#and i go to hand them this stuff and they go

[humanjarvis]

lads LIs: when you live alone

zayne:

creates impromptu scavenger hunts for you. and by that, i mean he leaves treats in different rooms of your place for you to find once he’s gone. like, you opened a cabinet one day, and 5 chocolate candies fell out. this is zayne’s version of a prank.

sometimes, late at night, you’ll get a knock on your door. zayne, fatigued and still in his scrubs, has come straight to you after his shift. he could’ve gone to his house, sure, but after the day he had, he needs his home.

you go back and forth between each other’s places so often that his neighbors think you live with him, and yours think he lives with you. an older woman in his neighborhood stopped by to thank him after he saved her husband’s life, and the gift basket she prepared had two of everything. 

he carefully curates care packages for you. vitamins, pastries, daily planners, blankets, medicines you should always have on hand. he always sends them before his big business trips, and they always include a souvenir he’d bought on the last one because it reminded him of you

tries not to show it, but he worries about you being all by yourself. basically has the terms of your lease memorized, and he knows multiple routes from your place to the nearest hospital 

caleb:

he has to hold himself back from coming to visit every time you go grocery shopping. you have how many bags? to carry how far? it’s just not right. he almost can’t take it 

when he is there to help, he honestly doesn’t even actually carry the bags. he uses his evol for that, so his hands can do the important things, like holding yours in the elevator or spotting you as you climb up the stairs

definitely uses his visit time to meal prep for you, no matter how much you tell him you can do it yourself. “yeah, you can,” he teases. “but will you?” 

buys duplicates of your stuff so you can have whatever you need at his place. it also just lets him feel closer to you (he is definitely using the shampoo and body wash whenever he misses you. maybe even the perfume. the recruits notice he smells…fruity one day, but say nothing) 

uses 10 different apps to check up on you. flicks through your social media, tracks your water intake and step count, sees what you’ve been watching on your shared streaming services, scrolls through your most recent songs played—there’s so much information out there. and if it’s about you, he has to know it. for your safety, of course

he’s basically your on-call problem-solver. caleb, can you open this jar? caleb, i can’t carry this box up the stairs. caleb, i can’t lift this thing out of its package. no matter how small the ask is, he’ll be there as soon as he can

he also doubles as your personal handyman. you tell him something’s broken, and the next day it’s miraculously working again with a smiley face sticky note on top. he kinda moves like the gnomes in the sims 4 where they come into your apartment and fix stuff overnight 

please move in with him. he will hint toward it constantly. or he could just pack his bags, move in with you, and fly up to skyhaven every morning. does your apartment complex have an aircraft hangar he could use?

xavier: 

if he’s still your neighbor in this scenario, you’ll hang out at each other’s places so often that the few times when you’re apart don’t matter as much. 

if he’s not your neighbor in this scenario, prepare for psychological warfare 

he wears a mask of innocence, but he’ll subtly bring his stuff over to your place, or your stuff over to his, to soft-launch your move-in together 

“xavier? why is my hairbrush in your bathroom?”

“hm. you must’ve left it here the last time you stayed over. we’re basically roommates at this point.” all this with an innocent smile.

whether you’re neighbors or not, he loves when you call him over when you’re lonely. for you to choose him, for you to seek him out…a soft glow always surrounds him when you open the door

and when he’s lonely, he puts the house plants he’d gifted you to good use: he stops by “just to tend to them” and ends up staying the night, his body sprawled on top of yours when you wake up

he keeps a mental file of all of your neighbors so he can know if there’s anyone to worry about—and so he can steer you away from anyone who might be a threat

he’s soft-spoken, but he speaks the loudest when he’s right outside your door. when his voice carries through the halls, anyone who might’ve tried something knows that while you may live by yourself, you’re not alone. 

sylus:

detests how constricting your space is, as well as the lack of interior design, but keeps it to himself (for the most part)

your bed is not big enough and ages him 10 years every time he sleeps in it. he also keeps this to himself. 

even so, he lures you over to the base as much as possible. that way, just for a little while, he can pretend your cramped rooms and mismatched furniture don’t exist 

mephisto practically lives in the tree closest to your window, and his owner is shameless about the spying. “basic security measures,” he’d said. he doesn’t trust the sluggish courtesy officer at your complex to do his job. though he’s debated simply buying your landlord out and giving the staff a complete overhaul a couple times 

you never go grocery shopping. every week, sylus has you send luke and kieran a list. and every week, they show up at your door to drop the requested items off, trying to hide how out of breath they are

subtle hints to move in with him turn to outright conversations. but if you need your own space, he won’t keep you from having it. he’ll just…generously offer to fund an upgraded living arrangement. either that, or enjoy having a whole new wing in the base built just for you. fingerprint or beak access only—no twins allowed

rafayel:

you live alone? huh. you barely notice with him around

rafayel is constantly over at your place, as if he doesn’t have millions of dollars in beautiful real estate of his own to lounge around at

it started with silly excuses, like “i heard a weird noise outside and got scared,” or “i’m not feeling too good—can you watch over me just to be safe?” 

but at a certain point, he just stopped bothering.

you come home from work to find him lazing on your couch, and he perks up the moment he sees your face. he says he missed you, you say you saw him yesterday. and he says yeah, but that was a whole yesterday ago

when he’s miraculously not invading your personal space, he still likes to pretend he is. he’ll text you like you’re sitting in the same room, making no-context references to things around him that you can’t see, because, as you’ve explained to him, you are not, in fact, together at the moment. his only answer is “well maybe you should come over then, cutie” 

at least once a week, he’ll order food to your door, only to send a picture of him eating the same thing at his studio. does long-distance parallel play exist? if so, that’s him 

helps you redecorate when you decide your furniture is too drab. even paints you a few originals to display in different rooms

you’re gonna need a bigger bathtub. 

[allsteddie]

Steddie where Steve and Eddie find out their friends are running a betting pool on when the two of them are going to start dating.

Everybody is placing bets. Everybody.

(Hopper believes they’ll be together before Halloween, Joyce is betting on Thanksgiving. Karen Wheeler is betting on New Year’s eve.)

It’s Robin who lets the information slip, of course. Eddie is pissed, but Steve sees an opportunity there. What if they pretend they’re dating? Robin can place a new bet, they pretend they are a couple somewhere the Party can see them, then they get the money and split it between the three of them.

“How much money are we talking about?” Eddie asks.

“Last time I checked, five hundred dollars. But I think Erica, Nancy and Will placed new bets last week, so it’s probably more now. Dustin is the one in charge of the money.”

“Of course he is.”

Robin ends up placing a bet on Steve and Eddie getting together in less than a month. Dustin is surprised when she tells him that, and also suspicious about Robin’s change of heart; her last bet had been they wouldn’t be together until next year.

“They’re worse than ever, kid,” she justifies when Dustin questions her about it. “Last night we were watching a movie at Steve’s and he spent the whole night basically on Eddie’s lap. I thought he was gonna start purring because Eddie kept petting his hair like he was a giant cat. There’s no way they’re taking too long now; they are not that dumb.”

Dustin could argue but ends up accepting Robin’s excuse. The bet is placed and she gets back to Eddie’s to inform her friends her part on the plan is done.

“Now you have a month to decide how you’re gonna do this,” she says before leaving those two to their shenanigans.

But that’s not a problem, they already know how they’re gonna get that money.

There’s a carnival coming to Hawkins in two weeks, and there’s no way the kids won’t be there, stuffing their faces with enough greasy food that would make a normal person sick to their stomach and wasting their money on games.

Two weeks and a half later, Dustin tries to bully Steve into taking him, Lucas and Max to the carnival. Steve makes up a whole story about his parents being in town and throwing a dinner party they’re forcing Steve to attend. Dustin then asks Eddie and Eddie just says no, giving the kid no other excuse. It’s Jonathan and Nancy who end up taking the whole party.

It’s a Friday night when they finally put their plan into action. Steve picks Eddie up for their “date” around six, and they head to the carnival. If Robin’s info is right, the kids should arrive a little over half an hour later, so they have time to prepare before their little scheme starts.

They walk around for a few minutes, looking for a place where they can have a clear view of the entrance, so they can see when the kids arrive. They stay close to the food stall because it’s perfectly placed a few yards from the ticket booth, and Eddie can also stuff his own face with greasy food while they wait.

A corndog and half a funnel cake later, Steve catches sight of El and Max walking ahead of the rest of the group, the boys following.

“Come on, it’s time,” Steve says offering his hand.

Eddie takes it without a second thought, smiling with his mouth still full of cake. “Let’s do this, sweetheart.”

They stay a few more moments there as Eddie finishes off his food, until they are sure the kids have spotted them. Then it’s show time.

Hand in hand, the two of them explore the stands. Eddie spends a good fifteen minutes trying to win a prize for Steve, just for Steve to win it in his first try. They go on a few rides (the very cliché ones every couple always go when they’re on dates), stop by the food stall again so they can share some cotton candy. They do all this hand in hand, only letting go when they really need to.

The kids follow them around the entire time, just like Eddie and Steve knew they would.

After almost an hour of this, they come to the conclusion that they’ve been convincing enough and it’s time for them to get their money. Eddie pulls Steve towards a more secluded area, rounding some stands and walking towards the parking lot until they leave all the noise and light from the carnival behind.

When they are sure there’s no one else around, they stop and Eddie crowds Steve against the closest car.

“Can you see them?” he whispers in Steve’s ear, resting his hands on the guy’s hips.

“Yeah. They’re hiding behind the green truck. Dustin and Mike are shoving each other and arguing, but the others are paying attention.”

“Good.” That’s all Eddie says before he kisses Steve.

That’s a point in their plan they discussed thoroughly. How far did they need to go to get their hands on that money? How far were they willing to go? Eddie was okay with whatever, but he had no idea about Steve.

“Dude, Dustin is not giving Robin any money if we only hold hands or hug. Kissing is the safest way.”

Still, Eddie didn’t want things to be weird between them after everything. They talked a lot until they finally agreed on one kiss, just for show, so there was no doubt they were together. They’d hang out for a few days after. They’d show up together to pick up Dustin when the kid asked, Steve would make a point to visit Eddie at the trailer park so Max could see them too. Robin would get the money; they would split it between them. Then they’d break up amicably. And when the kids asked, they’d just say it didn’t work out, that they were better off as friends.

That’s the plan they came up with; a very solid plan in their opinion.

That is until the time comes and they finally kiss.

When Eddie’s lips touch his, Steve’s whole body comes alive. Goosebumps run down his arms, and he feels a spark right down his spine. Eddie’s hands on his hips feel like brands and Steve gasps, shocked, as his senses go haywire.

It’s too much and not enough. Steve’s heart is hammering, his brain working like crazy to process what the hell is happening there. But, then, Eddie is pulling him closer and deepening the kiss and Steve is gone, gone, gone; hands burying into Eddie’s hair as he kisses him back with everything he’s got.

Neither Steve nor Eddie sees the kids leave, cursing and complaining about their lost money. They’re just too busy to notice.

[getaapologist]

It's a Spark

A/N: Well, my drought is kind of broken. This contains no spoilers for the movie, though I have seen it. I love Johnny Storm. That is all. This is inspired by a prompt from our cute little discord community (thank you @glassbxttless ). Thank you to @prettycalla for reading this and graciously letting me borrow her plot suggestion and also talking me off the ledge! I hope you guys enjoy it.

Pairing: Johnny Storm x female!reader (A dress is mentioned but nothing else descriptive)

Warnings: none. This is cavity-inducing fluff. But as usual, blog is 18+ in general, so.

This wasn’t going to plan. Did anything? Ever?

Spaceflight. Wonderful, a dream of his. Travelling among the stars. Beautiful. Until it wasn’t. Unexplained Cosmic radiation, that’s what they kept saying. A real turning point in Johnny’s life. It should’ve killed him. All of them. But it didn’t.

But this? Watching you turn around, waffle cone piled high with at least three different flavored scoops of ice cream? This felt like higher stakes than all of that other stuff. By a longshot.

You sparkled. It was just a regular day, one spent out of the Baxter building for once. It was unusual to see you out of the lab. He didn’t know which he preferred yet, but your soft smile and that pretty yellow dress was winning him over.

“What is that?” Johnny laughed, gesturing to your tower of scoops. 

“Oh, this?” you smiled up at him, hefting your cone. “Just the best possible combination of flavors.”

Perfect.

Johnny leaned back on the park bench, arm splayed out over the top of it, watching you as you sat down beside him. 

“Tell me all about it, doll,” he smiled.

This. This was what he needed. 

“Okay, so the ratio is important,” you explained, turning to him to show him the cone.

He wanted to pay attention to your careful analysis of ice cream flavors, but he liked watching you more.

“Separate? They’re okay. But together? Amazing.”

There was chocolate, obviously, you explained, the base of it all. The cake flavor, barely tolerable on its own, managed to taste a good bit like graham cracker when paired with the other flavors. There was a marshmallow flavored scoop as well, and the whole thing had a little dollop of marshmallow fluff on top.

“The only thing I haven’t figured out is how to get that smoky, toasted flavor. It’s the one thing keeping it back from tasting like a true smore.”

“Well you know, you do happen to be sitting next to the human torch,” Johnny raised an eyebrow, a smug smile on his face. “I think I can help you with your little problem.”

“You don’t have to waste your energy on this,” you waved him off.

“Wouldn’t be a waste,” he insisted, eyes locked on you. 

Not a waste. Not for you.

You hesitated, but eventually held out your cone to him. 

He removed his arm from the back of the bench and accepted the cone, holding it out in front of him. 

“Toasted marshmallow, coming right up,” he smiled, shooting you a confident smirk before lifting his free hand and producing the orange flames. 

The flames danced along the outside of his hand. He focused on the marshmallow fluff at the top and shot out a small amount of fire towards it, hoping to merely char it.

And that’s what would’ve happened if you hadn’t leaned over a little, mesmerized, your hand falling to his thigh.

The ice cream might as well have vaporized. Remnants dripped down his hand, falling to his jeans, his shoes. It was his own fault. He didn’t dare blame you. All you did was touch him innocently. 

His embarrassment raged, apologies tumbling from his lips as he turned to look at you. The temperature in his immediate vicinity shifted up a few degrees. He was not his usual cool, collected, smooth self. He was at a loss.

Your shock gave way to laughter, the sound almost musical to his ear. It was contagious. A small sigh left him before the corners of his lips turned up and he laughed along with you.

“You’re not mad?” Johnny asked, seeking reassurance.

“Not at all,” you answered, reaching for his cheeks, holding his face in your hands. “Sorry I distracted you.” More chuckling from you.

“Oh, you distracted me, did you?” His smile didn’t lessen. If he didn’t currently have ice cream all over his hand he might’ve pulled you into his lap. He wanted to.

You raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, okay,” he admitted, looking away, his cheeks going slightly pink. “You want another one?” He held the mostly empty cone up.

You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. It was soft, tender, but lingering. “I’m okay. Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

He felt almost disappointed when you released his face, his cheek still tingling. 

“I can get rid of that,” you offered, reaching for the cone.

“I got it.” Johnny moved it out of reach, tipping it into his mouth. The melted cream really did taste pretty much like a smore. He took a bite out of the now-empty cone. “Well? Lead the way, doll.”

Taglist: @mystic-alpaca

[neeeooon]

isagi with a reader who’s super affectionate and clingy to him? they’re always kissing his cheeks or lips and just basically super loving and calling him cute and stuff?

yesss cute fluffy isagi 🥹 thank you for the req!

professional complimenter

isagi yoichi x gn!reader (who is very clingy). fluff! ooc isagi

isagi thought you were ridiculous most days when you hung off his arm or tugged his face down to kiss his cheek for the third time that hour. though he didn’t often proposition you, he never stopped you, either.

“you’re so cute,” you hummed, squishing his face between your palms to pucker his lips. “why are you so cute? what’s your problem?”

“ask my parents,” he replied, his words a little muffled with your hands on his cheeks.

he always tried to act like he was unaffected, like this wasn’t a regular occurrence. you could often be found pressing kisses to his face or hugging his back while he watched soccer matches, and isagi’s ears always went pink at your affection.

one time you climbed into his lap just to cup his face and go, “cutie.” isagi’s first instinct was to hide his face and call you a liar, but then you kissed his nose and said it again.

“stop,” he said halfheartedly, covering his ears to hide the redness. he knew that wouldn’t stop you, which is exactly why he did it.

you shuffled closer and pulled his hands away, repositioning them around your waist. “no. you’re cute. live with it.”

and isagi loved it. yours words and actions have him red in the face, and you aren’t the type to ignore that.

“you’re totally blushing.”

“no, i’m not.”

“yeah, you are. great, now you’re even more adorable. what am i gonna do with you?”

he pretended to zip his lips before moving to get away from your teasing.

you caught his hand before he could get too far. “awww, you’re getting shy~”

“shut up.”

he didn’t pull away, though, and didn’t tell you to stop when clung to him and smothered him with more affection. he’d never tell you, but the soft smile was enough to express how he “secretly” wished you’d never stop.

[planetangee111]

ON THE H★USE !!

CHARACTER: bartender!Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader SUMMARY: riding the hot bartender after a break up is the least expected thing you’ll ever think of CONTENT WARNING: alcohol, pet names, foreplay, fingering, teasing, grinding, pre-cum, no protection, creampie, car sex, nipple play, squirting, size difference, big dick toji papa, alpha toji with xxxxxxxxl dick, multiple orgasm, one-sided drunk sex (?), power play, I’m so lazy to do tags, who even reads content warnings tbh WORD COUNT: 4k A/N: If yall know who I am I’m back I ditched my old blog for a rebranding yall (I was in psychosis when I archived my blog n I kinda regret it now but wtv) 😲🧞‍♀️ and yes I’ve reposted a few pieces of my previous writing (including this one hehe) cuz I’m a lazy bitch and refuse to rewrite a shit ton to fill my masterlist pls don’t cancel me for plagiarising my own works 🫩🫩 someone made a call out post on myself and ts stress me out pls don’t do smth like that again ill beat ur ahh till u look like u have a fucked up bbl

“Plus, he literally had to beg me to act like I was cummin’ when he stuck his sorry excuse of a dick in me!” your eyelids hung heavily over your eyes as you exclaimed, brows shooting down in a frown. “Get a load of that guy, am I right?”

“He doesn’t pay for your stuff, and he can’t fuck good?!” Toji teasingly mirrored your tone as he manoeuvre behind the bar, uniform taut from the way he natchly flexed his arms; the bottles clinking as he worked deftly to craft out the beverage you ordered. “What a man.”

It has been 2 hours since you’ve been rambling on about your ex-boyfriend, and the ravenette felt like he’d known this stranger for years—all of his secrets and traits aired into his ears. Albeit, it was getting a bit boring, with the same repeated stories tumbling out of your voluble mouth. But still, he enjoyed chuckling at your adorable insobriety, fuelled by drunken mania. 

“Here you go, princess,” a small tug lifted the ends of his scarred lips when your eyes patently glimmered at the newly served alcohol. “It’s the last I can give you, we’re closing…” Toji’s eyes momentarily flickered to his watch, “in 7 minutes.”

“Oh, okay!” you deliriously yawped, downing the beverage into your liqueur-brimmed system before handing him your card, which you aimlessly threw at him, not even lucid of your motions. “Just swipe it.”

Toji simply brushed it off, taking it towards the other side of the counter. He's used to unintentional antics like yours, as long as the tab was paid off he has no problem with them. 

15,900 yen. 

The digits flashed past his eyes like stars, igniting a luminous glint in his dark emerald orbs. Hell, was it a sum to casually splurge on at some mid-high bar? He’s got a pretty girl with probably an equally pretty amount of personality in her wallet, sprawled on the bar top wailing about her broken heart. 

Oh, how he would love to play saviour. 

“Here, princess. Time to go home,” he tapped your card onto the counter after the successful transaction. His gruff voice was low as you drifted further from your haywired consciousness and towards a delicious drowse. You didn’t move when he neared your face, attempting to marshal up your scattered coherence by calling into your ear. 

Toji sighed as he leaned back onto his feet, and crossed his bulky arms, pondering the ways to get you out of the otherwise empty bar. 

It was 12:58 am and the other inebriated customers had gone out by themselves or with their friends dragging them along. Except for you, softly snoring on the sticky counter. 

His coworker shrugged at him when the ravennette glanced at the shorter male for help. “Just get her out of here. I’ll clean up the rest, and you owe me this one,” always so kind—how Toji wished he could smooch that man right then. 

“Thanks, man,” Toji’s eyes curved in moon crescents, before settling his sight onto your dozed frame. His finger pressed against your temple, and your head lolled to the side in suit of a light push; a trail of drool slipping past your plump lips. You were completely and utterly out of it, huh?

Grasping onto your arm, the male lightly shook you awake, the warmth from his calloused palm stimulating your nerves vivified. “Hey, Mr. Bartender…” you had an uneven smile on your crooked lips, sleepiness bubbling into the air with every laggard blink as you breathily chuckled. “Are you gonna bring me home?”

“I don’t know about that, princess,” his tone was syrupy sweet and it licked the ends of your lips upwards into a velvety grin. “But we gotta go now. Come on,” Toji’s hands came to yours, gently pulling you off of the bar stool. You followed after his guide, slipping your card into your pocket before frisking behind him like a lamb to the door. 

The burly male turned to his wrist after the door swung close in the wake of your exit, checking his watch; it read 1:04 am. The train station is closed and it’s going to kill his conscience if he leaves you by the streets like he always does with intoxicated male customers. He has no idea where you stay anyway—best to call a friend of yours to take you home. 

“(Y/N)?”

A grating, vexatious voice called. The two of you swivelled your gaze to the source to find your cheating, insipid creature of an ex with an arm thrown over some chick’s shoulders, chortling at the unstable mess you were. Your eyes were puffy and tumid from the hours of crying slash ranting session, and you were anything but lucid from the way you looked. 

How fucking lucky.

“What you got going on here? Getting kicked out of a bar?” your ex taunted, nearing his face to yours as you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Y-You…as—”

“Have the lady some of her space, buddy,” Toji’s authoritative voice prevailed over yours as he pushed the male away, rendering him to helplessly stumble backward into a fall. The woman in his arm hid her giggle with a gasp before helping his fuming ass up, his face beet red from his ignominious tumble. 

“Who are you?” he barked, eyelids flying open to show the hidden whites and teeth bared in belligerence. 

“A man who can make her cum, without begging her to fake it,” the woman burst into a half-concealed snicker when the ravennette broke the air with his unanticipated words. Your face grew to be saturated with ardent red, from both the intoxicant that coursed through your veins and the sentence you thought you had heard.

“I call it bullshit,” your ex spat with his upper lip pulled up in disrelish. There’s a flash of humiliation in his glare—he knew Toji seemed better than him and it killed him to know you’ve got suitors who are way out of his league. 

“It’s true,” you tapped Toji’s metallically stiff chest with a twisted, satisfied smirk on your rat-arsed face. “He toootally didn’t just stick his dick in me and call it a day, y’know?”

“Fucking whore.”

“What d’ya say?!” you screeched, ready to pounce on the asshole. “I sent you to the ER once, and I’ll do it again!”

“Alright, that’s enough, princess,” Toji tenaciously held onto your arm, and you’re stuck by him even without him using much strength. “We don’t want you dirtying your hands, do we?” 

A nasty shove met the male’s chest, knocking the air out of his lungs when he hit the ground. It was merely a fraction of Toji’s force, and it already had the male choking to breathe on the ground. 

“Speak to her like that again, and it’s not going to be just a push,” you could hear the rise of a dour, serrated threat in his tone, and it begot the asshole to cower back in trepidation. 

Pussy, Toji grimace. Albeit he was no saint himself but he absolutely despises the ilk of guys your ex filtered into—boisterous and a bully to women, yet nothing but a trifling mutt in front of men.

A tug of his arm, and your limbs wrapped around his wretched him out of his state of visceral contempt. “Take me home!” you ineptly exclaimed, a gruntled grin on your adorable, roguish face. 

Briefly riveting his baleful gaze onto the splayed male on the bitumen, Toji steered you uphill towards the parking lot as you clumsily tottered aside him. 

The encounter with the small-dick fucker sure rendered him more understanding of your evening of outburst. Plus, for you to be cheated on that piece of work was truly the icing on the cake. “Poor you, huh?”

“Forget ‘bout him! You were so cool I almost cummed right there and then,” you teasingly giggled as you peered at him through your heavy eyelids. 

Fuck—it’s no good for you to be saying that with that look on your face. 

His eyes rest ahead the road as you soon come to near the bright red C8 Corvette the woman he’s estranged with had previously gifted him, the car standing out amongst the parked vehicles like a sore thumb. 

Your eyes scintillated in awe when the car luridly flashed and beeped in the night, “That’s yours?!” you cried aloud, frisking all the way to the car, before stumbling over thin air and nearly jolting forward into a fall. Luckily, Toji was quick enough to catch you by your arm, saving your knee a painful event of bloody excoriation. “Oopsie daisie.”

Cute, Toji chortled. 

