#okay so maybe winning it is too...uh..yeah

[sillygoose067]

hi!! is it possible for you to write one for lewis pullman in general or bob floyd inspired by this

Hi! Yes of COURSE it’s possible, I’m so glad you asked :) I chose to do Lewis for this one, but maybe in the future I’ll do a Bob Floyd version… 🤔💭

Also the tweet itself is so funny I swear I’ve seen it like 50 other times and still laughed at it. Thanks for bringing it back!

———————————————————————————-

Plus One, Minus Me

Lewis Pullman x Reader

You were halfway through another spreadsheet, fingers stiff from typing, when your phone started to buzz across the desk. The screen lit up with a name that made the corners of your mouth soften—Lew💞.

You tucked the phone between your shoulder and ear, already grateful for the break. “Hey, you,” you said, brushing a crumb from your lap. “What’s up?”

His voice came through, winded. “Quick question—where are you?”

You frowned faintly, clicking away from the screen. “Um. At work? Still chained to the desk. Why?”

There was a shuffle on the other end. Distant laughter. A thud, like someone had dropped something nearby. And then—faintly—a child's voice calling for someone named "Captain Lewis."

“…Wait,” you said, straightening up. “Where are you?”

“I’m at your family’s place?” he replied, like it was obvious. “The cookout. The one you told me about last week?”

Your brain did a somersault. You yanked open your calendar. June 25th — Family cookout, 3 PM — backyard, bring something sweet?

Oh god. You had told him.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. “I completely forgot.”

“I thought you were just running late,” he said, unbothered. “Your mom texted me the address this morning, so I just showed up. Figured it'd be polite to shake some hands and make a quiet exit.”

You groaned, already burying your face in one hand. “I had back-to-back reports this morning. I didn’t even think—I’m so sorry—wait, how are you even surviving out there? My family’s like, full-contact socializing.”

There was a brief silence, and then a huff of laughter.

“Yeah, I didn’t really get a choice. Your aunt handed me a pair of tongs before I even finished saying hello. I’ve grilled, stacked chairs, lost a round of trivia, and now I’m being roped into a scavenger hunt by your cousin? I think I’m her team captain now?”

You could almost see him: sleeves rolled up, awkwardly trying to blend in, probably blushing his way through small talk while balancing a paper plate.

“Lewis,” you sighed, equal parts charmed and horrified.

But he didn’t hear it. His voice had shifted, distracted again. “Wait—someone’s calling me—uh, hey, sorry, I can’t really talk right now, I’m being drafted into backyard dodgeball. Your dad’s on the opposing team and he’s been warming up for ten minutes—I think he’s taking this personally—okay, gotta go—bye!”

Click.

You blinked.

He hung up.

He actually hung up on you.

To play dodgeball.

At your family’s cookout.

That you forgot about.

A scoff caught in your throat—half disbelieving, half amazed. You shook your head and stared at the phone like it had betrayed you. Moments later, a message came in.

A photo. Blurry but full of motion. Lewis in the foreground, red-cheeked and triumphant, clutching a foam ball like a prize. Behind him: your dad mid-sprint, your cousin ducking for cover. Someone had stuck a makeshift nametag on Lewis’s shirt. It read: “TEAM MVP.���

Then came the text:

Lew💞: “Tell me this counts as cardio. Also tell your mom I’m winning? Sort of.”

You felt a smile start somewhere deep and involuntary. A quiet warmth that spread beneath your ribs.

You: “I can’t believe you’re just out there bonding with my entire family without me:(”

Lew💞: “Yeah, well. Someone had to represent you. I’m doing my best. Now if you’ll excuse me, your uncle just pulled out the water balloons.”

Pause.

Lew💞(follow-up): “P.S. Tell your boss you’re missing a great pasta salad.”

———

You managed to finish up your shift a little after sunset, eyes heavy and brain gelatinous from too many hours of spreadsheets and fluorescent lights. But as soon as you clocked out, your feet moved on instinct. You barely thought about it—just turned the wheel and pointed your car in the direction of home. Or at least, the temporary version of it: your parents’ house, backyard still glowing with string lights and the leftover echo of laughter.

By the time you pulled up, most of the chaos had thinned. The crowd had quieted to clusters of folding chairs and flickering citronella candles. A few cousins darted around with glow sticks; someone had put on an old playlist, the kind that lived in your family’s blood more than memory.

You stepped into the yard with a breath held like a confession.

Your parents were at the patio table, sipping something warm, plates scraped mostly clean. Your mom saw you first. Her eyes lit up, though she didn’t rise—just waved you over with a small smile.

“I’m so sorry,” you said as soon as you reached them. “I completely spaced. Work swallowed me whole.”

Your dad waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. We figured you’d show up when you could.”

“Besides,” your mom said, patting your arm. “Lewis made up for both of you.”

You blinked. “He did?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she said, grinning. “He’s been playing referee, grill assistant, magician, babysitter, and apparently—”

Your dad cut in. “—the reigning water balloon dodge champion.”

You laughed, cheeks warming. “Where is he now?”

Your mom stood, nodding for you to follow her through the side of the yard. “He wore himself out. The little ones ran him into the ground.”

You passed the garden hose, a collapsed beach ball, and a pair of soaked sneakers—evidence of earlier warfare—and then turned the corner into the screened-in sunroom.

There he was. Sprawled on the old futon like a crime scene outline, one arm thrown dramatically over his eyes. His shirt was damp, hair tousled, and someone had draped a beach towel over him like a blanket. Your youngest cousin had left a juice box balanced precariously on his chest.

You stood in the doorway and just stared for a second. He looked so comfortable. Like he belonged there. Like your family had absorbed him fully, and he’d let it happen.

“He kept saying he wasn’t tired,” your mom said quietly behind you. “Then he sat down for one second and passed out like a light.”

You glanced at her, grateful.

“Thanks for looking after him.”

She touched your back, light as a whisper. “He fits, sweetheart. Good one, that boy.”

You smiled, then stepped forward to kneel by the futon. You gently moved the juice box, then brushed a hand along his arm. “Hey,” you murmured. “Ready to head home?”

He stirred, blinking slowly, smile groggy and crooked. “Did we win?”

“You definitely lost consciousness, so… sort of.”

He laughed under his breath, voice husky with sleep. “Your cousin is terrifying. I think I work for her now.”

“Come on,” you said, nudging him upright. “Let’s get you out of here before she demands overtime.”

You guided him to the car, waving your goodbyes over your shoulder as he leaned sleepily against you, still radiating warmth from all the attention and adrenaline. And as you drove, his head tipped gently against the window, you couldn’t help but marvel at it all.

By the time you pulled into the driveway, the stars were out and the air had that summer hush to it—cool against your skin, the kind of quiet that only arrives after a long, noisy day.

Lewis was half-asleep again in the passenger seat, arms folded, head resting against the window like he might be dreaming something sweet. You hated to wake him, but the porch light flickered on as the car door opened, and he stirred on his own, rubbing at his eyes.

“Home?” he murmured.

You nodded. “Just about.”

Inside, you helped him kick off his shoes while he yawned like a cartoon character. He dropped his keys twice, then muttered something about how your cousins had “the combined energy of a nuclear plant.” You snorted as you tossed the spare blanket from the couch over his shoulders and went to fetch a glass of water.

When you came back, he was standing in the kitchen doorway, eyes soft and half-lidded, just watching you.

“You’re staring,” you said, offering him the glass.

He took it with both hands, sipped, then said, “Your mom likes me.”

“She does.”

“Your dad said I throw like a ‘real man,’ which I think was a compliment.”

You laughed and leaned your hip against the counter. “You made quite the impression.”

He gave a sleepy smile. “I just didn’t want them to miss you too much.”

That made you pause. Then step forward.

And tuck a hand into the curve of his elbow.

“I think you distracted them just fine.”

You guided him to the couch and sat down beside him, legs curled under you, shoulder brushing his. He exhaled, deep and slow, like he was finally letting go of the day.

After a moment, you reached over, gently pulling a stray blade of grass from his hair.

He watched you with that look of his—soft, a little amused, all affection.

“Thanks for showing up,” you said quietly.

He blinked. “Of course.”

“No, I mean… not just for me. For them. For being there, even when I wasn’t. You didn’t have to.”

He leaned back, head tilted, eyes studying you in that unassuming way of his. Then: “Yeah, but you love them. And I love you. It’s not that complicated.”

Your breath caught a little. Because of how easy, how logical he made it sound.

And how right it felt, hearing it here, in this quiet pocket of the night, after everything.

You didn’t say anything right away. Just reached for his hand and laced your fingers through his.

Outside, a cricket chirped somewhere in the dark. The kind of sound that only made silence feel more full, not less.

Eventually, he sank sideways into the cushions and pulled you gently with him.

And there, tangled together on the couch, your fingers still warm in his, you revelled in this love you'd found.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Red Looks Good on You

Pairing: Georgia Amoore x Singer!reader (feat. Paige Bueckers & Azzi Fudd)

Fandom: WNBA-Washington Mystics

Summary: A jersey swap that turns into something more….

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @cowboybueckers , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @elswhore , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog , @sayurireidotcom , @let-zizi-yap , @latenighttalkinqwp , @fairyblossomsav

If someone had told me back when I was stress-crying over finals at UConn that I’d one day be court-side at a WNBA game in a Paige Bueckers jersey, next to Azzi Fudd and her dad—while catching actual butterflies over a maybe-crush on Georgia freaking Amoore—I probably would’ve said they were delusional.

And yet, there I was. Right in the middle of it.

“Rock, paper, scissors…shoot!”

“Ugh!” I groaned, throwing down scissors for the third time in a row. Paige smirked, smug as ever.

“That’s three Ls in a row, Y/N. My jersey it is,” she grinned, tossing me her navy Dallas Wings jersey like she was handing me a win when really, I’d just walked straight into her trap.

“You’re so manipulative,” I muttered, tugging the jersey over my oversized tee.

“You’re the one who kept picking scissors. Rookie mistake.”

Azzi cackled from the doorway of the hotel room, already scrolling through her camera roll. “I got that last round on video. You look like a loser, bestie.”

“You’re my friend. You’re supposed to lie to me.”

She just snorted. “Yeah, but Paige is my girlfriend, so loyalty has levels.”

I rolled my eyes but grinned anyway.

Game day.

We arrived early, just as warmups started. The arena was buzzing—music blasting, kids bouncing in the aisles, players locked in their rhythms on the court. Azzi’s dad, Tim, handed me a bottle of water as we settled into our court-side seats.

“She still wearing your jersey?” he asked Azzi, nodding to me.

“She lost a bet,” Azzi said without looking up from her phone. “Paige is annoying.”

“She’s right there,” I whispered, nodding toward Paige and Arike who were warming up directly in front of us.

“Oh, I know,” Azzi said, casually flipping her phone toward me. She had Paige’s contact pulled up and was typing a text that read: She looks better in your jersey than you do, just saying 😇

“You’re chaos,” I whispered.

“I contain multitudes,” Azzi replied, smirking.

Then we heard someone behind us say, “Oh look, Georgia’s coming this way.”

My heart did a full gymnastics routine in my chest.

I looked up—and there she was.

Georgia Amoore.

Hair slicked into a messy but neat bun, crop top clinging to her like it was made for her alone, and her jersey in hand.

Literally in her hand.

My name caught in my throat.

Azzi noticed my silence and glanced up too.

“Y/N,” she said, elbowing me lightly. “Try not to melt.”

“I’m not melting,” I whispered.

“You’re steaming, sweetheart.”

Georgia reached us with a casual smile and a soft “Hey.”

Her eyes flicked to me, lingering for a second longer than what was considered friendly, then shifted to Azzi.

“Hey,” Azzi said, sitting up straighter. “Warmups going okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Georgia nodded, looking at the jersey in her hands like she suddenly wasn’t sure what to do with it. “I was just, uh—gonna give this to someone. But looks like I got beat to it.”

