#and boy oh boy can i not wait to write the other half of that argument

[cheftsunoda]

can you write a story on a sainz sister dating charles leclerc after divorcing max verstappen with whom she has a kid which leads to drama at the paddock.

karma wears prada �� cl16

smau + written blurbs

charles leclerc x !sainz reader

max verstappen x !ex sainz reader

you were pop royalty — platinum records, sold-out stadiums, your voice on every chart and every stage. he was formula 1’s golden boy — fast, ruthless, worshipped by millions. you married in secret. you had a daughter. you built a quiet world of your own, away from headlines and cameras. and for a while, it was perfect. until it wasn’t.

when the truth came out — first as a rumor, then a photo, then undeniable — you packed your bags, held your baby close, and walked away from the man who promised you forever. you thought you’d have to face the fallout alone. you didn’t expect charles leclerc.

your brother’s teammate. his best friend. the one who never looked at you like you were broken. the one who made your daughter laugh before you could smile again. now, the paddock is on fire — caught between loyalty and betrayal, rage and whispers, broken hearts and new beginnings. and as the world watches, one question remains:

can you start over when the whole world is still watching the wreckage?

fc : kali uchis (i have vip tickets to see kali in less than a month in a half!!! my motherrrrr) (also used some pics of alexandra teehee)

before you read + (a/n): hiiii pookie!! took me forever to perfect this so i hope you enjoy!! max is lowkey an asshole in this so im soz and carlos is still w ferrari because in my mind i never had to go through that divorce too :) alsooo no hate to kelly, anything said is just for the purpose of my fictional nonsense.

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deuxmoi

5,702,005 likes.

deuxmoi : yep. this one is reallllll messy. and we still have yet to get to the bottom of it. stay tuned.

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view 789,000 other comments.

username000 : max CHEATED on THE yn sainz??? oh he’s never finishing a race again i fear 😭

username00 : kelly piquet must have a punch card at this point. one more and she gets a free f1 car

liked by deuxmoi and yn_sainz

↳ username00 : oop our queen is here. confirmation?

username0 : carlos is going to body slam him in the paddock.

username1 : she gave birth like a YEAR AGO. men are actual demons. protect yn at all costs.

username5 : i just KNOW her breakup album is gonna end careers. drop the tracklist queen xx

username7 : carlos unfollowing max and then reposting an old pic of yn with her daughter?? family comes FIRST 😤

username10 : she gave him a marriage, a child, and silence. and he gave her kelly piquet.

username11 : i just KNOW the group chat with carmen, alexandra, and lily is on fire right now.

username15 : can’t wait for the ‘you fumbled the woman everyone wanted’ edits. they’re loading as we speak.

—

flashback

monaco, 2:12am

You shouldn’t be awake. You’re rocking your daughter gently in the crook of your arm, whispering half remembered lullabies against her soft hair. She’s teething again. Clingier than usual. You don’t mind. It gives you something to do. Something to hold onto.

Your phone buzzes on the counter — a quiet vibration you almost ignore. But something in you, some sliver of unease that’s been growing for months now, makes you look. It’s a DM. From a name you don’t recognize. You open it.

I’m sorry if this is overstepping but… I didn’t know you and Max were still together. He told me you were separated. I wouldn’t have— You don’t deserve this.

There’s a screenshot. A message thread. A photo. Your husband. Smiling. Someone else’s hand on his jaw. Time slows. Your daughter fusses in your arms. You stare at the screen and feel nothing. Not right away. Just a long, slow ache in your chest, like something is pressing down and refusing to let go.

You don’t cry. You don’t scream. You press a kiss to your daughter’s temple and whisper, “Okay, baby. Okay. We’re leaving.”

—

Four hours later, the sun is barely up when the car arrives. You move quietly, deliberately, packing only what you need. You don’t leave a note. You don’t send a message. You take your daughter, her favorite stuffed animal, your passport, and disappear.

By the time Max wakes up to an empty apartment, you’re already on a flight to Ibiza.

No PR statement. No explanations. Just silence.

And the beginning of something new. For you. For your child.

—

the next morning

ibiza – 8:06 AM

The villa is too quiet. It sits tucked away in the hills, ocean just visible beyond the terrace, sun pouring into the white-washed kitchen. There’s a stillness here that makes your heart ache.

Your daughter sits in her high chair, fingers messy with banana, babbling to herself. She’s safe. She’s happy. She doesn’t know. You sip your coffee with trembling hands.

You haven’t turned your phone back on. Not yet. You can’t. You know the second you do, the world will rush in — agents, lawyers, team PR, headlines, Max. You want to stay in this moment just a little longer. Just you and her. The soft morning light. The sound of birds. The smell of the sea. You want silence. And for the first time in months, you have it.

—

monaco – 8:11 AM

Max wakes up to your absence like it’s a punch to the gut. At first, he thinks maybe you’ve taken the baby out for a walk. But the bed is cold. The closet is half-empty. The pacifier on the nightstand is gone.

Then he sees the open drawer. The missing passports. The baby monitor left behind. He calls you. Straight to voicemail. He calls again. Then again. He checks your location. Disabled.

Panic sets in. Not loud, but deep. Spreading. Heavy. He opens Instagram and sees it.

“Pop Star YN Sainz Allegedly Left Monaco With Daughter After Cheating Scandal – Sources Say Max Verstappen Seen With Kelly Piquet in St. Tropez”

And for the first time, it hits him: You’re not coming back.

—

madrid – 8:23 AM

Carlos nearly drops his phone when he sees the post. He reads it twice. Then again. And again. He doesn’t text you. He calls. You answer on the third ring.

“Hola?” your voice is quiet. Steady. But he knows you. He hears it. The exhaustion. The heartbreak.

“Tell me where you are.”

“Safe,” you say.

There’s a pause. You hear him breathing. Hear him trying to hold himself back.

“I’m going to kill him,” Carlos says flatly.

You almost laugh. “Get in line.”

He’s quiet for a beat. Then, softer:

“You should’ve called me.”

“I didn’t want anyone trying to talk me out of it.”

“I wouldn’t have.”

You believe him.

He exhales. “I’m coming to see you after the race.”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “Okay.”

“Love you, hermanita.”

“Love you more.”

—

present day (race day)

The baby’s asleep. You’re lying on the couch with a blanket pulled up to your chin, phone resting on your stomach, TV muted. The pre race coverage flickers silently on the screen — cars in garages, skycams over the grandstands, an interviewer smiling too widely. You haven’t watched anything F1 related since you left Monaco. You tell yourself it’s because you’re busy. You’re a mother. You’re tired. But really… it’s because you can’t stomach seeing him in red and blue. Can’t stomach the way the world still treats him like nothing happened. Like you didn’t. Your phone buzzes quietly.

Charles Leclerc

You stare at the screen for a moment, startled. Then swipe to answer.

“Bonjour,” you say softly.

He chuckles under his breath. “That’s a terrible accent.”

You smile for the first time in hours. “Well, I’ve had other things on my mind.”

There’s noise in the background — voices, radios, something metallic being dropped. The paddock, alive and buzzing. You picture him sitting in the Ferrari motorhome, race suit halfway on, hair messy from the helmet fitting.

“I just wanted to check on you,” he says. “Before everything gets loud.”

Your chest tightens. He sounds calm. Gentle. Not like the rest of them — who all called asking for statements, reactions, damage control.

“You really don’t have to do that,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says. “But I wanted to.”

Silence settles for a moment. Not uncomfortable. Just full.

“How’s the little one?” he asks.

“Asleep,” you say. “Teething still. I haven’t slept properly in four days.”

Charles hums. “You need a break.”

“I need a time machine.”

He laughs quietly. “Well, I can’t offer that. But if you ever need someone to sit with her while you nap... I’m quite good with babies, you know.”

You can’t help the warmth that spreads in your chest. “Are you?”

“I have proof. I held Pierre’s niece once and she didn’t cry.”

“That’s a low bar, Charles.”

Another soft laugh. “I’ll take what I can get.”

You glance at the screen again. They’re showing Carlos now — focused, arms crossed, deep in discussion with his engineer. Your brother. Your anchor.

“You should go,” you say gently. “It’s race day.”

There’s a pause. Then: “You’ll be watching?”

You hesitate. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

He doesn’t push. Doesn’t ask why.

“Either way,” he says, voice quiet now, “I’m racing for you today.”

Your throat tightens.

“Good luck, Charles.”

“Merci, ma belle.”

The line goes quiet. The paddock fades from your ear. You sit in the stillness of the Ibiza villa, blinking at the television, heart beating a little differently than before.

—

3rd person pov

The confetti hasn’t even settled yet. Carlos is out of the car before his engineer can reach him, helmet off, jaw clenched. He doesn’t even look toward the cameras. Doesn’t acknowledge the cheers. There’s only one person in his line of sight — standing ten feet away in Red Bull gear, smug smile plastered on his face. Max. Third place. Another podium. Another reason to pretend like nothing happened. Carlos moves before anyone can stop him.

“Don’t,” Charles mutters under his breath as he tosses his own gloves down and jogs after him. “Carlos.”

But Carlos doesn’t stop. He’s already standing in front of Max, every muscle in his body pulled taut. Max turns slowly, lazily. Like he doesn’t know what’s coming. Like he thinks he’s still untouchable.

“You think I don’t know what you did?” Carlos spits, voice low but venomous.

Max shrugs. “If this is about your sister, that’s not really—”

Charles steps in fast, hand to Carlos’s chest, firm and calm. “Stop.”

“Move, Charles.”

“No.”

Carlos’s eyes flash. “He cheated on her. Lied to her. Let her disappear with his daughter and then ran off to play boyfriend with Kelly like it was nothing. And now he’s standing here like—like he deserves to celebrate anything.”

“I know,” Charles says softly. “I know. But don’t give him what he wants.”

Max scoffs. “What I want?”

Charles doesn’t even look at him. His eyes stay locked on Carlos. “You won. You raced for her today. Don’t let him take that from you.”

Carlos is shaking. But his hands curl into fists, not around Max’s collar, just at his sides.

“I need to see her,” he mutters.

Charles nods. “I was going to ask if I could come with you.”

Carlos blinks. For the first time all day, his face softens—just barely.

“You sure?”

“I promised I’d check on her,” Charles says. “I meant it.”

Carlos exhales through his nose, chest still rising and falling too fast. Behind them, Max walks away like nothing happened. Ahead of them, the exit looms — press waiting, questions brewing, cameras ready. But Carlos claps a hand to Charles’s shoulder and mutters, “Let’s get out of here.”

—

back to 2nd pov!

You weren’t expecting visitors. You’re in an old t-shirt, hair twisted into a messy bun, pacing the kitchen with your daughter on your hip, humming softly to keep her calm. The day’s been long — teething again, of course — and you’d barely kept your eyes open through the first half of the race. You didn’t even check the results. You just… didn’t have it in you today. Then your phone rings. Carlos. You answer immediately.

“I’m ten minutes away,” he says. No hello. Just that. “Don’t freak out.”

“What do you mean—? Ten minutes away from what?”

“From you.”

You blink, shifting your daughter higher on your hip. “Wait, you’re here? In Ibiza?”

“Yup.”

“Carlos—”

“And I brought someone,” he says quickly, before you can ask. “Just—open the door when we knock, okay?”

He hangs up before you can respond. Your heart stutters. You glance down at your daughter, who’s now wide-eyed and babbling softly like she knows something’s about to change. Ten minutes later, there’s a knock on the door. You open it slowly—and freeze.

Carlos stands there in a hoodie and sunglasses, like someone wouldn’t immediately recognize the British Grand Prix winner anywhere in Europe. But you’re not looking at him. Not at first. Because behind him, standing quietly, holding a small white stuffed bunny in one hand and a bag slung over his shoulder, is Charles.

Your breath catches. “Charles?”

He offers the smallest smile. “I brought her a gift. I hope that’s okay.”

You blink down at the stuffed animal. It’s the exact one she lost at the airport three weeks ago. The one she cried about for two days. You never told anyone that.

Carlos clears his throat. “I figured she could use some normal faces. And, well. I told Charles everything.”

You’re quiet for a moment. Your daughter wriggles in your arms when she sees Charles, reaching slightly, recognizing him even after weeks. Your eyes sting.

“Yeah,” you whisper, stepping aside, voice caught in your throat. “Come in.”

They do. Charles’s hand brushes lightly against your back as he walks past you — not a touch that demands anything. Just… reassurance. You glance at him, and he offers nothing but warmth.

“I made coffee,” you murmur to Carlos. “And there’s wine.”

Carlos sighs, dropping his bag and hugging you tight. “Wine. Definitely wine.”

And Charles? He stands quietly in front of you and your daughter, holding the stuffed bunny out to her like an offering.

“Hi,” he says softly. “Missed you.”

She takes the bunny with both hands and smiles. So do you.

—

The villa is quieter now. Carlos disappeared into the guest room twenty minutes ago, your daughter tucked against his chest, already half-asleep. You could hear him humming her lullabies in Spanish, the way your father used to for the both of you. You step out onto the terrace, blanket wrapped around your shoulders, glass of wine in hand. The ocean’s just a dark line in the distance, moonlight skipping over it like silver threads. The cicadas sing. The air smells like salt and jasmine.

Charles is already out there. Sitting on one of the lounge chairs, hair still damp from the quick shower he took, hoodie unzipped, legs stretched out. He looks over when you slide the door shut behind you.

“She’s out?” he asks.

You nod, sinking into the chair beside him. “Carlos has magic uncle powers.”

Charles smiles at that. “I believe it.”

Silence stretches for a few seconds — but it’s not uncomfortable. Just peaceful. Like the two of you are breathing in the same kind of relief.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” you say quietly.

“I didn’t plan to,” he replies. “But when I saw how angry Carlos was… and how badly he wanted to check on you… I just knew I couldn’t stay behind.”

You glance at him. “You raced today.”

He shrugs. “I’ve raced tired before.”

“But not like this.”

Charles looks at you now. Fully. Gently. “You matter more.”

Your breath catches. He doesn’t flinch or look away. Doesn’t pretend he didn’t mean it. He just says it plainly, like it’s always been true.

You swallow. “It’s been a lot. Everything... It doesn’t stop, Charles. The internet. The rumors. Max’s lawyers. The press trying to bait a reaction out of me—”

“You don’t owe anyone anything,” he says. “Least of all him.”

You rest your head back, closing your eyes. “I know. But I still feel like I’m holding my breath.”

He’s quiet for a moment. You hear the soft clink of his wine glass being set down.

Then, gently: “Can I tell you something?”

You open your eyes.

“I was scared to come,” Charles admits. “Not because I didn’t want to. But because I didn’t know if I’d be crossing a line.”

You look at him.

“Charles…”

“I know you’re not ready for anything. And I’m not asking you to be. But I meant what I said — I care about you. I care about her. I didn’t come here because I want something. I came because I wanted to make sure you knew you’re not alone.”

Tears sting your eyes before you can stop them. You don’t say anything. Just reach out and place your hand over his on the armrest. It’s small. Barely anything. But his thumb brushes your knuckles, and that says everything. You sit there in silence, wrapped in the warmth of the night, the waves humming in the distance, the feeling of something steady blooming slowly between you.

—

yn_sainz

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, franciscagomes and 7,777,000 others.

yn_sainz : thankful for all these angels and blessings i have in my life. more from me soon<3 promise you.

tagged : charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and iamrebeccad

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—

twitter!

f1gossipgirls : YN SAINZ POSTS FIRST PHOTO DUMP SINCE SPLIT — CHARLES SPOTTED WITH HER DAUGHTER 👀 popstar yn sainz just broke her silence with a photo dump from ibiza, including a very cozy shot of charles leclerc holding her baby (!!). caption? "thankful for all these angels and blessings i have in my life. more from me soon<3 promise you."

yeah. the internet is NOT okay rn.

—

view replies.

username00 : the fact that she said “angels” and included carlos, the baby, rebecca and CHARLES???? that’s a family post. that’s a FAMILY.

username88 : i just know max opened instagram, saw that pic, and walked straight into a wall

username000 : she really said “i'm healing, i’m glowing, and he’s helping raise the baby you forgot existed.” iconic behavior.

username15 : her dropping this after weeks of silence like she didn’t just emotionally flatten everyone??? girl i’m on the FLOOR.

username17 : charles is not the rebound. charles is the healing arc. charles is the redemption story. charles is the HOME.

—

The smell of coffee and fresh bread pulls you out of sleep. You pad into the kitchen barefoot, wearing one of Carlos’s oversized Ferrari tees and your daughter balanced lazily on your hip. Her hair’s a mess of curls and dreams, her thumb in her mouth, her eyes already scanning the room.

Charles is standing at the stove. In sweatpants. No shirt. Just barefoot, sleepy, and completely at home — flipping pancakes with one hand while balancing a bottle of milk against his side.

Carlos is at the table, cutting strawberries. He glances up and grins. “Good morning, madre superiora.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t make me throw something at you.”

Before he can fire back, another voice chimes in from behind the island.

“Don’t encourage her, Carlos.”

You blink as Rebecca, your brother’s longtime girlfriend, emerges holding two mugs of coffee — somehow already fully dressed and glowing like she’s just stepped off a Vogue shoot. “Hey, mama.”

You laugh, caught off guard. “You’re here?”

“She landed late last night,” Carlos says, stealing a strawberry. “Didn’t want to wake you.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” Rebecca says, walking over to kiss your cheek. “And meet the little one. Finally.”

Your daughter reaches toward her without hesitation. Rebecca melts immediately.

“I made extra pancakes,” Charles says, glancing back at you. “Hope that’s okay.”

You smile sleepily, heart so full it aches. “More than okay.”

The five of you gather around the table — your daughter on Charles’s lap, sticky fingers reaching for fruit while he gently wipes her chin. Carlos buttering too much toast. Rebecca laughing at something dumb he says and stealing bites off his plate. There’s sunlight pouring through the windows, music playing softly in the background, plates passed around without question. It feels… right. Like this moment shouldn’t be rare. You sip your coffee and glance across the table. Charles is already looking at you. He doesn’t say anything. He just smiles, soft and quiet, like he’s exactly where he wants to be. And for the first time in weeks, you believe it.

—

It is quiet again. Rebecca and Carlos are in town picking up groceries. Your daughter’s asleep, finally settled after fighting her nap like a tiny warrior. The sky outside is streaked with pink and lavender, the last bits of sunlight trailing off over the sea. You’re on the floor of the living room, legs crossed, notebook open in your lap. Your guitar rests beside you, fingers tapping against the worn wood as you hum under your breath.

Charles sits on the couch behind you, legs stretched out, a book in his lap he hasn’t touched in half an hour. He’s been watching you. Not saying anything. Just listening. You scribble down another line, cross it out. Try again.

One thing about karma…

You pause. Sing it under your breath.

That bitch will find you.

You glance over your shoulder. “Too much?”