Jumping into the vehicle, the potent roar of the engine cut through the midnight air after you’ve settled neatly in the passenger seat, the only thing missing was the safety belt that was supposed to secure your form. Reaching to your side, Toji’s hand briefly brushed over your exposed thigh, the hem of your short dress riding up to merely cover your panty. 

A soft, almost inaudible noise fled your lips, and his eyes laid on your face, the faint, intimate gold beam from the street lamp illuminating your glowing features. Your orbs were luminous through the dark, and it roused an innate lasciviousness that lay dormant in his core. 

The liquor that flowed through your blood vessels had not quelled through the lapse of time, but it did not take away your clarity to feel the tension that electrified the air molecules into sweltering magnetism. And gosh do you want to snatch the constriction in the atmosphere and tear it through your canines. 

“Touch me,” you whispered, so soft and vulnerable Toji could seemingly snap you in half with just a touch. 

“You’re drunk, princess,” he reminded, yet he remained unshifted over your smaller frame, his hand merely a molecule from your tempting flesh that sang for his warmth. 

“No,” you were firm. Something in you purled, bubbling a heavy, demanding need to have him devour you. “I want you,” your breath was hot, scorchingly so; airy and desperate. 

“You want me?” his hand fell to your wrist, grasping your soft skin under his heavy hold, and guiding you over to his seat, straddling his lap. His gaze cut through your eyes, daubing pressure against your jumbled nerves, his intensity threatened to slice through the silky jugular of your vulnerability. And you nearly moaned under his eyes.

You gingerly nodded at him, and you thought the knit between your brows was enough to speak for your neediness. 

His grip on your wrist tightened a fraction before you missed the heat radiating from his palm. “Careful, princess. You might regret this,” he had paved a way out, it’s a leave it or fuck it situation served beneath your fingertip—and all the atoms in your body leaped into the growling blaze in the abyss residing in his essence. 

“Please,” your voice was barely a note above a mumble, yet the weight of your single word mitigated any marshalled resistance in him. 

His hands slid up your thighs, inching under your dress, sending tingles to your throbbing core. The intensity that radiated from him ceased to waver as he leaned against your neck, brushing against your skin as you gulped. Dark, ashen clouds drew above the emerald forest of his before he spoke, almost threateningly against your throat, “I want you to remember every single detail of this in the morning.”

With a breathless nod, you had swung the floodgates of your amenability open to his guttural thirst. The heavy, rapacious waves of your desires crash into superposition. You were the fuel and he was the fire, together the air detonated into space. 

His wet lips met yours in a whim, sucking onto your flesh until it stung, greedily tasting every crook and cranny of your wet cavern with the bumps of his tongue. You moaned into his mouth as your hands flew to clutch onto his head, deepening the kiss to reach his insides while his rough fingers sank into the plump flesh of your ass. 

Your lips burned with his saliva, and his tongue fluttered with yours. The atmosphere felt all-consuming, gripping onto your throat and restricting the air from flushing down your windpipe. Yet, your core pulsed between your thighs, an excited blaze slowly roaring into something bigger than you could handle. 

Your chest rose and fell in a quick tempo when you snatched your lips away from his, grasping as much air as you could within a second before you dove right into him. Albeit your sight was hazy, you caught sight of the luminous flush that panned over his cheeks. 

Pretty, pretty. You chanted in your head as your hands slid down to his clothes, clumsily popping the buttons off of the garment that kept the warmth of his skin away from your touch. You want him, you want him. 

Your fingers nearly melted when they met his hot, sinewy chest, and Toji’s teeth sank a little too hard into your bottom lip when you teased his nipples under your touch, innervating them hard with every flick. The salient bulge in his pants rolled against your folds, merely separated by an annoying piece of your underwear, and your moans jumbled into each other’s mouths

“Fuck, princess. You’re driving me crazy,” Toji breathily groaned when your sloppy lips sundered apart, a hot string of mixed saliva connecting your swollen, red lips together. His large hands lifted your ass up into the air as he palmed them, the warmth from him sending a snuggly sensation through your body. “It’s no fun when only you get to tease.”

Your eyes playfully gleamed, before the light shot out of the crater of your orbs—his finger pressed against your sodden panty, damp with arousal. The tingles shyly reached through your belly as he rubbed your hardening bud, and your body shuddered against his. 

“You’re not playing fair,” he murmured against your jaw, leaving trails of bruised kisses down your jugular. His hand left your heat just as the high came close to your clutch, leaving you with nothing but the lingering cold touches of his. 

With a defeated sigh, you ground your knee against his growing hardness, your finger shyly rubbing against the clothed tip of the constrained mount, the spot slowly growing dark from amativeness. 

Toji sunk deeper into the headrest as you touched him, his exposed chest ceaselessly rising and falling. His breath hitched in his throat when you twirled his sensitive nipple between your fingers; your heated exhales warming the side of his neck as his grip almost painfully firmed onto the fat of your ass. 

You didn’t allow his peaking orgasm to come through, forcing yourself off of his sore, throbbing erection, and your teeth bared into a dirty smile. “I am playing fair.”

“You want to test me, princess?” he chuckled, the bassy timbre of his scratching the knot of an itch inside your ears. A gasp leaped out of your throat as your body jolted forward, his seat clicked backward to its maximum taut, “I’ll make you cry for more.”

You found your back nestled in his stead, your thighs spread open with his calloused hand slipping down your supple flesh. His fingers tapped nearer and nearer to your heat, before slipping off your soiled panty. 

“So fuckin’ wet,” Toji sucked an inhale through his teeth as he leered at your dripping sex—thick, rough thumb fluttering friction on your clit once again. Your eyelids flitted shut as you softly moaned against the air, the smell of your arousal filled the confinement of the car; the scent nearly making him growl when it panged hard against his nostrils. 

You watched as Toji slipped a thick finger into your velvety folds, feeling it trodding past your walls. Your heat snugly enveloped him as he filled your inside with another digit, his two fingers pressing, and running themselves over your slick cunny. “Gotta stretch you good for me, princess.” 

Your back inched into the seat with a contented sigh, enjoying the build-up of ticklish pressure stacking up your tummy. Toji was ridiculously dexterous with his fingers—deftly stroking your cunt, and quick to find the spot in you that innervated your pure senses with a ting. 

“S-Shit—” your body was subservient to his touches; your spine curved into an arch, your toes curled tight and your fingernails dug into the flesh of his arm. “M’feel so good. Toji—fuck,” it was as if his fingers were gilded in Eros’ heavenly blessing, the godly grace spilling into your pleasure. Tears began prickling at the sides of your eyes from how hard you were squeezing them, your flailing legs kicking against the dashboard of his car. 

“So pretty when you cry,” Toji groaned under his breath, his damp restraints painfully throbbing from the way your squelching walls tightened around his fingers—oh, how he fucking wish it was his cock in you right there and then. 

His touches were singing your walls into melting squirts of drool, pearls of arousal weeping between your thighs in the wake of his careful strokes. Never were you touched in such a way, and you felt like balling from how good it felt. “M’ close! M’gonna cum! Oh my gosh—!”

“Come on. Cum for me, princess,” you could hear his smirk in his voice as pleasure kissed your senses, fluttering through your electrified nerves and sending a jolt of tingles all over your body. Your mouth was lax open into an ‘o’, nails marking his skin as they sank deeper into his arm, and your walls tightly spasmed with a wave of rough euphoria cracking your bones weak. You fucking came from his mere fingers. 

Your eyes bat open with your lips sundered from your pants, your face ardently glowing from your subduing high. “Fuck…” your wet thighs quivered from the sheer force of your orgasm, and you blinked in disbelief. 

Over 2 decades of living and it was the first time cumming from a real man, not your fingers nor toys. But the brawny, sex-dripped male slipping your dress off of your spent body. 

You almost fell in love. 

Pushing him down the driver’s seat, you crawled over Toji’s firm thighs, running your finger from his chest to his muscle-packed abdomen, then down to the wristband. You were flickering to take charge, and he sank down to your guidance, rough palms resting on your hips. 

Your dress was off, divulging the bare curves of your body, sweat-glazed skin iridescent under the moonbeam and your sex-flushed features were begging for him. You look so, fucking, perfect that he had to bite down the need to ruin you on the spot. 

His hips impatiently thrust upwards into your sticky cunt, grinding his pack against you, urgency in his essence demanding your heat. “Don’t keep me waiting now,” he purred, with a silent warning tagging behind his words. 

Your fingers tugged the waistband of his pants along with his briefs, a drive in you matching his pacing hastiness. His shaft sprang out of its painful confinement, and your eyes nearly popped out from the sheer look of his cock. 

He was oozing with sticky pre-cum from his angry, red tip, throbbing veins ran from the base of his length to the curved head—the size of him bigger than any you’ve seen. The smell of his masculine essence hit your senses and a new pool of arousal began drawing in your tummy, your pussy walls squeezing in empty neediness.

“There’s no backing out now, princess,” Toji’s fingers firmly gripped onto your ass, lifting you over his cock, hovering.

“Who said I’m backing out?” you gulped, before lowering yourself down, his fat cockhead kissing your pussy lips before your hips greedily sank down his length, oblivious to the crackle of tingles it would send to your nerves.

“Careful there,” he teased with a chuckle as you let out an instinctual gasp from the way his girth stretched past your velvety walls, the slick sound of your arousal-dripped cunt, and his heavy shaft bubbled into the air, and scorched your cheeks red.

“M-My gosh…” you cried as your hazy gaze fell to the bulge jutting from the inside of your tummy, your walls taut with his heavy cock buried inside you. “I’m s’full, Toji.”

“Mhm,” he cooed, brushing his hands over the sides of your smooth thighs. “But you gotta start moving, baby.”

Gingerly, you lift your hips up before slowly inching them down his length. Your walls clenched as your sex rubbed friction, and you could feel every pulsing vein of his just as he could feel your fluttering warmth.

“Feel good, princess?” Toji asked breathily, your head faintly nodded, but there was a hint of a dubious glint in your fallen gaze, your knees lifting and sinking your weight.

“I need your help…” your voice cracked in disappointment as you paused, tears of frustration edging by your eyes. You couldn’t seem to grasp a steady pace no matter how long you painfully rode.

“What d’ya say?”

Your orbs looked as though they were melting off of your sweat-glazed skin, blinks of fervourish plea clawing from your drunken gaze into his. “Please, Toji,” your voice hitched, and you’re humping his pelvis. “Please…I want to feel good.”

Aww. How fucking adorable.

You yelped when you felt yourself being raised and slammed down his cock, your folds burning with every stretch of your walls. And it feels so good. “Y-Yes…” your eyes closed shut, fingers scrambling to grip his locks. “T-Toji—mhaa!”

“You’re so fuckin’ cute screaming my name,” the curve of his tip perfectly kissed your g-spot with each piston of his hips, and every time the twitching head of his meat met your gummy part, it sent a flash of electricity up your spine.

“S-Sho good—” you slurred through your words, weighed head lolling idly to every thrust of his fat cock.

“No one can get you dripping off their cock like this, huh?”

“Mmh—yes!” the space between your brows was crumpled into a tensed frown, your hips bouncing up and down his thick girth with his hands guiding your pace. “I love it! I love your cock!”

Toji let out a low groan when you cried, bucking himself deeper into your sloppy mess of a cunt and kissing the surface of your cervix. “Fuck—I love an honest girl.”

Your muscles nearly melted off of your bones as he continued to fucked himself deeper than you’ve ever felt, reaching the parts you didn’t know could be touched and your features dropped with his touches on your deep intimacy. A fierce sear of heat burned through your tingling womb, and it threatened to consume your body whole. “M’ cummin’! Toji—!”

“I know, I know, let it out f’me. Come on,” he grunted, keeping his grip firm on your arms as he fucked himself hard and deep into you. He could feel your squelching cunny clench, so tight as for the purpose of milking him on the spot. “Keep bouncin’ on my cock, yeah?”

“Nngh—No more!” you squealed. “N-No—” his thumb drew between your shaking thighs and greedily swiped over your blushing clit. Your fingernails sank into your palms as you gripped for dear sanity, his cock continuously violating your fluttering spots until they grew sore.

“I can make you feel better, princess,” he mumbled tinglingly against your neck, sinking his teeth down your flesh to hold back a shaky moan. His pleasure was inching to fly to release, and your tight clutch onto his shaft was nothing but a catalytic lure.

“S’ hurts—please!” your babbles were almost indecipherable as he rammed into your sore cunt, his fingers digging into your soft flesh holding onto you tenaciously; pushing you right to the edge of oblivion as he clung onto his nearing release.

“Cum f’me again, baby?”

“M’can’t! Still sensitive—!” you cried before another orgasm shot through your core. You felt as if you were sent up into the ether, stars teeming through your body as the waves of pleasure sent you on a vertigo ride. Your gasps dragged through your lips, your eyelids hung heavily over your bleary eyes, with tears slipping down your hot cheeks.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—M’close too, baby,” Toji swore through his bared teeth, his cock painfully twitching as thick semen surged through his tip—his hips rolled as your cunt squeezed his remaining sanity, popping them like fireworks before they burst into nothingness.

Your essence squirted out of your tensed cunny, shooting with his mixed cum that dripped down his belly. Your breaths shaky and hot with heightened senses, your sticky sex pulsing in overstimulation.

Exhausted, you fell prostrated on top of his hard muscle-built body, head undulating with the ups and downs of his heaving chest. And slowly, your cognisance drifted back into your mind, the aftermath of everything—the alcohol and the sex, pummelled into you like a heavy truck. Unforgivingly so.

“Toji…I really feel like pukin—”

[sweet-halsey]

The wrong girl

lando norris x reader

summary: lando has a new girl but the internet realized it might have been barking up the wrong tree...

warnings: none just fluff stuff.

It started like most things in the off-season did with blurry photos, shaky assumptions, and Twitter threads longer than most race strategies.

The first shot surfaced in early December. Lando, half-covered by a hoodie, standing backstage at a Tate McRae concert in London. Arms crossed, mouth tilted in that familiar smirk. A laminated pass dangling from a lanyard around his neck.

No tag. No context. Just one tweet and a caption that read:

@/formulafeed:

lando at a tate show?? explain yourself king

💬 12.4K likes • 4.3K retweets

The second photo came three days later: Amsterdam. This time, a fan video showed him laughing near the sound booth, talking to someone off-camera. The camera panned too quickly to catch a clear shot of the person beside him, but that didn’t matter. The story was already forming.

By the time he showed up in Paris, seated casually in VIP with a drink in hand and the same backwards cap he always wore on travel days, the internet had already decided.

“Tate McRae and F1 star Lando Norris spark dating rumors after multiple concert appearances”

— PopBuzz UK, Dec. 9th

You had laughed when you saw the headline, halfway through stretching in the cramped dressing room at the venue.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, holding up your phone so the other dancers could see. “He’s going to lose it.”

Riley, one of the other girls, leaned over your shoulder. “Wait, they think he’s dating Tate?”

You just nodded. “Because he’s been at, like, every show.”

“Well… he has,” Riley grinned. “He’s basically part of the crew at this point. You sure you don’t want to just tell people?”

You gave a half-smile and tucked your phone away. “Not yet.”

Because it wasn’t about hiding. Not really.

It was about keeping something for yourself.

The thing was, it hadn’t started with some whirlwind celebrity crossover or a dramatic meet-cute.

It had started at rehearsals. Quiet. Simple.

You’d been dancing backup for Tate’s upcoming winter mini-tour nothing big, just Europe, a few major cities, back before the holidays. Lando had come to rehearsals once, tagging along with one of Tate’s producers he’d met through mutual friends. He didn’t say much that first day. Just watched. Asked a few respectful questions. Made a joke or two. And then, somehow, he kept showing up.

By Amsterdam, you’d gone on your first real not-date, pizza and cheap beer in the back of a production van.

By Oslo, he was pressing kisses to your shoulder before you went on stage.

And by Madrid, when the two of you were spotted swaying together at the afterparty, a little too close, a little too in sync, the internet realized it might have been barking up the wrong tree.

@/slowmoF1:

okay but who IS this girl and why does he look at her like THAT 😭

💬 19.7K likes • 6.2K reposts

@/dancersoftiktok:

so you’re telling me lando norris has been following the WHOLE tate tour not for tate, but for one of the dancers??? i love this romcom

💬 11.3K likes

Back in the hotel, Lando was lying on your stomach, tracing lazy patterns on your back with one hand while scrolling with the other.

“I mean… do we let them keep thinking it’s Tate?” he asked, deadpan. “Should I start dropping subtle hints in my stories? Like a single red flag emoji. Or a cryptic lyric.”

You rolled your eyes, flipping your pillow over to the cool side. “You already posted a story with us wearing the same shoes. Isn’t that soft-launching?”

He smirked. “That was fashion.”

You reached back and flicked his thigh. “Post whatever you want. Just… don’t tag me.”

Lando tilted his head. “You sure?”

“I like this,” you said quietly, turning your face back into the pillow. “Just… us.”

There was a long pause. Then his lips brushed the top of your spine, soft and sure.

“Okay,” he said. “Just us.”

Of course, that didn’t stop the media from digging.

By the time January rolled in, the headlines had shifted from rumors to theories.

Who is Lando Norris really dating? New mystery girl spotted backstage in Milan. — The Daily Whisper , Jan. 8

Tate McRae laughs off dating rumors with F1 driver: “He’s just a friend, promise!” — Rolling Stone UK , Jan. 12

It should have felt invasive. And part of it did. But the rest… it felt surreal. Like living inside someone else’s life.

You kept dancing. The tour kept moving.

And Lando kept showing up.

He brought you lunch between sets. Sent you stupid voice memos from the hotel gym. Carried your bag when your ankle flared up after a long show in Rome.

Never flashy. Never loud. Just present. And kind. And there.

One night, when you were curled up under a hotel duvet watching The Office reruns with room service fries between you, you looked over at him and said, “You’re not what people think.”

He blinked at you. “That sounds ominous.”

“I mean it,” you said, softer now. “You’re not just some fast car, loud laugh, party-boy headline.”

Lando tilted his head, his expression unreadable.

And then, with complete sincerity, said: “You think I have a loud laugh?”

You threw a fry at him.

Lando and you made it all the way to Berlin before things almost fell apart.

It was the last show of the winter tour. The crew was half-exhausted, half-hyper, the kind of jittery energy that comes from surviving long flights, cold dressing rooms, and choreography that left bruises in strange places.

Lando had been unusually quiet that night. He hadn’t said why. Just kissed you behind the curtain during soundcheck and whispered something about you "killing it tonight" before vanishing into the crowd.

You figured he just didn’t want to distract you. He always knew when to disappear, like he had an internal clock that counted down to your next call time.

But then you opened your phone after the encore and saw it.

A photo. Grainy. Clearly shot with a zoom lens.

You were laughing in the hallway, half-dressed in sweats and a sports bra, one hand buried in Lando’s hoodie, his hoodie, unmistakable, McLaren logo on the sleeve, and he was leaning in, eyes soft, mouth close to your temple.

There was no mistaking the look. Or the closeness.

@/celebwatch:

BREAKING: New photos surface of Lando Norris and an unidentified dancer backstage in Berlin. Not Tate. Developments ahead.

💬 42.7K likes • 18.3K retweets

Your stomach dropped.

The post had gone up thirty minutes ago.

You barely made it into the green room before your phone buzzed with a message from Lando:

saw it.

do you want me to say something?

You hesitated for a full minute. The whole room buzzed around you, people changing, laughing, talking and all you could hear was your own heart thudding in your chest..

you:

not yet.

just need a sec.

He didn’t push.

He never did.

That was the thing about Lando. For all his confidence, all the swagger people assumed came with the job, he never once made you feel like you owed him access to your thoughts. He waited. Always. No pressure. No ego.

You found him an hour later outside the venue, leaning against a van, hoodie pulled low, hands stuffed into the pockets.

“You okay?” he asked, before you could say anything.

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “It just… happened so fast.”

He nodded like he got it. “We can wait longer. Keep it quiet. I don’t care.”

“I know,” you said. Then: “But maybe I’m tired of hiding.”

That made him look at you, really look. Eyes soft. Searching.

“You don’t have to do anything just to protect me,” you added quickly. “But I don’t want to pretend I don’t know you when I’m with you.”

Lando stepped forward. His hands found your waist like they belonged there. “Then we don’t pretend.”

You laughed, just once, small and tired. “That simple, huh?”

His grin returned, crooked and warm. “We’ll make it simple.”

@/lando

📸 carousel:

1. blurry hallway mirror selfie of you and Lando, both laughing

2. you on stage mid-jump, spotlight cutting across your face

3. coffee cup with your name sharpied on the lid

4. his hoodie tossed over a chair beside a pair of battered dance sneakers

📝: "she danced, I fell. you know the rest."

💬: View all 83,495 comments

@/gridtea:

OH MY GOD THE HARD LAUNCH

@/tayloryn_03:

they’re so real for this. I literally screamed.

@/f1gossipgirl:

this is a romcom. he followed her ACROSS EUROPE. are you kidding.

@/tatefanacc:

we all owe tate an apology lmao

You didn’t even open the app until the next morning. By then, your phone was at 3% and your WhatsApp was a mess.

Riley had texted you five times.

bestie

BESTIE

I HOPE YOU WOKE UP TO BEING A LEGEND

did you see the tiktok of the girl crying over you and lando?

because same

You buried your face in the pillow and groaned into the cotton.

Lando stirred beside you, one arm curling lazily around your waist. “What time is it?”

“Too early,” you mumbled.

“Too famous,” he countered, voice thick with sleep.

You rolled over to face him, hair tangled, cheeks still flushed from the night before. “You’re sure you’re okay with this?”

He blinked at you, still half-asleep, then smirked. “I soft-launched you with a coffee cup and a blurry mirror selfie. You think I do that for just anyone?”

You laughed and it felt like breathing for the first time in weeks.

The next week, you came to Bahrain with him.

No one expected you there. The pre-season buzz was already thick car launches, new liveries, fan theories about every driver’s form.

But when you appeared in the McLaren hospitality suite wearing a team jacket two sizes too big and sunglasses you definitely didn’t pack yourself, the photographers clocked it fast.

@/gridreport:

Lando Norris brings rumored girlfriend to Bahrain paddock sources confirm she’s not part of the team, but might be part of his heart 🧡

💬 65.1K likes • 17.8K retweets

Lando didn’t say anything to the cameras.

But after testing, when he passed you in the garage, he gave you a smile that said everything.

You’d been on plenty of stages.

You’d danced in front of thousands stadiums, arenas, televised award shows. You’d slipped, recovered, missed a cue, even once threw up backstage mid-costume change and still went out smiling.

None of that prepared you for the paddock.

It wasn’t the cameras that got to you. It was the eyes: curious, calculating, some kind, some not. You could feel them on you as you stepped through the McLaren hospitality suite with a lanyard around your neck and nerves like static beneath your skin.

A photographer had already tried to call you “Tate” before someone from McLaren gently corrected him.

You stayed mostly quiet during the day, tucked into corners of the motorhome, sipping whatever iced drink Lando dropped in your lap and scrolling idly through your phone.

The TikToks were everywhere.

🎥 “He brought her to BAHRAIN?? This isn’t a soft launch, this is marriage.”

💬 122.7K likes

🎥 “Y/N laughing with Oscar Piastri and Lando in the garage = me melting into the floor”

💬 88.9K likes

And then there were the takes the hot ones, the bitter ones, the speculators with Wi-Fi.

@/griddrama:

I don’t know… it just feels fast? Like she’s cute, but Tate made more sense PR-wise.

💬 14.2K likes • 3.9K reposts

That one stuck in your chest more than you wanted to admit.

You weren’t here to make PR sense.

Lando found you sitting on the edge of a small couch just after the second free practice ended. He was still in his race suit, sweat-damp and glowing from adrenaline, unzipping the top half and tugging it down to his waist as he grabbed a water bottle and dropped beside you.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said.

“I’ve seen TikTok,” you replied.

“Worse,” he deadpanned.

You leaned your head back against the couch and exhaled. “Do I look out of place?”

He turned toward you, expression unreadable.

“You look like my girlfriend,” he said plainly. “That’s all I see.”

That would’ve been enough on its own but he wasn’t finished.

“And for the record,” he added, “I don’t date people because they ‘make PR sense.’ I date people because I like them. Like you. A lot.”

You gave a small, crooked smile. “Even if I spill things? And walk into doors? And accidentally wear the wrong credentials to the hospitality lounge?”

He grinned. “Especially then. You keep life interesting.”

You laughed, and the tension melted away just a bit.

Then he lowered his voice and nudged you with his elbow. “Also, Oscar thinks you’re cool. So. Official paddock approval.”

You groaned. “Please tell me I didn’t embarrass myself in front of Oscar Piastri.”

“No,” Lando said with mock seriousness. “That was in front of Zak.”

“Oh my god —”

He was still laughing when you shoved his shoulder, then curled into his side anyway, letting the sound of the paddock buzz around you like background music.

That night, he posted a story.

@/lando

📸: You, holding a McLaren water bottle and wearing his team jacket

🎶: “Woman” – Harry Styles

📝: “Out of her league? Nah. Out of mine.”