She gestured toward me in Paige’s jersey.

“Ohhh,” Azzi teased lightly, eyes dancing between us. “We had a rock-paper-scissors match. Paige won.”

Georgia chuckled. “Tough loss.”

Then, with a little shrug, she turned and handed the red Mystics jersey—her own jersey—to Azzi.

“I guess you’ll wear it better anyway,” she said with a playful smirk.

Azzi blinked. “I mean…if you insist.”

And just like that, she slid it on over her crop top, much to Paige’s immediate disapproval. From directly in front of us, Paige stared with an open-mouthed glare.

“Really?” Paige mouthed, mid-free throw warmup.

Azzi shrugged exaggeratedly. “What? Y/N has yours!”

“She’s baiting her so bad,” I whispered to Tim, who just laughed.

Halftime.

“Text from Paige,” Azzi announced, snickering as she flashed her phone. “She said, and I quote, ‘Take. It. Off. Now.’”

“What’d you say back?”

“I sent her a selfie,” Azzi grinned, scrolling to show me a picture she’d just snapped. In it, she was dramatically pouting while wearing Georgia’s red number 8. “Caption: Not until you say please.”

“You are sick.”

“Not as sick as you, apparently,” she said, turning toward me. “You’ve been lowkey staring at Georgia this whole game.”

“No, I haven’t!”

“Y/N. You literally asked me how to say ‘what’s up’ in Australian slang before the game.”

“…Okay, yeah, I did.”

She leaned toward me during a break in the music, voice dropping slightly.

“So…does it smell like her?”

I blinked. “What?”

“The jersey,” she laughed. “You asked earlier.”

“I said that as a joke!” I covered my face. “Ugh, that’s so weird to say out loud.”

“I think it smells like cherry chapstick and intimidation,” Azzi said matter-of-factly, inhaling a little.

I gave her a horrified look.

“Wanna smell it?”

“No! Azzi!”

She burst out laughing and then got a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“You wanna wear it for the second half?”

“Wait, are we swapping jerseys?” I asked.

She grinned. “Let’s make Paige mad.”

We had one minute before the second half started.

I yanked Paige’s jersey off and handed it over, exchanging it for Georgia’s red Mystics one.

It was still warm from Azzi’s body, a little oversized, and smelled vaguely like citrus and sport detergent.

“Okay, I get it,” I admitted.

Azzi smirked. “Right?”

She sent one last picture to Paige—me now in Georgia’s jersey, her in Paige’s—and captioned it: Plot twist 💅

After the game, the crowd was electric, buzzing out of the arena like bees.

Paige gave us both the stink eye before disappearing into the tunnel, and Azzi just blew her a kiss and skipped off to meet her dad.

I hung back, still clutching a Sharpie I never used because I chickened out getting Georgia’s autograph earlier.

Then I heard it: “Hey, red looks really good on you.”

I turned.

Georgia.

Again.

Close now. Up close enough that I could see the freckles on her cheeks and the light flush behind her ears.

“Really?” I asked, smiling.

She nodded. “Yeah. Plus, I’ve never seen anyone wear the number 8 so well besides myself.”

I laughed, heart skipping.

“I was actually about to give this back to you,” I said, gently tugging at the hem.

She reached out, stopping me with a soft hand to my wrist.

“Keep it,” she said. “You wear it better anyway.”

I looked at her, surprised.

“You sure?”

“Positive,” she smiled. “Just…wear it somewhere cool.”

About two weeks later I had a show in Boston

I stepped onto the stage, mic in hand, lights low. My band behind me started playing something slow, sultry, unreleased.

The crowd hushed as the beat dropped.

I wore Georgia’s jersey as a dress—belted at the waist, paired with red boots. The number 8 was bold on my back, almost daring.

“This one’s unreleased,” I said into the mic. “I wrote it about a certain someone I maybe…kinda have a crush on.”

The crowd screamed.

Later That Night at a cozy diner in Boston.

We sat across from each other in a booth, milkshakes in hand, fries between us. Georgia wore a hoodie over her head, and I was still wearing her jersey.

“People are gonna start connecting dots,” I said, sipping my shake.

“Let ‘em,” she said, shrugging.

I smiled softly.

Then she pulled out her phone, snapped a blurry picture of our hands locked together, and posted it on her Instagram story.

Caption: On a date. Kinda nervous ❤️@y/n.officially

It took about five seconds before I reposted it with my own caption:

“Me too 😳❤️”

And just like that, the internet went insane.

But me?

I was calm for once.

Because red really did look good on me—especially when it came from someone who made me feel seen.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!💚💙

                             -prettygirl-gabi✨️💗

[dissolved-g1rl]

kiss kiss fall in love! જ⁀➴ ♡

Bokuto really doesn’t understand why you get so flustered around him. Whenever he compliments you, you start sputtering and tripping over yourself. Or when he invited you to his game and you looked like you were two seconds away from crying. He’s seen you talk to other guys just fine, without the frazzled expression and jerky movements, maybe Akaashi is right, maybe he should lay off or something. The thought of not talking to you makes him sad, you’re so cute, and when you’re at ease you make him laugh, he’s wooed. Bokuto finds himself thinking about you at practice, when he works out, or when he’s feeling particularly alone on certain nights…. It’s often you’re wreaking havoc in his already hyper brain.

“Hey! Thanks for coming, I always play better with you around you know.” Bokuto rushes to you after his game, he’s dripping with sweat, his jersey sticks to his muscles, emphasizing his muscular physique. “Uh…yeah I got off work a little early so I figured it’d be okay…” You look away, handing him a small towel so that he can wipe his face at least, he has enough admirers already. “Thanks!” His fingers brush against yours, wiping his face and neck, looping the towel around his neck. “You need a ride home?” He asks, using his bottle to squirt water into his mouth, some drips out to his chin into his goatee, he wipes it away. “Um..you’re probably tired after all that…I can just call a cab or something.” You don’t think you can handle a whole car ride home with him. “Don’t be silly! It’s dark out! Plus what if your driver’s a creep? I’m fine.” He waves his hand “Okay…If it’s not too much trouble.” He smiles happily at your agreement “I’m gonna rinse off in the locker room, i’ll be quick promise!”

Bokuto has a extra pep in his step when he leaves the bleachers, his teammates give him funny looks. You watch as everyone else seems to trickle out of the gymnasium, you look at your shoes, nice high heels that don’t squeeze your toes so much. The two of you had gone to high school together, you didn’t think he’d noticed you, but then all of a sudden you started getting dms from him on social media, invites to his games. It had been nice to reconnect…Bokuto has always been nice you suppose. Never shoved your books out of your hands, never asked you on fake dates, never dumped water on you or stomped on your glasses. But he’s still a jock, you don’t know his intentions, you tell yourself that it’s better to exercise caution.

All those careful thoughts shoot our your brain like a stray breeze does to a stack of papers when he waltzes out wearing sweatpants and a dark compression shirt. Duffle bag slug over his shoulder, his hair is flat from his rinse. “Ready?” Bokuto smiles at you sweetly, spinning his car keys on his pointer finger, you nod, mindlessly following him to the lot. “Congrats on the win by the way..you played really well!” Your heels thud against the asphalt, he likes the steady click-clack. “Thanks.” Bokuto says puffing his chest out with pride, he’s really is like a bird, he preens with praise.

You follow him out to his car, a terrible decision most women come to regret. You’re being stupid and you know it, following a guy to his car just cause he has a nice back and big biceps, if you end up on the news you figure no one would blame you too harshly. You bet he’d even have a nice mugshot. You’re panicking again, often times too in your own head. Everyone says so, when you get that far off look and fidget with your fingers. Your brought back to reality when he gets his passenger side door for you, right, he’s a nice guy, maybe you should look into medication. “Thanks.” You say sheepish for reasons he doesn’t understand, “No problem!” He chirps anyways, he’s remembers seeing you eating alone with a distant expression back in high school, seems like it’s still prevalent even after all these years. He still finds it terribly endearing.

Bokuto lets you pick the music for the ride home, he doesn’t know if you realize you hum, he doesn’t tell you in fear of you stopping. “You have a nice place.” He hums appreciatively when he pulls up outside your home, “Thanks…my agency comps me with it.” You murmur, nervously fiddling with your fingers in his lap. “Wow! You must really be a big shot, like in that Christian Bale movie, ever seen it?” he puts his car in park, giving you his full attention, you are the complete opposite, instead of preening, you wilt. “Umm yeah, maybe a few years ago, it was nice.” You say with a sheepish laugh, butterflies erupt in his stomach. Has it really been that long that your awkwardness, of all things, is what gets him going these days? Probably. “Can I walk you to your door?” He blurts out, his cheeks reddish, it must be the light, no way someone like you could get Bokuto flustered…right… “Um sure!” You say just as graceless.

He’s coming around the car to your door, you push it open when he pulls, causing him to stumble, he regains his balance quickly. You both delve into apologies and then laugh. He offers you his hand, hoping he doesn’t see you wipe your sweaty palm dry, you accept. He steadies you so you don’t trip, it feels terribly romantic. “So ummm—hah i’m usually not so nervous.” He murmurs when you reach your welcome mat. “You think..I could take you out sometime? I always really liked you, I promised myself if I won tonight I wouldn’t wuss out on asking you.” He says in one big breath, hand squeezing yours, he’s looking at you with wide golden eyes and and mouth slightly parted. You feel shocked, he likes you? No way… You glance around, expecting someone to pop out of your bushes and take a picture at your stupid expression. “Uhh..are you expecting someone?” Bokuto looks where you are, getting confused. “What? Oh no! I mean Yes! I mean…no im not expecting anyone…yes to um..going out.” He smiles brightly at you, “Great!, I’ll pick you up! Akaashi told me about this really great restaurant i’ve been meaning to try.” He sounds relieved and you duck your chin to avoid his eagerness. “That sounds nice…” You murmur lightly digging your heel into the concrete, you look up and smile at him from underneath your eyelashes. Bokuto feels like all the air is sucked out of his body, he feels like a worm, he doesn’t deserve someones as gorgeous as you. Worst of all he doesn’t even think you realize it. How hot you set his skin, or how nervous you make him feel. “Good…” He was silent for too long, he forgot to speak and it earns him a small laugh.

“Umm Bokuto…” Your voice makes him hum in acknowledgement, he’s shocked when he feels you steal a kiss. A light peck on his mouth that goes as fast as it comes. “Goodnight!” You squeak, hurriedly heading inside, the door slams on his face before he can question what the hell just happened. He heads off with a dopey expression, heart beating out of his chest. God what a good night, he’s got a date with you, won his game, and he got a kiss. God, he thinks he’s in love.

dividers by @hyuneskkami

a/n: surgery went well! (thank you for the kind comments) im in recovery and felt good enough to write (i got bored hahah) so working on some requests later today! but for now enjoy cool guy athlete bokuto x ex classmate reader

[rafasbiscuits]

I'm late because of WiFi but the hype is still there. I just want to say.

ANDYYYY MURRAYYYYYYYYY U AMAZING BRILLIANT MAN. WIN THIS FCKING TOURNAMENT LETS GOOOOO

[motorsportbarbie13]

One New Voicemail

your relationship with lando through voicemails.

(no warnings, just pure fluff. i'm kind of obsessed with writing these. would anyone want to see different drivers??? 1.2k words.)

First Date  “Hey you. I know I just dropped you off and you’re probably not back up to your apartment yet but I just wanted to tell you that I had the best time tonight…”  Lando winces at how lame that sounds, dragging in a breath before letting it loose.  “I’ve never been axe throwing on a first date before but uh…I’m glad you still have all ten fingers.” He laughs softly, shaking his head.

“Anyway. I know I said it already, like…5 times but I had a really fun night. Like, best first date ever. So, I was hoping that maybe we could do it again. Soon? Yeah…soon.”  He pauses, the butterflies in his stomach taking flight at the thought of seeing you again. “I’m in town for another week before the next race. Maybe tomorrow? Too soon? I don’t know, I just can’t get you off my mind and I’ve just dropped you off.”  Shit. He was down bad, wasn’t he?  “Text me?”  Another pause.  “Okay. Bye.”  Click. 