Charles shakes his head. “Not enough.”

You laugh — dry, soft, tired. “She’s… angry.”

“She should be.”

You look down at your lyrics again. The page is slowly filling. Not polished, not final, but raw. Real. Like something crawling out of your chest and finally, finally getting air.

Yeah, everyone's replaceable But not me, though You'll feel it deep down whenever you're alone You're livin' a lie if you're sayin' I'm wrong

You stop, throat catching. Charles speaks before you can spiral.

“I think that line’s going to wreck people.”

“Good.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then you ask, quieter, “Do you think he’ll hear it?”

Charles nods. “He’ll feel it.”

You blink quickly, swallowing the tightness building behind your ribs. “It’s not about revenge.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to hurt him, I just…” Your fingers curl around your pen. “I want him to feel it. To sit with what he did. To know that he broke something that didn’t deserve to be broken.”

Charles sets the book aside and leans forward, resting his arms on his knees, voice low and steady.

“He’s going to hear this song one night when he’s alone. Maybe in the back of a car. Maybe in his apartment. And it’s going to cut deeper than anything you could ever say out loud.”

You look at him. Really look.

“And what if I’m never over it?” you whisper.

Charles doesn’t flinch. “Then I’ll sit with you through every moment of it. For as long as it takes.”

Your chest aches at how easily he says it. How much he means it. You glance back at your notebook. Your handwriting’s getting sloppier — more urgent, more alive.

Hope you’re at least real with yourself...Karma comes ‘round knockin’ at your doorShe’s comin’ to collect, ‘cause karma won’t forget…

The pen taps against the page, the rhythm of your rage and heartbreak and healing all stitched into one. And when you start humming again — soft, deliberate, full of power — Charles doesn’t say a word. He just stays with you. And somehow, that makes all the difference.

—

several weeks later...

yn_sainz

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, yukitsunoda0511 and 11,000,000 others.

yn_sainz : that karma...she's a bitch you won't see coming. moral conscience is all yours my angels<3 love you all and remember to stay karmically intact. kisses xx

—

user has limited comments on this post.

yukitsunoda0511 : you've got that post divorce glow. i promise to stay karmically intact after this song (does shoving him off the track still count?) love you pooks

liked by yn_sainz

↳ yn_sainz : i feel like karma would forgive you, yukipie. love you my boyyyyy

liked by yukitsunoda0511

franciscagomes : you bodied this. physically. emotionally. spiritually.

liked by yn_sainz

alex_albon : lily has not stopped playing this since midnight...sigh...you ate mama

liked by yn_sainz and lilymhe

georgerussell63 : girl lets hold a "surviving max verstappen" seminar

liked by yn_sainz

↳ yn_sainz : we would both be there all damn day 💀

liked by georgerussell63

iamrebeccad : the most beautiful woman in the world. they will all regret crossing you, mi amor

liked by yn_sainz

charles_leclerc : 🌹🤍

liked by yn_sainz

carlossainz55 : so proud of you, mi vida<3

liked by yn_sainz

—

several weeks later...

f1gossipgirls (took me way too long to find a pic of max and charles where they look at least mildy tense...they are always so happy together and gay.)

10,00,000 likes.

f1gossipgirls : If you were wondering why the paddock felt ten degrees hotter this weekend, allow us to recap the absolute chaos that unfolded: Pop sensation YN Sainz made her official return to the paddock for the first time since her Moral Conscience drop — and she did not come quietly. She was photographed arriving in head to toe black, sharp sunglasses, and holding hands with none other than Charles Leclerc. She spent most of the afternoon laughing and walking with Lily Muni He, while Carlos played the world’s most protective big brother in the background. Meanwhile…Rumors swirled post-race of a heated exchange between Charles and Max Verstappen, who reportedly crossed paths in the Red Bull hospitality with zero smiles and maximum tension. And if that wasn’t enough...Later that night, YN and Charles were caught sharing a kiss behind the Ferrari motorhome, completely oblivious to the cameras — or maybe not caring at all. YN Sainz is back. With a vengeance. And in couture.

—

The paddock is buzzing long before you arrive. People know. They don’t say it — not out loud — but the tension is in the air like static. A few paddock photographers shift on their feet, ready. Social media managers hover by the entrance like lions with camera rolls open. And then the gates part. First, it's Charles. Red Ferrari polo, sunglasses, hair pushed back like he didn’t try but definitely did. Calm. Poised. Steady. Then you. All black. Silk blouse tucked into tailored trousers. Designer sunglasses. Statement earrings. A subtle red lip. Your heels click against the pavement like punctuation — not hurried, not performative. Just confident. Controlled.

Your fingers are laced with his. You don’t say anything. You don’t need to. You walk beside him like you’ve always belonged there. And maybe you have. Carlos is the first to greet you — waiting near the Ferrari hospitality, arms crossed, brow raised, he hugs you. Hard.

“Please tell me you didn’t wear black because you planned to kill someone,” he mutters in Spanish.

You smirk. “No promises.”

Charles chuckles beside you, but there’s tension in his shoulders. He can feel the eyes. The whispers. He doesn’t care about the noise — but he does care about you.

“I’m okay,” you murmur to him, as if reading his mind. “Let them look.”

And look they do. You pass Lily and Alex first — both of them giving you knowing smiles and whispered greetings. Then the photographers flash again. Then a Red Bull mechanic walks straight into a stack of tires because he’s too busy staring. But it isn’t until you cross into Red Bull territory that you feel it. The silence. Max is standing a few feet away — suit half-zipped, water bottle in hand. And for a second, everything slows. His gaze flicks to your hand in Charles’s. Then your outfit. Then your face.

He doesn’t say anything. Just lifts his chin slightly. The same way he used to when he wanted control. Power. But today, you don’t flinch. You don’t even stop walking. Charles squeezes your hand. You squeeze back. And just like that, you disappear into the Ferrari garage — the door sliding shut behind you like a final, satisfying period at the end of a chapter long overdue.

—

You’re seated on the pit wall steps, reviewing Ferrari timing sheets and sipping a smoothie, when you hear his voice.

“Can we talk?”

You look up — and there he is. Max.

You don’t stand. You don’t invite him to sit. “I’m busy.”

He ignores it, stepping closer.

“I just want to understand what’s going on. With Charles. With her.”

Your chest tightens.

“You had months to understand what was going on,” you reply coolly. “Now it’s not your business anymore.”

“She’s my daughter,” he says sharply. “It’s always going to be my business.”

Your voice stays even. “You haven’t asked about her once since February. You haven’t seen her in person in almost five months.”

“I’ve been racing. Travelling.”

“So have I. And Charles. And Carlos. But we show up.”

He flinches. His jaw ticks. “You’re parading her around with Leclerc like he’s—”

“Like he’s what?” you snap, standing now. “Like he’s present? Like he’s kind? Like he knows her favorite bedtime song and how she takes her bottle when she’s teething?”

He goes quiet.

“I’m filing for full custody,” he says suddenly.

You blink.

“I’m not going to let you turn her against me.”

“Max,” you say, voice steel under silk, “no one has to turn her against you. She’ll grow up and see what she needs to. I won’t say a word. I don’t have to.”

He opens his mouth, but doesn’t get the chance to speak again. Because Charles is walking over from the Ferrari garage — already tense, already reading your face.

“Everything okay?” he asks, stepping between you and Max.

“She’s fine,” Max mutters. “For now.”

Charles doesn’t blink. “You should leave.”

Max scoffs. “You’re not her lawyer, Charles.”

“No,” he says quietly, “I’m the one she trusts.”

Max stares at him. But he backs off. For now.

—

The race is over. Max P2. Charles P3. But neither of them are thinking about champagne. Charles finds him in the post-race cool-down room — alone, toweling sweat off his face.

“You really want to go to court?” Charles says, calm but sharp.

Max doesn’t even look surprised. “It’s not about you.”

“No,” Charles agrees. “It’s about her. And the baby you haven’t bothered to see. You don’t want custody. You want control.”

Max’s mouth hardens. “You think you’re better than me?”

“No,” Charles says, stepping closer. “I know I am. Because I’d never walk away from someone I love and then try to drag her back just because she found better.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know she cried herself to sleep for months. I know she had to play popstar and mother and survivor all at once. And I know that every single day you chose to ignore that.”

Max swallows.

Charles leans in just enough. “If you try to hurt her again — legally or otherwise — I will fight. Not on the track. Not for a title. For her. And I never lose when I’m fighting for something real.”

And with that, he turns and walks away.

—

The house is still. Your daughter is asleep down the hall. Carlos and Rebecca are staying the night again, curled up in the guest room with old movies playing low. The windows are open, letting the sea breeze drift in, warm and weightless.

You’re in the kitchen, standing barefoot at the sink, rinsing out her bottle, letting the silence settle around you. Charles steps in quietly, freshly showered, hair damp, wearing one of your brother’s hoodies. His eyes find you instantly.

“You okay?” he asks softly.

You nod, but don’t look up. “I heard what you said to Max.”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak right away.

“I wasn’t trying to cause more drama,” he murmurs. “I just… couldn’t let him talk to you like that. Not after everything.”

You turn slowly, finally facing him. “You didn’t cause anything.”

He leans back against the counter, watching you. Carefully. Gently.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say. “You didn’t owe me anything.”

Charles’s brow furrows. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true,” you whisper.

“No, it’s not.” He steps forward. “I don’t owe you anything. But I love you. And that means I’ll protect you — not because I have to, but because I want to.”

The words hit you like soft thunder. Familiar, terrifying, safe.

“You love me?” you ask, voice barely there.

He nods. No hesitation.

You blink fast, heart racing. “I don’t know if I’m ready to say it back.”

“You don’t have to,” he says gently. “I’m not in a rush. I just need you to know where I stand.”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes burning.

“I felt… held today,” you say after a pause. “Not just protected. Seen. Heard. It’s been a long time since I felt that way.”

Charles steps even closer, hands finding your waist.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says. “Whether you’re sad or strong or angry or radiant or terrified. I’ll be there for all of it.”

Your hands move to his chest, fingers clutching at the fabric of his hoodie like you need something to hold onto.

And then, softly — so quietly you’re not sure he hears it:

“I think I’m starting to love you too.”

He smiles. Not smug. Not surprised. Just warm. Infinite.

He leans down, forehead resting against yours. “We’ll take our time.”

And under the hush of night and the whisper of waves outside, you finally kiss him — slow, deep, full of everything you don’t yet have the words for. But he understands. He always does.

—

2 months later...

f1gossipgirls

8,100,009 others.

f1gossipgirls : Pop star YN Sainz and Max Verstappen faced off in court today over custody of their 1½-year-old daughter — and let’s just say the entrances alone told a story: YN arrived hand in hand with Charles Leclerc, who has not only been consistently present in the baby’s life for months (see: weekly IG story cameos and those now-iconic zoo day photos), but looked like he belonged beside her in every way. Calm. Solid. Unshakable. YN was also backed by her brother Carlos Sainz and his girlfriend Rebecca Donaldson, both of whom walked in arm-in-arm with her, radiating “try us” energy. Max Verstappen, meanwhile, arrived with Kelly Piquet — which... bold move? Sources say the courtroom tension was palpable, especially when Leclerc reportedly refused to acknowledge either of them inside. And the verdict? YN was granted full legal custody. Sources say Max is “furious,” but insiders insist there was never much of a case on his side. All we’re saying is… karma might wear Prada. And a Ferrari polo.

—

The courtroom is cold — painfully bright and unforgiving. You sit straight-backed in your chair, hands folded in your lap. Not shaking. Not hiding. You wore black again. Not for mourning — for armor. Your daughter is at home with your Mama and Papa, safe and smiling. She doesn’t know what today is. She just knows her mama kissed her four times before leaving and promised pancakes when she came back.

Charles is beside you. He hasn’t let go of your hand since you walked in. Carlos and Rebecca sit directly behind you, arms crossed, jaw tight. Carlos hasn’t blinked in fifteen minutes. He doesn’t need to testify. His presence says enough.

On the opposite side of the courtroom, Max sits with his lawyer. Kelly’s behind him, sunglasses still on indoors. He doesn’t look at you. Not even once.

The judge glances over the papers in front of her.

“Miss Sainz, you’re requesting full legal custody. Sole decision-making rights.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” you answer, voice steady.

The opposing lawyer stands.

“Your Honor, Mr. Verstappen simply wants to be involved. He is willing to discuss joint custody arrangements, but he feels he’s being pushed out of his daughter’s life.”

You speak before your attorney can respond.

“With respect, Your Honor,” you say clearly, “he hasn’t seen his daughter in person since February. He missed her first steps. Her first full sentence. Her first fever. He didn’t ask about any of it.”

Max shifts but doesn’t look at you.

You go on. “I never once denied him access. Not through the breakup. Not through the media storm. I kept the door open. I waited. And he chose not to walk through it.”

Your voice wavers — just once — but Charles squeezes your hand, and you steady again.

“I’ve been her sole caregiver. I’ve built her routine. I know her allergies. I know her laugh. I know the exact song that calms her down when she’s scared. And none of that is because I locked anyone out. It’s because no one showed up.”

The room is silent. Even the judge stops writing.

“Why now?” she asks gently. “Why fight for her now?”

Max speaks, finally. “Because I’m her father.”

You turn to face him. “Then where were you when she cried for one?”

The judge takes a breath. Her decision is swift.

"Full legal custody awarded to Ms. Sainz. Supervised visitation may be discussed upon demonstration of consistency and parental responsibility."

Max doesn’t react. He just blinks. You thank the judge quietly. And when you turn to Charles, he pulls your hand to his lips — kisses your knuckles, reverent and proud. Carlos exhales behind you, finally. Like he hasn’t breathed all morning. And as you walk out — head high, shoulders strong, the woman the world tried to break — you don’t look back. You never have to again.

—

The house is quiet when you get home. The baby is asleep on the couch in her favorite position — arms splayed like a starfish, one sock missing, soft cartoon lullabies humming from the TV. Mama left a note on the kitchen counter: She’s been an angel. We’ll give you some space. You’ve got this. Love you.

You stand there for a moment, just staring at her. She looks so peaceful. So untouched by the weight of the day. She doesn’t know what happened in that courtroom — how close things came to unraveling. How hard you fought. How close you were to breaking. And maybe that’s the point. You fought so she’d never have to know.

Behind you, Charles sets your bag down quietly, then comes to stand beside you. He doesn’t say anything. He just brushes his hand against your back, warm and grounding. You finally exhale. And suddenly — your knees buckle. He catches you instantly.

You don’t sob. It’s not loud or dramatic. It’s the kind of cry that lives in your chest for weeks. Quiet, exhausted, relieved. You curl into his hoodie, your hands gripping the fabric like it’s the only thing tethering you to the floor.

“I didn’t realize how scared I was,” you whisper, voice cracking. “Until she said it. Until the judge actually said I could keep her safe.”

Charles wraps his arms around you tighter, one hand cradling the back of your head. “You were never going to lose her.”

“I know,” you murmur. “But I kept thinking… what if he lies better than I tell the truth?”

“You didn’t have to lie,” he says softly. “You just had to show up. And you did. Every day. She’s yours. Always was.”

You look up at him, eyes red but full of something softer now. Something steadier.

“And you,” you say, voice low. “Thank you for—”

He stops you with a gentle shake of his head. “You don’t have to thank me. Loving you both? That’s not something I do for you. That’s just… who I am now.”

The baby stirs softly on the couch, letting out a tiny squeak before rolling onto her side and settling again. You and Charles both turn to look at her.

“She looks like you when she sleeps,” he says with a crooked smile.

You sniff, laughing through it. “Terrifying.”

“Beautiful,” he corrects.

You lean into his chest again, heartbeat slowly settling. The sun is streaming through the windows. Outside, the world might still be loud. Messy. Cruel. But here — in this quiet corner of your life — it’s just you, your daughter, and the man who never once let go of your hand. And for the first time in forever, you feel completely safe.

—

The villa is quiet, bathed in golden lamplight. Your daughter is asleep in her room, dreaming in soft babbles, the monitor humming gently on the kitchen counter. Charles is sitting on the floor of the living room, legs stretched out, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows as he sips tea and scrolls through his phone. He doesn’t notice you right away when you come in — carrying your laptop, a pair of headphones, and a nervous sort of calm in your chest.

You sit beside him and tuck your knees under you.

“I have something,” you say softly, “I want you to hear.”

He puts his phone down immediately, giving you his full attention. You hand him the headphones, then open the laptop and press play. He slides them on. You don’t watch the screen. You watch him. The intro is soft — strings, and then your voice, humming lightly. Not polished. Not perfect. But real. And the lyrics are the kind that make your throat close up even now.

When you smiled at me, something changed in my brain chemistry…A love felt infinitely, was my heart’s remedy…

Charles’s lashes lower as he listens, mouth parting slightly, hands clasped around the mug. You can see it in his face when the chorus hits.

Heaven on earth may fade away, but you and I are forever to stay in love…I don’t care about much anymore, it’s just us…

His lips curve — not into a smile, exactly. Something softer. Something felt. The kind of expression he only makes when he's looking at your daughter. Or you. The second verse plays and you look down, fingers knotting in your lap.

You wrote this album with no filter. You didn’t think about radio play or critics or charts. You just thought about them. The way your daughter clings to Charles when she’s sleepy. The way he runs his fingers through her hair while she babbles about nothing.

The way he looked at you that night in court when everything was falling and he stood steady anyway. When the track ends, Charles pulls the headphones off slowly, eyes glassy.

“You wrote that?” he says quietly.

You nod, biting your lip.

“For us?”

You smile. “It’s the first track. The whole album’s about you two.”

He sets the headphones down and cups your jaw gently, thumbs brushing the corners of your mouth.

“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve this,” he whispers.

“You showed up,” you say. “When no one else did. You didn’t try to save me — you just loved me until I remembered how to save myself.”

He kisses you then — slow and reverent. Like he knows you’re giving him your heart in more than just melody. And when he pulls back, his voice is rough and full.

“I want the world to hear that.”

“They will,” you say softly. “But I wanted you to be the first.”

The baby monitor crackles — a soft whimper, then silence. Charles leans forward, eyes still locked on yours.

“I can get her,” he offers.

But you shake your head and climb to your feet.

“She wants both of us.”

And as you both walk down the hallway — bare feet, tangled fingers, new music humming quietly from the laptop — you know now, more than ever: It’s just you. It’s just him. It’s just love. And it’s forever.