@/f1cringe:

lando please I’m already on the floor from testing don’t do this to me rn

@/formulaspice:

every man with a girlfriend needs to be this publicly obsessed. I’m serious.

@y/ndancerfans:

I love that she’s just… normal. talented. lowkey. and he’s just head over heels. this is perfect.

You saw the story while brushing your teeth in the bathroom of your shared hotel room.

“Out of your league?” you said, leaning against the doorframe. “Really?”

Lando looked up from where he was lying across the bed, one socked foot still hanging off the edge. “It’s true.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re a literal Formula 1 driver.”

He pointed his toothbrush at you. “And you’re hotter than a V6 engine in Abu Dhabi. Don’t argue with me.”

You snorted and tossed a towel at him.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m right.”

“You’re in love with me.”

“Obviously.”

•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•

English is not my first language and I don't want it to be. Any mistakes are made out of pure hatred and disrespect for this language. The English have taken enough from this world, I will not let them have my tongue as well.

Thank you.

[dannyriccsystem]

IMAGINE ME AND YOU (I DO.)

LANDO NORRIS X READER

SUMMARY: Lando’s ex, Luisa, is getting married and he’s been invited to her wedding. He doesn’t want to go, but his team insists he does. He agrees, but on one condition: They find someone to pretend to be his girlfriend.

WARNINGS: Fake dating, Luisinha and Jose cameos, Lando is a bit of a disaster, Suggestive themes,

FEATURING: Lando Norris x Model!Reader

NOTE: This’ll probably have 3-4 parts. yes this is because i wanted to write fake dating SHUT UP!

| 1 | NEXT CHAPTER >>>

celebritygossip2025

12.3k likes

celebritygossip2025 Congrats to the happy couple, Luisinha Oliveira and Jose Condessa, who are reportedly engaged!

—

username1 - Rough for Lando fans

username2 - yk who fumbled

username3 - this could’ve been him 😂

username4 - Wonder how it feels for people to only talk about your ex in a congratulatory post 😭

username5 - real. why can’t we just be happy for both of them?

username6 - so happy for her

username7 - definitely an upgrade

“Picked up your mail on the way in,” Max Fewtrell, one of Lando’s closest friends, if not his best one, said rather nonchalantly as he laid the stack of envelopes down on Lando’s gaming desk, right beside his setup. It was somewhat of a routine— Every time he came to visit, he’d collect the neglected stack of papers to give to his buddy, only to watch them all be discarded anyway.

Lando leaned back in his chair, grabbing the rather fat stack with a melancholic sigh. “Thanks, mate.” He began to shuffle through them, briefly reading over the visible summaries before sending them to the back of the pile. However, one smaller envelope mixed in the middle caught his attention. It was thicker with a neatly pressed wax seal holding it together. Written on the other side was his name in beautiful calligraphy. He furrowed his brows, carelessly tearing through the pretty, light blue envelope. “Bloody hell,” he muttered at the struggle he had to put into it.

Max sat himself on the sofa, feet propped up on the table as he pulled out his phone and already took to mindlessly scrolling. He ignored Lando’s chatter, taking it as a sign that it was all a bunch of boring bills and insignificant adult stuff he didn’t really care about.

Lando, however, was internally panicking. The woman’s face on the card inside made his heart drop, as well as the man who was beside her. Kissing her, hugging her, dancing with her. His eyes scanned the words, fingers shaking as he nearly dropped the card.

‘SAVE THE DATE,’ he read internally with a sinking feeling. His throat felt tight and his lips were trembling. ‘Luisa and Jose request your company at their wedding celebration.’ He didn’t read any further. He couldn’t. He already felt sick just at the idea of the woman he used to be so deeply infatuated with marrying another— It was sickening. “Fuck,” he murmured, slamming the card on his desk and burying his face in his hands.

Max flinched, looking up from his phone finally. “What is it? Forgot to pay your water bill or something? Mate, you’re rich, it’ll be fine-”

“Luisa’s getting married.”

“WHAT?”

“Ope- Hon, your phone is ringing,” Your makeup artist warns as she fans off your face with one hand, reaching over to grab the device that was sitting on the counter beside all her supplies. Your eyes are shut, lips drawn into a straight line as to not disturb all the hard work that’s gone into this look. You sigh and hold your palm out, which she then drops your phone into.

“Ugh,” you say as you peek down at the screen. “Hold on, I need to take this.” She nods with understanding. It’s your manager, which means it’s likely super important business, so she falls silent and scurries off to distract herself for a moment or two. “Hello?” You say with faux sweetness, the phone tucked against your ear.

“Hey, can you meet for dinner tonight?” He asks, sounding somewhat sheepish. “We have a last minute business deal that we’re interested in taking, but we need you there to meet with the company.”

“Why does it have to be tonight? I’m about to do a photoshoot. Can it be another day?” Last minute things like this weren’t out of the norm. Your manager was always a bit of a pushover, which meant he was quick to agree to whatever anyone else wanted. Especially as of late— Because of a recent scandal that left you with the image of a selfish, greedy, diva, he’s been desperate for sponsors and brand deals to lighten your image.

“I’ll fly you out as soon as it’s over. It’s important, okay?”

You’re hesitant, but the urgency in his voice leads you to believe he’s telling the truth. “Alright,” you huff. “Fine.”

“Great! I’ll see you later, darling. You’re gonna do great!”

You promptly hang up, muttering a, “yeah, yeah,” along with a sigh.

“Damnit,” you curse under your breath as you stand up, reading to get the ball rolling for the shoot. “I should have asked who we were meeting with…”

your.username

liked by friend1 and others

your.username Enjoying the casualty of life ✨

tagged model.agency, makeup.artist

—

username8 - So pretty 🤩

username9 - I love her smm please notice me queen

♥︎ by author

your.username - ☺️ Thank you for the support 🫰

username10 - Overrated 🙄

username11 - Girl we’ve seen your true colors 😂 no hiding it now

username12 - THIS is the greedy and selfish diva? Sure…

username13 - Absolute angel 😇

friend1 - ILYY

♥︎ by author

friend2 - BEAUTIFUL!! 💍

♥︎ by author

You were stunned when you walked into the restaurant, still adorned in your clothes from the photoshoot and wearing a full face of casual makeup. It was a simple outfit: a pretty white blouse and dress pants, nothing too fancy, but you looked nice nonetheless. However, sitting right beside your manager was someone you were all to familiar with.

Lando Norris.

You knew him, of course. Who didn’t? He was an F1 driver known for good looks and a personality that could only be described as ‘the life of the party.’ But he was the last person you were expecting to see at this dinner, which was supposed to be a business deal. What business did he have with modeling?

“Good evening,” you greeted politely despite your confusion. You took a seat across from them, and beside someone you could only assume was a PR manager for the racer. “I can’t say I was expecting to see you here.” You held out your hand for a handshake, wearing a polite smile. “Y/N L/N.”

He matched your expression as you shook hands. He knew who you were, just as you knew him. Everyone knew you— But based on your humble nature, he could tell you weren’t entirely aware of that. “Lando Norris.”

“Y/N,” your manager began, nervously fiddling with his cloth napkin. You gave him a pointed stare, and he cleared his throat. “I’m sure you’re confused, and… Rightfully so, but—”

“Lando here,” the mystery individual started, speaking much clearer to save your own manager the trouble, “has been invited to a… wedding, and he needs to attend, but we figured it might be best to patch up his party boy persona by giving him a…” She gestured to you. “Girlfriend.”

You blinked.

“I’m sorry?”

“They want you to pretend to be my girlfriend,” he summed up quickly. You blinked again, shaking your head with a soft scoff.

“Y/N, this could be beneficial,” your manager starts to reason. “With your recent reputation, we figured something like this might be for the best. This way people see the more loving and caring side of you.”

This was frustrating, because the whole situation that got you into this mess was never your fault to begin with. It all sprouted from lies, and fixing that up with even more lies seemed like a ridiculous idea to you. But when you looked to Lando and saw his pleading eyes, as well as the bags that sat under the eyes of your manager, you sighed and looked around, trying to form a response without seeming too reluctant.

“I mean… Alright. Fine. But if we’re going to do this— pretend to date, I mean, we’re gonna need to plan things out better than this.” You look to your, well, boyfriend? “We should discuss things over dinner.”

“Dinner sounds great,” he agrees with an annoyingly boyish smile that instantly makes you regret agreeing to this.

f1gossipofficial

8.5k likes

f1gossipofficial Lando Norris spotted at a restaurant with rising model Y/N L/N

tagged lando, your.username

—

username14 - Well good to know he doesn’t care about the engagement lol

username15 - perfect pair 🤡🤡

username16 - I actually think they’d be super cute lol?

username17 - Wait if they’re dating I’m gonna cry wtf

username18 - Girl? calm down 😭 Y/N’s cool

username19 - Do the people running these pages have lives. genuinely wondering atp

“Okay, so,” You set down your yellow legal pad and ballpoint pen, which you used to scribble down your thoughts and ideas. Lando was halfway through his dinner already, all while yours had gone entirely untouched. You had gotten a little too into your writing that you had forgotten to eat. “We met through a mutual friend-”

“Pietra. She’s my mate Max’s girlfriend,” Lando finishes right before shoveling another bite into his mouth.

“Right, Pietra. You’ll have to introduce me sometime,” you nod. “And we started dating because you really liked me and decided to ask me out, and…” You squinted at the page. “You did it by hiring a band to serenade me on my balcony— Lando that’s not believable at all.”

“But she has to know that I’m a gentleman still. A huge, hopeless romantic! So that she feels jealous.”

“Isn’t the entire point to make it obvious that you’re over her? It sounds like you’re trying to win her back.”

He scoffs. “No way. I don’t want her back, I just want to show her what she’s missing.”

“Alright, well how about something a little less romantic comedy-ish, and more… Realistic, like…” You tap the pen against your chin, humming in thought. “Right as I was about to board my airplane, you rushed over to the airport to confess your love.”

“How is that more realistic?”

“Because the music idea was just absurd!”

To the people around you, it might have sounded like the two of you were fighting, but you both shared a laughter at the ridiculous ideas you were tossing into the ring. The night started out awkward, sure, with you trying to coax him into suggesting ideas for the backstory of your PR relationship, but eventually he got into it himself.

“Okay. So you confessed by bringing me my favorite flowers, which are lilies by the way— it’s important you know that— and you told me you loved me in the form of a big romantic speech.” You said firmly, setting the notebook down to take a bite of your pasta, which was now cold. You made a disgusted face and set your fork back down.

“Yeah, something like… Oh, Y/N! You’re the love of my life and I can’t live without you. Please be my girlfriend.” His tone was entirely playful as he clutched his chest, confessing his faux undying love.

“Exactly.” You giggle, and he looks at you with a dopey grin at the sound. “Now, just in case anyone asks, my favorite color is…” You went on to tell him a few details about yourself, just in case they’d come in handy later.

You hadn’t even really noticed, but as you were doing so, Lando took the bill and paid off the entire meal himself. When you were finished with your tangent, you even offered to split it, but he sheepishly told you that he already did it himself. Not that you were gonna complain.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” He said as he held the door open, gesturing grandly. You playfully rolled your eyes and strutted out the restaurant rather dramatically, and Lando followed not long after. “Thanks for agreeing to this, by the way. I promise that after the wedding we can fake a huge break up. Make it dramatic and everything.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” You gave him a little smile, and he returned it with a scrunch of his nose. “Although, it might be better image wise to end things on a good note. We can keep the dramatics to ourselves.”

“Ah, you’re a genius.”

“Well yes, yes I am. Add that to your love confession.” He chuckled, and stopped a few feet from your car door. You opened it and tossed your things in onto the passenger seat, and then turned to face him. “Thanks for dinner, Lando. I’ll see you around.”

You blew him an overly dramatic fake kiss, laughing as he pretended to catch it. He watched you drive off, ensuring everything was fine before he walked back to his own car.

your.username

liked by lando and others

your.username Thanks for dinner ✨🧡

tagged lando

—

username20 - AHH THIS IS HUGE

username21 - SHE CONFIRMED IT SO FAST

friend1 - hot people date hot people 💋

♥︎ by author

friend2 - I only see one hot person here (Y/N)

♥︎ by author

username22 - Model is modeling as always

username23 - Ugh. Hate when people you know nothing about motorsports get involved with the drivers

username24 - right because they’re not human they’re just drivers. right? RIGHT?

♥︎ by author

lando - 🖤

♥︎ by author

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

SEEING YOU

PAIRING: bob floyd x female reader

RATING: mature

WORD COUNT: 4.4K

SUMMARY:

A follow-up to hearing you, where Bob and the air traffic controller have their first date.

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

thank you so much for all the love on hearing you. all the feedback has inspired this second part (and likely a third since this ends on a bit of a cliffhanger sorry).

TAGS/WARNINGS:

post-top gun: maverick, beware of the liberties i’ve taken with bob’s character, not a stand alone fic, sexually suggestive language, no use of y/n, meddlesome jake “hangman” seresin and natasha “phoenix” trace, radio flirting, insecure bob floyd, relationship building, kissing, first date, fluff, not beta read

Bob is sitting in the mess hall after morning drills, smearing cream cheese on his bagel, when Natasha drops her tray on the table across from him and takes a seat. She’s got a shit eating grin on her face, looking very much like the cat that caught the canary.

“You look tired, Bob,” she says, pointedly raising her eyebrows. “Long night?”

“Don’t—“

“Tell me everything,” she interrupts, shoveling a forkful of eggs into her mouth. Some of it spills back onto her plate. Bob wrinkles his nose.

“All I did was drive her home. Nothing else happened,” he insists.

He swallows nervously. He’s never been a good liar.

“You got a little—,” he points to his chin. She doesn’t take the bait.

Natasha’s eyes narrow, assessing him. He remains strong, holding her gaze, refusing to look away. His palms start to sweat and he tries to surreptitiously wipe them on his flight suit.

“You’re a terrible liar, Floyd,” she finally says.

“I know.” He sighs, tipping his head back. “Okay, look. We kissed and some…other stuff…happened,” he looks down at the table, “Then she gave me her number and told me to call her today.”

“Some other—Robert Michael Floyd, you dirty dog.” She leans back, crossing her arms and shaking her head, an amused smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “Who would have thought you had it in you?”

“I’m not a monk, Nat,” he grumbles.

“Are you going to call her?” She asks, ignoring his irritation.

Warmth prickles Bob’s neck and he slides a finger beneath the collar of his shirt. “I don’t know. What if she was just saying that to be nice?”

“Baby on Board, tell me you’re not thinkin’ about lettin’ her get away,” Jake interrupts, straddling the bench beside Bob.

“Where did you even come from?” Bob asks, frowning at the man.

Jake waves his hand dismissively. “I’ve been around,” he replies. He grabs Bob by the shoulder, shaking him slightly. “Listen to me, Bobby. You gotta call her. Sooner rather than later. Otherwise, you’ll miss your chance.”

“I don’t—“

“Ah,” Jake holds up a hand, silencing Bob’s protests, “if you’re not goin’ to do it, then give me her number.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “I’ll show her a good time.”

“Fuck no,” Bob snaps.

Natasha’s eyes widen and she shares a look with Jake. “Is he allowed to say that?” She asks. Bob narrows his eyes at her.

“See? That right there tells me you’re already in deep,” Jake says, poking Bob in the chest. Hard. Bob rubs the spot with his palm as Jake adds, “So man up and call her. Take her out. Practice making lots of little Bobs.”

Bob nearly chokes on his own spit. Natasha laughs so hard that she snorts. Jake, meanwhile, looks entirely too pleased with himself.

“Okay, fine, I’ll call her,” he says, batting Jake’s hand away from him. “Can we stop talking about this now?”

The conversation moves on, with Jake and Natasha discussing the flight maneuvers from the early morning drills they ran. Bob stays quiet, his mind drifting to thoughts of you.

Are you awake yet? Did you sleep well? Are you thinking about him as much as he’s been thinking about you?

He drops his head to the table with a groan. Natasha kicks him in the shin. And Jake—

Well, Jake just laughs like this is funniest goddamn thing he’s ever seen.

Your phone rings while you’re making lunch. The caller ID shows an unknown number and you mentally cross your fingers, hoping that it’s Bob.

You haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since last night. In fact, you spent a good ten minutes jumping around your living room and pumping your fists in excitement before finally collapsing in your bed without even bothering to wash your face.

Taking a deep breath, you swipe your thumb across the screen to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey—Hi. Uh, this is Bob?” His familiar voice says, more of a question than a statement. You hold back your giggle.

“You don’t sound so sure,” you tease. He chuckles and the sound makes your stomach flip.

“It’s Bob,” he says, a little more confidently. “How are you?”

“I’m good. Making some lunch. How about you?”

“Just finished a debrief. Had a few minutes to myself, figured I’d make good on my promise to call you.”

“I’m glad you did,” you tell him, voice soft. You bite your lip. “I’ve been thinking about last night.”

“Yeah?” He asks, voice dropping low. “Me, too.”

You press your lips together. A moment of silence stretches between you — not awkward, but heated, like you both know what the other is thinking about. It makes your face feel warm.

“I’d…like to see you again,” Bob says. Then, in a rush, “If—you know—if that’s something—“

“I’d like that,” you tell him. He lets out what sounds like a relieved sigh.

“Can I take you to dinner?”

You smile, giddiness bubbling in your chest. “Dinner sounds good.”

“Do you have any food allergies?”

Leave it to Bob Floyd to ask about food allergies when trying to secure a date.

It’s painfully endearing.

“I don’t,” you answer.

“Thoughts on seafood?”

“Positive.”

“Okay. I know a place,” he says.

“You take all your girls there?” You ask. He laughs.

“Just you,” he replies, voice full of sincerity that makes butterflies flutter in your stomach. “How about Friday night? I can pick you up at seven.”

“Friday sounds good. Pretty sure I’m working your squad’s drills that morning.”

“Guess that’ll be my lucky day. Hearing you in the morning and seeing you at night.”

“Bob Floyd,” you say slowly. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Depends,” he replies. You can hear the smile in his voice as he asks, “Is it working?”

“Guess you’ll find out on Friday, huh?”

He laughs, low and warm. “I guess I gotta be patient.”

“Exactly.”

Another silence, one that finds you smiling so wide your cheeks start to ache. Bob clears his throat.

“I better go,” he says. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye, Bob.”

You hang up and gently set your phone down on the counter before walking through your kitchen to your living room. You snatch one of the throw pillows from your couch and bury your face in it, letting out a high pitched scream that’s muffled in the cotton and polyester filling.

It’s Friday morning and the sun is just starting to rise when members of the Dagger Squad exit the ready room, heading for the line of gleaming Super Hornets lined up on the tarmac. Bob falls into step with Natasha, helmet tucked under his arm. She looks at him out of the corner of her eye.

“You look happy this morning,” she says.

“Is that not allowed?” He asks.

“No, no, by all means.” She holds up her hands. “It’s a good look on you, Floyd.”

Bob climbs the ladder to the cockpit first, followed by Natasha. She powers up the main systems, screens flicking to life. While she runs through her scan, he checks the comms.

“Tower, Dagger Zero Three. Backseat radio check,” he says, keeping his tone professional. He holds his breath, waiting for a response.

Your voice comes through his headset a moment later, smooth and steady, that familiar early morning raspiness making his pulse spike. “Dagger Zero Three backseater, Tower. Loud and clear,” you tell him.

He smiles beneath the mask and begins powering up his displays with practiced ease. “Copy that, Tower.” He pauses and, unable to resist, adds a quiet, “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” you reply, your tone laced with a smile he wishes he could see.

“Tower, Dagger Zero Three. Radio check,” Natasha cuts in. Then, pointedly, “Stop distracting my WSO.”

“Dagger Zero Three, Tower. Loud and clear,” you reply with a hint of amusement.

“Dagger Zero Three, ready for start-up.”

“Dagger Zero Three, Tower. Cleared for engine start.”

The jet rumbles to life, a low whine building to a steady roar. Bob scans the backseat displays, making any necessary adjustments.

“All systems are green,” he says. Natasha gives a responding nod that he can’t see but knows she does out of habit.

“Dagger Zero Three, Tower. Taxi via Alpha two, hold short of runway two nine.”

“Wilco, Tower. Taxi via Alpha two,” Natasha responds, easing the throttle. The jet begins to move, rolling slowly. She switches to intercom.

“‘Hey’,” she says, deepening her voice in a poor impression of him. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, but there’s no heat to his words.

“You’ve got it bad,” she teases. She keys into the radio. “Tower, Dagger Zero Three. Holding short of runway two-nine, ready for departure.”

“Dagger Zero Three, Tower. Hold for landing traffic,” you reply, unaware of the conversation happening in the cockpit.

Thank god, Bob thinks.

“Copy, holding.” Natasha changes stations again. “So, where are you taking her?”

“None of your business,” Bob replies.

“Harsh,” she says.

“I’m not giving you the chance to crash my date.”

“I would never!”

“Dagger Zero Three, Tower. Winds 300 at 5. Cleared for take off, runway two-nine. Maintain runway heading. Departure on two-five-five decimal four,” you instruct. “And Bob?”

“Yeah?” He asks.

“See you tonight. Don’t be late.”

Bob pulls into a parking spot at your apartment complex and cuts the truck’s engine. He’s a little early by about ten minutes but if he spent any longer pacing the length of his room and debating whether to change his shirt for the third time he’s pretty sure he would have ended up being late.

Instead, he channeled his pre-date nervous energy into picking out a small bouquet of spray roses from the store, the stems wrapped in brown butcher paper tied with twine. He grabs the bouquet from the passenger seat before getting out and making his way up to your apartment.

He knocks twice on your door. He can hear your footsteps as you approach and the click of the lock being turned before the door opens and there you are, smile bright and real and just for him. You’re wearing a dress that hugs you in all the right places and his mouth goes dry, words sticking to his tongue.

“Wow,” he finally manages. “You look—I mean—“

“What’s the matter, lieutenant?” You ask, eyes sparkling. “Cat got your tongue?”

“No, that was last weekend,” he says without thinking. His eyes go wide. “Wait—“

You laugh, pulling him into your apartment by his shirt sleeve and closing the door behind him. Leaning in close enough that your chest brushes his, you kiss him on the cheek. The scent of you lingers, sweet and sugary.

“Careful, Bob. Keep talking like that and we won’t make it to dinner,” you say with a wink. His face grows hot and he swallows nervously. You glance down at the bouquet close to being crushed in his hand, your face lighting up. “Are those for me?”

“Oh, yeah.” He holds the flowers out for you to take, watches you bring them up to your face and inhale deeply, eyes fluttering shut. “I wasn’t sure what—what kind of flowers you might like. Figured roses might be safe.”

“They’re beautiful,” you assure him. “Thank you.”

He trails after you into the kitchen, hands in his pockets, unsure of what to do with them now that he’s not holding onto the flowers. You pull out a glass vase from a cabinet and set it in the sink to fill with water.

He leans against the counter, watching you unwrap the bouquet and reach for a set of kitchen shears from the knife block on the counter, using them to trim the stems over a trashcan tucked against the wall. You set the flowers into the vase, arranging them to your liking.

“Peonies,” you murmur, breaking the silence. You step back to admire your work.

Bob blinks. “What?”

“My favorite flower,” you explain, glancing at him. Your lips curl into a teasing smile. “For future reference.”

He straightens, nodding once; the picture of military precision. “Noted.”

You brush past him, close enough that he can feel your warmth where your shoulders almost touch, and head towards an open door at the start of the hallway.

“I’ll be ready in just a minute,” you say over your shoulder. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Bob lingers in the kitchen, looking around. There’s a few coffee cups drying on a mat by the sink and a wooden bowl of apples on the counter. A blue and white striped hand towel hangs from the oven door and a collection of magnets on the fridge that tell a story about places you’ve been.

He wanders toward the living room. Your leather couch is pushed up against the wall, opposite the television, and a low coffee table sits in between. A neat stack of magazines and a haphazard pile of mail take up most of the table, along with a half burned candle that smells like lemon and fresh laundry. The bookshelf in the corner is packed with books — mostly fiction with a few work-related tomes shoved onto the lower shelves. A framed photo catches his eye.

You’re standing on a flight deck at sunset in your work uniform, surrounded by a group of aviators still in their gear. He’s surprised when he realizes it’s Natasha in the photo beside you, her arm around your shoulders and your head tipped against her helmet, the word PHOENIX emblazoned over the visor.

“Find anything interesting?” You ask. He holds up the framed picture and a soft smile spreads across your face. “That’s from when we were both stationed in Norfolk.”

“I didn’t know you knew each other before our assignment,” he says.

“I got new orders to Pensacola a few months before she went to TOPGUN,” you explain. “We kept in touch.”

Bob looks at the photo again, studying the matching grins on your faces. “You two look like trouble,” he says with a small smile.

“I wouldn’t call us trouble,” you counter. “I’d call us fun.”

He sets the frame back on the shelf. “I’ll have to cross-examine Natasha about that,” he says.