First Kiss “Hi. Um. So, that just happened, didn’t it?”

His voice is breathless, like he just ran up several flights of stairs before hitting your contact in his phone.

“I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I saw you in that bookstore. I nearly chickened out that day, almost walked right past the shop window but…” 

Lando shakes his head, smile tugging at his mouth. 

“Fuck, I am so glad I didn’t. Because that was the best first kiss I’ve ever had. And then you gave me the best second kiss. And third…” 

The words hang in the air, silence stretching out as he grins stupidly out at the London traffic in front of him. 

“Okay. Anyway. I just wanted to make sure you knew how much I can’t wait to kiss you again. Bye.” 

Click.

When You Make It Official  “Hi baby. I uh…just needed to say goodnight to my girlfriend one more time.” 

Lando giggles. 

Giggles. 

“So…you’re my girlfriend now, huh?” You can almost hear the smile slide across his face in the way he sounds. “Jesus, I was so nervous. Felt like I was 15 years old again. I’m so glad you said yes. Never a doubt in my mind…” 

He snorts, rolling his eyes. 

You both know that’s a lie. 

“I wish I didn’t have to go to Spain so early tomorrow. Fucking media duties. Do you think maybe you could get Friday off? I want you by my side this weekend. I’m going to buy you a ticket as soon as I get back to my flat, okay? Okay. Bye.” 

Click. 

When He Wins “Fuck. I didn’t even check to see what time it was back home. I’m so sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you.” A pause. “Probably not because you didn’t answer. That’s good.” 

Lando sounds flustered. Like he can’t quite gather his thoughts into a coherent string. 

“I won!” 

Laughter. 

“I won and the first thing I thought when I saw that checkered flag was ’God, I wish she was here to see this.’ I hate being on opposite sides of the world from you. I haven’t heard your voice all fucking day. Is that pathetic? How much I love hearing your voice? You know what? I don’t care. Hearing you say my name is my favorite sound. Sue me.” 

Someone shouts Lando’s name off in the distance, just loud enough for you to hear. They tell him it’s time to celebrate and take a team photo. His response is muffled and then louder, directed back at your voicemail. 

“I wish you were here. I need you here for my next win, okay? Promise me? Okay, call me when you get up, I don’t care what time it is.” 

A pause. Almost like there’s something else he wants to say. Something heavier. 

“Okay. G’night.” 

Click. 

When He Misses You “Hi, baby.” He coos, voice tired. Sheets rustle in the background and he’s silent for a few moments. “I’m sorry I missed your call earlier. You’re probably out with the girls now, yeah? I hope you’re having a good time.” 

Silverware clinks in the background. The hiss of a can opening. 

“It’s been…fourteen days, six hours, and twenty-nine minutes since I kissed you and it’s really fucking annoying. I miss you so much. Triple headers suck. Can you come to Brazil next week? I’ll fly you out here. Please?” 

A sigh that borders on a groan. 

“I really fucking miss you.”

Deep breath. 

“Okay. I hope you’re having fun. Call me when you get in, no matter what time it is, okay?” 

Click. 

When He Realizes He Loves You “Hi.” 

It’s a breathless whisper. 

“I uhhhh…” 

Lando scrubs his hand over his face as he walks down the sidewalk. 

“I know it hasn’t been very long and fuck, I hope this doesn’t scare you off. I probably shouldn’t be doing this on voicemail. I was going to say it when I kissed you goodnight but I lost my nerve.” 

His feet whisper over the pavement, filling the silence. 

“IThinkImFallingInLoveWithYou.” 

The words are quick. Jumbled. And then he’s muttering something under his breath. 

“No. Wait. Fuck. Not think. Baby, I know I’m in love with you.” 

Silence. 

“I’m so head over heels in love with you I can’t even think straight.” 

His footfalls get louder, as if he’s running. 

“And I’m a fucking idiot for not saying it to your face. I’ll be at your door in thirty seconds…” 

Click. 

When He Gets Down On One Knee “I can’t believe you actually said yes.” 

Lando huffs a laugh. 

“I thought I blew it, when you didn’t say anything after I asked. I genuinely thought you were about to turn me down. Scariest ten seconds of my life. And then you were crying and yelling and hugging me…The poor cat was terrified.” 

The Ferrari’s engine purrs to life in the background. 

“I just ran out to get some champagne for us but I wanted to hear your voice. I can’t believe I get to marry you. Holy fuck, you’re going to be my wife.”

A beat.

“I’m going to be your husband.”  

He sounds overwhelmed. Like he can’t quite wrap his mind around the sentence. 

“I’m so glad I went into that bookstore that day…I love you so much. I can’t wait to call you Mrs. Norris.” 

Click.  

The Night Before You Marry Him “I don’t know how you’re asleep right now. I feel like I’m going to vibrate right out of my skin.” 

The sheets rustle softly in the background. 

“You looked so pretty tonight in that dress. Every time I looked at you, I thought my heart was going to explode. I can’t ever get enough of seeing you with my ring on your finger. The wedding band I put on you tomorrow is going to look so fucking good next to it.” 

Lando draws in a deep breath, settling deeper in the sheets. 

“It’s weird sleeping without you. These traditions are stupid.” 

You can almost hear the pout on his face. 

“What am I going to do without your ice cold feet to jolt me awake at 3 in the morning?” 

A laugh. 

“I still can’t believe I got you to agree to marry me. I’m the luckiest guy on this planet, you know that? I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.” 

A pause. 

“Can we have babies soon?” 

Another pause. Longer now. 

“I can’t wait for you to have my babies. Lets get to work on that tomorrow night.” 

He says it like it’s final. Like he’s been waiting to say that to you for as long as he’s known you. 

“Okay. Love you, soon-to-be wife. Bye.” 

Click. 

[sugusatosluut]

Overworked and Overstimulated

Synopsis: You take on every job Cecil hands you as his overachieving daughter, but what could be more relaxing after work than getting high with your friends?

Warnings: Edibles, smut, threesome! MDNI💓

You returned back to the guardian’s hq, exhaustedly ripping your mask off of your head. Your father called you on four missions back to back because he had already sent the new guardians and invincible to space. You wanted to go sooooo bad, but he found it better for you to sit this one out. Coincidentally upon returning back, you had found out that they all made it back a few days ago and Cecil wanted you to handle everything until most of them recovered. Easier said than done. Usually it was about six life threatening issues a day, but to tackle four of the worst ones in one day was just a little too much.

You showered, then went up to your room. Dimming the lights, you changed and turned on your music as you took out a pot brownie. You deserved this, you worked too damn hard not to. Stupid GDA invested father using you as a machine.. but he was your dad and sometimes it was your fault for biting off more than you could chew. Typical of you to not say something yet act out when you’re overstimulated. Just typical.

As you got comfortable in your little room, Mark and Rex knocked at your door. What a surprise, they never approach you unless they need help, so maybe now’s not a good time to get high.

“Yo, y/n! Good job holding down the fort until we came back. I see the world’s got a new favorite nepo baby.” Rex chuckled as he grabbed a chair.

“C’mon Rex you know she doesn’t like that.” Mark nudged his shoulder.

“Sorry.. sometimes the social awareness just doesn’t que up fast enough in my brain. Anyways, whatcha doin? Taking the night off?” Rex asked as he played with the items on your desk.

“Yeah, my dad gave me four of the worst missions today. Just figured I’d mellow out in my room for the rest of the day.” You sighed.

“With a pot brownie?” Mark asked sitting in the edge of your bed and holding the ziploc bag containing your brownies.

“Uh-y-yeah. Well I was gonna wait til you guys left in case you didn’t need me for anything but this seemed important so I couldn’t eat one right this second.” You said nervously.

“Fuck that, this is your free time.. Mark and I have been off for a while. Let’s say we make this a group trip huh? I’ll pay you back for it later.” Rex said taking the brownies from Mark.

“I’m down, you don’t have to pay me back though Sloan. I’m content with this. Just quality time with my friends.” You said relaxing back in your bed.

You, Mark and Rex all ate a brownie, waiting for the effects to kick in.

About an hour later you were all feeling the effects. You had put some dumb chick flick on and both men were entertained. It was quiet. Mark was shirtless, with an arm wrapped around you and Rex was also shirtless laying on your chest. Before the high had kicked in you guys gave mark money to get snacks and he delivered. As you guys watched the movie, all that could be heard was the crunching of chips. Both of their bodies were keeping you extremely warm. The movie ended and all three of you were wondering what to do next.

“Basketball?” Rex offered.

“Let’s go. Me and you Rex.” Mark smirked at him.

The three of you went down into the HQ training center. Both boys were shooting hoops.

“This is boring, can we find a way to make it interesting?” Mark asked.

“Ask and you shall recieve. First one to score five shots wins a kiss from the pretty lady over there— and don’t tell me you’re not dying for a taste of that. The best things in life are things that you aren’t allowed to have.” Rex winked.

“I can reason with that as long as it’s okay with y/n.” Mark asked.

“We’ll— I don’t wanna sound desperate but I mean it’s perfectly fine with me.” You blushed. You were in fact the most desperate for this. The past flirtations between you and Mark and then you and Rex throughout your time at the GDA always got to you. Your dad always steered them both away.. well not just them, everyone—away. Mark and Rex didn’t really care, they were friends to the end. They stood up to Cecil which finally allowed you to go on missions, but Cecil drew the line at space. The old man knew better than to get between you and your friends. Yes, you loved your dad but there’s always a battle to be fought with him.

“You’re on.” Mark smirked.

Both boys played away and suddenly the score went from one to four. It was the final point for each of them.

“This one’s for you!” They both shouted together. The anticipation guided you to insanity. If Rex scored and mark felt jealous? It would ruin you. If Mark scored and Rex feel jealous? God.. it’s too much to handle. It’s okay to change your mind and everything, the boys would understand. You don’t want one without the other.

“Well looks like we’re both getting kissed. Both our baskets were made.” Mark smiled smugly.

How did you miss it? Oh well. You weren’t kissing them in the middle of the guardians hq, that would be an awkward moment you couldn’t come back from. The boys held their excitement until you all made it back to your room. Now it was really awkward for you.

“I know I’ve only gotten high with you guys once before but holy shit you look like you’re in a real predicament right now y/n.” Mark laughed.

Rex joined in on laughing, both of them were laughing a bit too hard, it was a little too contagious.

“You’re right, she’s as red as a fucking ripe ass tomato!” Rex was wheezing at this point. The laughter coming from your room was intense and anybody coming by your room could tell you were having a fun time.

You started laughing along with them and soon the laughing turned to joyous tears from your stomachs hurting so bad. After all the laughing, you rested your head on Mark’s shoulder again as you all made it back to laying on your giant bed that took up most of the room in your little box. Mark scooted you, letting you in between his legs as your back touched his chest. Mark played with your hair and Rex was up to something mischevious. Rex snuck himself under the covers, pulling down your lace panties and your pajama pants. You would have been way more alarmed in any other circumstance but for this one? You felt so at peace with both of them doing what they wanted to you. It was the best stress relief you had in a while.

Mark’s hands reached for your shirt, lifting it up off your body and kissing the back of your neck. As Rex started to eat you out your body started to tingle with numbness. The high was really intensifying all your senses. Rex’s tongue lapped and licked your little bud under the covers. To ease you, Mark grabbed onto your breasts, kneading them and kissing your neck. Rex’s grip on your hips stayed firm.

“I thought you both wanted a kiss.” You whined.

“We did, the high just feels too nice to waste on a little kiss. You getting overstimulated? I can tell by the way you’re squirming. Quit acting out.” Mark said firmly as his hands shifted positions, as one arm was now around your neck.

