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He might try to cross his arms, make himself look intimidating he doesn’t know-

“Nah-ah, uncross those arms mister I need access to your chest.”

He is suffering. Your going to kill him he’s sure of it. This is how he dies. Just by being subjected to your ministrations. Yes he knows he could leave at anytime but he’s not going to.

It doesn’t really occur to him that you’re taking your time on purpose at first because it’s not exactly like he was paying attention the first time you healed him and he accepts your explanation of it being more precise when you touch him like that readily enough. To his credit he does eventually catch on to what your doing by being purposefully slow and handsy. But like by that point he’s down bad and doubles down.

He flips the script BIIIG time when he goes from “feelings are dumb” to courting/relationship status though. If he was a menace before now he is INSUFFERABLE.

“You missed a spot”

“Oh? Where?”

“Move your hands lower”

“WUKONG.”

“I am injured! Don’t you want to see me get better? 🥺”

Or otherwise now he is intentionally doing whatever he can to increase how long it takes

“Hey you still intend to go slower if I rush you right?”

“Probably? Why do you ask-“

“WOW you are going so slow you need to hurry up and finish already because this is taking forever, we’ve been here like all day seriously how much longer is this going to take??”

“…”

“How long does that buy me?”

“…”

*Insta-Heals him*

D:<

As for the others,

Sandy/Sha Wujing is an absolute sweetheart, always patiently waiting for his turn to be healed or for you to finish. Always asks for heals with a please and thanks you every time. Secret handshake is absolutely how he gets healed. 10/10 would heal again. Best patient ever.

Tang is….fine most times. He’s real sorry for making you go through the trouble though. Really sorry. Has he told you how sorry he is? Because he is. He’s really really sorry. Swears he won’t do it again. A simple shoulder pat is all he really needs as he feels reaaaaally sorry and just feels the worst about this. No but fr he feels SO GUILTY. Healing him is part actually healing him and part feelings jam because he probs needs to be reassured that what happened wasn’t his fault.

Oof but when it’s because of Pigsy starting shit again and pulls him into danger? That’s when the pinching starts. How many times have you and Wukong told him not to listen to Pigsy?? So many times?? AND YET??? …he’s still really sorry tho

Ao Lie doesn’t really need healing all that often due to being a horse most of the time but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t occasionally sidle up to you and push his head under your hand to ask for it. Carrying the monk all that time has gotta be tiring, even if he is a dragon. Especially since he isn’t even doing it in his natural form! So that little boost of energy you give him really helps him out. Also a sweetheart 10/10 (why can’t Pigsy be like you and Sandy FR)

Pigsy tho…bless Reader’s heart you TRIED to actually properly heal him once. But unfortunately with Pigsy being Pigsy that went about as well as expected. As soon as he found out you heal through touch it was all over. “Oh my fair friend I am dying!! Only your sweet kiss can heal me. 😚” which did result in the slap heal. To his…tiny tiny bit of credit he does stop the antics after the first few times. Not because he realized that it won’t happen, but because Wukong won’t let him. Literally, he tries to be his fail-suave self during a time when Wukong is standing right behind you and one very intense glare coupled with a hand going to his ear to pull out his cudgel is all it takes to get him to stop….mostly. Still tries it when Wukong isn’t around though. Always results in a slap.

#jttw #lmk #monkey king reborn #sun wukong x reader #Sun Wukong #sha wujing #zhu bajie #ao lie #Tang XuanZang #hahaha Monkey Man is down bad get super wreckt

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