“Go ahead,” you challenge him. “Our stories are air tight. She’ll never breathe a word about the midnight skinny dipping incident.”

Bob’s head snaps towards you. “The what?” He asks, but you’re already walking away, your laughter carrying across the room.

You grab your purse from the hook by the door and look at him expectantly. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” he says. He catches up in a few long strides, reaching past you to open the door. “But don’t think you’re getting out of sharing that story that easily.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Floyd,” you sigh, a hint of mischief in your tone. “But that one is going with me to the grave.”

Bob’s restaurant choice is a little seafood place across the bridge that overlooks the Pacific, large windows thrown open to let in the salty ocean breeze. Each table is covered with a pristine white tablecloth and topped with bud vases filled with fresh cut flowers. Little votive candles flicker between the place settings.

The hostess shows you to a table near the windows and Bob steps ahead to pull your chair out for you, waiting patiently for you to get comfortable before taking his seat across from you.

He looks good in the low light, the candle’s flickering flame making shadows dance across his handsome face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw. His navy blue dress shirt is open at the collar, giving you a glimpse of the white t-shirt underneath, and the sleeves are neatly rolled up to his elbows. You can’t help but let your gaze linger on his forearms — strong, tan, and distracting.

“This place is nice,” you tell him, perusing the heavy cardstock menu. “Good choice, Floyd.”

You glance up at him just in time to catch the flush that creeps up his neck and colors his cheeks. He clears his throat, eyes darting to yours before dropping back to the menu as he says, “I wanted to pick something a little nicer. You deserve that.”

The sincerity in his voice catches you off-guard, leaving you a little breathless. You lean back in your seat, studying him.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

He looks up and his lips twitch in a shy smile. “Hopefully in a good way.”

“In a very good way,” you confirm.

A waiter comes by and takes your drink orders with a friendly smile before slipping away. A hush settles between you once you’re alone again. You study him over the rim of your glass as you take a sip.

“You know,” he says, breaking the silence, “we kind of have Jake to thank for this.”

You set your glass down, your brows pinching together in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I uh…I was nervous. About calling you,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was talking about it with Nat and he just showed up out of nowhere. He told me if I didn’t call you, he’d ask for your number himself.”

“That sounds like Jake. The man doesn’t know when to quit,” you reply with a quiet laugh. You rest your elbows on the table, lacing your fingers together. “Why were you nervous?”

“I don’t—I’m not—,” he frowns, glancing out the window, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he searches for the words. “I guess I just have this fear of being…disappointing.”

You reach a hand across the table toward him, settling it over his. “Bob, I don’t think you could disappoint me even if you tried.”

He looks down at your joined hands and gives a quiet, almost self-deprecating laugh. “You don’t know that,” he murmurs. “I’m not like Jake or Rooster or—or Javy. I’m not the kind of guy that leaves an impression.”

“That’s not true,” you argue. “First of all, you got selected for TOPGUN. You don’t get to be the best the Navy has to offer by just…blending in.” You hold your hand up, ticking off your fingers as you make your points. “Second, Maverick chose you for the uranium mission. Do you understand how impressive that is?”

You pause, eyes softening as you look at him across the table. “And third…I’ll have you know that you left quite an impression on me.”

“Really?” He asks, eyes wide like he can’t believe what you’re saying.

“Mhm,” you hum, a small smile turning up the corners of your lips. “I’d known Natasha had been assigned a backseater, but I didn’t know who you were yet.” You tilt your head thoughtfully. “Your voice stood out. You’ve got a quiet confidence — none of that typical aviator ego or cockiness I’m used to hearing on my radio.” You give him an unimpressed look as you add, “And trust me, I’ve heard it all.”

He laughs, tension easing from his shoulders. “I bet.”

“I just remember thinking, ‘This guy knows what he’s doing’,” you continue, “and that Natasha was lucky to have you at her six.”

Bob looks like he’s about to say something when the waiter returns with your drinks and takes your orders. Rather than picking up where you left off, the conversation shifts instead to easier topics, like family and school.

You learn that Bob was raised on a ranch in Texas, the middle child and only son. He comes from a long line of servicemen but broke tradition by choosing the Navy over the Army. He’s closest with his younger sister, who lives in Washington with her husband and two kids and works for an architecture firm. His older sister by four years still lives in Texas and is a stay-at-home mom to three kids while her husband is an Army intelligence specialist.

He shows you a family photo on his phone, a line of adults smiling behind the five kids, all wearing matching flannels. There’s an older man standing beside Bob that you presume is his dad and you’re struck by how similar they look.

“‘The Fantastic Floyds’,” he says with a warm smile. “It’s what my sisters named the family group chat.”

“Looks pretty fantastic to me,” you reply.

You discuss your college years. You both earned bachelor’s degrees at traditional universities, though Bob joined the NROTC so that he could graduate as a commissioned officer and move on to flight school. You explain that while you knew you wanted to go into air traffic control, your parents insisted that you get a degree first.

“My dad is a big statistics guy,” you tell him, twirling your pasta onto your fork, “and air traffic control doesn’t have very good ones.”

“It seems stressful,” Bob comments, taking a bite of his salmon. You shrug.

“It can be. But I enjoy it.”

By the time dinner is over, there’s no way you have room for dessert but Bob convinces you to split an order of creme brûlée.

“I have a pretty big sweet tooth,” he confesses. “I keep a stash of candy in my locker at the hangar.”

“Does anyone ever try to steal it?” You ask.

He nods. “Mickey’s the worst. He and Jake will team up and one of them will distract me while the other steals the bag.”

Your objections to dessert disappear when the waiter brings the plate out and you see the perfectly carmelized top of the creme brûlée, the dollop of fresh whipped cream, and the artfully arranged raspberries that look like they belong in a magazine. Bob holds the spoon out to you.

“You do the honors.”

You gently tap the sugary top with the back of the spoon until it splinters into smaller pieces. You dig your spoon into one of the cracks, loading it up with some custard and a bit of topping before lifting it to your lips for a bite.

“Oh my god,” you moan. “That’s delicious.”

Bob clears his throat, shifting in his seat. “G-Glad you like it.”

“Here,” you gather another bite on the spoon, holding it out toward him, “you try it.”

He leans forward, lips wrapping around the spoon. His eyes meet yours in a look that’s brief but undeniably charged, your breath hitching.

“It’s good,” he says, sitting back. His eyes don’t leave yours. “Real good.”

When the plate is practically licked clean and Bob has settled the bill, the two of you begin to slowly make your way back to his truck.

The boardwalk outside the restaurant is bustling with activity and light from the businesses lining the strip illuminate the sidewalk. Couples and families and groups of friends pass by but it feels like you’re in your own little bubble, all your attention zeroed in on the man beside you. The walk is quiet but comfortable and when your hand brushes his, he laces his fingers with yours. His hand is warm, his grip steady.

You fit together, you think. It makes you smile and your stomach flutters.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, looking over at you. Your smile widens.

“Just about what a great time I had,” you reply honestly. That pretty blush you’ve come to love makes another appearance, coloring the high points of his cheeks as he returns your smile.

“I had a great time, too.”

You’ve reached the truck and he opens the passenger door for you but before you can get in, he tugs you gently back towards him. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close, and you rest your hands on his shoulders.

He lifts his head and his eyes meet yours, the look in them dark and heady. His thumb brushes along your waist and you feel like every one of your nerves lights up in response. For a moment, neither of you moves but then he leans in and kisses you.

The kiss is slow but charged, full of longing that’s been building steadily since he knocked on your door.

Hell, since the first time you heard him over the radio, if you’re being honest.

He lifts one of his hands and cradles your cheek, tipping your face, changing the angle. The kiss deepens, his tongue swiping across your lower lip and you open for him eagerly. It feels like everything fades away and you’re left with just the pounding of your heart, the rush of blood in your ears, and the heat of his mouth.

You pull away first, grinning like an idiot. Bob’s own smile mirrors yours, wide and bright. His lips are spit slick and kiss bitten; his glasses are a little foggy and oh there is a long list of things you want to do with — and for and to — this man that makes you squeeze your thighs together in anticipation.

“You wanna—should we—,” he starts, swallowing around the words, a little breathless. You kiss him again and he groans, hands squeezing your hips.

“Let’s get out of here,” you tell him. He nods his head quickly.

“Good—yeah—let’s do that.”

You get yourself situated in the passenger’s seat and he runs around to the driver’s side. The truck rumbles to life and he puts his arm on the back of your, turning to look over his shoulder as he backs out of the parking spot.

Jesus Christ, you think. That shouldn’t be so hot but the way he palms the steering wheel with one hand is making your brain feel fuzzy and stomach clench.

Bob reaches over and rests his hand just above your knee, fingers tapping against your bare skin to the beat of an old rock song playing quietly on the radio. You want nothing more than for him to slide his hand higher, dip beneath the hem of your dress and find the edge of your underwear and—

“Quit it,” he says, voice low and rough. He squeezes your thigh once. You tip your head against the headrest and turn to look at him.

“Hm?”

“I know what you’re thinkin’—“ the hint of a southern accent creeps out, making you feel even warmer — “but we’re doin’ it right this time.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that look like?” You ask.

“Somewhere that’s not the truck,” he explains, glancing over at you. The confidence in his voice falters as he adds, “If that’s—you know, if that’s something you—“

You lean over the console to nip at his ear.

“Trust me, Bob,” you murmur. “There’s nothing I want more.”

Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs greatly appreciated. If you enjoyed this part and want a third, let me know!

LINKS

main blog | masterlists | AO3

[ibuprofein]

rich!connie x reader x producer!eren

↳ ❝ [reader is messy boots and has her side piece eren and her man connie. eren is down bad and accepts being the second option 😫 connie is so arrogant but it’s sexy] ¡! ❞

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

↳ 𝑰𝑰 (eren’s ending) , 𝑰𝑰𝑰 (eren x connie smut) , 𝐈𝐕 (throuple time!)

Connie’s the luxury lifestyle.

Bentleys with cooled seats, iced-out APs, and the sun reflecting off his diamond earrings.

He pulls up fresh out the shower, buzz cut clean with a new design, smellin’ like Baccarat and shea butter. Always shirtless in the house so you can see the tattoos running down his brown chest, Dominican accent lacing his sentences when he’s frustrated or flirting.

“You hungry, mami? Let’s go somewhere nice.”

You don’t even gotta blink—he already got a reservation.

Michelin stars and martinis with gold flakes. You sit pretty in the passenger seat of his matte black Benz, lashes curled to the sky and lips glossed. Heart-shaped cheek dermal sparkling in the light.

And his hand? Always on your thigh. Or your arm, tracing your red ink flower sleeve like he helped tattoo it himself. And when you walk ahead, that koi fish tattoo on your back? He’ll always touch it. His fingers slide down to graze the dermals there.

Connie doesn’t ask where you were last night.

He knows. He just don’t care.

“Let them boys play in the dark. You the one that shine when you with me.”

He’s the one you post.

The one you tag in stories.

The one your homegirls know about.

And baby, he spoils you—bags, bikinis, Bali. You pack light ‘cause he already bought out the shopping district.

And when y’all alone?

Nothing but liplocking on marble countertops, legs wrapped around his waist on silk sheets, hands under your skirt in the back of his Escalade—windows tinted, but he’d still do it if they weren’t.

But when the sun sets?

You text Connie you’re tired, probably gonna sleep early.

But Eren’s already FaceTiming you shirtless, sleepy eyes, beanie low, grinning.

“You want me to come through? I’ll stop for snacks… what you want, baby?”

He always brings the good stuff—hot fries, Arizona teas, pink Starburst. Rolls up perfect joints, backwood tight. You in his passenger seat in bunny slippers and one of his tees, legs folded up, nails tapping on your phone as the smoke clouds dance between you.

He leans over, palm on your thigh, his voice low.

“Wanna go to the studio?”

The studio is his favorite place to hear you moan.

Not just from his mouth, his hands, his stroke.

But recorded.

“Sing for me,” he teases, lips brushing your neck as the mic picks up the breathy sounds of him making you fall apart. “Or just… make some noise.”

And oh—you do.

He’ll light a blunt with your back arched, legs shaking over his mixing board, red light blinking as the sound of your moans gets layered in like a sample.

He doesn’t post you.

He doesn’t ask where you were earlier.

But he always watches your stories. And when he sees Connie in the background?

He texts you anyway.

You still mine tonight, right?

And you always say yes.

Because with Eren, it’s no pressure.

No obligation.

Just you, his music, and the backseat adventures of his midnight world.

He lets you be bratty, lets you tease him, lets you run games.

But he also knows:

Every time Connie drops you off in that blacked-out car, you still end up under his covers later.

The studio’s dim, red light humming overhead like always.

The air is thick with smoke and the lazy swirl of whatever beat Eren had looping since you walked in. You’re curled up in his lap, legs across his, one of his oversized hoodies drowning your frame, your gloss long worn off. His hand rubs lazy circles on your thigh while he exhales, green eyes half-lidded but watching you.

You look too good like this.

Too his.

And that’s the problem.

“You comfortable?” he mumbles, a little grin playing at his lips, brushing a hand up your bare thigh. “You look comfortable as fuck.”

You nod, head on his shoulder. “Mhm. Cozy.”

He kisses your cheek, slow. “I like when you come like this… no makeup, no extra. Just me and you.”

You smirk softly, eyes on your phone screen even as you let him kiss your jaw.

Your phone buzzes again.

Connie 💸

Eren clocks it.

He’s seen the name a few times.

You subtly angle the screen down and open the messages.

Connie 💸

Wear that white dress I like tmrw.

Brunch at 10. Spa after. Pack a swimsuit too in case we go to the pool after.

I’ll bring that gold anklet you said you wanted.

Don’t flake on me, mami.

You try not to smile.

But you do.

Eren sees it. His hand stills on your thigh. He stares at your face, noticing how your eyes light up even as you pretend to be distracted.

“…Can I ask you something?” he says suddenly, voice quieter than usual.

You look up at him. “Yeah?”

He exhales slow, like he’s been sitting on it. “Why you never post me?”

You blink.

“…Huh?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I mean,” he says, not mad, just real. “You post your food, your nails, your legs up in somebody else’s car… but you never post me.”

He taps his chest lightly. “This? Us? We don’t exist anywhere, unless it’s three in the morning and your phone’s on DND.”

You open your mouth—but you pause.

Because it’s true.

You don’t post Eren. You don’t tag him. You don’t even let him sneak into a background reflection.

And it’s not because you’re embarrassed.

It’s because Connie’s page is public, and half your friends follow him.

It’s because Connie’s tagged in pics of you in Turks, in five-star lobbies, holding his hand with those stupid matching Cartier rings.

You look away for a second, voice soft. “It’s not like that…”

Eren scoffs a little. “Then what’s it like?”

You fidget with the drawstrings of the hoodie you’re wearing—his hoodie—and he notices. That’s what gets him tight. That you’re repping him behind the scenes like a dirty little secret.

“You let me record you moaning but you won’t post me with your damn face in the frame?”

Your phone buzzes again. You glance at it without thinking.

Eren notices your eyes drift.

He notices how quick your fingers move when you lock your phone.

He laughs under his breath.

“No wonder.”

You swallow.

“Eren—”

He shakes his head. “Nah, it’s cool. I get it. I’m the night shift.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

His jaw tightens, tongue in his cheek as he looks off toward the studio wall, jaw clenching just enough that you feel the shift.

“You know I fuck with you different, right?” he says finally. “Like, I don’t just hit you up to fuck or chill. I bring you here. Let you in my space. My process. I show you shit nobody else sees.”

You nod slowly, guilt creeping in. “I know, Ren.”

“I post you in my Close Friends. I even posted your nails last week.”

You can’t help the tiniest smile.

“You post my nails, Eren?”

“Yeah,” he mutters, annoyed. “Because that’s all you give me.”

A silence settles between you. Not angry. Just… honest.

You look down at your lap. You do like Eren. You do feel something. But not in the same way. Not in the gold anklets and public brunch kind of way.

Just then, your phone buzzes again.

Connie 💸

Bring sunscreen. I wanna massage it in myself.

You tilt your screen away and close your eyes.

Eren leans his head back and exhales.

“…Don’t worry about it,” he says finally. “Just forget I said anything.”

But you can tell he’s hurt. Even if he doesn’t say it again, even if he still kisses you after, still fucks you gentle in the studio that night… there’s something quieter in his energy now.

The kind of quiet that comes when a man realizes he’s falling for someone who’s already claimed.

The studio’s quiet now.

The track Eren was mixing is still looping low in the background, bass soft like a heartbeat.

Your clothes are half on, half stuffed in your purse. Hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands. Hair slightly messy, neck a little sore from how he kept you close all night.

It’s early—too early. The kind of early where the sky is still that dusty blue and the streets are quiet.

You’re slipping on your slides near the door, whispering, trying not to wake the moment that had just passed.

But Eren’s still on the couch.

Shirtless, toned torso rising slow with his breath.

Hair tied back, sleepy eyes watching you from under his lashes.

One hand behind his head, the other resting on the spot where your body laid just minutes ago.

You think he’s asleep.

Until you hear it:

“You really leaving right now?”

You pause mid-step, hoodie half-zipped.

You turn to look at him. He’s not even trying to hide the disappointment on his face.

“Yeah,” you say gently, like that’ll soften the blow. “I gotta go home and get ready.”

He already knows why.

Because you always get dressed up for him.

Not Eren. Connie.

You bite your lip, fiddling with your phone. You’ve already got texts lined up waiting for you from Connie:

Connie 💸

I’m picking you up by 9:30. Don’t play and be late.

Connie 💸

I can’t wait to see your pretty face and that pretty dress.

And you are gonna wear that dress.

Because Connie’s got a brunch spot overlooking the hills. He’s got spa reservations, a chauffeur, and a Dior gift box already sitting in his backseat.

But Eren?

Eren’s just got you.

And right now, he doesn’t even have that.

You try to keep your voice sweet. “I told you last night I had plans.”

Eren scoffs quietly, running a hand down his face.

“Yeah,” he mutters, “but I didn’t think you were really gonna dip right after.”

You blink. “Eren…”

He sits up now, forearms on his thighs, tattooed fingers laced together. His chain swings forward when he leans in, eyes sharp in the red-tinted studio glow.

“You let me fuck you on this couch, record your moans in my mic, sleep in my arms like it meant something—then you gonna slide out for him?”

His voice is calm. But his eyes? They burn.

You don’t know what to say. Because he’s not wrong.

You do feel something for Eren. But Connie is the one the world gets to see.

Connie is convenience, luxury, consistency.

Eren is your secret.

And secrets don’t get brunch reservations.

You sigh, soft. “Don’t make this harder.”

He laughs once. It’s bitter. “Harder for who? You already got him waiting.”

“I’m just getting dressed—”

“For him.”

He cuts you off now, standing up. Voice low. “You getting dressed for him, baby. Not me. You ain’t never wore no dress for me.”

Your heart stutters.

He walks up to you, bare chest just inches from yours. His fingers brush the side of your face, but the touch feels more like goodbye than anything else.

“You gon’ let him kiss that dermal before I even got to taste it in the daylight?”

You flinch.

Because Connie always kisses your heart-shaped cheek dermal before brunch. It’s his little ritual. And Eren? He’s only ever seen it under low light, through half-lidded eyes and smoke.

“…Don’t do that,” you murmur.

“Do what?” His voice breaks a little. “Act like I don’t see what this is?”

He tilts your chin up. His mouth barely brushes yours. And for a second, you consider staying.

Eren steps back.

Silence.

You zip your bag.

“I’ll text you later,” you say quietly.

Eren just nods once. “Yeah… you always do.”

And as the door shuts behind you, he exhales hard, standing alone in a room that still smells like your perfume—but feels a little colder now.

The bedroom is glowing gold.

Soft lighting. Massive windows cracked open to let the warm summer breeze kiss your bare legs. Connie’s bed is draped in plush, expensive linen—his scent all over it. That rich, clean musk that only comes from men who’ve never bought anything under four digits.

You’re in his shirt.

Some silk pajama shorts you changed into after he peeled off your brunch outfit earlier.

And his chain is still around your neck from when he clipped it on you in the car, said, “You mine, yeah?” before kissing your cheek dermal like he always does.

You should feel spoiled.

You are spoiled.

But you’re also scrolling back through Eren’s thread.

No new texts.

Not since you left his studio yesterday morning.

You chew your lip, glancing toward the en suite bathroom. The shower’s still running. You can hear Connie humming, probably rubbing that rose-scented body wash all over his chest. He’s taking his time—he always does.

You look back at your phone.

Your thumb hovers.

And then—

You still mad?

Delivered.

You wait.

Nothing.

So you tap again. You shouldn’t—but you do.

I didn’t mean to hurt you.

Delivered.

Your heart thumps.

You flip your phone face-down, suddenly anxious. Because if he replies, you know it’ll gut you. And if he doesn’t? You’ll sit here feeling dumb, with another man’s chain wrapped around your neck.

The water cuts off.

You straighten your posture, pretending you weren’t just pouring your guilt into a man you left behind. Connie steps out a few moments later, towel slung low on his hips, tattoos glistening, buzzcut freshly lined up from this morning’s appointment. He’s humming, watching you scroll through TikTok like your head wasn’t somewhere else.

“Mami,” he smirks, climbing into bed behind you, “Why you up here all quiet? You tired already?”

You fake a little smile, closing your phone screen quick. “Just chillin.”

He kisses your bare shoulder, arms sliding around your waist. “Lemme relax you then.”

You melt back into him, letting him wrap you up.

But your eyes flick to the phone on the nightstand.

Still no text.

And god, it’s worse now.

Because even wrapped up in Connie’s warmth, your mind’s with the boy who asked, “Don’t you wanna post me too?”

The room is quiet.

AC humming low.

Sheets soft as sin against your skin.

Connie’s breath ghosts along your shoulder, warm, slow—he’s deep in sleep, one arm lazily hooked around your waist, his chest pressed to your back.

His chain still dangles between your breasts.

His cologne lingers in your hair.

You’re wrapped in him.

But your phone lights up.

Twice.

The first notification is from your close friends story—some girl replied “Y’all cute 😍” under the video you posted earlier. Connie feeding you a bite of dessert on a rooftop, flexing his Rolex and his smile like it’s nothing.

The second?

Eren.

Your stomach twists.

You wait.

You don’t move too fast. You can feel Connie’s heartbeat on your spine.

You slowly reach, careful not to shift the mattress too much.

You grab the phone.

Open the thread.

Eren

You only text me when you’re in his bed.

Read 2:12 AM

Eren

That say a lot.

Delivered 2:13 AM

You stare at the screen, heart sinking.

Because he’s right.

You do this when you’re wrapped up in silk and someone else’s love. When the guilt starts to stick to your ribs and you can’t sleep. When you need to feel like you’re not heartless.

You don’t even know what to say.

But your fingers move anyway.

I miss you.

A pause.

Nothing.

Your breath catches when you see three little dots pop up.

Then disappear.

Then come back.

Then—

Eren

Nah. You miss how I see you. He see your ass in white dresses. I see you when you cry on my dick in the dark.

Delivered 2:15 AM

You inhale sharply, legs tensing under the sheet.

Eren

You ever think maybe I got someone now too?

Delivered 2:15 AM

That one stings.

It shouldn’t, but it does. The thought of Eren making another girl moan into that same studio mic? Her wearing his hoodie? Sitting on that couch where you spilled your heart in fragments?

Your thumb hovers.

You check over your shoulder.

Connie hasn’t moved. Still sound asleep. Chest rising, chain glinting against the moonlight slipping through the blinds.

You slip out from under his arm.

Slow. Careful.

And you slide off the bed. Bare feet on cool marble. Your phone still glowing in your hand.

You step into the bathroom and shut the door quietly behind you.

Then you finally reply.

I don’t want anyone else to have you.

The moment you hit send, you stare at yourself in the mirror.

Silk tank top clinging to your chest. Connie’s chain still on your neck. Your lip quivers for a second—and then your phone buzzes.

Eren

Then stop fucking running.

The sky’s bruised purple and black. The city’s asleep.

You pull up outside Eren’s studio, headlights cutting through the quiet like guilt.

It’s not your car.

It’s Connie’s.

He let you “borrow it” for a late-night drive to clear your head, kissed your forehead and said, “Call me when you get back, baby.”

You told him, “I will.”

But instead of driving in circles like you claimed, you pulled up to a part of the city Connie never goes.

Where the pavement’s cracked and the music never sleeps.

Eren’s waiting.

He buzzes you in the second you text “here.”

The studio door swings open before you can even knock.

And there he is—

White tank top, sweats low on his hips, bandana still tied. Eyes locked on you like he’s been staring at the door since your last text.

“Where’s your car?” he asks immediately.

You hesitate.

Then say the truth:

“…It’s Connie’s.”

His jaw tenses. “Of course.”

You step in. Smell the mix of weed and candles. That same dark red glow you always sink into when you’re with him.

Eren closes the door behind you.

Leans on it.

Arms crossed.

“You here to finally pick me?” he asks. Voice low, almost bitter. “Or you just bored again?”