You whined and groaned until you started getting close, both boys were naked at this point, the temperature in the room getting hotter, the feelings more intense.. both boys were slipping in and out of you roughly as you were still whining, eventually the three of you would finish at the same time. You all hit the showers and you went back to your room in silence. Your body was now tired.

“Hey- uh.. thanks for that. If you ever wanna use me I left my number on your board.” Rex winked at you before deciding to leave.

“Leaving so soon?” You asked.

“Yeah.. unfortunately you’re not the only girl on my roster sweet cheeks.” He whistled.

“Alright, see you around.” You waved.

Well at least Rex admitted to wanting a late night booty call.

Mark walked into your room timidly.

“You leaving too?” You pouted.

“Oh stop pouting. I got you flowers. I wanna stay and cuddle. I was in space for five days I thought you’d miss me a little more.” He said.

“Now look who’s pouting.” You smirked.

Mark came into your room placing the flowers on your nightstand and laying down on top of you, his body weight giving you the utmost relief.

“I don’t want to share you again. That was a one time deal.” He complained.

“I understand, thank you for letting me experience that.” You smiled at him.

The room seemed to go quiet, you eyes started to shut and mark had one last thing on his mind.

“When are you gonna tell your dad about us?”

“Mark— go to sleep.”

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Love 101

my week-late valentine's post

summary: third years ask first years for love advice. the first years suck at giving it type of post: blurbs characters: cater, trey, leona, rook, vil, idia, lilia, malleus, rollo additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

I. Cater and Deuce

Cater has always loved the thrill of the chase (or, really, the thrill of stalking your magicam at 2am) and he would have been content with keeping his digital distance if he didn't see you in Vil's last post. Suddenly anxious that he's fumbling, he does what he does best: info. And who would have better info than your best friend? "Uhhh, I dunno," Deuce says. "If you really like someone, then you should be honest with them- that's what my mom used to tell me, at least. Or did I read that somewhere? Uh, never mind. I'm sure the Prefect will understand! Just- you better treat them right, or else!" Be honest? When has honesty ever helped Cater? It'd take two more nights of crushing anxiety for him to send a risky text, spilling all of his feelings for you in a Magicam DM and then handing his phone over to a very confused (but pleased?) Riddle, so he won't check his notifs for your username every twelve seconds...

II. Trey and Ace

Trust me, he was not Trey's go-to. Okay, sure, Ace is your best friend. Sure, he knows everything about you, from your favorite desserts to your grades, and sure, you've probably told him everything about your dream man, but... It's Ace. And unlike darling, doe-eyed Deuce, if someone asked too much about you, Ace would get suspicious and go right into protective best friend mode. So, Trey keeps it vague. "Eh? You're asking me for dating advice?" Ace grins. "About time! I knew you were smart. What you're gonna do is give 'em a little, not too much. Maybe ghost 'em for a week or two, so they'll really miss you when you finally text back!" ...Yeah. Maybe Trey should just stick to desserts.

III. Leona and Jack

Listen, okay, Leona didn't want to ask him, either. But Ruggie had nothing, your other frosh friends couldn't flirt their way out of a paper bag, and Grim refused to give Leona the goods without tuna payments (and he's spoiled enough as it is). Of course, the moment Leona even implied he was thinking of you, Jack jumped. "You have to be direct and honest! This could be your life partner, you have to put your all in!" Right, sure. Why does he even bother with these kids?? You'd be turned off if Leona started spilling his guts like that. He would've given up then and there... but then Jack insisted he come to "support his upperclassman", as if it were a fight rather than a flirtation. Leona cursed the Seven, the stars, and every single student on campus as he stumbled his way through asking you out. "Not that you would, or that I care, but I-" he looks over his shoulder, and Jack is still there, arms crossed like an impatient parent. Leona grumbles. "If you want to..." "He wants to please you, Prefect!" Jack barks. "DON'T SAY IT LIKE THAT!"

IV. Vil, Rook, and Epel

It wasn't like Vil sought out Epel for the sole purpose of you, the freshman simply... happened to be in the room while Vil was thinking about it! Out loud! With Rook! In a... slightly argumentative manner! "Epel, settle something for us, would you?" "Oui, you see, I say the way to win the Prefect's favor is by anticipating their every thought!" "And I say that's insane. You know them best, so, tell us, what do they like?" The poor boy looks between them like he's being held at gunpoint. How should he have known?? It's not like you guys spent your time gabbing about boys! "APPLES!" he blurts out. "The Prefect loves apples!! My grandma always said the quickest way to a person's heart is through their stomach!" Rook giggles and Vil mumbles something about Epel's peanut-sized brain. ...Nonetheless, you wake up to crates full of apples at your door the next morning.

V. Idia and Ortho

beeeeeep... beeep... bing! Idia swivels around in his chair at the sound of the printer. Crap, did he accidentally hit print page again? What a waste of ink- that stuff's not cheap, you know! But it's just... Ortho. "Here ya go, big bro! I thought you might need this!" Idia cautiously takes the warm paper, entitled Romance Intel 101. "Uh... Ortho. Why are you giving me this? You know I max out the romance stats in all my games EZ," Ortho giggles. "It's not for a game, it's for the Prefect! Based on the data I've gathered, your heart rate accelerates by 1.2 seconds, and your pupils dilate by 40% when thinking of, or speaking to the Prefect!" Idia turns pink and crumples, as if he were the paper (the first line of which, BTW, reading "step one- make eye contact!") This is going to be a looooong school year...

VI. Lilia and Grim

You probably should've been suspicious when Lilia popped into Ramshackle and offered to babysit Grim for an afternoon, but you weren't- not with assignments due, at least. You said your goodbyes, and as soon as you were out the splintered door, Lilia spun on his heels. Short as he is, he towers over the little direbeast. "Hm, seems like we have time to spare. How about a casual conversation? Yes? Good! So, how do the youngsters these days go about showing their affections? I would like to make my feelings for a certain someone known, but I'm terribly out of practice." Grim thinks for a moment, and then: "Tuna. Looots of tuna. Heaps of it! It's all the rage!" Lilia nods sagely. "Ah, yes, I understand completely. There was a rotisserie chicken fad a few centuries ago... er, so I've read. Isn't love wonderful!" You come home from the library to an unconscious, drooling, but very happy Grim, and Lilia sitting atop a mountain of empty tuna cans and beaming. "Darling! You're back!"

VII. Malleus and Sebek

It had always been Sebek's honor and duty to serve the heir prince of Briar Valley, whether in war or in love. When Malleus wistfully said he wished to know you better, Sebek saw to it. That is, he spent the entire weekend shadowing you. And not subtly- he was never more than a few steps behind, pen and paper in hand. When you asked what in the world he was doing, he- "OBSERVING! NOW, QUIET! BEHAVE AS USUAL!" "You don't have to shout, you're right behind me. And observing what, Sebek?" "NONE OF YOUR CONCERN! ACT AS IF I AM NOT HERE!" At the end of the weekend, Sebek returned to Malleus' throne with a report that titled you "inquisitive, dense, and apparently hard-of-hearing."

VIII. Rollo and You

Your friends had seemed wary when Rollo asked you on a walk with him, though he promised he wouldn't take you too far from their clutches care. You had been in Fleur City for days and he didn't know a single thing about you, other than that you were magicless and pitiful. You were so often spoken over, interrupted, and dismissed, it took Rollo a strenuous amount of grace not to grab you by the wrist and drag you away from your rude, contemptuous classmates himself... He couldn't word the feeling. And he was hoping you could. "So," he says, "They refer to you as Prefect. That is your role? Do you enjoy it?" You shrug. Has being at that terrible school rendered you unfit for social interaction? "Very well. Then what do you do for... fun? You appeared to enjoy seeing the city. Are you interested in history?" You shrug again. How can he be expected to know you if you won't tell him anything?? Rollo decides that words are worthless, and his eyes land on your hands. His own fingers twitch and tingle in anticipation, and for a brief but terrifying moment, he thinks of reaching out to you. ...In the end, he can't will himself to do it. Maybe in another life.

[heyitspapayaontop]

But what about Oscar? (!)

Request: anon <3

Pairing: Brother!Max Verstappen x Sister!reader

Themes: max fluff is back my books

Warnings: favoritism (with a child okay chill)

Summary: Cheering for her brother? Nope! Oscar is so much better.

“Pole just means you go first,” she deadpanned, looking about as excited as someone waiting for a dentist appointment. Max honestly felt like he’d just been dunked on by a moody pre-teen in a Lightning McQueen tee.

He made another go at it, sounding a bit desperate. “But my car was the fastest.”

Y/N just shrugged, twirling the string of her Verstappen cap like it was the world’s most boring fidget toy. “Oscar’s cool.”

Savage. The brutality. Max started wondering if this was cosmic payback for every time he’d punted someone wide at turn one.

Lando wandered over, grinning like he’d just watched a cat fall off a table. “Yikes, mate. She’s ice cold.”

“Yeah, cheers, Lando. Super helpful.”

Later, in the drivers’ room, Oscar strolled in, halfway through a granola bar. Max gave him a look. Maybe a bit too much intensity there. Oscar froze, granola mid-chomp.

“Uh, you good?”

Max groaned and dragged his hands over his face. “She didn’t even care about pole. Just asked where you were.”

Oscar blinked, then smirked. “She’s got her favorites.”

“Yeah, and apparently, it’s not me. Betrayal.”

Oscar flopped into a chair, looking way too relaxed. “Would you rather she liked Lando?”

“God, no. He’d have her driving a golf cart into Lake Como.”

Oscar cracked up, and, honestly, Max couldn’t stay mad. Not at Oscar. The guy was like if a Labrador put on a bucket hat and learned to talk.

After the race, Y/N was waiting in the garage with a tiny McLaren plushie clutched in her hands. She didn’t even blink at Max’s champagne-soaked race suit—just bolted straight for Oscar, who scooped her up like it was the most normal thing ever.

“Good race, Y/N?” he asked.

She nodded so hard her hat nearly fell off. “You went so fast.”

Max, still dripping, threw his hands in the air. “I win at home and my little sister’s giving all the credit to Piastri. Unreal.”

Lando sidled over, smirking like a little gremlin. “Guess you’ll have to step up your game, champ.”

“Or just bribe her with cookies,” Max muttered.

Oscar glanced over, sheepish. “She, uh, gave me this.” He held up a crumpled, slightly sticky drawing. It was… probably him? Maybe? Hard to say.

Max squinted. “She’s never drawn me with that many hearts.”

Oscar tried not to look smug. He failed. Miserably.

Weeks ticked by. Max tried everything—matching socks, extra bedtime stories, even a sneaky turn in the Red Bull sim (Christian would actually combust if he found out). Didn’t matter. Oscar was still her sun, moon, and all the stars.

One night, after a long slog at the track, Max found Y/N crashed out next to Oscar in the hospitality lounge, mouth open, dead to the world. Oscar looked over, awkward but weirdly proud.

“Sorry, mate. Think she likes me more.”

Max just sighed, a little defeated but kinda okay with it. “Yeah. She’s got pretty solid taste.”

Oscar grinned. “Must run in the family.”

Max rolled his eyes, but his chest didn’t feel so tight.

Honestly? If his little sister was gonna worship someone, Oscar wasn’t the worst choice. Not even close.

And maybe Max could get used to sharing the spotlight—at least until Y/N decided Toto Wolff was her new obsession. At that point, all bets were off.

[mywritersmind]

MARKS ON YOUR BODY - LN4||OP81

summary : In which it starts with strip poker and ends with questions about a specific hidden tattoo and some secret piercings. Or, Lando and Oscar are both hot for you and let you know it.

listen up : zakbrowndaughter!reader 18+ not fully smut but pretty suggestive (at least for me who doesn’t write smut lol) i’m blushing. STRIP POKER PHOTO INSPIRED!! tramp stamp and tits pierced??🙂‍↕️

words : 1425

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Alright Lan, You wanna stop?” Oscar eyes Lando who’s in pants only. The only way Lando would lose strip poker is if he distracted me too much with his body.