—

yn_sainz

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, lilymhe and 14,008,003 others.

yn_sainz : had to learn to rearrange my mind and be in peace <333 my new album for : you will be released on 10/16. the birthday of both my soulmates. charles, thank you for loving me when i felt unlovable and loving my angel like she is your own. you have been too good to us. i love you both more than anything in this world. my perfect little fam :)

tagged : charles_leclerc

—

user has limited the amount of comments on this post.

charles_leclerc : you both saved me right back. je t’aime, always.

liked by yn_sainz

alex_albon : crying, throwing up, screaming… and also requesting track 3 early

liked by yn_sainz

↳ yn_sainz : you and lily need to come over for early access listening party!!

liked by lilymhe and alex_albon

↳ lilymhe : ON MY WAYYYYYY

liked by yn_sainz

lando : both born on 10/16?? okay the universe shipped this.

liked by yn_sainz and charles_leclerc

lewishamilton : love like this is what makes the world feel soft again. congratulations, angel.

liked by yn_sainz and charles_leclerc

carlossainz55 : this post made me cry. happy now?

liked by yn_sainz and charles_leclerc

arthur_leclerc : you’re telling me i grew up with this man and he ends up the muse?? wild.

liked by yn_sainz and charles_leclerc

—

[neeeooon]

Hellooo! It's my first time ever asking a request like this 😅 Could you write headcannons for blue lock boys, how they would react to when "bridesmaids giving the groom sexy Polaroids of the bride throughout the night" like the trend in tiktok!! I'm curious about Barou, reo, rin, and yukimiya 👀 but you are welcome to add others as well!! Hehehe thanks!!

YES i’m sorry for the wait I HOPE YOU ENJOY 🤍

when your bridesmaids give them sexy polaroids

husband bllk x fem!reader. suggestive

barou shouei

-> he’s breaking a sweat after photo two and loosening his tie by photo three

-> protects those half-naked photos of you like it’s his only duty on this earth. will bite anyone’s hand off if they so much as breathe in his direction when he receives another polaroid of you

-> when you waltz over to your new husband, wrapping yourself around him in newlywed glee, it takes more restraint than he’s used to to keep his hands from wandering. especially in front of your friends and family

-> “you know exactly what you’re doing to me with these little photos, don’t you?” you give him an innocent look and kiss the lobe of his ear. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.. ;)”

mikage reo

-> eyes threaten to pop out of his head when your bridesmaid subtly slides a polaroid in front of him. a polaroid of you in a very inappropriate manner

-> when he catches your eye and sees you wink, he knows he’s in for a treat

-> has half a mind to call the reception off early so he can have you all to himself, but this is your wedding night, and he wants it to be perfect for you

-> turns out, he’s not the only one thinking this way. when you appear at his side, dragging him to the parking lot like teenagers sneaking out, you tell him that you asked your bridesmaids to stall for the remainder of the party before locking the car doors and hopping into his lap

itoshi rin

-> you’re acting nonchalant, trying to feign innocence about the explicit photos you and your bridesmaids took for your husband, but he misunderstands your innocence as ignorance

-> gently pulls you aside after receiving the first photo. “y/n, i know you love your friends, but…” and he gives you the photo. “i don’t want vulnerable photos of you being spread around on our wedding day.”

-> you find his concern adorable and decorate his cheeks with lipstick-covered kisses. “aw, honey! it was a surprise gift for you, no one else has seen them.”

-> he flushes bright pink at that. “oh.” “thank you for protecting me, though.” “um, you’re welcome.”

yukimiya kenyu

-> it’s a slow descend into madness for gentlemanly yukimiya

-> literally chokes on his champagne when he receives the first polaroid from your bridesmaid. she hands it over so coyly, like she doesn’t know she’s holding his demise in her hands

-> he’s all tight smiles throughout the night. cannot keep his eyes to himself, and thankfully people think it’s only because he’s admiring his new wife. while that’s mostly true, he’s mentally mapping out the shape of you beneath that dress

-> “ken?” “hm? yeah?” you give his thigh a gentle squeeze beneath the table and lean close so that your lips are near his ear. “you’re staring.” “sorry, darling. it’s hard not to with those images of you printed in my brain.”

[berryzoey]

yippeee the blog is made!! i love the green you chose, very aesthetic :D

could i perhaps request the saja boys having a crush on their makeup artist? i feel like because Mystery would only need to get his lips and lower half of his face done, he’d contemplate messing it up so he can spend more time in your chair but at the same time he doesn’t want to mess up your work and risk annoying you so he’d just stand next to your chair like 🧍🏻.

tysm <33

- 🎧

HEELS, NAILS, BLADE, MASCARA

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : the saja boys with a crush on their makeup artist

𝐚/𝐧 : yay! thank you, green is my favorite color! this is so cute shehesj, mystery’s was the most fun to write here but baby and romance too ngl. i see romance as tamaki from ohshc hehe. please enjoy! :)

𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐔

“Jinu, just the guy I wanted to see!” You smiled, impatiently pushing him into your chair. The new shipment of products had just arrived that morning, eagerly waiting to be used to paint a pretty picture on a person's face. Jinu was going to be just that. “Oh, really?” He tested, laying his limbs on the arms of the chair.

As you used your box cutter to open the package, you giggled with excitement. “Yes, of course! There’s a new product I wanted to try on you.” You chatted, squealing with happiness as you gazed upon your new products. Receiving the latest material was always exciting, it meant new ideas and of course, more time with your favorite client.

Carefully, you took hold of the man’s shoulders. “Now, hold still and don’t move.” You said, or more like demanded, with a serious look in your eyes.

Then, you began to apply the product to his eye with your brush. With his other eye, he tried to sneak a peek of what exactly you were doing. “Don’t look in the mirror either!” You gasped, covering his eyes with your hand.

“Okay, okay.”

A few moments passed as you prettied him up, generously applying each product with care. “There we go!”

His eyes quickly opened, running a hand along his cheek. A crimson red was spread on his eyelids, blending nicely with the darkness of his liner. “You were right, this looks fantastic.” He whispered.

You gripped the back of his chair, admiring your work in the mirror. Though, you supposed Jinu deserved some credit. He was quite pretty all on his own. “Aren’t I? You look handsome, like a prince of darkness.”

“A prince of darkness…” He muttered under his breath, then thankfully smiled at you. “Thank you, [Name].”

“Of course, it’s my duty, isn’t it?”

───

𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐘

Your day had been unusually stressful; several of your best artists had called out sick, your shipment of new products hadn’t arrived yet, and a certain member of the group was being more feisty than usual. The cherry on top was that you had arrived late to the concert preparations, despite being told a completely different time than the true one. A feeling of anxiety was churning in your gut, and you nearly had to step out for a moment to catch your breath.

You loved your job more than anything, but it did have its moments. There were times when you doubted your skill or your expertise in the area, just as anyone would experience. But, it remained in the back of your mind; waiting, festering. Were you truly the most suited candidate as the makeup artist of the Saja Boys? Was it pity that brought you here? You didn’t know. A burning sensation was felt in your eyes as tears welled up; were you really going to cry here?

But, to your luck, an angel sat in your chair.

And before you knew it, you were laughing and smiling like nothing had been bothering you.

A giggle left your lips as you lightly patted an amber shadow onto the muscular man’s eyelids. “No way Romance actually did that!” You chortled, trying your best to stay steady as you worked your magic.

The man tried to hold back his own laughter, yet failed to do so. “But he did, that’s the crazy part!” He wheezed.

As you reached over to rummage through your brushes, Abby kept a watchful eye on you. “I knew he was the type to be a fool in love, but I didn’t think he’d actually buy doves, put them in a top hat, and then send them flying directly at the girl.” You scoffed, finally finding the smaller tipped brush you needed.

“To be fair, I don’t think he really thought it through.”

“Does he ever do that anyway?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow as you carefully traced the perimeter of his eye with liner.

He couldn’t help but crack up.

Another fit of giggles was shared between the two of you. From just a simple interaction, your mood had already skyrocketed into one shining like the sun. “Thanks for making me laugh, Abby. I really needed this.” You sighed, setting your pencil back in its designated spot.

“Anytime.”

There was no hesitation in his voice, only the truth. He would see you again and make you laugh with the same joy and fervor. Only you would be the one to bring out his beauty with your brush strokes.

An assuring pat was given on his back, “Now, you go show off out there, you deserve it.” You smiled, hoping soon he would be back to tell you more ridiculous stories.

And oh, would he.

───

𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

“My beloved makeup artist!” He sang, eagerly rushing to sit in your faux leather chair. A sigh left you, of course he would be the first to sit in your chair. If he didn’t, he would just argue with the other boys till they let him go first. It was odd, you don’t remember doing anything necessarily extravagant for him aside from doing your job and doing it well. According to Jinu, the pink haired man looked at you like you hung the stars.

You didn’t see it, but whatever made the poor guy happy.

“Hello to you too, Romance.”

His eyes followed you as you grabbed your eyeshadow pallet, one specifically meant for him. Some time ago, you had told him that it was practically made for him. Now, he had his own he used every day at home. “I missed you, darling! When you were gone on vacation last week I thought I was going to lose my mind.” He whined as he threw his head back over the chair.

An eyebrow raised towards him, “And why would that be?”

With a wave of his hand, he feigned a faint, placing the back of his hand against his forehead. “Oh, the person who took over for you was very rough with their brush and nearly took my eye out with an eyeliner pencil. It hurt, my heart and my soul…” He explained as you gave him a deadpan expression.

Romance was one to keep up the dramatics, on stage or off. If he wasn’t a theater kid in a past life, then you’re the Queen. “Aw, I’m sorry that happened. The manager seriously needs to work on hiring better people.” You complained, and you weren’t lying. There were some shady people that you worked with.

As he dreamily gazed at you, hearts were practically fluttering around him as you lightly brushed his cheeks with a soft blush. “I knew you would understand!” He praised as he clasped his hands together in his lap, “You totally get me.”

A gentle pat was given to his shoulder, and it immediately shut him up. “Sure, pretty boy. Now, get up on that stage and knock em’ dead.”

You touched him? Oh my god you touched him, you touched his shoulder. If he didn’t have to keep up appearances, his demon marks would be glowing as brightly as the morning sun. “Pretty boy”, you meant it right? You had to, why would you lie to him? I mean, he knows he’s pretty but it has to be true if you say so, right?

Just before he left his seat, he turned to check himself out in the mirror. “You could definitely slice someone with how sharp this liner is!” He gasped, running a cupped hand along his jaw.

The grin on his face would be enough to send one of his fans into shock. “It’s a 10/10 for me!”

A soft smile couldn’t help but curl on your face. As dramatic and loud as the idol could be, he was a sweetheart.

───

𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐘

“Are you okay, hon? You’ve been standing here for a while.” An expression of concern was present on your face as you prepped Baby’s skin for his foundation. This was a pattern you had noticed in the last few weeks.

Mystery had been standing there next to your chair for 30 minutes, well past the amount of time needed for his routine. Only the lower half of his face was due for makeup, a task that took half the amount of time as the other boys needed. The silver haired boy only needed his lips and foundation done along with a little blush, and oh how tempted he was to smudge it so you could gently hold his jaw in place.

He, however, was too sweet to do that. A feeling of guilt would haunt him if he ruined your lovely job.

“Is something wrong?” Your voice broke him away from his thoughts, giving him an expectant look. A light flush rose to his cheeks, his hair hiding the hearts in his eyes. “Uh-” He stammered as he wrung his hands, trying to hide the nervous feeling in his gut.

“Is your makeup smudged?” You insisted, inching closer to his face to check for smears.

“No-”

“Then why are you standing here like a lost puppy?”

Once again, he didn’t respond. Only stood there, flustered beyond belief from your attention.

Then suddenly, you gasped. “I see, so you wanted to watch me do Baby’s makeup?” You smiled, happy that someone was interested in your skills.

Without missing a beat, he nodded. It was the only way he was going to get out of this without combusting into flames, and the boy sitting in your chair was not believing one bit of it. Mystery was so obvious that anyone with eyes could see that he was utterly infatuated with you, yet you couldn’t see it.

Your obliviousness and Mystery’s hesitance was going to make the other boys go mad.

A gentle touch was placed on the older boys arm, guiding him to stand on the other side of you. “Well, of course you can! But, don’t ya have to be on stage in about 2 minutes?”

“This is just sad, dude.” Baby muttered, earning a glare from the older member of the group.

───

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘

“Baby, this is the third time I’ve redone your lip combo…” You groaned, clenching your fists at your sides, trying your best not to lose your cool. The idol merely continued to smudge the products on his lips with his lollipop, observing your reaction with an intent stare. Almost like he was waiting for you to dare and apply another round of product on his lips.

He was just going to ruin it again, and have you redo it over, again.

You knew he was doing it to mess with you, a nefarious reason behind it or not. It was frustrating, it was almost like he enjoyed messing with you. No, you were sure that was the case. Even Romance didn’t do something rude such as ruining your hard work, he was decent enough to not do it. Baby, however, was not one to shy away from actions such as this.

The man didn’t respond to you, still he stared at you with that unreadable expression of his. It was always hard to tell what he was thinking. “Nothing to say?” You jeered, your tone telling of your lack of patience.

Once again, no response.

A sigh left you, this was getting old. “I’m starting to think you might be doing this just because you like me.” You joked, now applying his lip gloss.

“And what if I do?”

A shocked expression took over your features, finding it hard to believe he actually uttered those words. Baby? Really? Saying that to you? Never heard of, in fact, what alternate universe were you in right now? “I guess that wouldn’t be a bad thing?” You murmured, questioning the fact if this was real.

“See you next time then, darling makeup artist.” He smirked as he rose from his chair, poking your cheek as he did so.

An exasperated sigh was released as soon as he left the chair. “I swear with that guy…”

He hadn’t even let you finish fixing up his lips.

@𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐳𝐨𝐞𝐲 °❀.ೃ࿔ - please do not translate or plagiarize my works.

[elijawrites]

Request - Would you nsfw huntr/x x reader where the reader gets to be a pillow princess?

OURS — huntr/x & f!reader

ft. huntr/x (mira, rumi, zoey) & f!yn, mentions of zb1

warnings. please DON’T read if you’re a minor, nsfw ahead. this is post-movie, meaning you all already know about rumi’s secret. again, this is 18+ so please don’t read this if you’re a minor. ok that’s all thank u read well

an. this is erm my first time writing smut so !! yes i apologize if it’s not good 🫦

The new rookie group that just recently debuted sat next to you guys— and you were stuck in between two male idols, Han Bin and Ji-woong. You smile, wave, and hand out photocard after photocard. You’re trying to focus—trust me you really are but your thighs are pressed tight, and the vibrator buried inside you is all you can focus on.

Across the table, Mira, Zoey, and Rumi sat. Zoey sitting next to Ricky, Rumi next to Gyu-vi, and Mira next to Gun-wook— You don’t have to look at them to feel them. Especially when the vibration suddenly goes higher, just as Han Bin leans in a little too close to ask you about your favorite snack.

”Ah-“ You almost let out a whimper as you drop a pen.

“Oh,” He says with concern, picking up the pen you dropped. You just hoped he wouldn’t notice how flustered you looked. “Everything okay, noona?”

You nod, “Yes, I’m fine. My hand just cramped” You excused, cheeks flushed, legs squeezed so tight it aches. The vibrator pulses against your walls again, this time, faster. Damn it these girls would be the death of you. You wondered who had the remote, but you just knew they were passing it around each other like it was a piece of paper.

You’re wrecked by the time the fan sign ends. The moment you step through the door, Zoey grabs you by the wrist and pulls you into the bedroom. “Zoey—!” You squealed, and not even halfway in, Mira was already behind you, undressing your lower clothes, tugging down your underwear—with the vibrator still inside.

“Poor baby,” she murmurs against your shoulder, voice soft, fingers gentle. “You held on so well. Did they see how pretty you looked when we made you shake?”

You whimpered.

Rumi steps in, calm as ever, her gaze burning. She plucks the remote from her jacket pocket and clicks. The vibe goes from slow to rapidly brutal in half a second.

“Oh—” You drop to your knees.

“That’s better,” Mira purrs, thumb stroking your chin. “Open.”

You obey—mouth open, thighs trembling, hands clenching the carpet below you as she puts a gag around your mouth. You won’t be walking again any time soon, you knew that much

Zoey pulls your legs open wide and settles between them, tongue exploring your entire lower half. “Mh, Zoey—“ You moaned, the sound being muffled by the cloth over your mouth. Rumi kisses down your neck, ”We won’t stop until the only thought that comes to your mind is our names.”

You cry out when Mira presses her hand flat against your stomach, holding you down as the vibrator keeps vibrating so damn fast.

“Don’t cum yet,” Mira says. “You’ll wait until we say you can.”

“Mff—!” You whined in protest, the sound still muffled by the gag.

Zoey pulls back, her lips glistening with your essence, smirking. “You want to cum? Beg.”

Cruel. They were so cruel. You couldn’t talk with the cloth stopping you— let alone beg.

“You were clinging to those stupid boys earlier hm?” Mira says coldly, taking out the vibrator and replacing it with a finger instead. “But now you remember who you actually belong to.”

“Mh yours,” you gasp, “Only yours—please, please let me—!” you say despite knowing that they probably can’t hear you because it was all muffled.

The three of them. Around you. Inside you

Rumi takes the vibrator from Mira, and puts it against your clit, making you scream out loud. “Rumi— ngh”

They make you wait until you’re sobbing. Then they take turns letting you fall apart—over and over—until your voice is gone and your thighs are soaked and trembling, and your body is on fire and they know that you know that you were theirs.

After hours of .. torture, they finally let you rest. Covered with blankets like a burrito. Rumi kisses your temple. “Still want to flirt with boys?”

You shake your head weakly.

“Good girl,” Zoey hums.

Mira holds the vibrator and it’s remote up again with a soft, evil smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep this close.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst”

an. okay guys this sucks bye ALSO THIS REQUEST WAS ALMOST A MONTH AGO im sorry omfg this took so long

[moonstruckme]

hi mae you mentioned new girl au asks and so i have arrived!

i've lived alone most of my adult life and while i'm content pretty much all of the time, there is a specific situation where i've wished i had roommates.

it's those days where i've fucked up at work or a friend is mad at me and I miss the bus and have to wait in the rain without an umbrella, and I get home to a completely empty and cold apartment and just start sobbing as soon as i get through the door. during those days i feel like the most pathetic girl in the world and really just wish i could text my roommates to make extra food or turn on a heated blanket or just like, offer a hug lol.

i would love to see how the marauders would react to their new roommate on a shitty day like that, if you feel like writing it <3

Thank you lovely <3

roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

It’s all you can do to make it inside. Your throat has been tight the entire last two blocks to your building; your eyes start to burn in the elevator, small puddles of rainwater forming beneath your shoes. By the time you’re fitting your key into the lock, you know you won’t make it to your room. You only hope that no one is home to witness your upset. 

Of course, with three flatmates who all have incredibly varying schedules, that is never the case. 

“Hey!” says James, not immediately visible but evidently having heard the door. “Do you wanna come say something to Mr. Palmer? We’re trying to make him believe in ghosts.” 

You look into his room as you pass by. James is lying stomach-down on his bed above a heating vent situated low in the wall. His smile is all mischievous anticipation. When he looks up at your approach, it falters. 