You chew your lip. Step closer.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you admit. “I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

He breathes hard through his nose. “Then why do you still leave every time?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you—”

“But you keep doing it anyway,” he cuts in, stepping forward. “You text me from his bed. You cry in my arms. You fuck me like I’m yours. But when the sun comes up?”

He points toward the window, to where Connie’s sleek black car waits on the street like a damn shadow.

“You run back to him. Every time.”

You don’t have the words.

Because he’s right.

And still… you reach for him.

Your fingers brush his chest, eyes pleading. “I don’t wanna lose you.”

“You don’t have me,” he snaps, voice cracking. “You never let yourself have me. ‘Cause you’re too scared to leave a man who only loves the version of you he built.”

That stings.

But you still kiss him.

And when he kisses back, it’s desperate—like he knows this is all he’ll get. You taste like guilt. Like silk and sweat and someone else’s love. His hands tremble against your waist as he presses you to the wall, forehead to yours.

“You came here in his car,” he whispers against your lips, “just to leave me again?”

Your breath hitches.

Because even if you stay the night—even if—you know damn well what comes next.

You always go back to Connie.

Because Connie never makes you choose.

Connie never questions your loyalty.

Connie always treats you like you’re already his.

And Eren?

Eren wants a piece of your soul you’re just not ready to give.

You slip back into the mansion like nothing happened.

Connie’s already up, making coffee shirtless in his kitchen, diamond earrings glinting in the light.

He looks up and grins when he sees you.

“There she go,” he hums. “You sleep better now?”

You nod, curling into his chest like it’s instinct. Like home.

He kisses your temple. Smells your skin.

“You smell like my Baccarat.” he says with a slight laugh. “That’s good. Stay close today.”

And just like that—

You’re his again.

Like Eren never even existed.

It starts with a scroll.

You’re lounging in Connie’s bed again.

Bare legs tangled in thousand-thread count sheets, face bare, gold anklet twinkling on your ankle. He just stepped into the shower, humming something soft under his breath. You pick up your phone to kill time.

Open Instagram.

Eren’s story is first.

You almost don’t tap it. But your thumb moves before your heart can say no.

Click.

It’s the studio.

Lit red, hazy. Familiar.

You used to be in those stories.

Then the next one hits:

A girl.

She’s got almond-shaped nails—your length.

One hand is on Eren’s thigh. She’s got a silver ring just like the one he used to play with when you’d sit in his lap.

She’s wearing your hoodie. The grey one with the hole on the wrist from when you dropped the cherry from the blunt on it that one night.

And the way she looks at him?

It’s your look.

Playful. Possessive. Like she thinks she’s the only girl he’d ever let hear unreleased tracks and moan into his mic.

You freeze.

Because it’s not just the fact that he moved on.

It’s the fact that he cloned the experience you thought was special.

He replaced you—perfectly.

You don’t even realize Connie’s stepped out until you hear the towel hit the floor and his voice hum:

“You good, baby?”

You swallow. Lock your phone. “Mhm.”

He walks over, drops a kiss on your cheek dermal, then throws on some sweatpants. You sit there, quiet, teeth gnawing your lip. He notices.

Connie always notices.

“You been acting different since we came back from Cabo,” he says, rubbing lotion into his hands. “You tryna tell me something?”

You hesitate.

And then…

You do.

You tell him.

Not everything.

But enough.

That Eren wasn’t just a friend. That you were seeing him behind Connie’s back. That you stayed over once or twice. That it’s over now, but…

“…I just felt like I had to be honest,” you murmur, barely looking up.

And Connie?

He doesn’t yell.

Doesn’t raise his voice.

Doesn’t flinch.

He just… laughs. A single breath of air through his nose. Then he walks over, lifts your chin with two fingers, and looks you dead in the eye.

“Ma, you think I ain’t know?”

Your heart stops.

“I got eyes everywhere,” he says softly. “You think I don’t know who drives whose car at 3 AM? You think I ain’t seen that hoodie in my security footage when you walked back in?”

Your lips part. You can’t speak.

He leans in. Kisses your cheek—right where Eren never got to in the daylight.

“I let you play,” he says. “Let you get whatever that was out your system.”

You whisper, “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” he chuckles. “Why the fuck would I be mad?”

He sits beside you, legs wide, chain swinging against his chest as he leans forward on his knees.

“I’m him. Always been. Still am. And that lil’ studio boy?” He shrugs. “Let him have his copy of you. I got the original.”

You blink fast, trying not to tear up.

“But I broke your trust—”

“Nah. You broke your own,” he says, turning his head just slightly. “You think I was out here wondering who you belong to? Baby, you the one that had to choose.”

He pulls you into his lap now, effortlessly.

“You back here, ain’t you?”

You nod.

He kisses your shoulder.

“Then act like it. Don’t ever let me catch you sad over a man that would trade you for a replica.”

You bury your face in his neck, trying to breathe.

Because the thing about Connie?

He don’t beg.

He don’t chase.

He knows his worth—and he reminds you of yours.

It’s a rooftop party in the city.

A friend of a friend’s birthday, the kind of scene where everybody’s dressed to be seen. Designer sunglasses even though it’s past sunset, champagne towers glistening under the mood lights, and the DJ spinning tracks that shake your ribs.

You look stupid good.

Slick ponytail, caramel skin glowing, red ink flower sleeve on full display under a backless strapless mini. Your dermals catching the light. Connie’s gold anklet on your ankle and his diamond chain around your neck.

He’s beside you, of course.

Buzzcut clean. Cuban link heavy. His hand on the small of your back like a claim, not a suggestion. You sip your drink, laugh at his joke, take pictures of him when he’s not looking.

It’s one of those nights that makes you forget everything that came before it.

Until you see him.

Eren.

Across the rooftop, leaned up near the bar. He’s in a fitted tee, cargo pants, messy bun. Silver rings and chunky silver chain. Arms crossed. But he’s not alone.

She’s with him.

The girl from the story.

And in person?

The similarities make your stomach twist.

Same almond-shaped nails.

Same lashes.

Same glossy lip

It’s eerie.

Like watching someone else play you on screen.

You watch as she leans into him. Whispers something.

He doesn’t smile.

You can see it now—how forced it is.

The way he holds her waist but doesn’t grab it.

The way his eyes drift—like he’s still looking for you in crowds.

You turn away. Sip your drink.

“You good?” Connie murmurs beside you.

You nod. “Yeah.”

But Connie sees him. He clocked Eren the second y’all stepped in.

He’s known. And he’s just been waiting.

Because later, when the moment’s right?

When Eren walks past to hit the bar again—alone—Connie meets him shoulder to shoulder.

No tension. No scene.

Just a smooth, quiet flex.

He leans in. Low enough that only Eren hears it.

“I’d be hurt too if I lost her.”

And then he walks away.

Back to you, hand on your lower back, kissing your temple as you laugh at whatever he just whispered.

Eren doesn’t look back.

He can’t.

Not when Connie’s got everything he couldn’t hold onto.

And that girl?

She still doesn’t know she’s the second version of something that was already perfect the first time.

The rooftop crowd has thinned a little.

Music’s mellowed, most people draped on velvet couches, leaning over dessert plates and half-drunk champagne glasses.

You’re at the railing, looking out over the city. Hair blowing gently in the breeze. Your mini dress hugging every curve. Fingers toying with the stem of your drink.

That’s when you feel it.

A presence behind you. Familiar.

You turn—

Eren.

No girl in sight now.

Just him. Hands in his pockets. Tired eyes. That chain you used to tug on when you were wrapped around him.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks, voice soft.

Not aggressive. Not messy.

Just tired.

You hesitate.

“…Eren, I don’t think—”

“Just five minutes.”

Your breath catches. You look around.

Connie’s a few feet away, chatting with someone near the bar, cool as ever.

But you know he sees this. He always sees.

Still… you nod.

Because you owe Eren five minutes. Maybe more.

You follow him to a quiet corner near the stairs. City lights behind you. Music far enough to sound like a memory.

Eren turns to you, jaw clenched. His voice low.

“I ain’t even mad at you anymore,” he says. “I just… I needed to see you.”

You stare at him.

“I see how he look at you,” he continues. “Like you gold. Like you made of air and fire. And I get it now—why you never let me post you, never let me have you. It was always him.”

You start to speak, but he shakes his head.

“I was angry. I wanted to replace you. But that girl? She not you. She don’t laugh the same. Don’t kiss me like she mean it. I hold her and still feel you.”

Your throat tightens.

“You said you missed me,” he says, voice breaking a little. “So why’d you stop fighting for it?”

You whisper, “Because I didn’t know how to love you without breaking someone.”

His eyes drop.

“You never broke him though,” he mutters.

And that’s when you feel it.

That warm hand on the curve of your waist.

The quietest flex.

Connie.

He’s behind you now. Calm. Collected. Not interrupting—just arriving.

You feel him lean in, voice brushing your ear.

“Everything cool here, mami?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah. We were just—”

“Done?” he finishes for you. Voice low but firm.

His eyes meet Eren’s.

No tension. No ego.

Just a silent warning.

Eren nods once. A slow, reluctant acceptance.

“Take care of her,” he says.

Connie doesn’t blink. Just tightens his grip on your waist.

“Always do.”

And with that, Eren walks away.

No tears.

No scenes.

Just the quiet sting of a man who knows he lost something real—and saw her get claimed right in front of him.

Connie turns you gently to face him.

“You good?” he asks, fingers brushing your cheek dermal.

You nod.

And he just kisses you. Slow. Full. Like punctuation. Like he’s sealing the ending himself.

Because he won.

Not because he tried harder.

But because you never had to question it with him

[tomato-greens]

I think part of the problem is that many of these terms come from academic, anarchist, and radical texts where there are, at least to some extent, proposed structures or (because of the politics of the people writing the texts) proposed community processes for creating those structures. “family abolition” has specific political and sociological meanings that doesn’t mean, to most people using the term in an academic or political sense beyond shock jock internet politics, getting rid of individual family structures wholesale, but investigating the root political institutions that demand we adhere to patriarchal familial hierarchies and ask how we can treat each other better, especially children, who are very frequently literally treated as property, and mothers, who are treated as property-creators and caretakers, rather than full humans with their own autonomy and rights.

you don’t have to be a family abolitionist to agree with parts of family abolition, and you can find some really useful stuff done under the name “family abolition” even if there are also assholes misusing the term. this is true with the “abolish police” crowd as well; it’s been co-opted for cred but a lot of interesting organizing work has been done to try to imagine a different world where police as we currently have them are not needed. none of these projects are perfect because nothing will ever be perfect, and we will have to keep reimagining (and indeed reforming) together until humans don’t exist anymore. that’s just what we do! but I hope this was helpful to understand where that language came from and that it’s meant to be a tool to radically reimagine (radically as in “from the root”) society, so we have something better to work towards.

if you’re interested, here are some family abolition texts:

The Liberatory Family by Daniel Horowitz de Garcia and Traci Harris

Towards the Abolition of the Family! by Lee Shevek

Against the Couple Form by Clémence x Clémentine (this is exactly the kind of thing I love but fair warning, it’s written like mid-60s French philosophy)

you can find more but those are a good introduction to different kinds of family abolition texts and the questions they ask!

some prison and police abolition texts:

a note - this has been going on a longer time than the family abolition conversation, by name, so you’ll find a lot more, including some very violent or other extreme viewpoints. most of these extreme viewpoints are in response to the ongoing murder of Black Americans by the carceral system (whether by the police or in the system after arrest) and have to be understood in that context. I’m not linking any and they’re still pretty fringe, but a lot of the internet shock jocks also don’t include that context and it’s like pretty vital to the whole project of prison abolition and thus carceral and policing abolition/reform.

this is Angela Davis’s book Are Prisons Obsolete? the whole thing is worth reading but I’m really linking it so anyone curious can check out the introduction.

How to abolish the Hong Kong police by Vincent Wong and Edward Hon-Sing Wong

Police abolition and other revolutionary lessons from Rojava by Hawzhin Azeez

ok! I hope this is helpful! reform and abolitionism go hand in hand! we are in a coalition against oppressive forces of the state and work together to keep ourselves alive and safe!

The other reason I'm generally annoyed with the "Abolish X" crowd who actually DO mean "abolish X" and not a watered-down version is that ime they very rarely have fully thought out the implications of what they're demanding and then get angry when other people ask about it.

"Family abolition means completely removing legal ties for family units and allowing all children the choice of where they live" okay. So if I see a three-year-old throwing a fit because she doesn't want to leave the park, and I go over and tell her if she comes home with me she can stay as long as she likes and then we'll get McDonald's on the way home, that three-year-old should have the ability to make that decision? The parent or guardian has no legal recourse to stop me from taking her? Cause if the answer's no, that's not abolition, that's reform baby!

"I'm done talking about what we'll do with rapists and murderers after we abolish prisons, it's all anybody ever wants to talk about!" Well yeah man! 98% of people just interpreted your words as "we're going to let murderers roam around killing people at will"! You need to explain very clearly what plans you have that will stop them that aren't incarceration or you're not going to make any headway! And if your answer involves any form of "well of course SOME people can't be allowed total freedom" - that's not abolition, that's reform baby!

I'm not even gonna touch the number of people who think we should abolish the police and replace them with what are essentially roaming squads of vigilantes dispensing "community justice", whatever the fuck that means.

Like these aren't "gotcha" questions, they're legitimate problems you're going to have to contend with. And if you wave away all these questions with "you're just making up ridiculous scenarios" and "we'll think of something to fix that once we destroy the current system", then yeah actually, I DO think you care more about sounding radical than about making any kind of change.

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

You’re the Smart One, I Just Lift Stuff

Summary: Clark Kent helping his teacher partner decorate their classroom is pure domestic-fluff gold. He’s too tall, too sweet, and a little too strong for bulletin board borders, but he’s trying his best.

A/N: As some of you know I just graduated with a degree in teaching and I've been trying to figure out who to write teaching fics about, now Clark is the best fit in my head.

I was also thinking of a scenario where the students just lose their minds when he comes to school, not because he's dressed as Superman or anything but just because he's just so tall.

💕💕💕💕💕💕

“You do realize this is technically child labor, right?” you tease, balancing on the low step stool as you try to staple laminated letters above your whiteboard.

Clark, standing behind you with both arms ready to catch you if you so much as wobble, blinks like a golden retriever trying to follow a math problem.“Wait, but I’m an adult.”

You giggle. “Exactly. So technically, you should know better than to help me on one of your few days off.”

He frowns, brows scrunching as he looks around the classroom. “Then am I going to get paid? I have been lifting heavy stuff all morning.”

You look down at him--over six feet of flannel and sincerity, standing in socks on the reading rug he just bought you, holding a tub of sentence strips like it might explode. “Clark Kent, did you just ask to be paid in a classroom that smells like crayons and dry-erase markers?”

He shrugs. “I mean… I’ll accept payment in snacks. Or, like, forehead kisses. Maybe a cool sticker.”

You tossed a bright, glittery green star sticker down at him. He catches it effortlessly and slaps it over the logo on his chest with a proud smile. “Perfect. I feel ten percent smarter already.”

Now, Clark is very good at so many things. Things like:

Carrying boxes labeled MATH MANIPULATIVES like they’re filled with feathers, Hanging things exactly where you want them without a ladder, Being extremely distracting in those rolled-up sleeves.

....today you learned that Clark is terrible at a few things to like:

Understanding a laminator, Trying to put up a bulletin board border and accidentally ripping it in half, Sitting in a second-grader-sized chair without looking like a confused cryptid.

At one point, he tries to staple a crayon next to the banner that says “Welcome to Our Pack!” and the entire poster board tears clean off the wall. He just stands there, blinking, holding the crayon in one hand like it betrayed him.

“...I swear I didn’t even pull that hard.”

You walk over, laughing so hard you nearly drop your cup of coffee, and tiptoe to press a kiss to his cheek. “You’re not allowed to touch anything else unless it’s made of concrete or is already attached.”

He nods solemnly, “I understand.”

💕💕💕💕💕💕

Later, while you’re arranging bins by color and alphabetizing book baskets, Clark wanders over and crouches beside you--knees nearly to his ears in the tiny plastic chair.

“You know,” he says softly, “I’ve been in a lot of places. A lot of messy, dangerous places.”

You glance over, raising a brow. “Yeah?” He nods, smiling as he watches you sort a stack of read-alouds. “But this little room? It might be my favorite place I’ve ever been taken to.”

You pause, heart fluttering. “Why?”

He shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Because this is where you shine. You’re helping shape minds, baby. You're helping children figure out themselves and how to live. That’s… that’s bigger than anything I’ve ever done.”

Your throat tightens and you have to blink back tears. Clark grins, eyes twinkling. “Also, there's glitter. I love glitter.” You laugh through the happy tears and lean over to kiss him. “I love you. And your glittery sticker.”

“I earned it,” he says proudly. “I put up the number line and only destroyed one poster. Thats impressive for me babe.”

By the time you leave, your room is beautiful.

The desks are arranged. Your bulletin boards are straight. Your bins are labeled. Your Superman is covered in glitter and tape and stickers.

"Did you earn all those stickers?" You asked teasingly when you turned around with your bag and noticed how many more are on him. "...yes."

And as he holds the door open for you, carrying a bag of broken border scraps like it’s a national treasure, you hear him mumble: “I can’t wait to see the look on their faces when they meet the best teacher in the entire world.”

💕💕💕💕💕💕

Thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed! If you did please like, comment, and reblog! Those are really simple ways to support me and keep me motivated to write and post! Request are open and I would love to get request for Clark!

[bananabreads]

Are you taking requests?

If so.. how about their kids asking them/us for little sibling(s)? Thaanks ^_^

Dad!lads and their child asking for a little sibling! ( ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

— ♥︎♥︎♥︎ Dad!Rafayel, Dad!Caleb, Dad!Sylus, Dad!Zayne, Dad!Xavier

RAFAYEL —

Rafayel’s arms were draped loosely around your waist, his chin nestled against your shoulder as you sat on his lap, your fingers lazily tracing patterns on his forearm. No words needed, just the soft lull of the clock and the slow, synchronized rhythm of your breathing.

That was, until the thunderous sound of little feet pattering on the floors disrupted the quiet.

“Mommy! Daddy!”

You both looked toward the hallway, just in time to see your daughter barreling toward the living room, her cheeks pink from excitement, her fluffy socks nearly betraying her balance.

Rafayel hummed softly, his chest rumbling behind you. “I sense mischief.”

“She is your daughter,” you teased, just as she started scrambling up the couch in a hilariously determined climb, muttering a quiet but stubborn, “I can do it! I big now!”

You chuckled and reached over to help her, scooping her up gently and settling her in the small space between you and Rafayel. She let out a content little sigh and melted against the both of you, her arms snaking around your waist in an exaggerated cuddle.

“Hmm,” Rafayel mused with a knowing smirk. “She’s being suspiciously cuddly.”

“Right?” you whispered, glancing down at her. “Too cuddly. What are you up to, sweetie?”

She blinked innocently. “I just love you mommy and daddy sooooo much today.” She tilted her head to kiss your cheek, then Rafayel’s.

“And I brought my cookies! The fishie ones! You can have the last two!” she announced, proudly holding up the exact cookies she refused to share with anyone just yesterday.

Now that was suspicious.

Rafayel raised a brow, accepting one of the cookies like it was a peace offering from a dangerous negotiator. “Who are you and what have you done with our daughter?”

The little girl giggled but then cleared her throat, suddenly shifting to a very serious face, serious for a four year old, at least. She sat upright on your lap, small hands grabbing yours and Rafayel’s in each hand.

“Mommy. Daddy,” she said dramatically. “I wanna be... a big sister.”

You blinked. “A... big sister?”

“YES! Like Uncle thomas' daughter!” she pointed out, referencing Thomas’ daughter—the older girl she adored like her very own older sister. “She’s so cool and nice and gets to help and stuff! I can help too! I cleaned my toys and even wiped the kitchen floor with tissue! And I only ate one marshmallow before dinner!”

Rafayel’s hand flew up to cover his amused smile. “You wiped the kitchen floor with... tissue?”

“I tried,” she mumbled defensively.

“Also I go to the toilet by myself now!” she added proudly.

Your heart swelled, and struggled not to laugh. Her logic was wobbly, but the intent? Precious.

Rafayel leaned forward, voice lowered conspiratorially. “So what made you want a little sibling, little guppy?”

“Uhmmm.. 'Cuz Uncle thomas' daughter always has someone to play with even when the grown ups are boring,” she explained, “And I think I’d be a good big sister. I’ll even share my blankie. Sometimes.”

You and Rafayel exchanged a look over her head, half laughing, half melting. The thought hadn’t even crossed your minds lately, but here she was, sneaking cookies and affection in exchange for a new family member.

“Please? Pretty please?” she begged, clasping her hands and bouncing slightly on your lap. “Pretty plz mommy, daddy—I would be so good!”

“You are already good,” Rafayel murmured, pulling both of you into his chest with a warm squeeze. “Too good. You’re gonna make mommy and me cry if you keep being this cute.”

She giggled again. “So that’s a yes?!”

“Maybe,” you chuckled. “One day.”

“Yaaay!” she cheered, throwing her arms in the air before lying dramatically across your laps like she’d just secured world peace.

As you ran your fingers through her hair, Rafayel kissed your temple and whispered with a quiet smile, “So... you thinking what I’m thinking?”

You chuckled, eyes twinkling. “I’m afraid to ask what you’re thinking.”

He smirked. “That we’re gonna need more cookies.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately.

And in the arms of the man you loved and the daughter who dreamed big dreams, you knew, someday, maybe... your little trio might just grow into something even more magical.

CALEB —

You had a gut feeling the moment your daughter voluntarily picked up her toys after playtime.

No dramatic whining. No sudden "my legs don't work!" theatrics. No bribery. Just… sweet, eerily efficient cleaning. All by herself.

You raised a brow from the kitchen doorway as she patted her stuffed bear on the head and tucked it gently into her toy bin like a responsible citizen.

“Done!” she chirped, hands on her hips and a proud little grin.

“...You feeling okay, sweetheart?” you asked cautiously.

“I’m great, mommy!” she beamed.

From behind, Caleb peeked over your shoulder. He looked just as confused as you. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with our daughter?”

“I’m just bein’ helpful today, Daddy!” she said sweetly. Too sweetly. “I’m growing up, you know.”

You and Caleb exchanged the look. The “this is a trap” look.

The suspiciously good behavior continued.

She didn’t protest when you said it was bath time.

Didn’t splash water too much.

Let you brush her hair without trying to escape like a wet cat.

Even said “thank you, daddy!” when Caleb helped her into her pajamas.

You and your husband sat on the couch after bedtime, blinking into the silence like two people who had just survived a very polite tornado.

Caleb raised a brow. “She’s up to something.”

You nodded slowly. “She definitely is.”

The next morning, it all came to light.

You and Caleb were still barely awake, sipping your coffees, when you heard the patter of tiny feet. Then your daughter marched into the kitchen, dragging behind her a poorly folded drawing with lots of crayon hearts and… what looked like two grown ups, a child, and a tiny scribble blob with a pacifier.

She placed it on the table like a contract.

“I’ve decided,” she declared with all the seriousness a four year old could muster. “I want a baby sibling.”

You blinked. “...That’s what this is about?”

“Yup!” She puffed her chest proudly.

"I cleaned. I behaved. I even let you wash behind my ears. That’s like… BIG SISTER LEVEL stuff, Mommy!"

Caleb leaned forward, elbows on the table. “So this was a whole plan?"

She nodded. “I earned it.”

You tried very hard not to laugh. “Sweetheart, babies don’t just show up when you clean your room once.”

“i know that, Mommy...!!” she huffed. “But it helps my reputation. Like—look at me! So helpful. So clean. So ready.”

She paused dramatically. “Mommy and daddy can trust me with the baby.”

Caleb rubbed a hand over his face, trying not to break. “And what would you do with the baby?”

“I’d let it use my favorite spoon. Maybe. And I’d show them how to color inside the lines and how to do the good spin when you wear socks.”

You snorted.

She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Also… I would call them ‘Squish.’ Like a nickname.”

Caleb leaned back with a laugh, arms crossed. “You’re really selling this, huh?”

“I studied,” she said proudly. “Babies are a lot of work. So I’ll help mommy when she’s tired. I’ll say, ‘Shh!’ when the baby cries. And when people come over, I’ll say, ‘This is MY baby sibling. Touch with clean hands only.’”

Your heart melted just a little, but also panicked slightly because she looked so prepared.

“Pleaseee?” she added, tugging on your hand. “Please, please, pleaaaase? I’ll even stop putting stickers on daddy’s car keys!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, scooping her up into your arms. “You’re too smart for your own good.”

“I get it from Daddy,” she grinned, snuggling close. “So… is it a yes?”

Caleb smirked and kissed the top of her head. “Hmm. Maybe we’ll think about it.”

She gasped. “Wait—was that a yes?”

“Nope. That was a maybe.”

She groaned, dramatically flopping against you. “Ughhhh, grown ups..."

SYLUS —

You and Sylus had claimed the couch—he had one arm behind your shoulders and a book lazily propped in his other hand, while your legs were tossed over his lap. Comfortably quiet. Peacefully still.