He laughs, “Fuck no!”

“Fuck yes.” I throw down my cards and yawn, “I’m bored of winning.” Oscar had so many pieces of outerwear that he’s lost multiple times but still is wearing jeans and a t-shirt.

Strip poker is my game apparently, maybe the possibility of the guys being naked fueled my fire.

“I swear you’re cheating.” Lando shakes his head.

Oscar’s laughing as I scoff, “I do not cheat! Just accept defeat, Norris.”

He leans against the table, “I’m not losing to you, Brown.”

“I think it’s too late for that, Lando.” Oscar fiddles with a card in his hand as I lean my head back. Apparently, my hair moves with me and Oscar’s brow shoots up, “You have a tattoo?”

I blink, “Uh yeah.”

“What!?” Lando practically screams, “Let’s see.”

I move back my hair to reveal the tattoo that’s behind my ear, it’s a tiny 8 for the number I grew up racing with. “That’s hot.” Lando nods as Oscar hits his arm, “I want to get a tattoo.”

“No you do not!” Oscar argues as Lando sends him a dirty look.

He turns back to me, his arms crossed against the table so his biceps pull my attention, “Did it hurt?”

I shrug, “Yeah, but some of my others hurt more.”

Lando’s jaw drops, “You have more? How did we not know this?”

I laugh again, “I hide them from my dad.”

“Really?” Oscar asks, seemingly surprised at my sneaky nature.

The corner of my mouth pulls upwards, “You wanna see the rest?”

His eyes are deep as he nods and taps the card against the table. “I’m assuming they’re easy to hide.”

I sigh and hook my finger to the bottom of my shirt, pulling it upwards. He's right, of course. All of my tattoos aren’t easily seen by my father.

I pull my shirt until I reach my sternum. Lando’s smile dulls as his eyes zero in on my skin, clearly not wanting to miss anything. I have a star design that goes in a line with little details around it.

Oscar leans his head back against the headrest, biting his lip and checking me out. I don’t think he’s ever looked hotter.

Lando’s hair is a mess but in the sort of attractive way that makes you want to pull it. The two of them are my greatest desire with bright orange caution tape put up by my father.

Zak Brown hates when I'm with the two of them, no matter which, he doesn’t trust me. But coming back from the FIA awards, they offered me a ride since we were all going back to england, so it was only polite to accept.

I drop my shirt and I swear I see Lando’s mouth fall into a frown. “Damn… didn’t know you went against daddy’s orders.”

I smirk, “He hates tattoos…Thinks they’re trashy. Which is ironic because...” I stop myself before I can go on, trailing off and grabbing my water to play it off.

“Because what?” Oscar asks.

“Um…” I don’t really know what to say and I feel quite overwhelmed with these two men staring at me.

“You have one more. Don’t you?” Oscar’s trying to hide his smirk but is shit at it. Lando looks to his teammate, then me.

“Now we have to see.” The curly haired man stretches his arm on the table, his muscles rippling and making me bite my lip.

“Okay.” I situate myself so I'm sitting on my feet. I pause, looking at both of them for a second. The whole thing is so oddly erotic and ridiculously hot.

I turn around in my seat, pulling down the back of my sweats ever so slightly so my tramp stamp is in view. I look over my shoulder to see their reactions because neither of them say a thing.

Oscar is staring, face blank and directed at my lower back. Lando’s mouth is open just the slightest bit, his arm draped over the back of Oscar’s seat. It’s not huge, just thin lines that make up a butterfly and some swirls to compliment it.

“Fuck.” Lando whispers, Oscar looks at him but doesn’t tell him to stop, just mumbles along with his friend. “Yeah.”

“You like it?” I know they do. I’m not blind.

The two are staring at me like i’m fucking edible and the way they look right now, I might be. “I’d be an idiot not to.” Oscar says as I turn back around, my shirt still pulled up and my hair to one side.

“I think this is the first time Lando’s been speechless.” I joke as his eyes meet mine again and his cheeks go pink. “Am I making you nervous, Norris?”

I expect him to roll his eyes or scoff, but he just breathes out and says, “You’re really hot, Y/n.”

“Can’t argue with him there.” Oscar wipes a hand over his mouth before tapping the table, “I wanna see it closer.”

I realize that he means he wants me to sit on the table. “Not even a please?” I tease but I'm already turning and setting myself down on it.

I’m about to adjust my pants but Lando’s hand does it for me. His skin is cold and holds my hip as his fingers dip below my waistband.

“Why a butterfly?” Oscar asks, leaning against the table to get a better look. I lean back and rest against my arms as they look.

“Thought it was cute.”

Oscar laughs a bit, “How often do you mark your body because it’s cute?”

Lando slides out of his seat, moving into mine so I'm facing him. He doesn’t even ask, just slides a hand onto my hip and another on my shirt, pulling it up to see my sternum.

Oscar switches with Lando so he’s now holding the back of my sweats. I let my eyes train down Lando’s chest… his abs… his arms. He’s fit as fuck and the way he was acting during strip poker, he knows it.

I go back to Oscar's question, realizing I got distracted by Lando in front of me. “Very often actually, piercings too.”

This prompts Lando to push my hair behind my ear, admiring my jewelry, “How many do you have?” He sounds almost out of breath.

“Twelve.” His fingers drift over my earrings, counting.

“You only have five on each, though.” As soon as Lando says it, I hear Oscar shift in his seat.

I don’t even wait for Lando to catch on, I just grab his wrist and have my shirt go up with his hand. Lando lets out a noise, close to a whimper.

He stares at my bare chest, the only thing on me is my jewelry decorating each nipple.

I hear Oscar stand, his hand gripping my hip tighten as he gets closer. He’s looking over my shoulder, I lean back a bit so he has a better view of my tits.

Lando’s hand is resting on my neck, pushing my shirt against my skin, I can feel his pulse beat faster under my fingertips.

Lando’s gaze shifts to Oscar as the brown eyed man stares back at him. I feel like they’re having some telepathic conversation that I can’t understand, until Oscar looks back at me.

His eyes are darker, the air filled with tension. As my eyes flick to Lando, I see his chest rise and fall. I get it now.

My hand slips to Oscar’s face, his jaw and cheek warm against my touch. I hesitate purely to see how his breath hitches, then I kiss him.

Lando swears as Oscar’s tongue dips into my mouth, he freezes between my legs. I break the kiss with Lando, hooking my leg around his waist to pull him in closer.

“Are you still nervous?” I whisper as Oscar moves his lips to my neck. Lando looks like he’s dreaming, his head turning side to side slowly as I smirk.

He kisses me, softer than Oscar at first but he becomes sloppier when I start being affected by Oscar attached to my neck.

The aussie mumbles against my skin, “This your end goal all along? Strip poker… tattoo tour… fuck?”

I lean my head back and laugh, “No. I guess I'm just lucky.”

[zhelin-thames]

A Growing Circle of Bats (wrong number)

Read the previous posts to know what happend before Masterpost

Danny was sitting cross-legged on his bed, sipping a soda while reading over one of Tim’s million texts about ghost technology. Jason had texted earlier to warn him that “Tech Boy’s enthusiasm can be dangerous,” and Danny was starting to believe it.

Then his phone buzzed with a message from yet another new number.

Unknown Number: Hey, are you Danny?

Danny groaned, setting his drink down.

Danny: ...Yes? Who’s asking now?

Unknown Number: I’m Dick. Jason and Tim wouldn’t shut up about you, so I thought I’d say hi.

Danny blinked.

Danny: Wait, let me guess. Another one of the Bat-family?

Dick: Guilty as charged. I’m the oldest, so I have to make sure Jason and Tim aren’t harassing you too much. They’re... persistent.

Danny: That’s one way to put it.

Dick: So what’s your deal? Jason said something about ghosts and a billionaire villain?

Danny: Ugh, yeah. That’s the gist of it. My life is basically one long supernatural sitcom, featuring a half-ghost me, an undead billionaire weirdo, and a lot of property damage.

Dick: Sounds wild. Do you ever get a break?

Danny: Not really. Ghosts don’t exactly take vacations.

While Danny and Dick were chatting, Tim and Jason were having their own conversation.

“Did you seriously give Dick Danny’s number?” Jason asked, staring at his phone.

“Why not?” Tim replied, not looking up from his laptop. “He’s part of the family. Besides, Danny could use more normal conversations, and Dick’s the most sociable.”

Jason snorted. “Dick’s about as ‘normal’ as a flying acrobat who fights crime in spandex can get.”

Back on Danny’s end, the conversation had taken an unexpected turn.

Dick: So, are you into acrobatics? Or martial arts?

Danny: Uh, I mean, I’ve fought a lot of ghosts. Does that count?

Dick: Definitely. Fighting’s a skill. Jason said you’ve got powers too?

Danny: Yeah, I can go intangible, invisible, and shoot ectoplasm. Oh, and I can fly.

Dick: Flying? Okay, I’m officially jealous. That’s way cooler than grappling hooks.

Danny: It’s not all great. Flying makes you a bigger target when you’re fighting people who can fly too. Or when you’re dodging ghost lasers.

Dick: Fair point. But still, flying’s gotta feel amazing. Have you ever raced anyone?

Danny grinned at the question.

Danny: Not really. But I think I’d win. I’m pretty fast.

Dick: Challenge accepted. If we ever meet, I’m racing you.

Later that evening, Jason’s phone buzzed with a group chat notification.

Group Chat Name: Danny Phantom Appreciation Club

Members: Jason, Tim, Dick, Danny

Danny: What is this?

Tim: A group chat. Easier than texting us all individually.

Jason: It was Tim’s idea. Don’t blame me.

Dick: Hi, Danny! Welcome to the club.

Danny: You guys are insane.

Jason: And you’re stuck with us now, Little Ghost.

Danny: Why do I feel like this is the start of something terrifying?

Dick: Because it probably is. But we’re fun terrifying.

Danny: ...I’m doomed, aren’t I?

Tim: Yep. Welcome to the family.

Danny couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head. For all their chaos, the Bat-family was growing on him. Maybe having them around wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[morganbritton132]

(Continuing from this in the Steve Has A Broken Arm Universe apparently)

Hopper desperately needs caffeine.

Sarah’s doing this cute little thing called sleep regression. He was up with her all night and is so tired that he genuinely considered letting Callahan drive. He needs coffee. Now.

It’s the only thing he’s focused when he walks into the diner and takes a seat at the bar. He barely notices the kid next to him until-

“Hi, Mr Hopper,” Steve says. He throws his hands over his head when Hopper looks over at him, “Don’t touch my hair. Everybody touches my hair.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good.”

Steve is slow to lower his defenses which bother Hopper. He ignored the feeling and instead, gestures to the grass stains on Steve’s baseball uniform, “Have a game today?”

“Yeah,” He perks up, slamming a dirty baseball on the counter between them. “Look at this. It’s the game ball. Coach Hammond gave it to me ‘cause I had the winning hit. I hit the ball so far that it almost touched the fence. Isn’t that cool?”

Before Hopper can reply, Patty fills his mug with fresh coffee and says, “You hear that? We got ourselves a future major leaguer here, Hop.”

Steve lights up even more and tells Hopper with big serious eyes and a bright smile, “Coach says I’m the best on the team. I think he really means it, too.”

“I’m sure he does,” Hopper tells him. “Benny typically says what he means.”

“He said that if I practice real hard during off-season that maybe next year, I can move up to kid pitch,” Steve tells him. “That’s a big deal, Mr Hopper. Those are nine year olds.”

“Sounds like it,” Hopper nods. “Are you here celebrating your win?”

“No, I’m waitin’ for my dad,” Steve says and the smile in Hopper dies. “Miss Patty says I can sit here ‘cause I ordered a cookie. That means I’m a paying customer an’ not Lloyd-a-ring.”