“You alright?” 

“Who’s Mr. Palmer?” you ask. 

“He’s…” James blinks, sitting up. “He lives below us. Hey, are you okay?” 

You shrug pathetically, pressing your lips together as your eyes burn even more furiously. You take a step back, retreating automatically to your room, but James frowns and opens his arms, beckoning you towards him. It’s too tempting an offer to pass up. 

“What happened?” he asks, rubbing your back. He hugs you like you’ve known each other for years, unreserved in his touching. “You’re soaked, babe.” 

You give a little laugh. “I know.” 

“Did you walk in the rain the whole way to your interview?” 

“I got kinda wet on the way there, then bombed it, then missed the bus coming home.” 

James makes a sympathetic noise. “Why didn’t you just get the tube? Or call one of us to come get you?” 

Your heart warms at the thought that one of your flatmates would have left the flat and taken their own public transportation just to bring you home. “My phone died.” 

“Oh.” James rubs your back again. “I’m sorry, babe. That’s tough luck.” 

You sniffle. You feel bad for crying into the shoulder of this boy who you really only met recently, but the hug actually is helping. You feel half as anxious as you had when you came in, though nothing really has changed. James must just give really good hugs. 

You look over your shoulder when you hear footsteps approaching. Like James, the impishness in Sirius’ expression dies when he sees you. “Good god.” He lowers the plastic recorder he’s carrying. “What happened to you? You’re soaked.” 

What is it with these boys and stating the obvious?

“I know,” you say, using the butt of your palm to wipe your face, “thanks.” 

“James, what’ve you done to her?”

“It wasn’t me!” James holds up his hands. “It was the weather. And the TfL.” 

“Well get the poor thing a towel!” Sirius tosses the recorder onto the bed, stalking from the room. “Christ, I have to do everything around here.” 

You eye the recorder. “Why did he bring…?” 

“We were trying to make Mr. Palmer think he’s hearing ghosts,” James explains. “Thought woodwinds might add to the effect. Do you want tea?” 

Tea, you’ve learned, is how your flatmates sometimes refer to dinner. Most of the time this sounds far preferable to you than the actual beverage. 

“I could eat,” you say. 

“Can’t believe you didn’t leave a trail of water from the door,” says Sirius, returning with a towel. “Here.” 

You take it, not keen on admitting how you wrung the moisture from the ends of your hair before entering the building. Too humiliating. 

You allow James to shepherd you into the kitchen, where Remus is busy with something on the stove. His brow creases with concern at the state of you. 

“Hi,” he says. 

“She missed the bus,” James explains succinctly. 

Remus frowns. “Oh, that’s shit. How did your interview go?” 

Your throat contracts all over again. You try to keep your mouth from wobbling. “Not very good,” you say quietly. 

“I’m sure it was better than you thought,” says James. 

Remus hums his agreement. “I’m making pasta. Would you like any?” 

“But I…” You clear your throat, trying not to seem too pathetic. “I didn’t pay for any of the groceries.” 

He tsks. “Don’t worry about that. Would you like some?” 

James nudges you towards a chair beside the one Sirius has already taken. “Um,” you hesitate, “sure, please. Thank you.” 

Sirius smirks. “And people say the English are overly polite.” 

You don’t speak much. You aren’t in a mood for talking, and Sirius and James do well enough to fill the silence anyways. They don’t seem to mind letting you mope, though after a while their chatter does lighten your mood some. They’re just so at home with each other, it’s difficult to be around them and not feel like you’re home too. 

“Thanks,” you murmur when Remus brings you a plate. 

He sets a hand on top of your head, a brief solace. “Don’t mention it.” 

The more familiar you become with English accents, the more distinct Remus’ sounds to you. You can hear it in his vowels sometimes, the way he says news or orange, the soft lilt when you try to help him in the kitchen and he tells you to sit down, love. You wonder if he’s from a different area than James and Sirius. You’ll have to ask him sometime. 

“Can I ask for something ridiculous?” you say. 

Sirius raises an eyebrow at you. “You’re always being some degree of ridiculous,” he drawls, in the sort of tone you’ve only recently learned to recognize as teasing, “so why stop now.” 

“Is it, like, treasonous to ask to have actual tea with your tea?” 

James looks delighted. “You want tea?” 

You squirm, oddly sheepish. “It sounds sort of comforting, I guess.” 

He hops up, kissing the top of your head enthusiastically as he goes for the kettle. “We’ll make a Brit out of you yet.” 

[godjustkys]

oh my god dude you're gonna LOVE newt hes so insanely cute.. thinking abt childhood best friends to lovers with him and learning how to navigate a relationship and then sex... both reader and newt nervously stumbling over eachother in bed trying to figure out what feels good for eachother.. getting to fuck him nice and slow while he tries not to ramble and bring up random creature-related stuff he thinks of.. kissing his freckles and checking in every 2 seconds because!!! hes so!!! ANYWAYS i feel you probably get it by now but have fun watching the movies.. they're so fire

SYPNOSIS: gentle (clumsy) sex with your nerdy boyfriend

CHARACTER: male reader x newt scamander

NOTE: for the life of me, i swear i couldn’t figure out how the fuck to write reader awkward. I TRIED.

p.s. requests are always open!!

WC: 1.3k

WARNING: both reader and newt are awkward as hell,, soft, gentle sex,, worried!reader,, fingering,, spit as lube,,

you had known newt scamander since the two of you were small boys sneaking dragon-scale beetle wings into potions class and pretending you weren’t secretly terrified of boggarts. hogwarts had come and gone, and though most people drifted apart, you and newt never did. maybe it was the way he talked about creatures like they were people. or maybe it was the way he looked at you like you were one of a kind.

even after the war, after the travels and letters and long silences that weren’t really silence at all.. you found your way back to each other.

you had known him forever. but kissing him for the first time on a rainy tuesday, both of you shivering in soaked coats and awkward laughter, that was new. Being in love with him — that was new.

newt’s back hit the mattress with a soft whumph, curls haloed around his head, lips pink and already kiss-bruised. his vest had been tossed somewhere in the corner, his shirt hanging open, and chest rising and falling like he’d just sprinted through a storm. you slowly kissed down his jaw, his throat, his collarbone; pausing at every freckle like you had all the time in the world to learn him by heart. “i feel like my mind’s going to split in half,” he whispered, voice thin and wavering. “I keep thinking about— about— bloody mooncalves and whether this is normal for—” you smiled against his chest. “you can talk about mooncalves later.” newt let out a helpless sort of laugh that turned into a shaky gasp when your hand slid down his chest, fingers grazing the trail of hair below his navel. his thighs tensed, and you paused again, looking up to meet his eyes. “you, uh, okay?”

“yes- yes, mhm.” he got out, blinking excessively as he stared at you. it didn’t take long for you to strip him, and yourself, so now here he laid beneath you, in all his glory. when you finally touched newt, fully, his hips jerked like he’d been struck with lightning, head tipping back into the pillow. he was already so hard, leaking at the tip, and the warmth of your hand coaxing him into a slow rhythm had him trembling. your name spilled from his lips and for the first time ever, you felt like your name was holy. the way he sounded lit a fire within you, and he just kept spurring you on, feeding that flame. you stroked him slowly, lazily, still unsure if he liked it, but it was just enough to keep him gasping, flushed and twitching under you. “feel good?” you muttered softly, a small bit of anxiety washing over you as you waited for the answer. “uh-huh, uh-huh—” newt rambled out, his fingers clenching in the sheets. then you decided to experiment, pressing your thumb to the slit of his cock, and he made a sound that was practically a whimper, one hand flying to cover his mouth.

“you’re— ah— very good at that,” he breathed. you let out a small, appreciative chuckle, kissing the crease where his hip met thigh. “you make it.. easy.” by the time you slicked your fingers, newt was so worked up he was trembling, continuing to grab at the sheets like he was about to fall off the edge of the world. easing a finger in, he gasped soundlessly, thighs tensing. he felt as if the silence was stifling, so his eyes darted to the side. “i’ve uhm- read a few things,” he muttered, ears going red. “some diagrams. diagrams are very helpful.” you smiled, nuzzling under his jaw. “i’d rather explore the subject.. hands-on.” he made a sound, half laugh, half gasp when your lips pressed to the soft spot under his ear. “oh..” newt just muttered, staring at the ceiling wide eyed. you started thrusting your finger in and out, slowly, letting him adjust. he did his best to keep his breath even, focusing so hard that he almost started dissociating.

when you eased another finger in to prep him properly (you didn’t really know what you were doing, you were too worried), he made a panicked little noise like he had just startled a hippogriff. you curled your fingers, experimentally once again, watching newt’s face intently. “OH— I— I— fuck,” he squeaked, voice cracking. “merlin, don’t stop— please— i’ll name a niffler after you—” your eyes lit up at his tone. so that felt good. curling your fingers again, newt mewled helplessly, arching his back when you added a third one. “oh bugger,” he gasped. “it’s a bit- bit strange— like, ah, being filled..? i don’t think that makes any sense, i’m sorry—”

after a bit more prepping, you slowly lined the tip of your cock to newt’s hole. you didn’t push in, just looked at him. “you- you’re ready, right? you sure you’re okay?” you asked softly, fingers just brushing against the inside of his wrist. he nodded quickly, a little too fast. “yes— yes, I just— er— this is rather uncharted territory for me.” you smiled softly in response, keeping your composure. “for me too.” when you pressed in and pushed your cock half way in, newt was writhing, and rambling. “did you know— uhm, some nifflers purr when you stroke just under their ears?” he said, breath hitching when you kissed the spot below his jaw. “i’ll make sure to keep that in mind.” you breathed out, sinking in the rest of the way, both of you gasping like you were coming apart at the seams.

he was so tight, his gummy walls sucking you in, clenching around you tightly, his breath catching in his throat, mouth open but silent. you froze. “okay?” you asked, barely holding on. “mhm,” he hummed lowly, face scrunched up. “just— slow..” you kissed his lips as you started to move, keeping the rhythm unhurried, every thrust deep and smooth. newt clung to you, legs wrapped around your waist, hips shifting to meet you every time you sank back into him. and god, he felt so good. every little gasp, every moan, every time he said your name like he couldn’t believe this was real. you kissed along his jaw, whispered how good he felt, how beautiful he looked like this. you kept rolling your hips, slow and deep, dragging yourself out and pressing back in again until newt was shaking, his words tumbling out in a mess of half-formed thoughts. “this is— better than mating dances— those are very involved, some creatures take hours to— ah..— don’t laugh, I’m trying to stay— haah!— intellectual about— oh bloody hell, right there..” you captured his lips in a sloppy yet tender kiss, your thrusts steady, slow, filling him again and again until all he could do was gasp and moan, fingers digging into your back. he huffed softly, chest heaving, clearly trying not to preen. “suppose some creatures present similarly when breeding... fire-crabs, for example, often arch their backs and— nghhgg!—” newt cut himself off. at first you thought something was wrong. “newt? too much?” you murmured softly. “there— hell- again, again.” he urged you in a desperate tone, clutching you closer. your cock prodded at his prostate again and he was blissed out. a couple moments later of that same deep, steady rhythm, he came untouched, crying out your name, his cock spilling between your stomachs, body clenching so tightly around you that it dragged your orgasm out of you too — deep, hot, spilling inside him as you groaned his name into his mouth. you collapsed over him, panting, bodies slick with sweat, completely tangled. “that was—” he began, voice hoarse. “astounding,” you finished for him, brushing sweaty curls off his forehead.

“i.. was going to say impossibly filthy, but yes. that too.”

© godjustkys ©

[drafts-and-delusions]

Are request open?

If so, could ask for a Saiki K.! Reader x Saja boys. Like her overly joyful friends take her to the meet and greet and she is just reading their minds like “wtf why do you hate me? You’re literally a demon.” And they get together, the end! (I’m joshing; you don’t have to write the ending like that. But this idea would be very cool!!)

Psychic at The Fanmeet

Tags: psychic!reader, telepathy, crack fic, dry humor

i literally did not know what to do with this but i found the concept interesting. also, i didnt include the overly joyful friends much bc saiki prefers doing his own thing.

🎀 Masterlist  💄 Request Guidelines

You did not want to be here.

The folding chairs were plastic. The air-conditioning was questionable. The banner above the table said SAJA BOYS FAN MEET!!! And your friends were bouncing in their seats like caffeinated squirrels.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna cry if Jinu looks at me,” one whispers.

“Abby’s so hot when he doesn’t smile,” another swoons.

Meanwhile, you’re just trying to survive. Because unlike the other hundred fans packed into this cramped, echoey function hall, you can hear thoughts.

All of them.

Which, in this case, means every person in this room sounds like a badly tuned radio full of thirst comments, intrusive thoughts, and the occasional “did I leave the oven on?” looping in surround sound.

The chaos is deafening. But then, the Saja Boys walk in.

The screaming is immediate. Your friends are grabbing your arms like you’re being sacrificed to gods, squealing like it’s 2014 and One Direction just got back together. You, however, just lean back in your creaky chair and have no choice but to listen.

JINU: "I hope this is over quick. I can already feel my fake smile twitching."

ROMANCE: "Three more hours of pretending to flirt with mortals. Lovely."

MYSTERY: "Don’t make eye contact. Don’t sniff anyone. Don’t eat anyone."

ABBY: "Cute. Too bad they’re all humans. I’d love to break their necks."

BABY: "Bet half of these girls would sell their souls just to sit on my lap. Pathetic."

You blink.

Wait.

Demons? THEY’RE DEMONS?!

You sit up straight, stunned, heart thudding with the realization. You knew something was off. their energy was always too smooth, too sharp, but this? This was something you never could have expected. It was ridiculous.

You glance at your friends. They’re too busy clutching their merch and screaming over a non-human boy band that you have just uncovered an S-grade scandal.

You stared at the boys. They were already seated; polished, picture-perfect, smiling like every eyelash flutter had been choreographed in advance.

Fakers. All of them.

So, naturally, when it was finally your turn to approach the meet-and-greet table, you did the only reasonable thing a girl like you could do.

You smiled politely.

And spoke directly into their heads.

Jinu was first. He greeted you with a prince-like smile, soft and practiced. “Hi, thanks for coming.”

"Do you rehearse that smile in the mirror, or is it just set to default?"

His expression twitched. Just barely. His smile faltered for half a second before he blinked and glanced around like someone had dropped a ghost in the room.

Aloud, you said, “Thanks for your hard work.”

Another blink. Jinu looked rattled.

You move to Romance.

He grins, leaning forward like he’s about to make your entire bloodline swoon. “Hey, sweetheart.”

"You smell like ego and overpriced cologne."

His eye twitches. He recovers fast, but you see the crack.

Aloud, you murmur, “You’re really charming in person.”

“Do they teach that at Demon Idol Academy, or are you just naturally unbearable?”

Romance coughs once and stares at the table like it personally offended him.

Mystery is next.

He doesn’t speak. Just offers you a silent nod and an intense stare.

"You’re the worst at hiding it, by the way."

His eyes widen slightly.

Aloud, you say sweetly, “Your stage presence is really cool.”

"But you literally tried to attack someone last month, didn't you?"

Mystery jerks so violently that his chair squeaks.

Abby gave you a lazy smirk. “You having fun, gorgeous?”

"Oh, you’re the worst one."

His smirk wavered.

"You were literally fantasizing about neck-snapping ten minutes ago. That’s rude."

His mouth opened, then closed. Was that shame? Disbelief? The five stages of grief?

You smiled. “Big fan of your dancing.”

"But not a fan of your mental slideshow. You need therapy."

Last was Baby.

He leaned forward with twinkling eyes, like he already knew all your secrets. “Hi there.”

"You’re trying to make me squirm. It’s not working."

He blinked, thrown off.

“Cute sweater,” you said out loud.

"Do they come in man-child sizes, or did you special order them?"

Baby let out a soft, startled laugh. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. But he wasn't sure what to say or do, especially in front of an audience.

You tilted your head. “Yeah. I can hear you. Yes, all of you. No, I won’t tell anyone.”

You paused.

“Yet.”

Now, five demon boys were staring at you. Silent, exposed. Like the masks slipped mid-performance, and someone finally saw their real faces.

Your friends wave you over from the side, oblivious.

You wave back, but not before waving at the demons like a fan waving goodbye shyly.

“Smile, boys. You’re still on stage.”

Your friends pounced the second you returned to your seat.

“So? How was it?” one asked, grabbing your arm.

“Did you have fun?” another chimed in, practically vibrating.

You sat down, still feeling the weight of five burning stares drilling into the back of your head.

“They’re still looking at you,” someone whispered. “Like, hard. Why are they looking at you like that?”

You shrugged, tugging the blanket of normalcy back over your shoulders.

“No clue,” you said, popping a gummy snack into your mouth like you hadn’t just verbally suplexed a demon boy band. “Guess I just made an impression.”

[kdh-tally]

Hello!! Love your posts about Kpop Demon Hunters and you made me release my full fangirling, you saved me from feeling empty tbh. Can I request Huntrix and Saja boys meeting their future children while Baby being the Godfather of the all the ships children. Abby x Mira x Romance had 3 kids, two boys and 1 girl, same thing as Mystery x Zoey but their boys are twins. While Jinu x Rumi have one girl and one boy. Thank you!!

Prompt : Huntr/x and the Saja Boys meet their kids from the future...

Author's Note : I really enjoyed writing this one!!! I made a whole chart with names and ages and personalities and everything. Hope you enjoyed!

The group was lounging in the practice room. Bobby, who was also temporarily managing the Saja Boys till they found a proper manager, had forced both groups to take a break. He was fully encouraging of their eagerness to perform, some more than others, but wanted them to relax.

Zoey and Romance were lounging on Derpy, the tiger, as they watched Mira and Baby play an oddly competitive game of uno, something Baby had gotten increasingly good at. Abby sat beside Mira, telling her what colours to place down and Mystery laid half-asleep on the couch. 

Rumi sat cuddled into Jinu’s chest as they watched some silly youtube compilation off his phone. All was peaceful, until Jinu tensed and shot up. Everyone now looked up to him.

“Something is wrong,” he muttered as he looked up to the ceiling. 

Baby raised an eyebrow. “You sure you’re not just being paranoid dude?”

Jinu didn’t even get the chance to answer before a rip opened in the ceilings. With unexplainable speed, the girls had summoned their weapons, eyes strictly focused on the mysterious–and possibly galactical–tear. The boys had also activated their powers, fingers sharp and eyes glowing as they waited.

Suddenly, a huge group of people dropped through the tear, it closed up right after. “What the-” Mira whispered as they surrounded the group of… kids?

The kids scrambled upright, shrieking and elbowing one another as they tried to get out of the pile.

“GET OFF MY FOOT!!”

“WHO TOUCHED MY HAIR?!”

“Did we just fall out of a portal?”