Too peaceful.

Until—

BAM.

Your daughter kicked open her bedroom door like she was entering a courtroom. Dramatic. Determined. Dangerous.

Sylus didn’t even look up. “She’s doing The Stomp.”

“She’s doing The Stomp.”

Tiny footsteps thudded toward you with all the fury of someone with very tiny legs and very large emotions.

She stopped in front of you both, arms crossed, chin high, eyebrows furrowed. “Daddy, mommy, I need to file a complaint.”

You blinked. “Oh?”

She stomped again for emphasis. “Yes. About Luke and Kieran.”

Sylus finally looked up from his book, amused. “What did they do now?”

“They’re being—” she held up a finger, paused dramatically, and continued, “secrety...”

“...Exclusive?”

“EXACTLY.”

You held back a grin. “How so, sweetheart?”

“They were in the kitchen, whispering about something, and I asked ‘what are you talking about?’ and Luke said, ‘It’s grown-up stuff,’ and then Kieran said, ‘You wouldn’t get it, you’re still baby, mini boss' ”

She growled. Actually growled.

Sylus covered his mouth, clearly trying not to laugh.

“I am NOT a baby,” she snapped. “I’m four and a half. I go to the bathroom alone! I brush my hair sometimes! I almost poured juice without spilling yesterday!”

You nodded solemnly. “That’s very advanced, sweetie.”

“And they—” she flailed her arms wildly, “—they have each other! They’re both cool and tall and can reach the top shelf and talk in weird twin code! It’s so annoying!”

“So what do you want, sweetheart?” you asked gently.

“I want,” she said, with the power and confidence of someone giving a presidential speech, “a sibling. A little one. A baby one. So I can have my own sidekick.”

Sylus snorted. “Sidekick?”

“Yes! Someone to follow me around and say I’m the coolest! Someone to boss around—nicely! Someone who doesn’t think I’m too little to know things! Someone who—who looks up to me!” Her voice cracked with dramatic tension.

You blinked. “So... you want your own personal minion?”

“YES!” she shouted, throwing her hands up. “Exactly! And I’m ready. I have three extra stuffies they can use. I even moved the snack drawer lower.”

Sylus blinked. “You… reorganized the kitchen?”

“Survival is about preparation, Daddy...!” she deadpanned, exact lines she heard from sylus.

He threw his head back laughing while you just buried your face into a pillow.

She crossed her arms again, glaring at the two of you. “Anyway, I think it’s time. I’ve been the baby for long enough. It’s getting boring.”

“You do know a baby isn’t just a toy, right?” you said carefully.

She nodded. “Of course. I’m gonna take care of it. Teach it words. Show it how to draw cats. Feed it. Maybe.”

Sylus raised a brow. “You gonna change diapers too?”

She stared.

Dead silence.

Then, “...I think that’s a Daddy Job.”

You cackled.

“hmmpph...! mommy, daddy, just make the baby first and we’ll figure it out later..”

Sylus stared at you. “She’s actually plotting our downfall.”

“She’s literally trying to speedrun being the eldest sibling boss.”

Your daughter plopped herself on top of both your legs and announced, “If I don’t get a sibling, I’m gonna call Luke and Kieran ‘Oldies’ for the rest of forever.”

Sylus smirked. “...Not gonna lie, that’s tempting.”

She grinned.

You sighed.

This girl was going to be so much worse when she was actually the older sibling.

ZAYNE —

You had noticed it gradually.

First, your daughter started picking up her toys without being asked.

Then she started brushing her teeth on time.

And then, this morning, she walked into the kitchen holding her toy stethoscope and gently asked, “Mommy… can I check your tummy?”

You froze halfway through pouring your coffee. “…For what, exactly?”

She looked up at you with those serious little eyes, so much like Zayne’s when he was focused, and replied softly, “For Sprout.”

“…Sprout?”

She nodded slowly, hugging her stethoscope to her chest. “My baby sibling.”

You blinked. “Sweetheart, I don’t have a baby in my tummy.”

“I know,” she said, and paused. “Not yet.”

Later that evening, you sat curled beside Zayne on the couch, your head tucked against his shoulder, blanket over your legs.

He was quietly flipping through a book when you told him, “She named the imaginary baby Sprout.”

He stopped mid page, lightly chuckling. “She what?”

“She also performed a ‘check up’ on me this morning. Told me she’ll do another one tomorrow.”

Zayne blinked, then just chuckled, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

You pulled something out from behind the throw pillow. A piece of construction paper, carefully folded. On the cover, in her neat crayon handwriting.

“Sprout Sibling Plan – secret.”

He took it from you, opened it, and scanned the contents.

“Step 1: Mommy and Daddy kiss 10 times (minimum)”

“Step 2: I help clean up so Mommy has more baby room.”

“Step 3: Check tummy with setescope.”

“Step 4: Make bed next to mine (for Sprout).”

“Step 5: Hug Sprout always.”

He chuckled under his breath. “...She has an actual five step plan.”

“She also told me, in the softest voice ever, that if we kiss more, ‘Sprout might hear it and come soon.’”

Zayne turned to you, smiling into his hand to contain the laugh. “She really believes our kisses are baby summoning rituals?”

“She’s four, Zayne.”

He paused thoughtfully. “Yeah… That checks out.”

The next day, she approached you after dinner. Soft little steps and her toy doctor kit in hand. She gently tugged on your sleeve and looked up.

“Mommy?” she asked. “Can I do your check up again?”

You smiled and nodded, letting her guide you to the couch.

She placed the plastic stethoscope gently on your belly. She didn’t say much. Just listened for a few long seconds, then gave a tiny nod to herself, lips pressed together thoughtfully.

Then she leaned forward and whispered, “I think Sprout is still hiding.”

You ran your fingers through her hair. “Maybe Sprout’s just taking their time.”

She nodded. “That’s okay… I can wait a little.”

She rested her cheek lightly against your tummy for a moment, silent, content.

Zayne walked into the room a few minutes later, drying his hands on a towel. “Everything okay in here?”

Your daughter looked up at him, still curled against you, and said quietly, “Daddy, can you kiss Mommy again? Just one more time. Maybe Sprout will hear you this time.”

Zayne paused mid step, his ears turning slightly pink.

You raised a brow. “Peer pressure from a four year old. Dangerous.”

He chuckled and leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

Your daughter smiled faintly. “I’ll go get the blanket for Sprout’s bed now.” And with that, she padded off like a girl who had just witnessed something important.

Zayne settled beside you and murmured, “So… when do we tell her that’s not quite how it works?”

You smiled softly. “Let her believe it a little longer. I think… it makes her feel like she’s helping.”

He looked toward the hallway where she’d disappeared, a warm fondness softening his features.

“She’s more like you than me,” you said.

“No,” Zayne replied, his voice low and proud. “She’s just the best of both of us.”

XAVIER —

There was something different about your son lately.

He still ran around in his dinosaur socks, still tried to eat ice cream faster than humanly possible, and still thought hiding behind the curtain made him invisible. But there was a certain… gentlemanly effort in the way he was acting.

Holding doors open for you, even if it meant he had to stand on his tiptoes to reach the handle. Pulling out a chair at the table—only to forget halfway and just push it a little.

And earlier that morning, he brought you a glass of water and whispered, “For the baby. In your tummy.”

You blinked at him, slowly. “…What baby?”

He smiled brightly. “My baby sibling...!”

Later that day, you found Xavier sitting on the floor next to Jeremiah, his uncle/babysitter/walking chaos magnet, while an animated cartoon about a big family played in the background.

You crossed your arms. “Jeremiah…”

Jeremiah didn’t even turn around. “Before you say anything, I swear I didn’t tell him anything about babies. The cartoons did all the work.”

“Uh huh.”

“You should’ve seen him yesterday. Kid paused the TV and went, ‘Uncle Miah, I’m gonna have a little sibling too, I just know it.’”

You looked over to your son, who was now patting a pillow beside him like someone was sitting there.

“That's his ‘baby sibling's seat,’” Jeremiah added, barely hiding his laugh.

That evening, as you and Xavier curled on the couch, your son scooted closer, placing a hand very carefully on your tummy like he was afraid to press too hard.

“I’m gonna be a big brother,” he said.

“Sweetheart,” you began gently, “Mommy’s not actually—”

“I know,” he whispered, smiling, “he’s not here yet. But it's coming. I can feel it in my heart.”

You stared.

Okay, you weren’t pregnant. There were no plans. But here your four year old was, looking at you with complete sincerity and faith, like the sibling he dreamed of was already written in the stars.

“Maybe it's a bit slow,” he added thoughtfully, like the baby was just taking the scenic route. “But that’s okay. I can wait. I already put the blanket on it's side of the bed.”

You chuckled softly. “You’re very ready, huh?”

He nodded, then paused. “Also, I made space in the cookie jar. I told Daddy we shouldn’t fill it all the way in case my sibling comes and wants some.”

From behind the kitchen counter, Xavier raised a brow. “So that’s why there were only three cookies left?”

Your son shrugged innocently. “it'll want cookies. It's gonna have my face, and my face likes cookies.”

Xavier let out a soft laugh and walked over, kneeling beside him. “You’re being really thoughtful, bud.”

“I’m practicing!” he grinned. “I already said sorry to the door when I bumped into it today. I’m gonna be super nice when it comes. I won’t even make it say sorry when he bumps into me.”

You melted, leaning down to kiss his hair.

“You’re gonna be the best big brother,” you whispered.

“I know..” he beamed. “So... when is it coming?”

You and Xavier locked eyes.

“Uhh,” Xavier said slowly, “not right away. But… maybe someday. What do you think?”

Your son gave it a long, serious pause, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll keep being nice just in case.”

He then stood, straightened his tiny shoulders, and marched off with purpose.

“…Where’s he going now?” you asked.

“To put a bandaid in his toy box. For the baby. In case it gets a boo-boo when he gets here.”

Xavier smirked beside you. “...So I guess we’re gonna have to start thinking of a name for ‘just in case.’”

You laughed and leaned against his shoulder, heart full—and just a little unsure whether your son somehow knew something you didn’t.

[boobertronian]

Gundam Model Kit

Karina x 2 friends

Proofread by @vorrentis, big thanks with the ideation from @kise15

Word counts : 5743 words All works are fiction ENJOY !!

9:30 am

On Discord server:

Cheesecatblu: Helloooo my fellow otakuuuu !!!

Chadmurogray: Hey Karina

Garcaznable: Wassup

Cheesecatblu: Yooooo!!! I’m bored!! what are you two doing ???

Chadmurogray: Uh … binging My Hero Academia

Garcaznable: Going to play resident evil

Cheesecatblu: sounds fun!!! I’m bored …

Chadmurogray: Uh… ok? you can go watch some new anime?

Garcaznable: Yeh ... I mean, we’ll never run out of them

Cheesecatblu: I binged everything !!!!!! I need something more fun !!

Chadmurogray: sorry, can’t help ya

Garcaznable: You can uh… play games ?

Cheesecatblu: played everything on my phone already…. Actually? You two, I want to ask!! What’s Gundam ????

Chadmurogray: Sci-Fi mecha anime

Garcaznable: and model kit

Cheesecatblu: What’s mecha ?? and what’s model kit ???

Chadmurogray: It’s giant robots in Japanese term

Garcaznable: and model kits are plastics you can build up

Cheesecatblu: Like Legos ??

Garcaznable: Well, plastic model kits like Gundams are something quite different than Legos. You do build stuffs, just the outcome and skills required are different. Plastic model kits are more on the detailed display side once you finished with them while Legos you can have more fun taking it apart and rebuild. Not many model kits can do that. Unless you have a bit more advance skills to do those modifications.

Chadmurogray: Many times, you’re going to need more tools for model kits to assemble too not just your hands. Take quite some time to get used to.

Cheesecatblu: Whattttt ?? That sounds cool ?? Are you two having those... Gundams?

Chadmurogray: Of course,

Garcaznable: We even go to competition

Cheesecatblu: Niceeeee !!!!! I’m searching for them now!! I saw them at the department store a lot but … I thought they’re just some kids’ toys ….

Chadmurogray: Bruh, they aren’t kid’s toys

Garcaznable: It’s a lot of effort there

Cheesecatblu: Can I try one ???? I want to do it !!!

Chadmurogray: Uh…. You really want to ?

Garcaznable: Yeh... I mean, you sure ??

Cheesecatblu: Of courseeeeeee. I’m not afraid of trying new thingssss!!!

Chadmurogray: Ok… I mean, if you want to , should start with a simple one

Garcaznable: Yeh, don’t go for the complex one, you’ll cry

Cheesecatblu: Okkkkk!! Can you teach me ???

Chadmurogray: sure … but how? Live stream ?

Garcaznable: But that might be hard though

Cheesecatblu: You can come to my houseeee !!!! I’m free now!!! NingNing is away with her fam so come over !!!

Chadmurogray: Bruh, your apartment is like more than one hour train

Garcaznale : too lazy bruh

Cheescatblu : Nuhhhhhhh!!! You got to teach me!! I’ll treat your food !

Chadmurogray: Uh… no thanks man

Garcaznable: dude, I just want to stay in my room and deep dive Resident Evil

Cheesecatblu: Noooooo!! Ok, how about, I’ll bribe you with something you like so you’ll come here and teach me ???

Chadmurogray: Uh …. What would you bribe ?

Garcaznable: Yeh, I mean, what can you bribe to make us drag our lazy asses there lol

Cheesecatblu: How about … I’ll buy you those... model kits... you like ?? So, you can show me how you do it ??

Chadmurogray: What? for real ?

Garcaznable: I mean… you can buy us those ?

Cheesecatblu: I can!!! But if I do You have to promise me, you’ll teach me !!!

Chadmurogray: Lol ok... I want MGEX Strike Freedom Gundam

Garcaznable: And I want PG Nu Gundam lol

Cheesecatblu: DONE! Ordered it for ya !!!

Chadmurogray: WHAT ?

Garcazanable : The hell, I was joking bruh

Cheesecatblu: Here are your receipts!!! You’re going to get here and get your packages once they’re being delivered!!! And then you can teach me yeyyyyy

Chadmurogray: Bruh… really ?

Garcaznable: sigh… man... I want to play resident evil dude…

Cheesecatblu: Nuh uhhhh, I bought you things so you’re going to get here!! I’ll give you till weekend!!!

Chadmurogray: Ok, I’ll fix my time then

Garcaznable: fineee, for the sake of the PG set I’ll come

Cheesecatblu: Yeyyyyyy!! See yaaaa thennn!!! Btw you said there will be tools? what sort of tools, should I get some ?

Chadmurogray: Oh, yeh forgot about that, I’ll send you a list

Garcaznable: and you should get some model to practice too, look for something with the word entry grade or SD.

Cheesecatblu: Okieeee , I’ll choose and let you know !!

A few days later

DING

Doorbell rings

“Yoooooooooo Chase!!! Yooo Garfield!!! welcome to mi casa!!”

“Gosh that was a long ass trip Karina.”

“Yeh dude… what the hell, feels like forever to get to your place.”

“Sheeessshh, I must get you two out of your cubicles, right ?? Come on I got fried chicken!! Stop complaining!”

The three friends then start dipping into their lunches.

“Damn this is some good fried chicken.”

“See ?? Told ya!! I do not want to treat my guests badly!”

“So, Ning isn’t home for the week?”

“Till next week too! So, I’m alone and boooooreeeeddd!”

“Ok, that makes sense. But your parents didn’t visit?”

“Just did yesterday! They were super surprised I bought the Gundam boxes lol.”

“So... how many did you buy?”

“5 boxes yeyyy!!”

“Damn, and you got the tools right?”

“I do! Kinda feels like buying manicure tools!”

“Ok, so once we finish the food whenever you’re ready.”

“As promised , here are your big boxes of Gundam!”

Karina goes into her room a bit then brings out two large boxes and presents them to the guys.

“Woah, holy shit!”

“Damnnnn, can’t believe I get this thing without using my own money”

“Soooooo, I bought you the Gundams!! You’re going to show me how to build MINE !!Correct?”

“Yep”

“I’m super hype!!”

“Btw, why the sudden interest?”

“Oh, you remember that MV Hot Mess I did?”

“Ohh, yeh , I mean, you did some Gundam inspired getup and your shirt too.”

“YEPPPP!! The fans kept commenting about it, so I was like huh? Gundam? So, I must ask you!”

“Ok, so, welcome to the club of Gundam builders Karina.”

“YEYYYY” Karina suddenly stands up and strikes a pose, swinging her arms clockwise.

“That’s…. Kamen Rider.”

“Oh … sorry ….”

“Anyway, yeh, you’re ready? We can start once we clean-up.”

Karina then happily brings out all her tool and the 5 Gundam boxes and put it on the coffee table.

“Okay so you have entry grade RX-78-2 Gundam, Nu Gundam, Strike Gundam and two SD Gundam Exia and Aerial , ok that’s not too bad.”

“Yeah, these are nice to start.”

“Really ??? Cool!! Can I choose one to start?”

“Yeh of course, which one you like.”

“This one!!”

“Ok, so the OG Gundam, RX-78-2. The entry grade has new technology for the kit where you can snap the parts out by hands, but for the sake of learning we’ll just show you how to do it with the tools yeh?”

“Okieeeee.”

Karina opens the box in full excitement and takes out the plastic bags with all the kit runners inside, lays it onto the table.”

“Ok Karina let’s look at the instructions here, ok? like how you do Lego, taking a good look at the instructions is vital for Gundam building. “

“Got it!”

“So do you see the words here and these numbers? when you start to look at the manual, take the part from the exact tag of the runners, and the exact number too. For example, if you look at this, A1-1, which means you’re going to look to the runners with the tag A1, and look for part number 1. Here, there it is”

“Woah ,that’s cool!”

“So here, A2-16, so we’ll look for runner A2, then part number 16. Once we take them out, we will sap them together.”

“Ok Karina, I’ll give you a demo how to cut the part out. It’s not that hard so watch closely, ok? Take your nippers and place them like this, closest to the runner and snip the part while making sure to leave some of the plastic on the part, like this.”

“Okiee.””

“Then  we will proceed to cut the excess plastic out of the part to get it prepped for the next step, which is sanding and cleanup. Here, the part just fully cut out. “

“ Nice!”

“Here’s the sanding part. Let’s grab your sandpaper, and your hobby knife. Take the knife and carefully cut the excess plastic, like this, carefully cut it out. You don’t have to do this if you have more finer nippers, but since we don’t have it here so this will do. See? Clean cut for you.”

“Woaaa, like cutting nails!”

“Lol. Ok, so grab the sandpaper and polish that part out, it will take some effort and patience but will have a good result. See? fine and clean part ready for assembly”

“Woah, that’s neat!! Lots of steps!! Can I try please?”

“Sure, it’s your kit anyway, let’s try and we’ll help”

“Yesss”

Karina then carefully looks at the instruction, then finding the runners, cut out the part in good precision.

“Careful, don’t cut to close. Yes, that’s it, cut it right about there.”

“Okieee.”

Karina then carefully cut the part out, then following the step to cut the excess plastic. She then grabs the sand sticks and sandpapers to polish it.

“This is like doing manicure with all the sandings!!! Look! My part is ready!”

“Huh, nice job. For a beginner you did good though”

“I know I do hehehe! Ok!! Onto the next part!”

“Yep, go ahead, take your time don’t rush “

Karina follows the instructions closely. Parts after parts are being cut out of the runners, then being polished with precisions. She then snaps the parts, slowly building up the Gundam’s head.

“Look!! I formed the head!! So cool!!”

“LOL that’s some Voltron reference right there, but yeh congrats Karina, you did it. You built the first part. Now let’s do it with the rest of them. Be patient.”

“Yesssss”

Karina once again dives back into the kit. Pieces by pieces of the Gundam are being built and polished with her tools and surprisingly good beginner’s skills, from the torso to the arms, then the legs, then the weapons Once everything done, she snaps everything together and fully form her first Gundam.

“OMGGGGGG!!! LOOOOK CHASE & GARFIELD !!!! I DID IT!!! MY FIRST GUNDAMMMMM !!!!! OMG HE’S SUPER CUTEEEE AND SO COOL!!” Karina screams in excitement, like a child learning how to build her first toy.

“Gotta admit, you did very well Karina. Like, I’m impressed.”

“Yeh, and you did it fast too. We were quite struggling back then. Fully built and polished.”

“I’m going to call him Rocket Punch Gundam!!”

Karina then immediately taking pics of the Gundam , and post it on her Instagram

Katarinablu: My first Gundam !!!!! So cool !!!! You guys are building Gundams too? Let’s build together !!

Aerichandesu: What the, who let you do this Jimin lol

Imwinter: Jimin-unnie so cool!!

Imnotningning: Woooa Unnie!! I want to try too!!!

“Okeeee So now let’s do another one!! This is addictive!!”

“Sure, this time you should try all by yourself without us interfering. Sounds cool?”

“Yeppp!! Wait and see!!”

A few hours later…

“Taaaaaadaaaaaaaa!!! Rocket Punch Gundam now has friends yayyyyyyy”

“Dope, great job Karina, that was very good.”

“ Yeh, never thought you’ll learn this fast.”

“Yisssss!!! Now we’re going to build more!!”

“Actually , I think we must get back home, it’s getting pass the evening. Our places are far from yours, so we need to catch the train soon.”

“Whattttt ??? Noooooo!!! I want to build more! You promised you’ll teach me more!”

“Yeh but it’s late man, we need to get back home too.”

“Nuuhhhhhh!! But I’ll buy you food and I can set up place for you to stay here and keep teaching me!”

“Well, we can come back later.”

“Nuhhhhh!! You might run away for real!! how about this …” Karina then suddenly proposes an idea that the two couldn’t believe their ears.

“How about... I let you have sex with me , then you stay and teach me!”

“WHAT?”

“NANI?”

“Why do you sound so surprised! I’ve been noticing you too stare at my boobs since you got here lol. You think I didn’t know that?”

“Ah shit, she knows.” Chase thinks in his head

“Oh fuck, busted.” Garfield also thinks in his head

“You two are just those perverts!! I caught you two staring at my boobs in the mirror all this evening , bruhhhh , how dare you!!! But well, since you taught me how to build Gundam I let it slide ~~ “

“Uh…. well… I mean… we did stare at your boobs ...”

“Yeah... they’re big …”

“And not only my boobs, my entire body too! Man, you two were being caught off guard without you know it!! Am I right ????”

“Yeh…”

“ Tell me, you guys’ love seeing big boobs girls ~~?”

“Yeh...”

“And I bet you two watch JAV and pornos ~~”

“We did too...”

“And you ever had sex before ~~?”

“Well, I did last week, Garfield not so much lol.”

“Dafuck, I did last week too “

“How was it ~~”

“It was ok” the two answered in unison

“Then how about, if you have sex with me, I’ll let you do things you always wanted with me ~~ Considering this is your payment for me buying those Gundam boxes for you, even if I paid already ~`”

“Uh … like… for real?”

“You’re not joking right?”

“Why do I have to? ~~”

Karina then proceeds to take her hands and grab onto her tiddies, squishing them a bit just to tease the two guys.

“See ~~ Big and squishy ~~ You love it right? ~~”

“Not going to lie, those are nice pairs Karina.”

“Yeh… Those are nice.”

“Then go ahead and touch them ~~”

Garfield and Chase approach Karina, hesitantly move their hands towards their boobs, touching her in each side.

“That tickles ~~ But I like it ~~”

“SO ... we ... can do this with you for real?”

“You won’t call police on us… right?”

“Why? I want some sex anyway ~~ Been a while I have any , too busy ~~ how about this, I was thinking, how about, I have another proposal, or a dare if you call it : If I can build a Gundam while you guys have sex with me, you will show me more skills! And I’m very confident with my multitasking ability ~~”

“What the ?? … No way you can do that Karina, we just taught you how to do it hehe.”

“Yeah, I mean, you’re still beginner level, even though you learned fast, that sounds... impossible and… like seriously, how can you even focus doing … that. Ain’t no way you can lol.”

“You underestimated my power !!~~”

“ But seriously, you let us … really do this?”

“Yeh... sounds like a weird prank.”

“Stop it!! Just do it already!! We’re wasting time!!! Come one don’t you want to see me naked ~~”

Karina then stands back a bit.

She pulls off her oversize shirt and strips down her baggy pants, revealing her pink lingerie, grabbing her tits to tease the two.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Go for it!”

The two slowly approaches Karina again, putting their hands on each side of her tits.

They grab a handful of her boobs, squishing it lightly, still a bit scared of the invitation.

Karina then spices things up, she unbuttons her bra and throws it to the side, letting her tiddies bounce out of it and slight motion.

“Holy shit that’s … bouncy”

““Yeh… your tits are nicely ... big.”

“I know right? ~ You’re not the only ones said that ~~ Come on, you should do more than just touching them ~”

The two seem to get her idea, they use their hands and fingers to grab on her bare tits again, using their fingers to tease the hardened pink nipples, circling their finger digits around it, letting Karina’s body shakes slightly.