Hopper doesn’t respond to that. Instead he turns on his stool to face away from the bar the same way Steve was. He scanned the restaurant before asking, “Your dad couldn’t make your game?”

“Dad has a meeting here,” Steve says, not actually answering Hopper’s question with is pretty par for course when it comes to his parents. “I saw it on his agenda yesterday. I’m gonna show him my ball an’ he’ll be proud of me.”

Hopper hums, “He should always be proud of you.”

“He’s gonna be here any minute,” Steve says. “Then I gotta go home and show Mama.”

So neither parent went to his game. Good to know.

“-and then I’m staying the night at Tommy’s,” Steve continues. “I like Tommy’s dad, Mr David, even if he’s not a real doctor ‘cause he only looks at teeth. He’s real strong ‘cause he pick me up. He’s strong than my dad ‘cause my dad don’t pick me up no - Dad!”

Steve jumps off his stool and runs towards his father, nearly knocking the man over before he gets through the door. Steve’s chattering excitably and the first thing Richard says is, “Steven, stop.”

Steve steps back at the tone but then Richard makes eye contact with Hopper. There’s a moment of hesitation before he runs a hand through his son’s hair, “Your hair is a mess.”

Steve jerks his head back, swears, “I brushed it this morning. I promise. I wanna show-“

“And you got dirt on my suit,” Richard sighed, moving towards a booth as he brushes the dust off his leg. He gestures behind him to the person he’s with, “Steven, manners.”

“Hi, Uncle Larry,” Steve greets like he’s reading a script. “I’m gonna vote for you for mayor.”

Larry Kline has never won an election but it doesn’t stop him from fake laughing like a real politician, ruffling Steve’s hair. He comments on the cast on Steve’s arm. Richard tenses up and Steve’s avoids the topic, “Uh-huh, it’s cool. I was waiting for you guy ‘cause-“

“Because.”

“Because,” Steve stresses. “Coach Hammond says-“

“Steven,” Richard sighs. “That’s nice but Uncle Larry and I have a campaign to plan. You can tell me later.”

“But…”

“Would you rather your uncle lose another election?”

“No?”

“Okay, then-“

“Nonsense, Dickie,” Larry laughs, sweeping Steve up and sitting him in the booth. “Let the kid see the American experiment in action. We could have a future president on our hands.”

Hopper loses a bit of the conversation as the lunch rush starts to pour in but he can see the way they snort at the prospect. He can see the way Steve’s bright eyes dim and his shoulders slump when he sits down with them.

Hopper drinks his second cup of coffee and walks over to the table.

“Dick,” He addresses. “I heard your boy is staying with The Hagans tonight. I’m driving that way. I can drop him off.”

It’s an out. They all know it.

Richard Harrington lives up to the name though and instead of offloading a kid he doesn’t even want there, turns to his son and asks, “What do you want to do, Steven? Go with the police or stay with your father?”

“I…” Steve hesitates. “No, thank you, Mr Hopper. I wanna - I want to learn about elections.”

“Officer Hopper, Steven.”

“Officer Hopper,” Steve revises. “Sorry.”

[formulaonecrumbs]

helloo!!! a story where oscar is celebrating a win at a random club and ends up having a one-night stand with the reader, whom he just met? she ends up getting pregnant, and oscar struggles to explain to his family that he's going to be the father of a child with a woman he barely knows. at first, they scold him for being so careless, but over time, he and the reader grow closer, start dating, and his family starts supporting the pregnancy?

sunday night, monday reality 🤰

Oscar Piastri x reader

summary: a one night stand turned pregnancy ruins blesses their lives. now they have to navigate it while barely knowing each other.

warnings: one-night stand, accidental pregnancy, co-parenting to lovers, brief mention of alcohol

A/N: i’m not gonna lie when i read the request, i cackled cause imagine it actually happened 😭😭 one of the single f1 drivers gets some random one night stand pregnant and is just a parent now. that’s so funny to me. anyways, THANK U ANON!!! requests are always appreciated. i hope this isn’t too boring, i tried making it as funny as possible. enjooyyyy, love u bitches 💋💋

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

you never planned on oscar piastri being the father of your child.

because it was supposed to be just one drink.

just one, to celebrate the win. a little toast with his team, a quick “cheers” before disappearing into the night like usual. oscar piastri didn’t even like clubs that much. too loud, too sweaty, too many people trying to pretend they weren’t watching him.

but there he was, two drinks deep, standing in some overpriced monaco club that smelled like vodka and rich people’s perfume.

and then there you were.

honestly, he wasn’t even sure how it happened. one minute he was trying to order water (because he’d already messed up his post-race hydration schedule), and the next, he was laughing at something you said about the guy dancing like a malfunctioning robot.

you weren’t a fan. didn’t even realize who he was until your friend elbowed you in the ribs and whispered something about “that f1 guy.”

you just shrugged. “cool. he’s got nice teeth.”

that made him laugh. really laugh. like, the kind that makes his shoulders shake.

by 3 a.m., you were sitting in a cab with him, giggling like teenagers, way too sober to blame it on alcohol. you both knew what was happening. neither of you said it out loud.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

it was fun. reckless. the kind of story people only half-believe when you tell it later.

he left before breakfast. not in a rude way, just… life goes on.

until yours didn’t.

two pink lines. three deep breaths. one panicked text.

you: so. uh. i’m pregnant?

you didn’t expect him to reply so fast. or at all, honestly.

but he did.

osc: wait. what?

followed by a very long phone call, one awkward coffee meetup, and him pacing your living room with his hair sticking up in every direction like he’d just driven through a tornado.

“okay. okay. we’re gonna—this is fine. i mean, not fine. but not not fine? wow. okay.”

you just blinked at him. “you done?”

he nodded. “yeah. no. maybe. i have no idea.”

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

telling his parents was… fun.

“i got someone pregnant,” he blurted out before they even sat down. classic oscar.

his mum dropped her fork.

his dad blinked exactly once, then said, “didn’t they teach you basic health in school?”

“yes, dad. thanks for the support.”

they freaked out a bit. okay, more than a bit. but he didn’t blame them. he was freaking out too.

he barely knew you. he couldn’t even remember what your favorite color was. but here he was, scrolling baby name websites at 2 a.m. and texting you dumb things like:

osc: what if we name it after a track?

you: if you suggest monza one more time i’m blocking you.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

slowly, you both figured it out.

he started showing up. not in a “look at me, i’m a hero” way. just… he wanted to be there. he came to appointments. brought snacks. made fun of the baby books. (except the one with cartoons. he actually liked that one.)

you weren’t dating. not officially. but he made you laugh. you made him feel normal. and when he talked to your belly and got kicked mid-sentence, he swore it was on purpose.

“this baby’s already got sass. takes after you.”

you rolled your eyes. “you’re the one who talks to unborn humans like they’re your teammate.”

“strategy is important,” he said seriously. “i need to build trust.”

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

his family came around eventually.

his mum knitted a tiny hat. his dad bought a car seat and refused to let oscar install it wrong. they invited you for dinner, asked questions, started smiling a little more when they said “baby.”

you and oscar grew closer without really meaning to. it wasn’t romantic movie-level stuff. more like inside jokes, shared ice cream, and him falling asleep on your couch with his hand on your belly like a protective raccoon.

and then one night, you kissed him.

neither of you said anything about it. just… kept kissing.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

by the time the baby arrived, everything felt different.

he was calmer. more grounded. still chaotic, but in a “dad who has the diaper bag ready five hours early” kind of way.

you were exhausted, emotional, and slightly murderous toward anyone who told you to “just relax.”

but when he held the baby for the first time—eyes wide, face soft—you saw something shift.

he looked at you and whispered, “i think i love you.”

you blinked. “you think?”

he laughed. “okay, fine. i know. but i was trying to be cool about it.”

you smiled, tears in your eyes. “you failed miserably.”

turns out, unexpected love hits different.

especially when it comes with midnight feedings, matching pajamas, and a baby who somehow has his exact eyebrows.

(“they’re aggressive little eyebrows,” you said once. “they’re powerful,” he argued back, dead serious.)

he learned how to swaddle like a pro. changed diapers half-asleep. sang lullabies that were really just off-key versions of old race radio messages. and somehow, through all the chaos, he made you laugh even when you felt like crying.

you never planned on oscar piastri being the father of your child.

never planned on him staying. or falling. or building a life around someone who’d only been a stranger at a bar.

but damn, he made it kind of hard not to fall for him.

especially when he looked at you like you were the best win of his career.

and maybe—just maybe—you were.

THE END :>

[orangesaek]

'level up' | streamer!Jeno

request: “Jeno (maybe him oblivious to it but falling for y/n who fell for him first)”

pairings: streamer!Jeno x afab-bsf!reader┊genre: slight angst, bsf-to-lovers, fluff┊wc: 2.8k┊cw: mild swearing/cursing

@bluedbliss 💗 tysm! i hope u like this one! Jaehyun’s will be out soon dw ☺️ xoxo

You’d been in love with Jeno for years.

It wasn’t a crush. It wasn’t fleeting.

It was something that rooted itself so deep inside you, even you didn’t notice it blooming until it was too late.

And Jeno?

Jeno was the rising Twitch superstar.

The face of esports, the hilarious, charming, handsome streamer who could break the internet with a smile and get a hundred thousand viewers just breathing into his mic.

Everyone loved him.

And you?

You were just the best friend. Always had been.

You told yourself it was enough.

But sometimes, being close to someone you love hurts worse than being apart.

It was just another night in voice chat.

You weren’t even gaming—just talking while Jeno aimlessly clicked around on a puzzle game and you scrolled social media in bed.

Your voice was soft in the quiet.

“You ever think about what life would be like if we didn’t meet?”

Jeno paused. “Uh, yeah. I’d probably be way more boring.”

You smiled faintly. “You’d still be famous though.”

“Maybe. But I wouldn’t have someone sending me memes at 3 a.m. or reminding me to eat.”

You chuckled.

“So I’m your meme provider and personal health coach now?”

“Exactly. And moral support. And emotional damage controller.”

You hesitated, voice turning quieter.

“I’d still choose to meet you… even if I knew you’d break my heart someday.”

He didn’t respond right away.

You heard him shift in his seat, clicking something aimlessly.

“You’re weird tonight,” he mumbled, like he didn’t catch the weight of your words.

You just laughed it off.

You told yourself it was enough.

But it kept happening—these little moments that chipped away at your resolve.

Then came the night everything changed.

You’d always suspected that one of Jeno’s fellow streamers, a popular female gamer named Karina, had a thing for him.

The flirty remarks, the way she laughed at every word he said—even the ones that weren’t funny—yeah, you noticed.

You never said anything. It wasn’t your place.

But it stung.

Especially when their fans shipped them hard online.

Edits, fanart, clips—everywhere you looked, it was “Jeno x Karina”.

That night, you were just hanging out off-camera, curled up on his couch while he streamed a group collab. You weren’t supposed to be part of the stream. Just quietly scrolling on your phone, handing him a drink now and then, and keeping him company like you always did.

“Jeno,” Karina giggled over voice chat, “if we win this round, you have to go on a date with me.”

Chat exploded instantly.

OMG DID SHE JUST—

👀 👀 👀

OMGOMGOGMGOGM

U GO GIRL LMAO

Jenrina CONFIRMED???!

You tensed, glancing over at Jeno.

He didn’t hesitate.

“Nah,” he said casually. “I’m already taken.”

That alone was enough to make the chat go feral.

But then he looked over at you, grinned, and with one arm, pulled you right into the camera frame.

“Guys, this is Y/N,” he said, as if it was no big deal.

“My girlfriend. We’ve been together for a while.”

Your eyes went wide. “Jeno—”

He cut you off with a smile.

“I know we kept it lowkey, but... I figured it’s about time. She’s the love of my life, and I’m way too lucky to keep pretending she’s just my friend.”

The stream exploded.

WHATTTT??!!