A girl who looked a little too much like Zoey blinked around the room, eyes wide, she quickly summoned two glassy but obviously durable metal hand held fans. The boy next to her, one of a pair of twins, suddenly pointed at Mystery. “Okay. Okay. That guy looks like dad but more emo.”

“You say that like it helps us understand the situation,” the other twin muttered, he was kinda hiding behind his older sister.

Everyone just stared. No one moved. Then the Mira-look alike stepped forward, arms crossed as her eyes assessed the room. “This is not the penthouse.” Her eyes narrowed at the group of adults in fighting stances. She summoned her own weapon, an iridescent coloured staff, in case a fight broke out.

“Tell us something we don’t know,” said the other pink haired child, summoning glassy red boxing gloves around his hands. A deadpanned look on his face.

Zoey finally blinked, breaking the silence. “Okay. Who dropped eight random children here and why can they make hunter weapons?” She glared specifically at the ‘retired’ demon boys.

“Don’t look at us,” Romance said, hands up before pointing right at Jinu. “He was the most powerful one out of us four.”

Baby stood up, retracting his claws and casually grabbing his juice box (it was a new chili flavour specifically made for him). “Quick question. Who here thinks they may have possibly created life in the future and now it’s come back to haunt them?”

Silence.

Another girl, one with short purple hair and an oversized hoodie, groaned in annoyance, “We were finally having a sleep over…” she pulled out the dual katanas that formed behind her back.

The boy next to Abby narrowed his eyes. “Wait. You look like one of my—” His voice trailed off as he pointed between Abby and Romance. “Oh my god. Wait. That’s them.” He pointed at Mira. “And her.”

“What do you mean, them?” the other pink haired boy asked, dropping his fists, the gloves dissipating into a bunch of familiar string waves as he moved closer to the look-alike. 

“Yea what do you mean us?” Romance echoed, voice pitching high. “OH WAIT YOU MEAN ALL THREE OF US-” he dropped to the ground, jaw dropped as it clicked.

The girl rolled her eyes, realizing there was no danger and releasing her staff back into the air. “Well yeah, obviously. You three argue like co-parents.”

Abby swore he was going to faint.

—

They tried to regroup. Tried.

Huntr/x and the Saja boys sat on one side of the practice room while the kids remained on the other. Derpy nuzzled closer to the group of small humans as happy as could be. He especially took a liking to the purple haired duo that sat on the floor.

The kids weren’t panicking, but they were wide-eyed and stressed. Everyone except the twins. One of them had already sat down next to Zoey without asking, playing with her glass blades (and comparing them with his) as she fussed over them in worry. The other had cornered Mystery (who was still half-asleep), simply staring at him in silence while his sister played with his hair happily.

“Okay,” Rumi said slowly, dragging a stool into the middle of the room like a teacher mid-breakdown. “Does anyone know what could have happened?”

“Last thing I remember,” the girl with Rumi’s eyes spoke, weapon still in hand as she was a bit untrusting, “Noa and I were in our parent’s penthouse. The kids were in the living room and I left to grab something from my room then everything kinda glitched and I fell on a bunch of legs.”

“Yep,” the Abby-looking boy said. “I thought Elio and Noa were just lagging out of reality. But now I think it was the universe.” He said as he sat beside his siblings. His twin must have been Elio and sister was Noa.

Romance raised his hand, only speaking when Rumi pointed at him. “So none of you time travelled on purpose?”

“No!” the kids chorused.

Jinu looked to Rumi. “Nothing changed with the Honmoon right? No crazy new magic?” She shook her head, confirming that nothing had changed. "So what's going on?"

“Someone did something stupid and didn’t tell me,” Baby groaned, pulling out a clipboard from who knows where. “Now, until we figure this out, we treat this like a quarantine. No touching anything magical or trying to fix it yourself. And for the hatred of Gwi-ma don’t trauma bond.”

“Too late,” muttered one of the twins, already curled up beside Mystery like a house cat. Mystery looked like he was actively trying to dissolve into the couch. He was going to have kids with ZOEY??.

Zoey touched her daughter's hair, just lightly, and her hands trembled as the teenage girl leaned into her touch. “This is real,” she whispered. “She’s gonna be real.”

“And so are the stress lines forming on your forehead,” Baby interrupted. Zoey didn’t even have the heart to insult him back. He strutted to the center of the room, pushing Rumi away and into Jinu’s arms.

“Children, all of you get in line and share your names. That will hopefully make this less confusing,” Baby mumbled as he tried to rub the ache out of his head.

The children, funny enough, quickly obeyed. The pink trio stood at the front of everyone. “I think it’s kind of obvious whose kids we are,” the younger of the two boys, Elio, said.

His sister nodded before pointing at each of them. “This is Kai, he’s 14,” to the Abby-lookalike, “this one’s Elio, he’s 11,” to the younger boy who looked exactly like Romance (the one with the boxing gloves), “and I’m Noa, their older sister and the oldest kid here.” She had her arms crossed over her chest as she stood protectively before all the kids. She obviously took Mira’s protective spirit.

"Only by 10 minutes" Zoey's daughter pouted from where she stood by her twin brothers. Romance looked as though he could cry, a wobbly smile on his face as he sat between Mira and Abby.

The next three, who basically had to be dragged away from their parents, stepped in front of her. “I’m Riven. 14.” One of the twins, the more affectionate but calm one introduced.

“Sora,” The girl beamed, clearly taking after her mom. “I’m 17 and the second oldest.”

“Vince. Also 14.” The silent one waved, hand gripping deadly onto his older twin-brother’s.

“That’s our mom,” Sora smiled as she pointed right at Zoey. "And that's our Dad," she pointed right at mystery who was still in shock.

The last two finally stood. The older one, a girl with short purple hair took in a nervous breath. “I’m Linae, Rumi and Jinu’s kid. And this is-”

“Asa!!!!!” the young toddler yelled loudly. The group winced, covering their ears as his magically powered voice rang through the room. That was Rumi and Jinu’s kid alright. 

“Yea, this is Asa. He’s 3,” Linae laughed softly before picking her baby brother up and placing him on her waist. “I’m 17, third oldest by like 20 minutes,” she nodded to both Sora and Noa.

“He takes after you,” Rumi said immediately to Jinu who looked offended. The group couldn’t help but stare at their apparent children from the future. All proof that they shared something deeper than just crushes. 

“Damn,” Baby laughed. He thought he got away, could be free to chill and travel on his own. Suddenly, all 8 kids turned to him, with Asa running up to cling onto his pants leg. 

“Uncle Baby,” the child cooed, signaling for the man to pick him up. Baby looked to Rumi, the child's mom, and she just shrugged. “I can’t believe this.” He mumbled before picking the child up.

“Okay!” Mira clapped her hands once, the sound echoing a little too loudly across the tension-filled practice room. “We’re gonna go have a private adult meeting. Don’t touch anything, don’t summon your weapons and don’t summon any more children.”

“Do we look like we can summon children?” Kai sassed.

“You don’t talk to your mom like that-” Abby scoffed as he eyed the small child.

“Are you and Kai gonna fight again Uncle Abby?…” Vince said flatly, already poking through Mystery’s phone without permission. He knew the password after watching his dad do it multiple times.

Zoey ripped it out of his hands. “Okay—NO.” She looked around at the rest of the kids, eyes remaining longer on her kids before sighing. “We’ll just be gone for a minute.”

Baby unwillingly handed the small child back to his sister. Rumi turned to Linae and Asa. “Watch your brother.”

“I always do mom,” Linae gave her a reassuring smile before immediately picking Asa up and sitting him on top of Derpy.

“We’ll be fine,” Noa said, arms crossed. “Go panic. It’s fine.”

And panic they did.

—

The hallway outside the practice room was dimly lit, lined with water bottles, yoga mats and benches. All eight members of Huntr/x and Saja Boys stood in a loose, silent circle. Well, all except Baby, who sat cross-legged on the floor like he was watching a comedy.

Nobody said anything.

Abby kept glancing at Mira. Romance was fidgeting with the drawstrings of his hoodie like they were a stress toy. Mystery, finally fully awake, was staring into an empty abyss. Zoey had her head in her hands. 

Jinu was blinking at the wall. He was going to have children. Two absolutely beautiful children with Rumi. And Rumi? Rumi looked calm, which made everyone else more nervous.

“Okay,” Baby said at last. “Who’s gonna be brave and say what we’re all thinking?”

“...This shouldn't be possible,” Zoey whispered, eyes wide and still. “I—I mean. We should’ve been busy. There’s been demon hunting, schedules, concerts. When did we even… do the thing?”

Romance coughed loudly. “Technically you don’t need that much time—”

Mira smacked him on the head.

“I think I’m having a stroke,” Abby muttered. “I have a mini me.”

"And he's just as stuck up," Romance snickered.

“Guys,” Jinu finally said, very slowly. “We have children. Named children.”

“One of mine had katanas,” Rumi smirked somewhat proudly.

“You mean one of ours,” Jinu corrected her, a light blush on his face.

Mystery finally spoke. “It was like looking into a three way mirror.” He thought of the twin boys and how they looked exactly like him, Vince copying his hairstyle as well. He thought of Sora, the energetic bundle of sunshine that almost rivaled Zoey’s excitement.

“I didn’t even know you wanted children,” Zoey mumbled before looking right at him. “Do you want kids?”

“Of course he does, you guys have three,” Baby deadpanned.

“Shut UP,” everyone shouted in unison. He took a sip of his juice box, smug.

Rumi leaned closer to Jinu, hands intertwining. “It’s not like it’s the worst thing. I mean, clearly we’re alive in the future. We’re together. We all did something right.”

“But how?” Zoey asked again. “When did we get together? I don’t even remember kissing him—”

Mystery choked.

Abby looked at her. “You kissed him???”

“I said I don’t remember—!”

“I didn’t even know I was part of a—whatever this is!” Romance shouted as he motioned between him and the other pinkettes. “I thought we were just flirtatious! I thought we were playing the long game!”

Mira crossed her arms. “If this is the long game, we lost. Badly.”

“I’m happy we lost. Have you seen our kids?” Abby scoffed.

Baby raised his hand. “In addition to Rumi’s point, you all got insanely attractive future kids with cool weapons and distinct personalities. Could’ve been worse.”

“They call you uncle,” Rumi reminded him.

“They should! I’m awesome,” Baby replied. “And I’m the only one not tweaking out right now. Just saying.” he shrugged. Everyone glared at him but Baby just smiled.

Then, silence again.

This time, it was Abby who broke it. “I think we all need to talk. Not just about those kids, but about…” He gestured vaguely in the air. “Us.”

“I’m not emotionally prepared for this conversation,” Zoey muttered, moving closer to Mystery. “I need snacks or a nap or a hug or maybe all three.”

“We’re clearly together in the future,” Jinu added carefully. “So maybe that means we stop pretending we don’t feel what we feel now.”

Mystery looked down. Romance looked away. Mira closed her eyes for a momeny too long.

Then, Baby stood up and dusted off his pants. “Well, as your emotionally well-adjusted godparent-slash-honorary single uncle, I say you should all grow up and kiss already.”

Everyone threw something at him.

—

Back inside the practice room, the kids were playing Uno. Again. Riven was winning. Elio was cheating.

Elio looked up from his cards. “Think they’re fighting in the hallway?”

“No,” Noa said confidently. “They’re just being dumb. Like usual.”

Linae nodded from where she sat on the couch, Asa snuggled on her chest as he slept. “Should we help?”

“Not until they figure it out,” Vince muttered. “They gotta suffer a little.”

Kai smirked. “Kinda like we did when we fell from a portal and none of them caught us?”

Sora giggled. “Exactly.”

Kai slapped down a +4. “Uno! I WIN”

[rinsnumber1fan]

first time requestingg

kinda boring, but could you write about a fic about bllk boys catching their girlfriend(y/n) changing, like her being half-naked, what would their reaction be? (Obviously include: Rin, Sae, Isagi, Nagi and others if you’d like) HELP THIS SOUNDS BORING BUT DONT JUDGE

GOTTA SHOOT MY SHOT

DO IT WHENEVER YOU CAN, NOT FORCINGG, LOVE YOUR FICS THO, IM YOUR NEW FAN AND I LITERALLY READ ALL OF THOSE FICS IN ONE DAY AND I WAS GIGGLING SO MUCHH, KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK

UGH THANK U FOR THIS REQQQ 💞💞💞💞💞

when they walk in on you changing...

Featuring: itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishero, isagi yoichi

Itoshi rin:

The door creaked shut as you turned back on your heel to change into the dress your pretty boyfriend bought for you. Examining it, an excited smirk formed on your lips, I can't wait to try this dress out!!! >.<

You took your blouse off, tossing it away on your bed and stretching, admiring your frame secretly in the mirror infront of you, "while I'm at it might as well change bras too" you said to yourself mostly as you unhooked it from the back and placed it down with your other pile of clothes.

Glancing at the mirror one last time you held out the new piece of cloth in your hands. And then..

".......wh-"

Your head shot in the direction where you heard a sound that wasn't yours. You blinked, once, twice. And Rin stood at your doorstep, eyes wide, jaw dropped.

You knew he got a bit embarrased when it comes to things like this so you grinned and tilted your head as if asking him what was up? He shut the door HARD. Slammed it and you were sure he ran away somewhere so he doesn't have to face you again.

Nagi Seishero:

You were mid way changing your clothes, and then the door opened up slowly...

You turned your head fast, "N-nagi!?? WAIT DONT COME IN IM CHANG--" He comes in anyways. He shamelessly glances at your half naked body and blinks slowly.

He silently and slowly grabs his phone and steps back outside like nothing ever happened but when he returned outside?

His cheeks flushed up slightly, "this feeling.. is such a hassle..."

Isagi Yoichi:

You 1threw your top far far away from your body, unhooking your bra in the process, "this heat.." you groaned to yourself. "IS GONNA BE THE DEATH OF ME!!" You announced, laying down bare other than a pair of shorts which counted as an underwear.

Isagi who was waiting outside was startled by the scream and quickly ran in to check, "are you okay-"

He finds you laying down right underneath the full speed fan and air conditioner on 16, completely almost bare. You couldn't careless at the moment. You were too hot right now.

"It's too hot, yoichi! I need some sort of like portable air conditioner!!" Youchi coughed, cheeks turning red as he slammed the door shut.

"Huh?! HEY yoichi!! Did you just ignore me?!" You sat up straight, boobs bouncing in the process, that's when you realized..

"Oh... that's why.."

"I-ILL ORDER A PORTABLE FAN IF YOU LIKE!!!" He yelled through the door voice carrying embarrassment.

Itoshi sae:

After your first date with sae, you leaned your back against the door of his guest room, you needed an emotional recharge after the sick eye contact and subtle flirting. You never thought sae would've been this direct!

It was midnight and you didn't have a ride so he offered you to spend the night at his place on different rooms of course. He lend you the guest room.

You sighed to yourself, eyes darting on the exchange of clothes he left you to deal with for the night. You began to undress yourself.

Sae, forgotten he had a precious guest over swung the guest room door open and stopped in his tracks. Eyes wide as you turned back to face him. "s- I- I thought i--!!" He slams the door shut again.

He leans his back against the door, heart bumping in his chest, eyes half lidded as he bit the inner space of his cheekbones.

"....im sorry..." He murmured through the door, obviously embarrased.

guys... SORRY FOR JOT POSTIJG IN SO LONG 😝😝😝😝 I was in my tired e1ra and I still am but like I wanna write now I have moti0vatioj so lolwiwiiw83

[dcxdpdabbles]

Does Menace Danny have a favorite pastime?

Clark is reassigned against his will to cover another story about the Waynes. This time, Perry had to fight tooth and nail to get a exclusive interview with the eldest Wayne child, and if Clark messed it up, he could kiss any dreams of writing on the front page goodbye.

Despite the difficulty in securing it, it was a simple piece. If anything, it was less journalism and more tabloid gossip since the topic of the article was going to be Fenton-Wayne's hobbies and the Meet the Star theme.

Perry wanted Clark to dig further and find out if the young man was willing to give any details away about his new Heir Apparent status or his love life. He didn't fulfill out state it, but Clark could read between the lines.

He wouldn't pry because Clark hated gossip on a good day, and trying to trick a child into giving him gossip to make money off made him down right evil.

Perry was just going to have to be disappointed that Clark was too boring to get his meaning. It helped that Bruce Wayne was unwilling to let any other reporter cover the stroy, so Perry couldn't send one of his less straight lace reporters.

"You're back." The voice is low, nearly a whisper but with a steel that has every hair on Clark's body raise. Its not the sound of someone cowering, but rather someone about to pounce a victim.

He whips around to find Daniel Fenton-Wayne standing in the ajar door, staring at him with a tense bleak set of blue eyes. They don't quite glow, but they stand out in the darkness surrounding the boy and give the impression of spotting a predator waiting to attack in the long grass.

Clark has always been told his eyes were unnaturally blue, thats why he hid them behind such tick glasses design to make him appear as bug eyed as possible.

If people noticed the strangeness of his irises, they would just dismiss it to his glasses, magnifying his eyes.

He almost wants to share the tip with Fenton-Wayne but holds back. "Yes. I'm going to be doing your interview today. It's good to see you again."

"Bruce won't be joining us." The boy states, not moving closer. Half his face is hidden by the shadows, and were Clark a regular human, he wouldn't have been able to make out his moving lips. "It's will be just us."

"If you prefer to have your guardian or another trusted adult present for the interview, I don't mind coming back at a later date." Clark offers instantly watching the boy's face twitch. He attemps a disarming smile, but it only causes Fenton-Wayne's expression to flatter into an impassive one that rings warning bells in Clark's head.

"No. I can handle being alone. Can you?" The boy tilts his head slightly "Follow me."

Clark scrambles after the child, grabbing his bag. He has to pretend to stumble into a low table since the boy hadn't bothered to turn on the lights of the windowless hallway. They go further into Wayne Manor at a brisk fast pace without a word, though. Clark notices Fenton-Wayne glancing at him every once in awhile over his shoulder.

"Bruce said you were going to write about teenager hobbies and wanted to ask me questions about mine," the boy says in that same near whisper speech.

The pair stop before a large door without warning. It stands out for the green fairy lights hung on the doorframes, painting the hallway in an errie glow.

Clark's mind jumps to horror moives, especially with the light disoriented instrumental music playing that he can hear through the thick double doors. Against sense, he grows a little uneasy as Fenton-Wayne's large blue eyes train on his face, looking horrifyingly more blue in the green light the boy is bathed in.

"Um yes thats right." Clark coughs, shifting his feet. "I- what do you do for fun?"

"I make dolls of my classmates." Fenton-Wayne rasps,"and then I set them on fire."

Oh.

" I made one of you." The boy continues hand on the door handle. He starts to turn it slowly, but not once does he remove his gaze from Clark's, pinning him in place with his intense stare. "It can cry."

Oh.