Once they feel enough courage, both then dive their mouths into her of her nipples, licking and sucking them tastefully.

Her body scent arouses them, keeping them hooked into her big mounds.

Their hands and mouths are working in coordination, feasting on Karina’s lustful tiddies m leaving her moaning out through the motions.

“Ahh ~~ Ahh ~~ Oh my ~~your tongues and hands ... are making me … ahh … feel good ~~”

“ Your tits are amazing Karina, they’re so soft.”

“I couldn’t stop tasting them.”

“My tits are high quality treasures don’t you know that ~~ Ah ~~ Yesss right there … But my lower body. ~~ ahh ~~ Needs some care too ~!”

The two guys then move their other hands down to her slim waist, massaging along her curves.

Then their fingers reach into her undies, slowly remove it down, with Karina also kicks it to the side, leaving her body naked in full glory.

The guys use their fingers to run along her pussy lips, while the others on her curvy buttcheeks.

They alternate with each other back and forth, grabbing and teasing her entrances and curvy backside.

Their fingers work their ways into the interior of her pink tight walls,  moving in and out of her front wet entrance, while also circling around her tiny pink backdoor.

The smoothness of her body makes the guys feel irritated to do even more, with their mouths, hands and fingers are attacking her fair skin body, faster and rougher than before due to their rising horniness, and Karina loves every single bit of it.

“Ahhh ~~ Oh … yess ~~~ Ahhh ~~ Sooo… freakin… good ~`”

“You’re… leaking now Karina.”

“Yeh… I think... you’re getting wet “

“Of course, I am wet ~~ I feel so  ~~ ahhh ~~ So freaking good ~~ I guess ~... I’m going to return the favor for you guys ~~”

Karina then pauses the guys a bit. She then kneels to their knees, rubbing her small palms onto their jeans, feeling their bulges forming up.

She helps them pull down the zippers, then their pants down to their knees.

Their hardened dicks pop right out to her face , pointing straight into her lips.

“Dang, big for me ~~”

“can’t help seeing you naked like this Karina …”

“Yeh… too hard for you now …”

“That’s the plan ~~”

Karina uses her fingers to play around with their tips, sensing their leaking precums.

Her tiny palms are stroking along their hard dicks, prepping them up harder.

As the guys start to breathe harder with her hand’s movements, Karina then takes Garfield’s dick into her lips, surprising him .

“Ah… shiet... Karina.”

“Enjoy ~~”

Karina moves her lips in and out of his tip, using her tongue to circle around and runs alongside the veins of his lengthy rod, sucking him in and out.

She doesn’t leave out Chase either, switching to him immediately and taking him whole, alternating her head left and right, giving her partners the blowjobs of their lives.

Chase and Garfield slowly pull off their shirts, then quickly discard their jeans as well. Looking at Karina in her naked self-raising up their hormones to the roof.

“Oooh , buff bodies ~~ You guys do sports?”

“Taekwondo for years actually”

“Jiu-jitsu, been taking my brown belt.”

“Woaaa ~~ buff nerds, I like that ~~ AT least you’re not those closet garage nerds ~~”

Karina keeps on sucking the guys, faster in paces.

She teases their ball sacks with her palms as well, taking them from the tip to the base, spicing things up with giving them titfucks, wrapping her big pairs around their erected rods, wanting them to focus all the attentions onto her.

Her tight walls are leaking of her own juice, quickly stain the floor down below.

“Hope you guys like this ~~”

“Fuck that’s hot…”

“Can’t believe … you’re doing who’s going to do this …”

“Then I guess you guys should prepare for the next steps then ~~”

Karina then stands up and walks towards the coffee table.

She puts out the instructions and runners, along with the tools preparing for the build.

In quick movement she gets to an all-four position, pointing her butt towards the guys, using her hand so slap her cheeks a bit, with her fingers spreading her wet lips out for them.

“Come on now ~~ Who want to go first ~~ I’m ready ~~ Fuck me in this now ~~”

Chase goes first, he gets behind her, lining up his tip to her pussy lips, hesitant to penetrate her with his rod, but he does so anyway, making Karina shakes a bit with the penetration.

“Ahh `~ big, really big ~~”

“Still not so sure doing this with you Karina …”

“Don’t be ~~ Do it, fuck me ~~ I insist on it!”

Chase then pushes his dick further inside her pussy, inches and inches of his dick are passing through her wat and warm hole, reaching into the deepest of her vagina.

Prepping his hip, he starts pounding into Karina, making her moan out in pleasure.

“Let’s see ... Ahhh … so good … Ok ~~ A2-17 going to connect to B2-11 for the head parts.... AHhh ~~ Ohh ~~ SO bigg ~~ A1-1 connects to... Ahh ~~ to A2-16... ~~ Omg this is great ~~” Karina slowly cuts out the parts from the Gundam runners, snapping the pieces together to form the Gundam’s head, while enjoying the penetration from Chase inside her tight walls.

Seeing Karina somehow can hold on into the task, Chase gains some confidence, pounding her faster, making her tits bounce back & forth along with her body.

Her erotic moans are music to both Chase and Garfield’s ears, as they’re starting to feel like this is going to be one hell of a sexual event.

“Ahhh fuckkkk … SO tight Karina!! Fuckkkk how can you even do this?”

“Cause that’s me ~~ I can do anything! Ahh ~~ So good ~~ Keep fucking me ~~ Ok , taking this part here for A1-2  then  A2-15 …for the horns… Ahhhhh ~~ Keep doing it!” Karina still focuses on her task at hand, while taking his big dick inside her.

Garfield couldn’t hold himself anymore, he suddenly taps onto Chase’s shoulder to switch up, with Chase reluctantly removes himself from Karina’s warm walls.

Garfield then quickly penetrates himself into her , pounding her hard and good like she always wanted.

“Ohh ~~ Ahhh ~~ So good… fuckkk ~~~ I... finished the head see ~~ Ahh ~~ Oh shit so hard ~~... Now let’s continue…. A2-12 connects to A1-4 and ... Ahhh shittt so good ~~ … A2-14 for the torso … oh ~~”

“Damn Karina, you did it, nice job … And fuckkkk you’re so tight!”

“I told you ~~ I … ahh ~~ Fuckkkk I can do it… ~~”

Without any more delays, Garfield and Chase are repeatedly switching and pounding Karina in turns, smacking their lower bodies into her incredibly hot walls, while she’s continuing her tasks with the Gundam kit.

Her head and body are shaking and tilting up & down, but that doesn’t stop her to proceed with her crafts at hand.

“let’s change position boys ~~ how about I ride you ~~ I like that one ~~”

“Sure!”

The three then switch up to cowgirl position, with Karina, hands are still holding the Gundam kit and nippers, but body is bouncing up and down one guy after another.

The bounces of her body and her big tiddies are not much of a problem for her, as she adjusts herself quickly to the new position.

“Ahhhh ~~ Fuckkk ~~... Ohhhh My goddd so gooooddd ~~!!! Ok … New parts to do … A2-20... then A1-4 to ... Ahh ~~ the waist... Ahhh shitt keep pounding me ~`”

“Fuck you’re looking hot like this Karina!!”

“Yeahh!! Still so surreal seeing you like this!! Fuckk!”

“I guess … you’re going to want... to do more with me ~~ Ahhh ~~ fuckk ~~ Do you … Wanna go further ?~~”

“What’s in your mind Karina?”

“Like… you can even do more ?? Like ... for real?”

“of course!!! ~~ See? The head and upper torso is almost there … minus the arms and lower torso, and the weapons ~~how about… We get spicy ~~”

Karina then removes herself from the guys, snapping some parts of the Gundam tightly.

Then she proposes an idea that shocks the two even more.

“You two, must have heard of… double penetration, right? ~~”

“Yeh… wait a minute… you’re not … suggesting that do you?”

“Like… how is that even possible to do… when you have the Gundam ???”

“You guys keep doubting me!!! YOU UNDERESTIMATE MY POWER !!!! See I learned that from Star Wars hehe.”

“I mean… we… don’t want to well, make you uncomfortable with that one.”

“Yeah… I mean… that will be hard.”

“Nuuuhhhh!!! I never tried it before ~~ Now I want to, and since we have three people here, why not ~~ Come on, I insisted to do it ~~ Don’t you wanna fuck me at the same time? ~~ I know it’s your dreams ~~”

“Well... since you insisted … don’t say we didn’t warn ya first Karina …”

“Yeh... we will not be responsible for your Gundam to be broken though…”

“You’ll love it , I want it , trust me ~~ And… since you two haven’t cum yet, that’s your chances ~~”

The two guys then prepping Karina once again, groping her big tits and thighs, slapping her curvy cheeks just to rile her up again.

Then Garfield, knowing the cue, he then lays his body down the carpet below, dick is poking up for Karina to sit straight on top of him, bouncing hard for a few bounces while still cutting and snapping the Gundam parts.

Chase then quickly gets behind Karina’s beautiful curvy back, pushing her body slightly down to Garfield, revealing her tiny pink anus.

Using his index finger, he’s teasing her tight entrance, spreading it out slowly with Karina suddenly gasps for air, hands are still holding the Gundam parts.

Slowly and slowly, Chase penetrates his hard tip towards her tiny hole, making some efforts to pass her entrance, with Karina suddenly blurts out a big moan

“AHHH ~~~ FUCKKKK ~~ Been a while ~~ I take it … ahhhh ~~~ In my ass ~~~ Hurry … push it in meee ~~”

“Fuckk it’s freakin tight Karina! “

Chase’s slow and patient efforts are being paid off, as his erected rod finally fully penetrates deep inside Karina’s tight anal hole.

With two hard erected dicks are fully sheathed inside her two holes, Karina has nothing to say but only one line

“AHHHH ~~ FUCKKK MEEE ~~~ “

Hearing her erotic command, the two guys start to move their bodies, pumping in and out of Karina in good paces.

They’re going harder at this point probably nothing can stop them from enjoying this sexual act with their beautiful partner, who’s surprisingly can still be aware of building the Gundam while her holes are being smashed repeatedly.

“AHHHHHH ~~~ FUCKKK ~~~ OHHHH~~~ Hahhhh ~~ Ok … ~~~ B1-7 … connects to A1-11 ... AHHH FUCKK ~~~ THAT’S SOOO GOOOD ~~ Then …. B1-6 ... connects to that part... for the arms …. AHHH `~~ Then A1-10 … OH FUCKK MY HOLES !!~~”

Karina moans louder, closing to screaming.

Her face and body are turning red from pleasure, her hair flips back and forth along with her big tiddies, while her bodies are being pounded relentlessly by her two partners, almost on the verge of breaking her.

Their poundings are faster and rougher, fucking Karin’s body holes to cloud nine, while she’s doing her best to maintain her crafts, mouth is fully open with erotic sounds.

Their cocks are filling her heating holes, one in and one out, penetrating her deep and with harsh velocities, leaving Karina with ultimate pleasure.

“AHHH FUCKKKKK ~~~ SOOO GOOD ~~ I LOVE ITTTT ~~ Hahhh… So ... A1-6... connects to A1-5..., AHHHHH ~~ KEEP FUCKING MEE ~~ … then ... connect with ... AHHH ~~~ B1-9 for the shoulder… HAAHHHH ~~~ ICAN FEEL YOUR DICKS INSIDE MEE !!~~”

“Fuckkk your; fuckin hot Karina!!! So tightttttt!”

“SShiettttt… Can’t stop fucking you !~!!”

“Then… ~~ KEEEP GOINGG AHHH ~~”

The two continues to pound Karina’s body for a couple few minutes, with her still incredibly still handles the situation with the Gundam, almost finishing its upper body.

It’s about time, as the two guys are finally giving in to their orgasm

“Karina… Going to cumm... Fuckk!”

“Gonna… fuckk... can’t hold anymore!”

“CUM IN MEE ~~ I’M ALMOST THERE TOO ~~!!”

And without a doubt, the two guys finally shoot their hot cum inside her beautiful warm holes, filling her completely shots after shots.

Their body tense up, stay still from their orgasms, with Karina fully enjoy they’re cum inside her, breathing hard in and out from her messy state. Karina does some final steps, fully snapping the remaining parts of the Gundam’s torso and handheld weapon, happily show to the guys while still recovering from her tired self.

“Look ~~~ See ~~ Upper parts done !!!~~ Hahh... you fucked me good ~~~ I love it ~~ “

“Fuck you’re amazing Karina… “

“Yeh... and great job with the Gundam so far too… fuck you’re so great ...”

“Soo… hahh… We... still have the lower parts… how about... we switch to a new position... one last time … ~~”

“I can’t see why not Karina!”

“Hell yeah!”

The two then do their bests to remove themselves from her, sorely standing up preparing for one final round.

Once they stand up, they can see Karina’s holes are leaking out with them cum, with them smile at each other happily.

“See ~~ You’re cum is leaking in me ~~ It’s hot right ?? !!~~ Now, one more time !!~~ Gimme a HOT MESS ~~”

Garfield once again taking the bottom, sitting on the sofa while holding Karina up, but this time he puts Karina in a reverse position, pushes his cock deep in her ass, while Chase takes the top with her pussy, fully penetrating her once again.

The three people continue their final sexual act, with the guys are pounding Karina with no mercy and non-stop, intending to give their all to her.

Karina doesn’t see this as a challenge anymore; she continues to build the final parts of the Gundam while having two big cocks thrusting inside her holes.

“AHHHH ~~ MORE PLEASE ~~~ KEEP FUCKING MEE ~~ SOO GOOD ~~ So ... B1-8 ... connects to A3-22… then B1-10 for the hip part… AHHH `~~~ FUCKK DON’T STOPPPP ~~”

Seeing Karina is still minding her business while taking their cocks, the two guys’ erotic souls skyrocket to the roof, their bodies are charging up like Super Saiyans, thrusting in her holes with mighty forces, it’s like they can seriously break her.

“AHHHH, I LOVE IT ~~~!!! HARDER PLEASE ~~~!!!! Ahh… this part…. B3-17 to … A30-23 … AHHH ~~~ for the kneecaps… ~~ then B3-20 to B3-16 ... AHHH ~~ FUCK YOUR DICKS ARE BIGGG IN ME ~~~… Ahhh… Gonna... finish the leg… AHHH ~~~~FUCKKK~~”

“Fuckkk... man you really UP’d your skills Karina!”

“Shiettt … you’re one crazy girl Karina!”

“DON’T STOP OK !!~~ I’M ALMOST THERE !!!~~~ Hahhh B3-19 to A4-30 for the feet AHHH ~~~ SO GOODDDDD ~~ FUCK ME HARDDD ~~Almost done ~~~!!”

“Karina I’m close ...!! Going to cumm again !!’

“Oh fuckkk !!!! Going to cummm 1!!”

“BLOW YOUR CUM IN ME !!~~~~ I’M DONEE!!”

The two guys erupt they’re cum inside Karina’s holes again, pouring out every of their juices into her, as the three of them hit their final orgasms of the day.

Loads of cum are flowing into Karina, with her face right now is full of satisfactions, both from the cum and the Gundam.

Tiredly remove themselves from Karina, Chase and Garfield flop down to the ceramic floor, body full of sweats, their dicks are slowly turning to their original states, while catching their breathes from the aftermath.

Karina sorely walks between the, drops her body down to the floor, facing up the ceiling, body reddened, holes are gaping and leaking thick white cum.

In a surprise act, she then startles the guys

“Tada ~~~ Fully assemble … STRIKE GUNDAM ~~!!” 

“Man... you’re something Karina, great job!”

“One hell of an achievement Karina...!”

“Glad you two likes my result, and glad you feel good fucking me ~~”

“Fuck yeah we did.”

“Fucking hell, you’re seriously … from another world...”

“ Guess we should continue like this more ~~”

“Actually ... Karina... it’s... very late... we must get home…. The bus won’t be much after this hour…”

“Yeh… but... we promise ... we’ll come back to teach you ... how to do ... panel linings … and paintings... and more kits if you like ...”

“Sure ~~ You did your bests today ~~ You can go ~~ Take your rewards with you ok ~~ if not I’ll touch them hehe ~~ Pinky swears for me and ... see you soon ~~”

“Thanks for the gifts, Karina!! G9!”

“Yeh!! See ya next week!”

“G9 you two ~~”

The two then start cleaning themselves and packing their things, dressing up and run down to the bus stop.

Karina, still laying down fully naked, cum are still leaking from her holes, slowly stands up and grabs her phones.

She then takes some nude selfies with the Gundam’s, either doing cute poses with them, or putting them on her tits and thighs for some erotic selfies.

Once done, she opens her private chat and send to a person.

Cheesecatblu_:  Hey, look Aeri-Chan, Gundam’s and nude selfies ~~

Aerikim_gi: Lol, you did it, you fulfilled my dare for the day, you finally fucked them with the Gundams haha

Cheesecatblu_: told ya I can do it !!~~

Aerikim_gi: guess it’s my turn for the Gundam sex lol. But hey, you still have one more dare left

Cheesecatblu_:  And what will it be? ~~

Aerikim_gi: POST IT ON YOUR INSTAGRAM HAAHAHAHAAH

Cheesecatblu_:  YOU’RE ON !!!!

[vynisbored]

Art programs you have but don't use

sketchbook:p I use ibis paint X cuz I have a Samsung tablet

2. Is it easier to draw someone facing left or right (or forward even)

forward, but if I had to pick then left, 3/4 view is my ultimate enemy tho

3. What ideas come from when you were little

my two dnd characters mylo and cloud, I started playing dnd pretty young (9 years old I think) and I loved snow leopards and animals so I made cloud and that lead to my main dude mylo now :] he's my child and i love him

4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw

UGHHHHH Mark winters from jrwi sometimes sucks to draw but mainly TIDE LAMBERT JRWI he is a pain in the ass to draw idk why

5. Estimate of how much of your art you post online vs. the art you keep for yourself

I haven't put anything on tumblr yet but I put most if not all of my finished pieces online, my sketches and doodles as well as unfinished art stays with me

6. Anything that might inspire you subconsciously (i.e. this horse wasn't supposed to look like the Last Unicorn but I see it)

lowkey don't know for this one :')

7. A medium of art you don't work in but appreciate

PASTELS oml I've tried and they are a pain to work with I look up to pastel using artists sm, I will never use them but I commend anyone who does

8. What's an old project idea that you've lost interest in

I was drawing a jrwi tidalwave piece a lil while back, finished the linear but never coloured it :p also I tried to animate oc lore (mylo) to class of 2013 by mitski on flipaclip but I don't know how to animate and it lowkey looks bad but that's probably cuz I didn't know to storyboard :/

9. What are your file name conventions

I hope I'm answering this right but I usually key smash or say smth like oc ref page 2.0 (mylo) or dakota headshot 2

10. Favorite piece of clothing to draw

I don't rlly have one but if I had to pick then collared shirts or suits

11. Do you listen to anything while drawing? If so, what

literally always, it's either a podcast (JRWI or CHNT) or one of my various playlists, usually my will wood playlist, my rock playlist, my "current" playlist, or my "vibes" playlist. It entirely depends on what I'm drawing or how I'm feeling at the time tho

12. Easiest part of body to draw

hair if that counts, I struggle with that sometimes too, I struggle a lot but I like drawing hair, and also hands, but only if it's just the hand, it can't be connected to the body

13. A creator who you admire but whose work isn't your thing

@ssavaart I like his art alot but I'm not a painter and don't draw stuff he does usually :/ (idk if I'm allowed to @ srry ._.)

14. Any favorite motifs

brain not working I think this means motivations but idk

For ppl: skywerse, 2amanimations, narcissisticpotato, inkfal, chippedarchiviste, artandbrimstone, macsuit, ssavaart, ebaycarson, probably more but I forgot :')

15. *Where* do you draw (don't drop your ip address this just means do you doodle at a park or smth)

usually on my bed or on my couch sometimes I go to this park my family calls the Dino Park, it was when I lived in Germany but now I'm moving to california so I have to find new spots :3

16. Something you are good at but don't really have fun doing

idk artwise I like drawing all the stuff I draw :]

17. Do you eat/drink when drawing? if so, what

not rlly maybe just water or maybe that cheddar popcorn

18. An estimate of how much art supplies you've broken

God, including crayons and pencils n stuff it's probably in the hundreds, I've also broken paint markers and pastels

19. Favorite inanimate objects to draw (food, nature, etc.)

I don't rlly draw inanimate objects ngl :')

20. Something everyone else finds hard to draw but you enjoy

hands :D as long as theyre separate from the body, I love using my hand as a reference and drawing different hand poses, one of my main doodles

21. Art styles nothing like your own but you like anyways

idk names but skywerses art style is amazing also those bright neon colour art styles that are usually furry art, I think ebaycarson draws like that :] also ssavaart's art style

22. What physical exercises do you do before drawing, if any

nope ._.

23. Do you use different layer modes

I usually don't but I've been experimenting with multiply layers a bit, idk if I'll use them a ton tho

24. Do your references include stock images

sometimes if I'm drawing something silly with my oc's

25. Something your art has been compared to that you were NOT inspired by

nothing yet:/ ppl don't rlly see my art alot, and if they do it's the jrwi tbh creatures that take like 20 minutes each :'l

26. What's a piece that got a wildly different interpretation from what you intended

again, I dont rlly have ppl to interpret my art yet :/

27. Do you warm up before getting to the good stuff? If so, what is it you draw to warm up with

not rlly but sometimes I doodle random stuff

28. Any art events you have participated in the past (like zines)

artfight! I joined artfight for the first time this year (2025)

29. Media you love, but doesn't inspire you artistically

books!! I love cozy fantasy books with queer romance subplot :3

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated

All of the ones I spend forever on but literally 2 ppl see :/ I'm hoping that once I start posting on tumblr ppl will see it more:]

Weirdly Specific Artist Ask Game

Didn't see a lot of artist ask games, wanted to make a silly one.

(I wrote this while sick out of my mind last year and it's been collecting dust in my drafts, I might as well let it run free) 1. Art programs you have but don't use

2. Is it easier to draw someone facing left or right (or forward even)

3. What ideas come from when you were little

4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw

5. Estimate of how much of your art you post online vs. the art you keep for yourself

6. Anything that might inspire you subconsciously (i.e. this horse wasn't supposed to look like the Last Unicorn but I see it)

7. A medium of art you don't work in but appreciate

8. What's an old project idea that you've lost interest in

9. What are your file name conventions

10. Favorite piece of clothing to draw

11. Do you listen to anything while drawing? If so, what

12. Easiest part of body to draw

13. A creator who you admire but whose work isn't your thing

14. Any favorite motifs

15. *Where* do you draw (don't drop your ip address this just means do you doodle at a park or smth)

16. Something you are good at but don't really have fun doing

17. Do you eat/drink when drawing? if so, what

18. An estimate of how much art supplies you've broken

19. Favorite inanimate objects to draw (food, nature, etc.)

20. Something everyone else finds hard to draw but you enjoy

21. Art styles nothing like your own but you like anyways

22. What physical exercises do you do before drawing, if any

23. Do you use different layer modes

24. Do your references include stock images

25. Something your art has been compared to that you were NOT inspired by

26. What's a piece that got a wildly different interpretation from what you intended

27. Do you warm up before getting to the good stuff? If so, what is it you draw to warm up with

28. Any art events you have participated in the past (like zines)

29. Media you love, but doesn't inspire you artistically

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated

[hearts4johnwick]

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ Accidental Blessing. / Johnny Storm.

SUMMARY. 𝜗𝜚 johnny comes to your house one day inciting you to a mission to outer space, which reed gave permission to invite anyone he would like—who else would he invite if not you? but, what you thought would be a great adventure with your boyfriend, took a turn for the worse.

CW. 𝜗𝜚 4.4K words. fluff, angst. established relationship, make outs, radiation storm incident, johnny loves you more than anything.

A/N. 𝜗𝜚 YES, reader after the incident is a DIRECT copy of jean grey from dark phoenix after the solar flare incident because im extremely unoriginal and her powers look so cool in dark phoenix <33. since the movie doesn’t show them getting their powers, i took the scene from the 2005 one (but this is joseph quinn’s johnny)

You yawn as your elevator doors open, the ding waking you up slightly. You walk out and head to your apartment, 224. You see your neighbor going inside theirs, but they stop to speak to you.

“Hey, sweetheart, it seems you left your door open when you left to go downstairs…” your kind neighbor says, your eyes travel to her feet, where her cat was rubbing itself on her leg.

“Thank you, Candice. Have a good night.” You say with a smile.

“You too baby.” She giggles and shuts the door. You look at the door, and you see it’s open by inches, your eyebrows furrow.

As you approach your door, you pull out the pepper spray in your purse. You open the door and you press your lips together when it creaks, groaning softly to yourself.

You mumble incoherently as you continue to hear stuff coming from the kitchen. Your eyebrows remained furrowed, but they rose when you entered the kitchen.

“Johnny?!” You exclaim. He turns around quickly and groans.

“Oh Goddammit! You weren’t supposed to be here until later.” He says as he places his fingers between the bridge of his nose.

“What are you doing here?” You question and he tilts his head.

“You gave me a spare, don’t you remember?” You close your eyes and rub your forehead, then nod.