NO WAY YOU KEPT THIS A SECRET—

SHE’S GORG WTF

JENO?? MY HEART 💔💔

WTF HE’S SO GONE

IM CRYING WE LOST HIM

Karina laughed awkwardly in her cam window.

“Wow, uh, okay! Didn’t expect that. Congrats, you two.”

But the flash of embarrassment on her face was hard to miss. Especially with nearly a million live viewers watching it all unfold.

Jeno didn’t even blink. He was still looking at you, eyes soft.

Then he read a chat message out loud: “Bro, she’s so pretty. You lucky AF.”

He smirked at the screen and pulled you closer, your cheek pressed against his.

“She’s all mine,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“And I’m not sharing.”

Your face burned, and you tried to hide it, but the chat was already blowing up again.

By the time the stream ended, both your names were trending worldwide.

And despite the chaos, the teasing, the panic in your chest... You’d never felt more seen.

But then again, it was all a lie anyway.

Then came that movie night. Just you, him, and a film that left both of you a little too quiet.

Halfway through the romantic drama, you noticed him wiping at his face.

“Wait… are you crying?” you asked, trying not to smile.

“N-no, this is sweat,” he said quickly.

“My eyes are just sweating.”

You softened. “It’s okay. I cry at this scene too.”

Jeno glanced at you, voice unexpectedly quiet.

“Do you think that kind of love is real? The forever kind?”

You shrugged. “Yeah. But it’s rare. Most people are too scared to say how they really feel.”

He stared at the screen for a long second. 

“That’s dumb. If you love someone, you should just tell them.”

“Exactly,” you said. “Unless they don’t love you back.”

Neither of you said anything after that. The silence spoke loud enough.

So finally, during one of your usual late-night hangouts, you cracked.

“Maybe I like you more than a friend.”

It slipped out.

Jeno froze.

You waited.

And he said nothing. Just blinked, glanced away, and mumbled something about getting more chips.

So you ghosted him.

“Still no reply?” Chenle asked, glancing at the group chat. “Dude, he’s been MIA for almost a week.”

“I called six times,” said Hendery. “Nothing. Straight to voicemail.”

Yangyang sighed, chin in hand. “He didn’t even tweet a ‘taking a break’ message. His fans are freaking out.”

“He left me on read,” Haechan added dramatically. “Me. That’s betrayal.”

Jisung frowned. “What if something happened to him?”

Taeyong tried to stay positive. “He’s fine. Probably just... I don’t know. Figuring something out?”

Chenle stared at the group chat, almost tipping over in his seat when he noticed Jeno’s icon blinking with ‘typing’.

“HE’S TYPING!!!” he yelled. The guys quickly opened the chat and waited anxiously for Jeno’s message.

And finally, he replied.

“Sorry guys. I’m fine... physically anyway. Just have something to figure out. Ttyl”

Jeno did. He finally did.

Sitting in his dark room, lights off, half-eaten ramen forgotten beside his keyboard, Jeno stared at the ceiling.

You said you liked him more than a friend.

And he didn’t say anything.

He started pacing, mind spiraling.

Why did he always reply to your texts within seconds and answer your calls before the third ring, when with others it took him at least 2 business days to respond—or sometimes he just forgot altogether?

Why did he drop everything, even mid-stream, when you needed help?

Why did it bother him so much whenever you were with other guys? Why was he suddenly willing to leave his house just to hang out with you, when everyone knew he barely ever went out before? Why did he spend so much effort choosing random gifts for you?

Why were his tears reserved just for movie nights with you, and never anyone else?

Why was he quick to dismiss anyone trying to flirt with him?

Why did you make him feel like home?

“Shit,” he muttered, dragging a hand over his face.

“I’ve been in love with her all along.”

He grabbed his hoodie and ran out into the rain.

You weren’t expecting anyone, especially not him—soaked to the bone, hoodie heavy with rain, sneakers squelching against your doormat.

“Y/N,” he said, out of breath. “Please open the door.”

You froze. Then unlocked it, heart racing.

“What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“You’re—Jeno, you’re soaking wet!”

“I don’t care.”

Then he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft. It was desperate, aching, like he was trying to make up for every second he hadn’t realized he loved you.

You stood frozen until you pushed him back, wide-eyed and breathless.

“What the hell was that?!”

Jeno exhaled sharply.

“I love you.”

You blinked at him, stunned. “What?”

“I’m serious.” His voice cracked. 

“I didn’t realize it until you stopped talking to me. Until you disappeared. And then I started thinking about all the times I dropped everything for you, and how I hated seeing you with other guys, and how you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel safe… like home.”

He laughed, dry and bitter. “I’m academically smart, but I’m so goddamn clueless. I didn’t get it...”

You blinked away tears. “You ignored me when I confessed.”

“I didn’t mean to. I panicked. I didn’t know what to say. I was afraid I’d lose you. But then I lost you anyway, didn’t I?”

He stepped forward slowly.

“I couldn’t stream. I couldn’t eat. Every time I looked at my phone and saw no messages from you, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

“You made me feel like a fool,” you whispered. “Do you know how hard it was to say that to you?”

“I know.” He swallowed. “I know now. And I’m sorry… for making you feel like your feelings weren’t important. They are. You are.”

You looked at him, your idiot of a best friend, soaked from head to toe because he just realized he loved you.

“Why are you like this?” you said, voice shaking. 

“Why do you only figure things out when it’s almost too late?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe because I’ve never had to fight for something I wanted… not until you.”

Your heart cracked open.

You threw your arms around him, not caring that he was dripping wet. He tried to pull back, worried.

“You’re gonna get sick,” he murmured.

You shook your head, pressing your forehead to his.

“I don’t care. I missed you so much, you stupid idiot.”

He finally smiled, eyes glassy.

“Can I kiss you again?”

You leaned in and kissed him softly. This time with no fear, no confusion, just pure, quiet relief.

Later, inside, wrapped in a blanket, you teased, “So... are you finally going to tell your chat why you’ve been MIA?”

Jeno smirked. “Yeah. I’ll say, ‘Sorry I disappeared. I was too busy realizing I’ve been in love with my best friend for like, 6 years and only figured it out when she ghosted me’.”

You burst out laughing. “They’re gonna roast you.”

“I deserve it.”

You rolled your eyes and kissed him again.

[deadsetobsessions]

“Tim. Timmy. Ancients, kid, what are you doing?!”

Danny Phantom smacked away the instinctual terror of seeing an eight year old dangling out of a third story window.

“I gotta go take pictures of Batman and Robin! They’re out tonight!”

Danny thought that his barely healed vivisection wound might bust open from the sheer stress.

“Setting aside how you even know the patrol schedule of honest to god vigilantes, why’d you choose the window? The house is literally empty, just walk out the front door, for Ancient’s sake.”

Tim paused, a motion Danny was overwhelmingly thankful for, and blinked sheepishly.

“Um… for the aesthetic?”

Danny allowed the silence to settle between them before dropping his head into his waiting hands. Tim panicked.

“You- you can’t stop me!”

And yeah, Danny really can’t. In the months he’s been mooching off of the Drakes (not that they’ll notice), Danny’s learned that Tim Drake is nothing but relentless in the pursuit of whatever he sets his mind on. Whether thet might be putting hot chocolate in his cereal (which Danny doesn’t actually mind) or, apparently, stalking a pair of vigilantes.

He wanted to hack into the library cameras? Danny had to hover just to make sure the kid didn’t get caught after arguing for an hour about it.

He walked out of that argument with a loss, yes, but he also let Tim know that Danny cared about him. Danny also walked out of that argument with a new hatred for Janet and Jack Drake and his mind (just as diabolical as Tim’s) whirring with plans to haunt them.

Tim is never ever introducing his new little brother to Tucker. Ever.

“Okay. I don’t want to see you take unnecessary risks, but I’m also aware that I can’t really stop you. So. I’ll go with you.”

Maybe this is like… Tim’s obsession? When he put it that way, Danny lost the fight to prevent this tiny kid from what clearly is the only joy in his poor life.

“But…!” Tim’s eyes darted to Danny’s chest, the vivisection scars still fresh in his mind.

“They’re healed.” Danny pulled his dumbass little brother off the window sill, core settling as Tim follows willingly. “I’ll make us invisible and fly with you behind Batman and Robin so you can get even better shots. You can’t make any noise, though. That camera got a shutter sound, right?”

“Yeah!” Tim’s face brightened and Danny melted. He shoved a bottle of the (incredibly stinky but helpful in a pinch) ecto contaminated tap water into a backpack, along with some snacks and a blanket for when Tim gets cold. Danny’ll be fine, he’s got a Space Core. The cold his kind of his thing.

“Cool. We’ll stay out of earshot. If things starts to get too dicey, we’re heading home, okay?”

“Okay!” The look Tim shot him is full of trust and adoration and it makes Danny’s human heart squeeze painfully. “C’mon! I don’t want to be late!”

“We need to talk about your stalking tendencies later,” Danny said fondly.

“I’m not stalking them! I’m observing them!”

“Uh-huh,” Danny drawled, picking Tim up and making them intangible and invisible. “They’re not a bird observatory and also, even the birds in the observatory knows they’re being watched. Batman and Robin clearly doesn’t.”

Danny felt more than saw Tim’s pout.

He laughs as they fly just below the Gotham-brand of toxic smog. He waves to the City’s Spirit as Tim cranes his head around to catch sight of Batman and Robin.

“There!”

Danny obliged. With Danny’s flight, Tim got much better- much closer- photos than he would have originally.

Danny hung back as the pair of vigilantes swooped down to take care of a mugging.

“Wanna mess with them?” He grinned down at his little brother, canines glinting.

Tim looked up at him, admiration and mischievousness in his gaze. “Yes.”

Gotham parted her clouds in response to their glee.

——

Dick Grayson, AKA Robin, finally understood why criminals are so creeped out by him.

Other than the whole flippy child kicking grown people’s asses and winning thing, obviously (that, and Batman loomed menacingly behind him everytime a criminal even looked at Robin wrong).

Batman had picked up on it first, but the for entirety of their patrol, they kept hearing eerie little giggles and laughter. Haunting them. Never distracting. But persistent. And so creepy. He got goosebumps.

“B, I wanna go home.”

“Hm.” That’s a resounding yes if Dick’s ever heard one.

Maybe Alfred can chase away the giggles and chuckles.

Robin shudders and follows the Bat home.

——

Danny lowered the temperature as he held Tim up near Batman’s cowl so his brother could giggle menacingly. He knew for a fact that any recording device would get completely cram led by the sheer output of ambient ectoplasm he’s emitting. Plus, it freaked Robin out and raised the hairs on the back of the vigilantes’ heads. He tones it down when he noticed Tim rubbing his hands together.

He let out a quiet laugh, enjoying the flight with his brother in his arm and the light of the stars (thanks, Gotham) at his back.

——

Danny: oh, this kid’s got an Obsession, gotta let him do it safely, he’s a liminal from all that tap water

Danny: *forgets Tim isn’t a ghost nor is he from Amity and is therefore extremely breakable*

——

Danny and Tim: doing crime is a good bonding activity

Batman and Robin, who wants to say no it isn’t but they’re literally a pair of illegal vigilantes:

——

Dick as Robin: *cackles*

Tim, learning habits from stalking them: *giggles*

Gotham Criminals: *fear*

[c4tluver02]

after work date

wc: 1.6k

summary: You go into Family Video for a new movie but leave having plans with Steve. <3

warnings: none! sooo flufffyyyy

Walking into Family Video you are immediately greeted by Steve. He’s sporting his green vest and a big smile that shows every time you open the doors. You want to watch Top Gun, unable to see it when it was out in theaters and you were told that the movie just made it to stores. And thankfully you just started dating a boy who happens to give you free movies. Not that you were dating him for the free movies, but of course it didn't hurt. 

“Hey honey!” Steve says, walking around the counter. “Didn’t know you were stopping by.” 

You give him a hug and he presses a kiss to your temple. 