Clark throws a wild look at the door, almost unsure if he wants the boy to open it. "W-why would you make a doll of me?"

Fenton Wayne's smile is more of a baring of teeth as he finally pushes the heavy door open. The wood groans heavily as it swings open, echoing around the sound of Clark's heartbeat in his ears. When it swings open, it reveals an equally dark room, but this one has a projector throwing a spectacular display of the Milky Way swirling on the ceiling.

Drapes were strung all over the room, and small twinkling purple lights were woven behind the clothes of a few, creating a path to a lone circular table in the center.

Unlike the door's green glow, these lights bathe the room in various blues and purples, drawing Clark's eyes to the dolls on the wall-to-wall shelves. They seemed made of yarn, with detailed clothes and sweet little smiles. Clark would almost call them cute if it weren't for the fact that he could see a replica of himself sitting on the shelves and a very telling voice box sewn into it once he activates his e-ray vision.

"Amigurumi," Fenton-Wayne remarks, making his way to the Clark doll. He gently lifts it up from the shelf, stopping to adjust a display next to it.

Clark is horrified to realize that the display is a replica of a class photo, complete with little bleachers and a sign declaring the year and school name. The twenty dolls are organized in the same positions as the life models shown in the frame photo next to them.

"What?"

"It's the type of doll I make—amigurumi. My hobby is crocheting amigurumi figures, and this little guy is you," Fenton-Wayne said, pressing the little button on the box. In an instant, the room fills with weeping interrupted by broken breathing, as if the doll were choking on its tears.

"That's the sound you'll make when I set you on fire for sleeping with my Dad." Fenton-Wayne places the doll on the center table, admiring it like a proud father. He then reaches under the table and pulls out a deck of cards, shuffling them without a care that the Clark-Doll has fallen silent. "I also dabble in cartomancy, with the help of ghost cards. Would you like to learn how you die? I'm hoping it has something to do with flames."

Clark gets his article, but when Perry complains about not having any gossip-worthy material, he slams the sobbing doll on his desk and then leans in to demand time off. His boss grants it the moment Clark starts retelling his fortune-telling session.

Perry also grew uneasy when Clark pressed the play option on his tape recorder, and Fenton-Wayne's raspy whisper blares in the otherwise silent office. "Clockwork's tower upside down, Pandora's box ripped open, and the three of Pariah Dark's artifacts. Do you see the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep? It means you will likely succumb to fatal wounds. Pity, it doesn't look like fire will be the cause. Now I'll never know if the crying audio was close to the real thing."

As Clark heads home to enjoy his paid time off, he wonders again how someone as dizzy and well-meaning as Mr. Wyane could wind up with a creepy little kid like Fenton-Wayne.

[kxsagi]

heyyy u should most definetely write abt reader taking the bllk boys shopping with them against their will and forcing them to watch their fashion show and they try on a bunch of outfits (pls include Nagi and and rin if u could) love u pookie 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

“𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐧”

a/n: love you too bae, i just know your fashion style would melt hearts 🙈

ft. nagi seishiro, itoshi rin, isagi yoichi, itoshi sae, mikage reo, kaiser michael, shidou ryusei, chigiri hyoma, bachira meguru, ness alexis, aiku oliver

nagi seishiro

the audacity of this man. he brought a neck pillow and an energy drink to the mall. 

he tried to lay down on the plushy display bench in the middle of the boutique. a worker politely asked him to move. 

he now sits on the floor, hoodie up, watching tik toks at 2% volume. 

you peek out of the curtain. “seishiro. look alive.” 

he grunts. “looking.” 

“i’m wearing the short dress you liked last time.” 

he looks up and immediately sits straighter. “whoa.” 

“see? worth it.” 

he hums. “you should just wear that every day. like, all the time. never take it off.” 

you smirk. “so now you’re paying attention?” 

“it’s not my fault you look like a final boss.” 

you go back in to change. he lies back down. 

“tell me when you’re hot again,” he calls. 

“you mean when i come out again?” 

“same thing.” 

itoshi rin

he walked in already scowling. you tried to hold his hand, but his aura said no thoughts, only suffering. 

"you promised me ochazuke," he muttered. 

"after this!" you said, smiling sweetly, dragging him toward your fashion playground like a human doll. 

now he’s slumped in a golden chair, surrounded by glitter and pastel and mannequins with sassier waistlines than him. 

you pop your head out. “rin! this one’s red. you’ll like it.” 

he sighs. “does it mean we can go home?” 

“nope!” 

you come out in a lacy mini-dress and he visibly short-circuits. 

he coughs. “that’s… short.” 

“too short?” 

“… not if you never leave the house in it.” 

you laugh and twirl. he watches, ears pink. 

“rin, should i try the sparkly jumpsuit next or the angelic white one?” 

“do you have one that comes with a built-in invisibility cloak?” 

“nope. just a built-in hotness overload.” 

he covers his face. “kill me.” 

but when you turn to change again, he sneaks a picture on his phone. caption: the love of my life, even if she shops for five hours straight. 

isagi yoichi

you told him it was "just a quick run to the mall." he naively thought you meant, like... for socks. or toothpaste. 

now he's sitting in the barbie dream chair of your favorite boutique, surrounded by velvet, frills, and three other boyfriends who all look equally dead inside. 

he's holding your purse. your water bottle. and a half-eaten pretzel. he looks like a medieval servant waiting for the queen to reemerge from her dressing chamber. 

“yoichi,” you call sweetly from behind the curtain, “this next one is dangerous. try not to faint.” 

he straightens up like he's about to see god. 

you strut out in a sleek black dress, one leg exposed. 

his eyes go wide. “oh.” 

“just oh?” 

he opens his mouth to say more but accidentally drops the pretzel. 

“babe, i need you to breathe.” 

he fans himself with a coupon. “okay. um. that one’s not even fashion anymore. that’s… illegal.” 

you wink and go back in. he blinks at the curtain like it wronged him. 

every time you come out, he claps a little harder. by outfit #6, he's on the verge of proposing. 

"i can't take this much slay. i'm just a man." 

itoshi sae

he swore up and down he wasn't coming. he even fake-coughed and said he was sick. 

you literally dragged him by the sleeve into the store while he sighed like he was being marched into battle. 

"you know i hate malls," he said. 

"and i hate when you leave your socks all over the house, but here we are." 

he sits like royalty – legs crossed, phone out, face bored. 

but when you walk out in a silky green dress, he lifts his eyes and stares. 

“well?” 

he exhales slowly. “you look like you’d ruin someone’s life in that.” 

“yours?” 

“depends. are you buying it?” 

“maybe. rate it out of ten.” 

“i’m not rating your looks,” he scoffs. “i’m just trying to survive.” 

but five outfits in, he’s mysteriously invested. “that one’s too much. that one’s not enough. wear the blazer again. with the boots.” 

you blink. “sae… are you styling me?” 

he shrugs. “if i’m gonna suffer, at least suffer in high fashion.” 

also, he takes you out to dinner right after, since “you're already dressed to kill." 

mikage reo

you asked for a ride to the mall. he showed up in a chauffeur suit and opened the door like a whole butler. you laughed. he wasn’t joking. 

he took your hand and said, “today, i am your royal assistant of fashion.” he meant it. 

he holds your bags, gives outfit scores, compliments you like he’s on project runway. "this one screams 'wealthy heiress who poisoned her husband but got away with it.' i love it." 

you snort. “what about the pink one?” 

“coastal granddaughter who owns a bookstore and flirts in french. also love it.” 

by outfit #7, he’s got your sunglasses on and is fake-interviewing you. 

“mrs. mikage, how does it feel to have no fashion flops?” 

“pretty powerful,” you say. 

he bows dramatically. “as your humble stylist, i shall now escort you to boba.” 

he’s too good. 10/10. would shop with again. 

kaiser michael

you promised it’d be “just one store.” liar. he’s been here 47 minutes and 13 seconds. 

you come out in a leather corset dress. he adjusts his sunglasses like he’s seeing a hallucination. 

“what the hell is that?” 

“you hate it?” 

“i didn’t say that. i just… do you want to kill me? is that what this is?” 

you twirl and he literally puts a hand over his heart. “i feel unsafe.” 

you grin. “good.” 

he leans back and starts rating each look out loud in full german. “NEUN! ACHT! ZEHN!” 

you don’t know what it means, but his tone is passionate. 

when you try something soft and dreamy, he gets quiet. “you look like a fairytale.” 

“you okay?” 

“no. i think i’m in love again. and again. and again.” 

shidou ryusei

this man is banned from three stores in this mall. so you made him promise to behave. he lasts ten seconds. 

you walk out in a backless dress. he gasps so loud a toddler cries. 

“DAMN, BABY, IS THAT LEG?!?” 

“ryu–” 

“IS THAT A KNEECAP?! I’M IN LOVE.” 

he starts clapping every time you step out. “walk it, strut it, turn around– YESSSSSS.” 

the sales lady tries to kick him out. you beg for one more outfit. 

he whispers, “do the one with glitter. i’m gonna pass out when i see it.” 

you do. he pretends to faint on the floor. “i’ve died. bury me in this dressing room.” 

you step over him to go change again. 

“do a slutty one next!” 

“you’re the worst.” 

“you love me.” 

chigiri hyoma

he says he hates shopping. says it’s a waste of time. 

but then you try on one soft pink outfit and he goes, “wait... that’s really cute.” 

then another one and he goes, “holy sh– okay, yeah, that’s cute, too.” 

next thing you know he’s zipping up dresses for you and analyzing necklines. “you need heels with this one. and earrings.” 

“are you having fun?” 

he pauses. “… no?” 

you arch an eyebrow. 

“okay yes. shut up.” 

he starts taking selfies with you in the mirror. 

sends them to his sister like, “look at her. look at my girl. we win.” 

bachira meguru

he turns the shopping trip into a musical. starts singing “she’s beauty, she’s grace” every time you exit the changing room. 

he claps, dances, even spins around himself like he’s your backup dancer. 

“how do i look?” 

“like you walked out of my dreams and into a magazine.” 

he finds a hat and puts it on sideways. “i’m your fashion manager now. try the sparkles.” 

you oblige. he gasps so loud it echoes. 

“OH MY GOSH SHE SPARKLES IRL.” 

you two almost get kicked out for laughing too hard. 

he buys you a silly hat to match his. “now we’re a couple. but stylish.” 

ness alexis

he wasn’t even mad about going. in fact, he brought his own fashion sunglasses. 

“don’t worry, love,” he said with a dramatic hand on your shoulder, “i’ll make sure you don’t commit any fashion crimes.” 

you thought he was joking. he wasn’t. he has a tiny notebook and rates your outfits with actual commentary. 

“hmm, this one is giving ‘sweetheart on the outside, dangerous in court.’” “ooh, i like the cut on this. very revenge at your ex’s wedding.” “no, no, that one’s a no. it’s giving 2012 mall goth. and not in the cute way.” 

he sits with one leg crossed over the other, sipping a matcha latte and judging every passerby. 

you come out in a red dress and he gasp-claps. “GIRL, IS THAT BLOOD RED? YOU’RE KILLING THE ENTIRE MALE SPECIES.” 

he then follows you into the accessory section like a personal stylist. “gold hoops with that. trust me. i was born with taste.” 

one of the workers asks if he works there. he smiles politely. “no, but if i did, our stock would be ten times hotter.” 

at the end he whispers: “you looked so good, i almost fell in love with you all over again.” 

“almost?”  

“shhh, baby. don’t ruin the drama.” 

aiku oliver

you told him it’d be fun. he raised a brow like, define fun. twenty minutes later, he’s sitting like a mafia boss on a couch that’s way too small for his ego. arms spread, legs open, surrounded by your shopping bags and glaring at every guy that so much as blinks at your changing room curtain. 

“what’s taking so long?” he grumbles. 

you call out, “patience! i’m making an entrance.” 

he rolls his eyes. “you better be walking out in a full oscar gown with fireworks and backup dancers.” 

you come out in a backless jumpsuit. he goes silent. visibly exhales through his nose. 

leans forward, elbows on knees. “damn.” 

you smirk. “that’s it? no commentary?” 

he gestures vaguely. “i mean. how am i supposed to comment when my brain’s melted?” 

every time you go back to change, he leans back again like he’s at a fashion show but too cool to clap. 

he does start lowkey live texting sendou though: bro. she’s hot. like criminally hot. she tried on a leather skirt. i blacked out. i’m buying her the whole store. she’s not stopping me. help. 

you come out in a dress with a slit and he just stands up. “okay. that’s it. we’re going straight to dinner. you’re not wasting that outfit on the food court.” 

“but i’m not done shopping.” 

“we are. i’ve been defeated. the hotness bar is shattered. let’s go.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[writing-mlm]

I saw you say you wanted to write for Clark some more could I request a ftm reader who has like a lot of piercings and one day he surprises Clark with like getting Superman jewelry for some of them

Like a belly button piercing or or or nipple piercings like I just recently got mine did and like it hurts but they look so so so so pretty

Clark discovers a new kink (or three)

Summary: Your piercer has some new jewelry and you learn some things about your boyfriend. Pairing: Clark Kent x Ftm!Reader Word count: 1.9k Tags/Warnings: piercings, nipple play, smut, t-dick and hole used to describe sexual parts, implied top surgery, fingering, squirting, creampie, whimpering Clark Kent, a little after care, soft-dom Clark A/n: Saw this request and couldn’t get it out my mind

You had a decent amount of piercings, you guess. You had your septum, the array of ears, eyebrow, angel bites, navel, and nipples. Lately, you’ve been considering others; a tongue ring, bridge, other lip piercings but you weren’t sure. At least until your friend had suggested you come with her to get her tattoo at your typical studio. You figured, why not. You had some spare cash, enough for a piercing and if you felt like it, you’d get one. 

The studio, a little hidden place tucked above a barber shop and a hair salon, had a couple of services. They did tattoos, waxing, piercings, and sold items for all three in the front of the shop. While your friend was getting herself situated, checking in for the appointment and paying while you scanned the piercing shelves, hoping something spoke to you. 

And boy did it. 

Under the new section sat a wide selection of hero-themed jewelry. It had all the major ones, including Superman. He seemed to be the more prevalent one, considering you were in his city. But in the vast assortment, you couldn’t help but be drawn towards the nipple bars and belly rings. 

“Whatchu lookin’ at?” Your friend asks, leaning against the glass as she looks down at the piercings. “Oh, score! They got Wonder Woman, might get the septum one.” The cashier drifts over and you get the three goods been eyeing while she decides not right now. Her septum isn’t healed enough for her to change out the jewelry. It wasn’t a lot, all things considered, less than the spare change you had in your pocket. 

The two of you moved to the tattoo booth, her tattoo artist and she began talking while you eyed the jewelry. 

Clark was probably still at work, he’d get home around five if there wasn’t someone who needed saving. And fuck, you can almost picture his reaction to seeing you wearing his logo. 

While they were still talking about placements, you quickly excused yourself to the bathroom to put them on. Half sure that this is safe because why wouldn’t a tattoo and piercing bathroom be sterile and safe but also half driven by the idea of a pent-up Clark. Sue you. 

— 

As expected, Clark got home exactly ten minutes after he clocked out. The front door was opening as you were lounging, looking for something to watch. 

“Hi, I’m home, sweetheart!” He calls before he can even see you. 

“Hey, baby! How was work?” The door closes and locks, he’s working on his shoes at the door. Shifting on the couch, you get rid of your shirt and stand up to meet him in the hallway. 

“Uh, good. I started working on an article about the number of lead pipes in the city, it’s been approved. What about you? How did Gen’s tattoo go?” His black oxfords get placed neatly on the shoe rack as you wait at the end of the hallway, leaning against the wall for him to look up. 

“Eh, good. She has another session tomorrow. It’s looking cool,” As he stands to his full height, his eyes fall on your face. He smiles at you, already getting his tie off. You’re a little upset he doesn’t look you over immediately but you’ll forgive him because he’s mid-step, about to say something when he finally notices. 

“Christ, is that—?” He’s in front of you faster than you can process, his hands on your hips as he looks at your nipples and then your navel. 

“Like them?” You ask, grinning. He looks at you through his eyelashes, licking his lips. 

“Like them?” He echoes, dragging his left hand up to your nipple and rolling his thumb over it. He’s breathing loudly, in through his nose and out through his mouth, his focus on the way your nipple hardens next to his symbol. Fuck, his symbol. “I love them,” He mutters while you hold his forearms, eyes half-lidded because he brings his right hand to do the same to your other nipple. It perks up just like the left one and soon enough, you moan a little at his actions. 

He groans before he picks you up, his hands now firmly planted on your ass. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you undo his tie, tossing it to the ground, hoping Krypto doesn’t destroy it if he ends up finding it. 

You’re on the bed soon after, the door shut and locked as if Krypton had grown thumbs and could open the door that way. Clark makes a point of turning the light on, slowly stalking to the bed as you lay there, your new jewelry shining in the light. 

“You’re driving me crazy,” He drags out, climbing onto the bed from the end. 

“Am I?” You tease, looking down at him, now propped up on your elbows. He groans a nod as he climbs on top of your legs, his hands planted firmly on either side of your thighs. Opening your legs, you watch as his eyes dart down, catching sight of your navel piercing again. It dangles, flipped over to the side without his symbol isn’t showing and that simply won’t do. 

He looks up at you as he flips it over, making sure you watch as his hand ghosts over the piercing and down to the waistband of your boxers. Clark ignores it completely, dragging his index and middle finger down until he reaches your slit. 

Once he does, he opens the flap on the boxers and grabs your t-dick, giving it slow strokes. “Fuck,” You whimper, your back arching a little as he does. Grabbing his head, you grip his hair and fall flat on your back. Carefully and without removing his hand, Clark climbs further up on you until he’s eye to eye with your nipples. You watch as he leans down, his tongue slowly dragging from his lips before they latch onto your nipple. 

His teeth graze over it, his canines catch in the metal bar enough that it tugs. The pain is that awfully good pain that you need to chase, pressing your chest closer to his face. His hand ghosts over your scars, reaching up to give your other nipple the same attention. 

“Clark,” You shudder. 

“Kal-El,” His voice is an almost whimper of a plea. “Fuck, call me Kal-El, please.” His eyes meet yours and you nod. You’ve heard his birth name countless times, it’s not typically something he wants you to call him. But you have, and usually always get the same reaction— save you’re not calling him while injured. 

“Kal-El,” You breathe as his lips return to your perky nipples. He groans, fisting the bed sheets, and humps the air aimlessly. “I need you, Kal-El,” 

“You have me,” He promises, detaching and going over to your other nipple. He gives it licks between his words. “My mind, my body, my soul, my future— my everything.” His eyes focus on his symbol, his family crest stuck on your body unless it was deliberately removed. His home and his hope, inside of you. 