“Yeah, I do.” You exhale. Johnny approaches you and rubs your arms gently.

“You okay?” He asks, your eyes still shut, you lean into his arms and press your face to his chest, listening as his heart begins to race. “Oh.”

“I’m just tired.” You mumble and he hums.

“Well, I made charcuterie, and I just opened a bottle of wine, don’t let it go to waste. Let’s rest on the couch and eat it.”

“Johnny.” You call out his name in a whimper, as if you were about to cry. His eyebrows raised. “I would love that.” You jump and wrap your arms around his torso, urging him to take you to the couch without another word. He places you down on the couch softly and then he brings the wine and charcuterie.

When he sat down, you sat closer to him, wrapping your arms around his and resting your head comfortably onto his shoulder, he chuckled and placed a kiss on your head.

“What did you do today?” Taking in his mouth some cheese and a strawberry.

“Woke up at 5. Went to the gym. Then brunch with the girls, then we went to the mall, then later we went for dinner, until finally I’m home.” You say, a bit mumbly since you were tired out of your mind. “And you?”

“Was at the Baxter building with Sue and Reed.” He says and you hum.

“All day? You texted me but I don’t remember what time it was.” You say and he nods.

“Yeah, all day.”

“What did you guys do?” You ask him and he stays silent for a split second.

“Reed found this massive storm of cosmic radiation traveling through Earth’s atmosphere.” He says, and your eyebrows raise.

“Woah—“ you exclaim, but Johnny cuts you off.

“That’s not all. Reed wants to study it further. He wants us to go and see it, too.” Johnny says, looking at you, grip firm on your hands.

“Wow, Johnny, that’s amazing but, I’m literally a veterinarian. I don’t think veterinarians belong in space.”

“Baby, please.” He says, cupping your cheeks softly, eyes begging for your company. “Everything is going to be okay. Look, all of us are gonna go—Reed, Sue, Ben, and me! Reed said I could invite you, because he knows everything will be alright.”

You and Johnny stay looking at each other in silence, minutes go by, you look away from him but he pulls your face for you to see him again. His fingers graze over your lips, eyes still begging for you.

“I’m too scared.” You didn’t want to sound like a wuss, but, you had to be honest.

“I will be too, if you don’t come with me.” His eyes glow, you can see your reflection in them. “I can call Reed, tell him to tell you that everything is going to be alri—“

“Okay, fine, I’ll go.” Johnny is cut off by those four words, and your hands on his cheek.

“S-seriously?!” He smiles widely and you return it, you nod and he exclaims. He raises his arms and then wraps you in a warm embrace. You laugh as he begins to smother you in kisses as he lays you back down.

Now, he’s hovering over you, his finger tracing the features in your face, thumb grazing your full lips. Your thumb caresses his cheekbone back and forth, and you share a smile as you lose yourself in each other’s eyes.

“God, I love you.” Johnny whispers. Your smile turns white, brightening the look on Johnny’s face.

“I love you more.” You reply and he now returns the toothiest smile. He leans down and places a soft peck on your lips, which quickly turns into something more.

“You know you’re wrong.” He says as he pulls away, his lips still brushing against yours as he speaks. You smile and scoff.

“We’re not having this discussion.” You pull him back into the kiss, your hands playing with his hair as his thumb caresses your hips.

𓂃

“Alright. Blasting off in 10…” Reed begins the countdown until the ship takes off, and you breathe in heavily and swallow the lump in your throat.

You look to your side and look at Johnny, who smiles at you then extends his hand, which you take. You hold it tightly as the ship begins to shake. “3…” as Reed approached the final number, you shut your eyes, your fist tightening its grip on your seatbelt and Johnny’s hand, you swore you could almost crush it.

When you open your eyes, you find yourself already leaving Earth’s atmosphere, and you gasp. It’s all happening too fast for you to take in, you begin to panic, but try your best not to show it.

It took you half an hour to arrive at the space station where you would be staying for studies of the radiation. Your ship rests above the station and all of you leave to go to your designated rooms.

“We’re so glad you could come, ___!” Sue says, you smile and dismiss her.

“I was forced, practically dragged out of the comforts of my own home by your lovely brother, but, I’m here to enjoy spending time with you, and seeing your work.” Both Reed and Sue nod in approval before they head to their room.

You head to your room and leave your things resting beside the bed. You take in a deep breath and give your neck a quick massage, you crack a few knuckles, and check yourself in the mirror before heading to Johnny’s room.

“First mission together…” you say excitedly as you go behind him, placing your arms on his shoulder, he smiles and turns around.

“And certainly not last.” He says, placing his hands on your hips. You grimace and exhale sharply.

“Hmm, don’t push your luck.” You now place your hand above his cheek, brushing his eyebrow.

“Oh come on, after this mission you’re going to love it so much you’re gonna wanna go on every single one! With or without me, preferably with me…” he says and you chuckle.

“Yeah, with you because if something happens, I don’t want to die alone.” You smile widely and he sputters.

“You’ll never be alone, you know that. Not as long as I’m living and breathing.” Your face softens and you see that familiar twinkle in his eye as he speaks to you.

“You better be right, Johnny.” You raise yourself on your tip-toes and place a soft kiss on his lips, breaking away quickly.

“Am I ever wrong, though?” You laugh sarcastically and meanly. Johnny furrows his eyebrows.

“Oh, Johnny. When are you not?” Your lips trail from his eyes to his lips, then his eyes again. Your hands are now traveling from his neck to his torso.

“That’s not true.” He says and you hum.

“You wanna test that theory?” You back off, crossing your arms.

“Try me.” He says and you scoff.

“Alright.” You look down, thinking of a question. “Let’s go simple. What’s my favorite col—“

“Purple.” He cuts you off, catching you off guard, and your face lights up. He hums, raising an eyebrow. “Favorite food is sushi, favorite date location is being home and painting, favorite flowers are orchids—“

“But those are easy ques—“ you cut him off, but then, he cuts you off.

“I’m not done.” He says, you recoil and smile. “Favorite animal is a whale shark, favorite movie is Downtown Beauty, the original one from the 50’s—“

“Aha! You’re wrong.”

“What?! No, it’s definitely Downtown Beauty, with Jennifer…what’s her name?”

“It’s actually the sequel… Downtown Baby.” Johnny furrows his eyebrows, crossing his arms and shaking his head.

“What the f…” you approach him and place a hand on his forearm.

“It’s okay baby, at least you know me well enough for basic stuff.” You shrug and he rolls his eyes playfully. “Alright, you want redemption? I’ll give you redemption.”

“I got this.”

“How old was I when my mother abandoned me?” Johnny stays silent, his ears getting red by the sudden change of mood. “Johnny.” You call him out, eyebrows knitted together, confused on whether he knows or not. “Serious—“

“7.” He as usual, gets it correct. You roll your eyes and he laughs. You cross your arms and turn around, but he grabs your forearm and pulls you to him. “I know you more than you know yourself.” You hum in annoyance but when he wraps his arms around you, you smile.

You place your chin on his chest, looking up at him. “I just remembered we’re in space right now.” Johnny traces the scar right below your right eye and he hums.

“Yeah, kind of crazy.”

“Kind of?” You chuckle. “I was kind of having a panic attack when we were taking off.”

“I know.” You tilt your head.

“Your lip quivers when you’re anxious or panicking, also, your right eye kind of twitches, especially around the scar area.” You look at him in pure awe, how had he been so watchful of these things you didn’t even know about yourself.

“Oh, Johnny.” You swear you kind of tear up, Johnny has always been laid back, he always showed his love for you, of course, but you never thought that he would be capable of loving you beyond kisses, hugs, and simple I love yous. “I love you.” He smiles and bends down slightly to kiss you, and you raise yourself on your tip-toes to kiss him back.

You grip his hair tightly, as the kiss goes further than just a peck, you feel his arms tighten their grip around your waist, but then you break apart to catch your breath. You lay your foreheads against each other and stay there in soft silence.

That was until you were rudely interrupted by Reed’s loud running footsteps. You both recoil, your heels now touch the ground normally, and a disturbed, Reed catching his breath stands on Johnny’s doorstep.

“What? What?” Johnny asks, you place a hand on his chest to calm him down.

“Reed, what’s wrong? Where’s Sue?” You ask as well, and Reed finally answers.

“The storm. It’s coming, and it’s coming now.” He says, in a terrified tone. You look at Johnny, concerned.

“What? I thought you said it wasn’t going to be here for another 7 hours!” Johnny asks, and Reed shakes his head.

“We need to abort, now!”

“What?!” You exclaim. Reed then leaves. “Johnny…” You look at him, your soft look weakening his heart.

“Stay here.” He caresses your hand and goes after Reed.

You look around and swallow the lump in your throat, your breath shaking. Of course, due to pure curiosity, you leave Johnny’s bedroom and walk to the nearest window, and see the massive storm, you gasp, but your fright doesn’t begin until you notice a familiar space suit on the railing outside, your eyes widen.

“Oh my God! Ben is still out there!” You grab an earpiece lying on a console right next to you and put it on. “Hello?! Hello?! Ben! Ben! You need to get out of there now!”

“But sweetheart, I ain’t done yet.”

“Ben, I don’t care! The s-storn is here! Come back!” You shout frantically into the microphone. You look out the window and see him making his way back, but the bright and colorful storm of pure cosmic radiation follows behind him. “Oh God!” You go over to a console which is made for the exit chamber, you pull a lever and the doors open. You see Ben inches away from entering.

“Ben!” You yell out for him, begging to God that he could somehow hear you as you bang your hand on the glass, because the cloud just got to the doorstep, but not him.

You hear footsteps behind you, but you’re too distracted by the storm you stay frozen, shock has taken over your body, paralyzing every bone.

“Get away from the doors!” Reed’s screams muffle as you get blinded by the storm.

“No, no!” Johnny couldn’t even get inches close to you before you were impacted by the storm.

The impact of the storm sends Ben flying into the exit, unconscious. While you were knocked off your feet, but not onto the ground. The radiation of the storm taking a whole of your whole body, and your body takes all the energy, even as you scream in agony.

Johnny attempted to extend his arm to you, to get a hold of you, but he couldn’t, his body was also taking the same energy yours was, same with Reed, and Sue.

You were a direct hit for the storm, the main target. Ben was the first to get hit, but you were the one who took all the radiation, slipping into your veins, bloodstream, and heart.

Johnny fought the storm with all his mind, as he crawled to you, just to get a hold of you. He called out your name, screamed out your name, but you had no response, not even after the storm had passed.

Your limp body drops to the ground. Johnny mutters a soft “no…” but that didn’t stop him from pushing himself, pushing his body by putting one arm in front of the other and dragging himself. He groans as he sits up.

He grabs your body and cradles you, you’re burning from the touch, but this doesn’t have an effect on Johnny. He moves the hair out of your face and rubs your cheek.

You force your eyes open, but with no success. Your vision is blurry, but you know the one holding you is who you love. “Johnny.” You call out, dragging your raspy voice, breathless.

You try to raise a hand but fail, but Johnny grabs it and places it on his cheek. While looking at you, Johnny caught a glance or something odd. Your eyes flashed orange, a fiery orange. His eyebrows raised, the more he looked at you, the more he saw. Your skin was cracking, as that of a broken porcelain doll, or cracked walls, again, glowing a fiery orange through the cracks.

“I-I’m here.” He says, but you close your eyes again and rest your eyes, and as for your breathing, it’s there, but barely noticeable, same as your heartbeat. “No…no…” Johnny whispers, holding you close to him, hugging you.

“Oh my God!” Reed and Sue enter, Reed is holding Sue by her arm around his shoulder. She places her hand in her mouth, as tears seep through.

“Is she…” Reed asks. Johnny looks up, tears rolling down.

“I don’t—I don’t know.” Reed approaches you, grabbing your face. He places his hand below your nose to check your breathing, and his ear on your chest, to check your heartbeat.

“She needs severe medical attention. Now. If she doesn’t…” Reed begins, Johnny’s expression changes.

“If she doesn’t, what? What will happen? Can’t you help her?!” Johnny questions angrily, and Sue puts her hand on his shoulder, caressing him and calming him down.

“Johnny. She needs help on Earth. We have a medical center here but… nothing compared to what they can do on earth.” Reed assures and Johnny turns back at you, once again bringing you closer, resting his forehead against your head.

“Let’s just go.”

“Where’s Ben?”

𓂃

“Ahh, hey Ben! How are you feeling?” Ben walks in, rubbing and cracking his neck as Reed slaps him on the back.

“I feel… drained. How long was I out?”

“3 days.” Ben’s eyebrows raised.

“Holy moly…” he exclaims and Reed chuckles, eyes going back to his computer. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve been running some tests every day since we landed back on Earth. It’s weird how all—“ Reed begins, but stops quickly to clear his throat. “Most of us survived perfectly fine.” Johnny shoots Reed an unpleasant look.

“Wait, most?” Ben looks around, Reed, check. Sue, check. Johnny, check. “Where’s ___?” He asks for you.

There’s a silence that fills the room, almost a grieving one. “She’s… she’s in critical condition.” Johnny looks down, shutting his eyes. “She was the one whose body absorbed the most energy—“

“But, I was the first one to get hit, and look at me.” Ben adds.

“Yes, you’re correct, but, since your body shut down almost immediately your body was rejecting the energy. ____ took it all, we took what was left. It’s like the storm was attracted to her, as if the target was her.” Johnny clenches his fists against the desk and breathes out. “She should be dead.” Reed adds, and Johnny raises.

“But she’s not. So can we stop pretending like she is?” Johnny speaks, loudly, making his point heard across the entire room.

“Johnny…” Sue calls him out softly, but he sighs.

“I’m gonna go…check up on her.” He informs and storms off.

Upon arriving in your medical room, Johnny sniffles, rubbing his nose. He looks at you from outside before he enters.

As he approaches you, he stands next to your bed, watching you rest. Then, he begins to feel every stage, Denial. Reed is just being exaggerated, you shouldn’t be dead, you’re fine, just like all of them.

He grabs a chair and sits down, grabbing your cold hand and kissing it. “Baby, please…” his hand moves up to your face, brushing an eyebrow, which then travels down to your cheek to caress your cheekbone.

As he begins to feel his anger come in, his blood boiling as he begins to think of everything he could’ve done to save you, or at least prevent you from getting as hurt as you did.

You swallow, your throat burns and you quickly sneer, but your face softens when you recognize the soft touch around your hands, but you can’t open your eyes just yet. The potent lights are hurting you, but you manage to utter his name, so soft he didn’t hear it the first time.

“Johnny.” Your eyes open by millimeters, blurry, but you can see his distinctive blonde hair.

You hear him gasp, then he stands up, hovering above you. “Baby, baby…” he caresses your hair and cups your cheeks. “Oh my, God.”

“Johnny.” Your voice cracks, and your eyes begin to pool with tears. You raise your weak arm and bring him close, hugging him and crying your eyes out.

You stay embraced in each other until the moment you tell him you need water, he quickly brings you a cup which you nearly chug down, but he tells you to drink slowly.

“What happened?” You question, and Johnny’s face lifts, his thumb caresses your hand.

“Baby…you don’t—remember?” He questions, and you look into his eyes, your soft, innocent look makes him sigh. He kisses your hand and begins to explain.

By the time he’s done explaining, it’s been almost 30 minutes, and you’re already feeling better—you think it must’ve been the nearly 4-day coma that made you feel weak and drained.

After your talk, you tell Johnny you want to see the rest of the family, and he demands you stay in bed, and that he’ll tell them to come to you, but you deny.

You change into some more comfortable clothes, and Johnny helps you with walking, since you still feel just a little bit weak, and also he’s scared, he sees you fragile now, and horrified of the moment when he turns around and you’ll no longer be there.

“Oh my, God!” Sue exclaims with a gasp, announcing your entrance. Reed and Ben smile and approach you, waiting for Sue to break the hug apart so they can hug you.

Ben immediately wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly, maybe a little too tightly.

Next was Reed, who kissed you on the cheek, and next was a hug. He rubs your arms and asks “How are you feeling?”

“A little weak, must be that nearly 4-day coma feeling, but other than that, I feel fine!” You say with a smile, Reed hums.

“Do you have any memory of the events that happened?” Reed questions and you hesitate.

“I didn’t. But, Johnny told me everything. I don’t know how I’m alive.”

“Neither do we.” Ben says and you chuckle, Johnny scoffs.

“Do you mind if I run some tests on you? Just to check to see if there’s nothing wrong…” Reed asks and you nod.

“Not at all. Go ahead.”

Reed runs your tests, analyzing your blood and DNA, and so far, nothing out of the ordinary, but he dismisses you after he collects these samples so he can analyze them with patience.

As you leave Reed’s lab, you come across Johnny and he tells you to head to the terrace for a little bonfire, just the two of you, to which you agree.

“Hey, where’s Ben?” You ask Sue and Johnny keeps pulling your hand.

“He went to bed, he said he doesn’t feel too good.” Sue replies and you hum. “I might go do the same, I feel exhausted.”

“Oh, yeah, of course! Goodnight.” You dismiss her and she blows you an air kiss before you go out to the terrace with Johnny.

He starts a fire with some branches and a lighter, and after three tries, it finally catches. The bright orange light makes you flinch, you don’t know why, but you just did. And you freeze, staring at it as if you were in awe.

Johnny sits down next to you and wraps his arms around you as you lie in them. He then places a blanket over you, and you stay watching the fire.

You’ve seen fire before, orange, bright—blinding, hot. Same thing. But God, this felt different. The fire was too specific—too familiar.

You feel the vibrations of Johnny speaking against your back, but you don’t hear him speak, it’s muffled—all muffled.

You stare deep into the fire, and you see it morph into something else. You groan and close your eyes. A bright flash, a colorful storm coming your way, taking control of your body. You groan again, your eyes roll back in pain.

“What the—baby?” Johnny puts his hands around your arms, shaking you awake, but you’re out, like something is happening to you, but you’re unconscious.

Johnny gets deja vu when he sees your fiery eyes, and you cracked fiery skin. “Oh my, God.”

You stand, but you can’t stand straight, it’s as if you’re drunk, and you have to hold yourself against every single thing close to you.

You continue to groan and moan in pain as you make your way into the kitchen, you hold your head as the flashes get brighter, and your screams replay in your mind, right there, in the kitchen, you drop to your knees, and now you’re groans turn into screams, you terrify Johnny, who’s standing beside you, watching you, feeling helpless.

“No, no…” Johnny mumbles as he approaches you. He calls you by your name, but you cry out.

“Stop! Johnny, no!” You extend a hand out, prohibiting him from getting closer, but he disobeys, and once you feel his gentle touch on your arm, you can’t control your “No!” Before you can even regret yelling at him like that, you see Johnny is now about 10 feet away from you, knocked on his back—because of you.

You hold yourself up with your hands smacking the cold floor. You hold your chest as you gasp for air, you look next to you and see Johnny still lying on the ground.

You make your way to him, kneeling as you help him up. “Johnny, Johnny, oh my, God I’m so sorry…” you say as he cups your cheek.

“It’s okay, it’s okay…” he winces as he grabs his side. “What…did you do?” You both look around, and see some chairs knocked down, cracked tv’s amongst fallen vases.

“I don’t—I don’t know…” you say when you look back at him.

“Reed needs to run those tests again.” He says and you nod.

Ben, Sue, and you got it the same day. Ben turned into a pile of rocks in the shape of a man, he remained Ben, just, different. Sue let out a scream when she went to the bathroom but didn’t see her reflection, and was even more impressed when she blocked a shard of glass coming her way.

Johnny got his the day after, when Reed was checking to see if he had broken something after you knocked him with one of your shockwaves. The thermometer was going through the roof, but that didn’t say much, not until he tried to do some “Get better” pancakes for you and nearly burned his hand on the oven, when you saw his entire body on fire you began to panic until you realized it wasn’t doing any damage.

Reed was testing out the millions of abilities he could have had. Laser vision, negative. Telekinesis, you and Sue already got dibs on that one. Telepathy, you. Shapeshifting, no-go. Super speed, no, slow as always. Elasticity, bingo. It was odd compared to the other four of you, but you were too deep into the euphoria of being superhuman, you didn’t pay much mind, not unless Johnny made fun of him for being the lamest.

The years after these discoveries were something else. Something your veterinarian ass could have never been prepared for—and all because of wanting to accompany your boyfriend. Though, if the opportunity presented itself once more, you would do it all over again.

[visualnovellover]

it's one thing to know that every object in your house is sentient but it's another when they're all voyeurs who has seen you naked in more ways than one. like oh okay- they saw me naked before, it's making me feel embarrassed but it's chill... kinda. BUT WHEN SHADOWLORD COMES AND OUTRIGHT SAYS THAT EVERY OBJECT HAS HEARD US TOUCHING OURSELVES- well fuck.

i am digging myself a 6 feet grave in the backyard.

"There's my favorite customer!" Bev says cheerily to your approaching form. Not noticing how red faced you are or the look of 'i-want-to-kill-myself' in your face. Taking a seat you buried your face in your hands and let out a loud choked groan.

"Whoah, you sound like you saw something traumatic."

"Bev I need something strong to make me blackout tonight."

That raised a brow for her, knowing your preferences for light cocktails and such, so it's surprising to hear you ask for strong liquor tonight.

"Now normally I wouldn't ask, y'know drink whatever you want, but is everything okay?"

You dropped your hands from your face, the blush slowly disappearing but the strained smile and the look of embarrassment shining in your eyes only has her more curious on what happened.

"Alright so, I need you to answer me honestly-"

"Oh, of course! Ask away!"

"... Have you- heard me before?"

Beverly titled her head, wondering what you meant by that. Heard? Your question? Is that what you meant?

"I'm hearing you well? Is that what your question is?"

That seems to be the wrong answer because now your blush is returning quick and shaking your head to the sides furiously.

"No nononono, like- what I'm trying to say is... have you- have you... heard me.... doing stuff...?"

"Um..."

Bev tries to comprehend your question, it's much more easier to make a new drink than whatever you're asking her for.

"Heard you before? Well yeah kinda hard not to, you're always goin around the house so of course I've heard-"

A look of realization (or better yet a light bulb) dawned her as she takes your behavior in. Red faced, sweat trickling down your neck and how you squirmed in your seat when she's starting to stare to long.

Oh.

"Well- no I haven't heard you personally! Cuz like the kitchen is so far from the bedroom but I usually did hear from Ben-hwa about it-"

"They talked about it-"

"Or from that candelabra and his blabber mouth and y'know how fast things travel around here - so no, I haven't heard you but I know about it."

Maybe that was the wrong way to say that, because now you look more embarrassed than before and there's that telltale glimmering of tears in the corner of your eye.

"Hey it's alright! It's a normal and harmless activity and we're absolutely not judging you for that honey."

She says softly and coaxingly, trying her hardest not to overwhelm you anymore like one does to an animal that's ready to bolt at any second. And that unfortunately seemed to be the final straw for you.

"Thanks Bev! I'm going to go die now-"

"Wait!"

"Bye! I'll see you tomorrow!!!"

And there you dashed away from her bar and up to your bedroom, barely letting Dorian to see your state and lest he starts asking questions as you opened the door and closed it just as fast (but still gentle to keep Dorian from getting shaken up and a migraine).

You took off your beloved dateviators and placed them gently on your side table before diving under the covers of your bed. Clutching a pillow over your head as your traitorous mind recalls all the times you masturbated before- in your bedroom, in the bathtub, hell even in in your office after writing some steamy self-insert fanfic.

Of course you knew that they saw that. How the hell could they not. But you were desperately trying to deny and be ignorant of that truth, because just how will you continue to be able to make eye contact with any of the objects when you know and they know of what sort of activity you indulge in.

Fuck, you just want to curl up and die in a ditch right now.

"So Bev, what's gotten the human so frazzled up that they slept in early tonight?"

Now Dorian is in her bar, looking as serious as ever with his arms crossed. It's only been an hour since you run out after getting the confirmation, and since you slept in early (more like wallowing in your humiliation) there's been a steady increase of questions from the other objects wondering what happened.

"I don't know if it's my place to say anything Dorian..."

She quietly says and poured the cocktail from her shaker and into a glass, your favorite cocktail to be precise.

"I understand that, but it would be nice to know the gist of what happened between you two."

"Well..."

Before she can say anything some other object butted in their conversation.

"The human found out about us knowing their nightly activities."

That got Beverley sputtering and looking at who said it - which was none other than Wyndolyn. Ever the transparent window she is, she doesn't look embarrassed to say this kinds of things.

"Wyndolyn!!!"

"What? Like you said, it's a normal and harmless activity. I don't know why it took the human this long to come to terms with it, but better late than never as they say!"

As the two objects continue to bicker back and forth, Dorian on the other hand looks embarrassed just as well. He won't deny that he has seen you doing it before, but that was before the existence of Skylar and the dateviators came to you.

Well, seems like tomorrow will be awkward. But he hopes that the knowledge of some objects being voyeurs won't stop you from seeing them. They care about you before but now you quickly endeared and captured everyone's heart in yours- even Dorian's heart.