“Fuck,” He groans and raises to his knees, his care for his shirt gone out the window as he literally rips it off, discarding the fabric to the floor. He does the same for his pants and boxers before he looks at you for approval. Chewing on your bottom lip, you nod and lift your hips, watching as he easily tears your boxers off as if they were paper. 

He leans down, slowly sliding his middle and ring finger inside of you, the rest of his palm covering your t-dick. Your thighs quiver at the feeling, clenching around his wrist as Clark keeps eye contact with you. 

“Kal—“ You gasp, feeling him work your insides. He nods, egging you on as he continues to finger you, his free hand working on pumping his already hard cock. As your chest heaves, his eyes switch back to your stomach, watching as the dangling charm bounces with each shaky breath you take. “Kal-el, please.” You manage.

He speeds up, his fingers quickly getting drenched and the room filling with wet, sloppy noises. “That feel good?” He asks and you nod wildly, your moans not letting you get a word out. 

“So good,” You clench around him, the same way you do when you’re about to cum and he slows down before pulling his fingers out from you. “No, please Kal-el,” Grabbing his wrist, you try to pull him back inside but he laughs, pulling his arms behind his back before leaning down and kissing you. Kissing him back, you grind down on him, trying to get that high back. 

Clark pulls away from the kiss, his lips dragging down your chin and neck while he keeps his eye contact. “Be patient, sweetheart,” He says while grabbing his dick, rubbing it up and down your slit before he slips the tip inside. With his free hand, he presses your stomach to the bed, keeping you in place as you whine. He has the audacity to laugh at you, slipping the tip in and out just to see you try and chase him. 

“You’re being so mean,” You frown. “Please, baby.” Deliberately, you run your hands up your chest, flicking the metal bar that makes the S symbols on the end bounce. When his eyes zero in on the bar, you know you’ve gotten him and grind down again. This time, he slips past the tip and you let out a low moan, your eyes fluttering closed. Slowly, Clark rolls his hips, watching as he disappears inside of you, watching how your legs move and twitch with each slow, hard thrust. 

It doesn’t last long though, as his eyes return to your face and he starts to pick up his pace. He leans down, kissing and sucking along your neck while you struggle to find a grip with the new pacing. Clark’s not faring any better, he’s a whimpering mess in your ear. Pathetic noises that leave him are like music to your ears. 

You’re holding onto the headboard with one hand, the other is scratching at his back as he pounds into you. “You feel so good,” He slurs into your neck. “Taking all of me, like a good boy.” Your back arches up in the air as you struggle to make coherent sentences, tears budding in the corner of your eyes. 

When you tighten around him, he looks at you, his wet eyelashes clumping together in a way that makes your toes curl and- for the first time- you squirt. He looks down, seeing his pelvis wet from it, and it rolls off of him and onto the bed. The feeling, the sounds, and the sight make Clark moan loudly, spilling into you. Despite it, he keeps himself inside of you, his dick slowly getting soft as his cum slowly seeps out. 

He pants, rising up to his knees. His dick pulls out from you with a small pop and you twitch, staring at the ceiling. “Are you okay, baby?” He hurriedly asks, scooping you up. Blinking, you lick your lips before looking at him. 

“Holy shit,” You chuckle, messing with his curls. “I should’ve gotten those sooner.” He snorts and picks you up properly, carrying you into the bathroom where he prepares a nice bath after cleaning you up. 

— Two days later, Clark doesn’t know how to react when you show off your new tongue piercing. His symbol lay flat on top of it. All he knows is that this is going to be a long, long, six weeks.

[emeraldserenade]

He's Yours ~ Robert "Bob" Floyd

synopsis: You were scared, it's why you ran after you found out you were pregnant. Good thing Bob was never one to hold a grudge, especially towards the person he loves

tw: fem!reader, reader is Iceman's daughter, Iceman lives because I want him to, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

This is based off the Joaquín fic that I wrote. My other Bob fic did really well so I think I'll start writing for him too

➽──────────────❥

You were stationed in Lemoore with Robert "Bob" Floyd. Your hook ups started as a way to destress, he was a wizard with his tongue and even better with his cock. You two agreed to only see each other, no other hook ups, it was better and safer that way.

But when you took the test, you freaked. You two never talked about kids and the life of a naval aviator was not something you thought was good for a baby. So you put in for a transfer, you were stationed in Flightertown with some strings pulled from your dad.

You knew Bob was a good man, that he would be ok with whatever you chose to do. But you also knew you couldn't ask him to pause his climbing of the naval ranks.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

It was a year and a half since you left Lemoore, you were sporting your 9 month old baby boy on your hip as you walked into the not open Hard Deck.

"Hey, look, it's your Aunt Penny!" You bounced your baby and cooed at his laugh. Penny, your dad, and a man you had not seen in years were all sitting there. "Pete?" You paused at his face and he smiled.

"Who is this?" Pete stood and held his hands out to Matteo.

"This is Matteo, my son," you handed him over to Pete and watched the older man coo at him.

"How old is he?" Pete was already doing mental math, after over hearing Bob telling Natasha about you and you leaving he had to know.

"He's only 9 months but he's an absolute mama's boy," you scrunched your nose at Matteo as he giggled.

"9 months? Wow," Pete breathed out before walking off.

"Hey, Pete, give me my son back!" You walked after him but he handed Matteo off to Penny. "Oh, aunt Penny can hold Matteo any day," you smiled.

"Are you still in the Navy?" Pete asked and you shook your head.

"No, I got out almost a year ago. I work here now, actually," you told him, leaning against the bar.

"A total disappointment," your dad joked and you smacked his arm lightly.

"Matteo, your grandpa is being mean to me," you told her son as you took him back from Penny.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

Pete almost told Bob but he kept silent, he needed Bob to have his head in the game and knew it wasn't his place. But he smiled when Bob saw you and gasped softly.

You saw someone approach from the corner of your eye and greeted them before you looked. "Hi, what can I get you?" You finally looked over and gaped at Bob.

"Hi," Bob gave you that smile you always loved.

"What are you doing here?" You asked in disbelief.

"Classified," he said it apologetically.

"Does it have anything to do with the reason Pete is back?" You questioned.

"Oh, uh, yeah, you're Iceman's daughter. You would know a few more things," Bob mumbled and you took a breath.

"Uh, Bob, we need to talk about something," you mused. "I get off in an hour if that's ok," you told him and he nodded.

"Yeah, yeah, we can," he nodded and walked off.

"Wait, you don't want a drink?" You called after him, you watched him walk back to the bar.

"Uh, no thanks," he told you and you grabbed a bowl of peanuts.

"Here," you handed them to him and he gave you a grateful smile.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

For the next hour, Bob watched your every move. He figured you weren't in the Navy anymore since you weren't called to TOP GUN, but he never would have guessed you were working at a Navy bar. He saw you walk to the back and reemerge with your purse, he met you halfway and walked with you to the door.

"So, I want to do this somewhere like this just in case. And I want you to know that you don't have to do anything after I tell you, I just think you deserve to know," you were messing with your fingers. "I get if you don't want to and I get if you're mad at me after I tell you, but," Bob cut you off with a gentle grab of your upper arms.

"Hey, take a breath," Bob soothed you from possibly having a panic attack. "I won't be mad at you, I promise," he told you gently.

"We have a son," you blurted it out, looking to the side quickly.

"What?" Bob never let you go.

"A son, we have one. He's 9 months old and Amelia is currently watching him. It's why I ran, why I'm not in the navy anymore," you admitted.

"What's his name?" Bob's eyes had unshed tears and you sucked in a breath.

"Matteo James Floyd, drove my dad crazy that I chose your last name and not Kazansky," you laughed gently.

"Can I meet him?"

"Yeah, yeah, he's probably asleep and he's at Penny's, but, uh," you looked around for a paper or something. "Is your number still the same?"

"Yeah, it is," he nodded.

"I'll send you my address then, you can meet me there so I can pick him up," you told him and Bob nodded.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

"Amelia, thank you," you handed the girl a small stack of cash.

"You know you don't have to pay me," she said but took it anyway.

"I know, but you probably have other things you want to do that's not watching my 9 month old," you told her.

"I love Matteo though," she argued and handed him to you.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You pulled up to your house and saw Bob leaning against his baby blue pick up, the one you had one too many nights in. You gave him a small wave as you jumped out and went to the backseat. Bob walked up next to you and you gently got Matteo out of his carseat.

"Hi, baby," you cooed at Matteo before turning to Bob. "His is your daddy," you handed Matteo over and watched as he smiled up at Bob.

"He's so tiny," Bob muttered and you pressed yourself into Bob's side subconsciously.

"Should have seen him after he was born, he was early and so tiny," you muttered a wave of guilt running through you.

"Hey, hey, I know that face," Bob quickly looked to you. "Your mama is beating herself up over not tell me about you," Bob told Matteo as he reached a hand to smooth out the crease between your brows with his thumb.

"It's getting late," you mumbled as you looked at the time.

"Can I stay?" Bob asked and you nodded.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

Waking up next to Robert Floyd was a luxury you thought you would never have again. But as the sun rose and Bob's alarm went off, you found yourself in his arms. Matteo wasn't awake yet, you could see him peacefully sleeping on the baby monitor. Bob turned his alarm off but didn't move from your bed.

"You need to go to work," you told him, slowly pulling yourself away from him.

"But I want to stay here forever," Bob muttered and you huffed a laugh.

"You can come back, if you want," you said as you sat up.

"I want to, as long as you want me here, I want to be here," Bob sat up and you stared at him.

"You love me," you stated it and his ears tinged pink. "Wait, you love me like I love you," you said it with more urgency.

"You love me?"

"Isn't it obvious? I mean, I let you sleep in my bed, I gave our son your last name, I've literally just told you I love you," you told him with a smile and he pulled you down to lay with him. "You need to go to work," you said it again.

"Ok, fine, but when I'm done, I'm coming back. But first, you gotta agree to be my girl," Bob told you and you smiled.

"Of course I'm your girl. Now go give them hell, Robert," you told him with a kiss before he got out of bed.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You rushed down the linoleum hallway of the hospital with Matteo on your hip. The diaper bag hung from your opposite shoulder as you made it to the waiting room. Pete was the first and only one to greet you.

"Is he ok?" You rushed out, adjusting Matteo on your hip as Pete took the diaper bag.

"They haven't told us anything," Pete told you and you nodded.

"Who is this gorgeous lady?" A tall blonde asked and you looked at him.

"Y/n Kazansky," you told him and watched his eyebrows raise.

"Kazansky? As in Admiral Tom Kazansky?" The blonde asked.

"Yeah, he's my dad," you told him.

"Are you single?" His smirk returned and you looked down at your son.

"Do you wanna break it to him who's your daddy?" You asked gently at him as he cooed.

"She's Bob's girlfriend," Pete said and you smiled at him.

"And he's the father of my son," you replied and watched as a man with a buzzcut shot up.

"You're that y/n? The one that disappeared from Lemoore that Bob's in love with?" He asked and you nodded. "I'm Fanboy by the way," he told you.

"Fanboy, what's your real name?"

"Mickey, ma'am," he told you.

"Well, Mickey, as the first person here to introduce themself and not hit on me, would you like to hold Matteo?" You offered and he nodded, moving closer. "Matteo, you better use that little gummy smile of yours and cheer some people up," you told him. Mickey took his gently as the other introduced themselves, both call signs and real names.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

Matteo did cheer everyone up and you were headed back to the room that held both Bob and Natasha, as you had learned her name from the others.

"Hey, there's my girl," Bob called for you as you walked in first. "Where's Matteo?" As if on cue, the others walked in with Matteo firmly in Pete's grasp.

"A baby!" Natasha exclaimed at Matteo was carried in.

"Hi, I'm y/n," Natasha cut you off.

"I know, Bob wouldn't stop talking about you today," she told you. "And this must be Matteo, your son," she said and you nodded.

"You can hold him," you told her and Pete handed Matteo off as Natasha reached for him. "How are you?" You asked Bob as you spun back to face him, taking a step closer to grab his hand.

"Better, would have never happened if you never kicked me out of bed this morning," he smiled at you and you shook your head at him.

"Just because you're dating my goddaughter doesn't mean you can skip work," Pete called over and you laughed. Matteo was eventually handed back to you and you handed him to Bob.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

A few hours passed and some of the others left, you were the only one left when someone new walked in, someone you hadn't seen since high school. You smiled at him as Matteo soundly took a nap on Bob's chest.

"Long time no see, Bradley," you told him.

"Finally had the balls to tell him, huh?" Bradley tilted his head to the sleeping baby and his father.

"Wait, you knew?" Bob asked.

"That she had a son and that she never told the father, never told me his name. I figured it out eventually though," he said and you shook your head gently.

"God, you tell your oldest friend something and he goes all detective," you looked towards Natasha, the two of you had gotten close over the hours. She laughed with you as the two boys watched on. Bradley did the usual questioning before taking another seat in the room.

"Uh, visiting time is," the nurses words died on her tongue when she saw who was sitting there. "Oh, you're Admiral Kazansky's daughter, you two can stay the night," she quickly ducked out and you shared a look with Bradley.

"Do you ever get tired of that?" Bradley asked.

"All the fucking time," you admitted. "This is the exception though," you said as you looked back to your baby and Bob.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

"Welcome home," you said as you pulled Bob into a hug. The mission was a success and the entire Dagger Squad was asked to permanently stay in San Diego. They were there to train new flyers and potentially more TOP GUN teams. Matteo was napping as you and Bob moved all his things into your house.

Bob pulled you into a kiss as you finished bringing in the last of his things, the ring he bought for you burning a hole in his pocket. He would wait until he could plan the perfect proposal for you, it's the least you deserved after carrying and birthing his child.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests If you want to be added to the tag list, follow the directions on my masterlist

[its-always-nightshift]

This is the official design of Sun for my Theater AU!! I love him so much and I honestly need to draw him more. He’s so character.

Click for more information about the AU:

What is the Theater AU?

A fic currently in the works which takes canon Sun & Moon and plays with the concept of them being theater bots before being transferred (unwillingly) to the daycare! Half of the story revolves around when they were theater bots, and the other half is about the daycare. The drawing above is Sun when he was a theater bot! Sun in the daycare looks very close to canon in design with a few different details. And by theater, I mean they had some very cool acts. Moon has my favorite performance in the story so far.

Is there a y/n for the Theater AU?

No, you follow along the story of a nonbinary oc named Roy who dabbles in software engineering. You can, however, imagine that Roy is the pizzaplex’s nickname for y/n and pretend as such! Either way is fine by me, but the fic will be tagged as oc insert.

Have you written any chapters/made any art for the Theater AU yet?

Very few, but that’s only because I have to wait until summer to flesh it out properly. I do, however, have many bullet points for the storyline written down already as well as a couple of snippets and have a very good idea of how I want the fic to play out.

What kind of personality does Roy have?

Roy is a very down-to-earth, analytical, logic-oriented type of person. Roy has a lot of patience and I think Sun sometimes needs that kind of patience because of his jitteriness and overall bouncy personality. They’ve known the boys for a while and always took an interest in the way they work. They might even be the reason Roy went into software development and specialized in AI.

Can I use your art/writing for AI?

Absolutely not. That is not what AI should be used for. Thank you for your cooperation.

How technical will the fic be?

I want to mix my own experience as a computer scientist into the story a little while also making the explanations easy enough for anyone to enjoy and maybe find their own technical passion out of it. I will still mention some fun comp sci technical jargon for the purpose of enunciating Roy’s professionalism. On the robotics side, my own experience lacks, but I will try my best to get as accurate as I can by studying the canon boys.

Does Roy get to smooch the boys?

I’m still debating this, honestly! Maybe in some sequel story or side-comics, but the main fic is meant to focus on the characterization of Sun & Moon, so we’ll see. The boys can’t move their faces similarly to canon, but they would happily accept a smooch on the cheek.

Who do you like more, Sun or Moon?

Oh boy, I love them both! Moon is very scary and I’d never go back to that level in security breach if I can avoid it, but he makes for such a funky character full of potential storytelling. Sun is definitely my favorite of the two though. When I tell friends about a fic I’ve recently read from any of the fantastic DCA stories, I always ramble about how Sun’s character was written whether it was sunhinged, emotionally haunting, or absolutely sweet! When I played Help Wanted 2 I was overjoyed by his character. He deserves to be a little sassy sometimes, as a treat. It is no different in the Theater AU; he has his sassy and sweet moments.

Moon’s design I am still working on, so keep an eye out for him!! Also let me know if you take an interest in my boys by asking questions about them! It helps me find their personalities better and inspires me to do more. Thanks for reading!

[luveline]

I love your writings about the marauders, and I recently had a thought about the boys first coming in contact with a vibrator or any sex toy really. Not even a like smut thing but just then walking into a muggle sex shop or they made a friend with a muggle girl and they stumble upon in some way lol idk, just a funny thought that’s been making me giggle a bit. If you have any thoughts I guess?? Hope you have a good day :)

this isn’t smut but it is explicit - mdni please! fem, 1k

“What is that?” Sirius asks.

You get yanked back. “God, sorry,” James says, letting go of your hand. You’d been in a weird fugue state of joy with his fingers twined in yours; it’s the first time he’s held your hand. You can’t tell if it’s platonic or romantic, you can never tell with the boys. “Wait, what is that?” 

“What’s what?” you ask, trying to follow their gaze. You’re on a crowded high street divided by a two way road. It’s so loud you can’t hear yourself think, and stopping as you have has diverted foot traffic around you poorly. 

“There’s a cock in the window.” 

Remus yelps a laugh. You smile, befuzzled, as he takes your shoulders into his hand and turns you bodily to the right shop window. “Oh,” you say. “Oh! There really is.” 

There is a vast array of the aforementioned appendage in the window, and in a variety of sizes and colours. A mannequin in dark lingerie holds a fifty percent off sign to the left, while a poster brags a multitude of ‘stimulating pleasures’ to be found inside. 

“What am I looking at?” Sirius asks.

You forget sometimes how sheltered they all are. They’d gone to a rather elite boarding school, and they all lived in rural England and Wales for their summers. This is as city as they’ve ever been, and you’d thought they’d seen everything there is to see by now, but apparently not. 

How are you supposed to explain a sex shop? Better, why is fate making you? They all turn to you for an explanation. 

“Remus, you’re twenty three,” you say hopelessly. 

“We’ve only recently relocated,” Remus argues. 

“You’ve lived here for nearly a year.” 

“And yet we’ve never seen that,” James says, pointing at the lingerie. “You’re such perverts in the city. Why are there rainbow cocks in the window?” 

“Can we stop saying that?” you ask. 

“Sorry,” James says quickly. “Lovely girl, why are the dicks in the window?” 

“They’re toys,” you say, feeling a little part of yourself shrivel away in shyness, their eyes like heat from your face and neck. 

“For kids?” Sirius asks, disgusted. 

“No! God, no, they’re for grown ups.” You shake your head uselessly. “Are you messing with me? You’ve really never seen them?” 

“We’ve seen some rather tasteful underwear in our time,” Sirius says, to James’ delight and Remus’ derision. 

“Stop,” Remus says. 

“We have to go in. I must understand these toys,” Sirius says, ignoring him with ease. There’s something to his usually nice smile you don’t know, some burning excitement that will likely end in innuendos and teasings galore for you. 

You make your way into the sex shop, shoes dragging, cheeks hot. James and Sirius seem as though they could burst into laughter at any second, but Remus is more understanding. He offers you his hand when he realises you’re behind them. You don’t have the strength to refuse him. 

They’re the weirdest friends you’ve ever had, but also the best ones. They love holding hands and crossing legs and laying half on top of each other when they come around to watch a film. You’re pretty sure you saw James and Remus kissing a few weeks ago, but they’ve yet to say anything about it to you, so what do you know? You’d been jealous, but each boy has continued to love on you just a little too much considering the parameters of your ‘friendship’. 

This lies firmly outside of your parameters, you decide. 

Sure, you’ve thought about them sometimes as more than friends, but they don’t know that. Can you be blamed? They’re all so handsome in awful ways —Remus classic, Sirius Grecian, and James devilish. James. You shake your head in an attempt to dispel thoughts of their good looks while in close proximity to lacy knickers, turning your attention to the ridiculous gasps of awe the two idiots are letting out. 

“What is that?” Sirius asks delightedly, knuckling at a row of plastic sex toys, all with different functions. 

“That’s a…” You blow a breath up your face in an attempt to cool down. “Read the label, Siri.” 

“Most of this stuff is for girls?” James asks you. 

“I guess so.” You poke at the pink packaging of a glass massage wand. “I mean, not always. I think anybody can use all this stuff too. Or most of it.”

“What about that?” 

James points at a vibrator in clear blister packaging. “A vibrator? What’s that do?” He turns to you with a surprisingly innocent curiosity. 

“It vibrates.” You don’t want to say anything else, but they’re your friends. They’re nice to you, and they respect you, so it’s not like you think telling them these things will put you in an uncomfortable position. “You know how girls have a harder time finishing sometimes?” 

If they’re surprised to hear you say it aloud, they don’t show it. “Not in my experience,” Sirius jokes. 

“So the vibration helps?” 

“It’s very intense. It makes the… climax come much quicker,” you say. 

Remus seems very grateful for the energy your explanation takes, giving you a caring smile. He’s about to say something when Sirius interrupts, and asks, “Do you have one?”

“You don’t have to answer that,” Remus says, hitting Sirius in the arm. “She doesn’t have to answer that, don’t ask her stuff like that, it’s private.” 

Sirius’ eyes go wide. “I’m sorry,” he says to you, all joking gone from his face. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Just forget sometimes that you have boundaries we don’t have.” 

You’re not expecting such a genuine and sudden apology, because maybe Sirius shouldn’t ask, but you totally understand what he means. You feel like you’ve known them all your life. “It’s okay, don’t worry. I know what you’re like.” 

“So it’s a good time, hypothetically,” James says. 

“What do you reckon that feels like?” Sirius asks, already moving on. 

“Sirius,” Remus pleads. 

“Sweetheart, can I ask you, hypothetically,” —Sirius taps his converse to yours, grinning— “what do you mean, it’s quicker? How does that even work?” 

You frown, “You don’t know how it works?” 

Remus and James laugh like bellows beside you. They laugh so much the woman behind the counter glares at you all, undoubtedly tired of people coming in here for a laugh. 

“Awful girl,” Sirius says, frowning. 

You smile back. “It just stimulates the nerves, Sirius. I don’t know how to explain it. I guess it’s kinda like magic or something.” 

“Magic can’t do that,” James says. Remus elbows him hard, and you’ve no idea why. 

[urmum-lovesme]

Angel Baby - Rafe Cameron x Kook!reader

pairing: Best Friend!Rafe Cameron x Kook!Best-Friend!reader

summary: Rafe and Reader have known each other since kindergarten, always side by side, the king and princess of Figure 8. So why now does he start feeling different towards her, when all she's ever been is his best friend?

a/n: hey guys :) this is actually my first time ever writing something so this is lowkey kinda scary. BUT, I really really wanted to write a slow burn between Rafe and his best friend, cause I can see that happening, who doesn't want that anyways? If it works, this'll deffo be a series cause I have a whole concept behind it, guess we're going to have to wait and see. The pictures are taken off pinterest so credit to whoever's they are.

(may have suggested bi!reader, see if you can spot it)

warnings: alcohol consumption, mention of drugs, sexual innuendo's, someone throwing up, just Rafe being whipped for his bsf

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The classroom was bright, colourful colouring cladded the walls, the blue-tack melting slowly in the sticky heat. Rafe sat by himself, struggling to tie his shoes, his father insisted he wore them and learnt to do them himself, his mother however sceptical complied, trying to teach her sweet boy how to do them before they left the house. His face was scrunched in concentration, but no matter how hard he tried, the laces wouldn’t cooperate. 

“Do you need help?” The quiet voice rang out from across the boy, the young girl kneeling beside him. He looked up, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. 

“I can’t do it,” he muttered angrily, glancing at the messy knot he’d made on his shoe. She smiled, her pigtails bouncing as she leaned closer. 

“It’s okay. I can show you.” Gently, she untangled the laces, her fingers tugging at the blue strings as they came apart. Explaining each step as she worked she focused on the shoe.

 “First, you make bunny ears…” She continued telling the story her babysitter taught her as she learnt to tie up the strings into little bows.

“Thanks,” Rafe said sheepishly, looking at her with a small smile on her face, the girl reminded him of his mom, she was... nice.

“You’re welcome,”  she replied cheerfully, standing up, clasping her hands in front of her as she rocked back and forth on her heels, her red gingham dress swaying along with her movement.

“Wanna play blocks with me now?” He nodded eagerly, taking her hand. Together, they walked over to the small table, the awkwardness of moments ago replaced with a newfound connection. 

“I'm Y/n” she chirped out as she stacked the pink bricks into a little house, the boy looked up from where he’d built his wall of blue blocks. 

“Rafe.” He mumbled out, she peered over at him as he worked, his tongue poking out of his mouth slightly in concentration. She reached her finger out pushing the wall playfully, the blue bricks bashing brutally to the table, the boy looked up to her. 

“Whoopsies..” she smiled out cheekily. 

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

Y/n and Rafe, the names often not heard separately, weaved through the thick crowd of teens, every corner of the house filled, whilst the music thumped loudly against the walls, making their way into the kitchen of the beachside villa.

"You know, I’m kind of a big deal round here" He playfully murmured to her, the girl looking at him with a mocked serious expression on her face as she poured the liqueur into the red plastic cup, trying to scout out any kind of mixer within the rubbish on the counter.  "Oh yeah? In what universe?" She pressed as she leant over, grabbing the half empty sprite bottle of the counter.

"This one. I mean, you’re talking to me, so clearly, I’m doing something right." With a grin that only grew wider, the boy shrugged, clearly enjoying the banter between them. Y/n rolled her eyes trying to stifle her laugh, "You’re so full of yourself." He grinned clearly unfazed; "And yet, here you are, still listening."

She shook her head at his bad attempt of flirting with her, hand reaching out to shove his shoulder. That’s just the kind of dynamic their relationship had and she couldn't help the sweet warming feeling in her chest that appeared whenever they joked around like this. He chuckled and took a sip of his beer as he raised an eyebrow and took a step closer.

"You love it." 

“You’re right.” 

She shrugged as she turned to him, the boy standing behind her, now leaning back against the counter as he looked at her. The small kitchen was buzzing full of Kooks and Pogues alike, however no one interrupted them, who would be stupid enough to get between the Kook Princess and her best friend. He smirked as he leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, his eyes darted around the room at all the people, but rested back on the girl.

"I tend to be right a lot of the time." He spoke out as he looked down at her studying her face, her cheeks were slightly flushed, he could tell it was from the alcohol, the girl now nursing her second cup, when did she even finish her first?

“Yeah I think 14 years of friendship has taught me that.” she rolled her eyes playfully at the boy, their friendship never wavering in all the years they’d known each other, he was her favourite person- that was for sure. He nodded his head in amusement at her; “And I think it also taught you that I’m the smartest person you know.” He leaned down closer to her while a smirk slipped its way slyly onto her lips.

“I don’t know bout that...” She raised her brow at him teasingly. He shook his head, chuckle slipping past his lips, “Oh yeah? Name someone smarter than me.” She tapped her cup against the bottom of her lip, the pink gloss transferring onto the plastic causing it to sparkle in the lights of the kitchen, “Let’s see... me?” He let out another laugh at her response.

“Nice try. But that’s not true.” He pushed his body off the counter and stood up straight, looking y/n up and down, with a cocky grin

“Hey!” She defended as she placed her empty cup down onto the counter. “Last time I checked it was me who knew how to tie laces first, so can I get a little credit here Cameron!?” He put his hands up in defence, laughter tumbling past his lips again, “Whoa Whoa Whoa! I’m not questioning your mobility skills, cause rumour has it your fingers work pretty well…” He took a step closer to the girl, “But in the brains department, I’m much smarter than you, princess.” She rolled her eyes at his subtle comment about her sexcapades as she shoved his shoulder, “Whateverrrr asshole.” She sings songs out as she turns around to refill her cup.

He shook his head at the girl's attitude, one that he's found comforting over the years. He walked up so he was standing next to her leaning in close to her ear and spoke in a quiet voice, “There’s no shame in admitting that I’m smarter than you, y’know.” He smirked as he looked down at her, and tried to ignore how good her perfume smelled to him, was it new? It definitely was.

“Mmhmm” she hummed out refusing to accept his statement, she enjoyed pushing his buttons anyways. 

He sighed amused at y/n’s stubbornness, even though it annoyed him a bit, “Why do you have to be so goddamn stubborn huh?” He leaned in a bit closer so his arms were holding him up, placed against the counter right next to the girl's hand which was wrapped around her now full cup.

“So you do think I’m a brat!” She exclaimed eyes wide, gasping in mock offence with a smile pulling at the corners of her lips as their conversation from earlier resurfaced, the argument raising between her, Rafe, Toper and Kelce a few days ago. He couldn’t help but smile at her response,

“Yeah you are. The most spoiled, bitchiest, brattiest princess to ever curse Figure 8.” 

“The fuck, am I a witch or something, why am I cursing?” She laughed out loudly, the alcohol in her bloodstream affecting her humour. She rested her head against his shoulder as she tried to regain her composure, giggles passing her lips. He smiled amused at her response, a shiver going down his spine as she leaned against him. He was a weak man, but only when it came to y/n, and even the simple touch of her head on his shoulder made him want to pull her closer.

…what the fuck are you thinking?

"I take it the alcohol is getting to you huh?” He asked, “I don’t know what you’re talking about” She shook her head as she lifted it upright away from his shoulder. He looked down at the girl, noticing her rosy cheeks, "Uh huh, that's why your face's red then?" He teased her, knowing she hated when people pointed out when she was drunk, even back when they used to sneak out to drink the stolen bottle of whiskey from y/n’s father’s office on the beach in the late hours of the night. 

“Yeah well you’re high!” she spoke out defensively in a matter of fact tone as she pointed to his pupils, blown wide from the line he’d taken in the bathroom not all that long ago. The boy knew she didn’t necessarily approve of his so-called ‘habit’, always droning on about how it was bad for him. He rolled his eyes at her snarky comment, “I’m barely even that high anymore. Just a little buzzed now.” She placed her hand on her chest as she spoke, as though she was making a sincere oath, “Well I’m perfectly fine.” He couldn't help but find her dramatic nature endearing, it must’ve been why they'd managed to stay friends for so long, she never took any of his shit- as she liked to call it.

“Besides, Rose invited us round to yours tomorrow for dinner, remember..?” She tilted her head as she referred to the joint dinner which was held monthly between both their families, insisted by both their fathers who claimed it was, ‘a great way to keep business natural’. Y/n dreaded the evening every month, the dinner filled with talks of money, success and reputation, if Rafe wasn’t there then she’s sure she’d surely try to gauge her eyes out with Rose’s pristinely polished silver forks. He had to purse his lips to stop himself from smiling at her tipsy state, it entertained him that she was trying so hard to prove that she was sober.

“Yeah I remember princess.” His eyes flicked to the hand on your chest and he swallowed before his eyes went back to her own, “You’re gonna have a hangover tomorrow, you know that?”

Has this top always been so low cut...

“No I won’t” She dismissed as she rolled her eyes at him, lifting her cup again in a cheer towards him finally bringing it to her lips, the liquid burning her throat as it slid down.

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

Rafe pushed past the guy, his gags muffled by the loud music as he bent over throwing up into the potted palm near the front door of the house, sighing out through his nose. Where was this girl? Fucking tequila shots set him up, and now he was stuck in an almost empty house as people flooded out saying their goodbyes, occasional person trying to grab his attention as he walked straight past them.

“Hey Matt!” 

He yelled out grabbing the boys attention who turned to him walking over to meet Rafe who was walking towards him. Hand coming down onto his back to greet him he spoke,

“Hey great party man, have you seen y/n?” 

The boy nodded, slurring his own words, evidently y/n not being the only one who took part in the drinking competition tonight. “Yeah I uh- the dining room man,” was all he managed to mutter out before being called from the other side of the house, his girlfriend coming around the corner yelling something - about how some guy had gotten stuck in his cat's litter box? He let out a loud groan squeezing his eyes shut before turning to Rafe and patting him on the arm in a goodbye. The dining room. He walked through the house pushing past a couple, who he was pretty sure were about to fuck against the hallway wall, muttering a firm ‘move’ as he walked past them. The music still pounded loudly from the speakers littered around the house, walking through hall he called out, 

“Y/n?” 

Walking through the doorway he saw the girl, standing on the table, arm raised above her head happily as she sang out.

Is that a wooden spoon? 

“I just wanna live in this moment foooreverrrr...”

 She sang out, her words were slurred as she swayed her hips around running her hand down her body as she tried to perform the song blasting through the speakers, her limbs uncoordinated causing her to stumble slightly, catching herself before she toppled off the edge of the table. Rafe sucked the air in through his teeth holding his breath, watching the girl teeter on the edge of the table before she stabilized herself. The lights of the room caught on the small crystal sequins of her top, causing glittering sparkles to reflect onto the walls as she swayed around the table. He walked over to her, the girl noticing his footsteps towards her turning towards him, dropping to her knees on the hard dark mahogany wood as she sang out to him now, ever so enthusiastically.

“Started giving up on the word foreverrrrr!!!!” She was so incredibly off tune as she ran her hands through her now messy hair, but he couldn’t help but be entertained as she pointed out to him passionately, gripping the wooden spoon lifting it up to her lips. 

“Until you gave up heaven so we could be toooogetheeerrrr” She wobbled on top of the table, the boy rushing forwards arms out in case she dropped off the edge of the rounded surface. Her hand reached out running down his chest as she sang to him still holding up the wooden spoon to her lips as though she was performing a one woman show.

“You’re my angel, angel baby angel… you’re my angel baby” The girl's hands ran up to his hair as she messed it up, the boy groaning at her actions as she pulled herself closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, spoon dropping to the floor with a clatter. “Okay y/n.” He spoke rolling his eyes at her drunken antics, trying to coax her down from the table. Standing just in front of her, he looked up, seeing her swaying back and forth, he couldn’t deny the concern that she would lose balance and fall off - wouldn’t be the first time. “Okay angel, you’ve gotta get off of that table before you hurt yourself.” He said as he grabbed her hips as he played along with her singing, what was this song anyways? She complied as she held onto his shoulders, still humming along to the song slowly to herself.

He smiled as she hummed along to the song, he loved this side of her, she was always so reserved and in control of herself but right now she was so free and playful and

Seriously?

It was different from how she held herself usually, her family causing her to always hold herself to such a high standard, he preferred when she'd just relax. He kept his hands on her hips as he let out a small laugh pulling her down, “You’re singing is truly terrible, you know that right?”

“Whatever” she spoke back as she stood up straight swaying slightly. “If Topper and Kelce were here they’d sing with me…” She spoke out slowly, intoxication evident in her movements

“What’s this shitty song anyways? He spoke out hands on the girl's shoulders leading her out the room towards the doors to leave, mumbling a small ‘watch it’ guiding her around a broken vase on the floor. 

“Shitty song!?” she gasped out, offense evident in her tone. “Don’t do Troye Sivan like that!” she said defensively.

“Who?” He continued as he guided her towards the steps of the patio, she stopped turning to him with a frown on her face, he had to stifle his laugh as she tried to defend the song, she was so worked up about it in her drunken state.

“Sorry princess, I didn’t know you were such a hardcore fan of, what was it Trevor?” looking down at her with a smirk, his grip kept on her hips as he waited for her response, guiding her down the stairs slowly, knowing her luck she’d slip and twist her ankle.

“Troye Sivan!" she exclaimed annoyed at him, "He’s so fine.” Y/n slurred out as she stepped down the patio slowly holding onto the handrail and looking down at the steps, he couldn’t hold back his laugh, watching her drunken mind struggle to keep up with what she was saying and doing. 

 “Is that so? I thought you only had eyes for me” He teased, he knew you were just being playful from the alcohol, but deep down a part of him wanted to see how you would respond to his teasing.

What was in that coke today...

“Oh but Rafey- he’s queer.” She spoke out sadly as though someone had ripped her heart out and stomped over it, stumbling slightly on their way to Rafe's car, her hand holding onto his arm for stability. His heart patted faster in his chest at the childhood nickname of his, seeming to have stuck with her from their early days. He held her slightly closer, hand slipping down her back resting on her waist to help keep her steady, as she hummed out at his movement. He let out a breathy chuckle at her saddened response,

“And isn’t that a shame.” He teased as he helped guide her to the passenger door to his car, opening up the door and setting her down onto the seat, her hand reaching out, holding onto his polo shirt to pull him closer to her, the boy moving forwards with his brow raised,

“Yes?” 

She wrapped her arms around his neck as she mumbled out almost incoherently, fingers running through the hairs at the nape of his neck. He found himself gritting his teeth slightly at her gentle ministrations, that prickling feeling creeping up his spine as he reached his arm around resting it on her back. 

“Thanks for helping me, my angel baby.” Her hand reached up fingers now brushing against his cheeks, which were subtly flushed. His hand held onto her own, pulling it away as he sighed out, she was ever so touchy when she got drunk, he’d noticed that when they were younger and since then vowed to always be the one to get her after a night out, God forbid someone took advantage of that, his body heated up uncomfortably at the thought. 

“You’re gonna be fucked tomorrow,” he mumbled, more to himself that to her as she slumped back into the seat, still humming along to the tune of the song, fingers fiddling with the buttons on the dash of his car, having to pull his eyes away from her shutting the door. 

what the fuck is going on with me

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to be continued.....?