“I wanted to ask if I could borrow Top Gun?” You look really pretty right now and it’s all Steve could think about. 

“Uh- I don’t know if we have anymore, three people have already come in to get a copy.” You can tell by the way he says it he's cursing himself for not magically knowing you’d want to see it. 

“Oh, that's okay I guess I should have known people would want it.” You say, unable to help the pout that comes to your face. 

“I wish you’d told me earlier I would have totally hid a copy for you.” He says matching your frown. 

“I know I’m sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry about, let's look just to make sure. Robin put them away so I don't exactly know how many we got.” He grabs your hand so that you’re following him. He hopes they have another copy.

Standing on your tippy toes you try to look at the top shelf with Steve where the movie would seemingly be. But unfortunately you aren't that lucky. 

“‘M sorry baby.” He’s being all too serious about it, it’s just a movie and it will come back but the patients you had to wait for it are wearing thin. 

Just as he says it Robin steps out from the back and Steve decides to ask her. It’s his last idea to get you what you want, and isn't that boyfriend duty #1? 

“Rob, do you know if we have any more Top Gun?” He asks as you stand behind him looking at the movies, you'd at least like to leave with one movie. 

“Why? Did you already promise it to someone?” She says, rolling her eyes. Knowing him he probably did.  “I took a copy and i'm watching it tonight, whoever needs it will have to fight me tooth and nail!”  

Steve lets out a sigh and smiles. You won't have it tonight but at least you’ll have it tomorrow, he’ll take that as a win. But as you poke out behind him Robin lets out a gasp, she didn't see you and the last person who deserves her wrath is you. 

“It’s ok Robin I won't fight you tooth and nail.” You say with the prettiest smile. You aren’t as close with Steve's friends, only just started dating but Robin does like you. She thinks you're good for Steve

Robin lets out a laugh. “But like I said I’ll watch it tonight so if you wanna come back tomorrow it’ll be all yours. Promise.” 

“Okay, yeah I can come back. Thank you.” 

She nods at you and goes to the other side of the store with a cart full of movies. As she does this Steve grabs onto your wrist and pulls you into a corner, one that blocks Robin from seeing you two. 

“Sorry, it’s just that if Robin sees me not working she’ll throw a movie at me.” 

The laugh you let out makes Steve's heart ache. He is so glad you came in today. 

“So tomorrow I get off at 5 so I was thinking you could, maybe, come in around that time and then we could go get something to eat and then watch the movie together?” How he came up with this whole plan between the time Robin said to come back to now surprises you, but also makes your cheeks heat up. 

“Yeah, that would be nice.” You want to kiss him so bad but you’re at that awkward stage that you could count on one hand how many times you've kissed him and it builds pressure. 

“Okay I’m excited.” Steve says happily as he plays with the rings on your fingers. 

“What do you think we do for dinner?” You ask, trying to distract your brain from how close he is to you. His hands are so warm and he smells really good. 

“Oh, good question, maybe pizza?” He’s now looking at you to see how you respond. When your nose scrunches he’s got his answer before you even put it into words. 

“We just had that this weekend.” This weekend you and the kids had a small pool party at Steves and the big meal was pizza. 

“You’re right, I forgot about that. Okay what are you thinking? Did you want to go out?” His thumbs are so soft as they rub against your knuckles. 

“I don't care we could cook something? Maybe spaghetti, I feel like that can be good.” You and Steve haven't cooked anything together, there's so many firsts between you two it makes you giddy. 

“It does sound good, you're right.” That's the second time he's said it but you’re always right. “I am not gonna lie to you though I am not the greatest cook.” He winces a little, hoping it doesn't put a dam on your plans. 

“That’s okay, what can you cook?” 

“Hmm like five things but I make pretty stellar pancakes, at least that's what the kids said.” 

“Perfect, we can have breakfast for dinner then. Do I need to go to the store to get anything for it?” If you were both in the privacy of his home he would dig his face into your neck and let out a groan. How could you change what you wanted just for his sake and then offer to buy him groceries. Your kindness is something Steve wants to absorb. 

“We really don’t have to change it honey. Whatever you want we can make that.” He’ll get back to the groceries later because you buying anything is a whole conversation in itself. 

“It’s really ok Steve, pancakes sound good and if they are so famous I need to know what the hype is about.” You say as you push yourself off the wall you were leaning on to wrap your arms around his neck.  Automatically his hands land on your hips. 

“You’re too good for me.” He lets his hands drag away from your hips to settle in the back pockets of your pants. 

Your small grin turns into a big smile at the action, he’s never done that but you hope he never stops. All this touching he’s doing makes you officially break, leaning against him to press a kiss to his lips. Steve is quick to respond and pushes you further into him. 

When it feels like Steve is starting to fall backwards from your leaning you squeal, breaking the kiss. It must be loud enough for Robin to hear as she's quick to yell.

“Steve, if I go over there I better see your cart fully empty.” It’s quick and snippy, not giving him any room to fight back. 

Steve however, rolls his eyes used to her lectures. 

“I guess I should let you work huh?” 

“I think you should stay here all day with me.” He obviously is joking but man you wish you could. 

“Then nothing would get done.” 

“Then good thing there's two workers here.” It’s said with the same tone you just had. 

“You’ll live wont your Stevie? I'll see you tomorrow!” 

Steve was so busy looking at your kiss-bitten lips he almost missed the new nickname you just gave him. You saying Steve sounded like velvet coming from your lips but, Stevie. Now that was pure sugar, something so sweet he could get a rush from. 

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see if I make it tomorrow.” He’s expecting that same sweetness to travel over but all he gets is a small hit on the arm. 

“Ow!” It didn't hurt at all but he pouted like it did and if his comment didn't make you feel light headed you would think about how adorable he looks all grumpy. 

“Don’t say that! I will see you tomorrow at 5pm sharp.” You say factually, finally leaving this corner you both have been glued to. 

“Yes I will see you tomorrow honey.” He says as he follows your every step. You’re walking towards the door, trying to leave so he can do his job and not get fired. 

“Wait, one more kiss?” 

Smiling you quickly turns on your heels. Your hands cup his jaw and you start giving him a kiss on his nose, cheeks, and finally his lips. 

“Have a good rest of your shift.” It comes out quieter as your face is extremely close to him from the kisses. 

“Thank you honey.” He gives you a peck himself, unable to hold back. “I’ll call you later tonight, okay?” 

He gets off in 3 hours, you’re not sure what more will change from now till then that he’ll have to tell you about but nonetheless you're excited to hear from him. 

“Okay, I'll be waiting.” 

“Bye, see you tomorrow.” Robin says walking up to your two. Not that there was a deep moment going on but whatever moment you were having now over. 

“Bye Stevie, bye Robin!” You say giving them a small wave as you leave. 

Steve watches to make sure you get to your car safely, sighing with big heart eyes as he looks at Robin. 

“Stevie huh?” She jokes. 

Her mocking voice alone pushes him back to reality and he rolls his eyes going back to his cart. He is already thinking of what you’ll talk about on the phone later tonight.

[hairmetal666]

Wayne's used to worrying about Eddie. He should be; he's been doing it since the kid was twelve. First it was Eddie's silence, his permanent frown, the way the bones stood out too prominent on his small wrists. Then it was the kids at school, taunting him and calling him names, the fights and calls from the principal's office. Next came the late nights, the drinking, the dealing, failing his senior year twice. But all of those times, every single one, Wayne had known what to do. Maybe it wasn't perfect, maybe it took a little time, but he'd always figured out exactly what his boy needed.

And now--now Wayne doesn't know if he can help; knows it's not in his power to fix it. 

So, he sits for the second week in a row, watching his nephew--his whole heart--sitting in front of the window, looking out at the forest, nursing the same cup of coffee that he poured six hours ago, and wonders how in the world he can help.

They're cleaning up from dinner, Eddie quiet at his side, when he says, "Gonna need some help with the mugs tomorrow."

After moving to Oregon once Eddie graduated and he retired, he found an affinity for pottery. Never woulda thought it, but he loves it and tourists love his booth at the farmers market.

He can't think of a better way to get his nephew out of the house, but wonders if he doesn't know his boy as well as he thinks after a decade in Los Angeles, that Eddie'll refuse. He just nods, though, goes back to drying the plate in his hands.

And next morning, right at 6:45, Eddie is in the living room in black jeans that are so worn they're nearly grey in places, and the threadbare Metallica tee Wayne thrifted for him nearly a decade back. It's a win. Small, yes--Eddie doesn't even complain once about the country-western station Wayne plays in the truck--but still a step forward.

Wayne wastes no time parking and handing Eddie a box of carefully packed merchandise. He leads the way, trusts that Eddie is right on his heels until he hears Jim Hopper's voice say, "You better keep an eye on those mugs, son. Your uncle will tan your hide."

He turns to see Hopper balancing one end of Eddie's box, Eddie's cheeks flushed pink. "Sorry, I--uh, I've got it now." Hopper lets go and for the briefest instant Eddie's eyes dart to the side and the pink in his cheeks grows deeper.

Wayne tracks the path Eddie's eyes took and finds--he swallows back a chuckle--Steve Harrington just setting one of his Adirondack chairs into place, his t-shirt lifted to show of a stretch of stomach.

Well. Eddie did always like the pretty ones.

They setup the booth in companionable silence, and Hopper pops back over for a proper introduction. Before he departs again, he says to Eddie, "I got some kids who really love that dnd game and your show. They're going to be crazy to meet you. That okay?"

And Eddie, he's a good boy, he smiles and nods but as soon as Hopper is out of earshot, Wayne's saying, "Hop's kids and their friends are big fans and I know you're heartsore about the cancellation, but you better be polite."

Eddie glares. "What do you think, old man, that I'll be mean to children?"

"Well, with how you've been moping around the cabin these last few weeks, hard to know."

He scoffs. "Yeah, well. Netflix putting your hit show on indefinite hiatus without warning or explanation will do that to a guy."

Wayne knows there's nothing he can say to soften this hurt, so he gives Eddie's shoulder a tight squeeze. "I'm proud of you no matter what, son."

His nephew nods, eyes down, but Wayne doesn't miss the small, pleased, lift at the corner of his lips.

The morning passes smoothly and Wayne pretends he doesn't notice every time he finds Eddie's gaze straying to Steve's booth.

The kids come by around noon, Dustin Henderson breaking away from the pack to shriek, "You're Eddie Munson!"

Eddie smiles, stands. "That I am, young adventurer." He bows low, exaggerated and the kids giggle. "Pray tell, what are your names?"

The chatter is fast and easy, Eddie the happiest he's been in weeks, and Wayne relaxes back in his chair, lets out a long, slow breath of relief at the breaking storm. He stretches back in his chair, eyes catching on Steve Harrington across the way. Steve who is watching Eddie and the kids with an expression Wayne can only think of as fond.

Wayne isn't one to play matchmaker, but--he thinks, just maybe, just this once he could nudge.

It happens late in the afternoon, when business has well-slowed, Eddie asking, "Um--that guy over there, who is--what's his deal?"

Wayne thinks he manages to keep all traces of amusement from his face and voice as he answers, "Who? Ohh, Steve Harrington. He's the guidance counselor down at the middle school. Does a bit of carpentry in his free time. Best friends with the woman who owns that little bookstore."

He watches as Eddie processes, as his eyes widen, probably in remembrance of the pride flags and Protect Trans Kids shirts, how the woman in question wore a lesbian flag pin on her apron. "Guidance counselor?" He says eventually. "Kind of a drag."

"You would think, but the kids love him. The ones you met earlier today? He babysat them for years; imprinted on him, Jim and I say."

"Hmm," is the only response he gets, Eddie's attention back on the man in question.

---

The day after the market, Wayne walks into the living room to find Eddie's laptop tucked into the cushions of the window seat. He hasn't seen the thing since Eddie came home, never used to see him without it, and this--well.

He says, "need to run into town for a few things. You up for a trip? You might could stop at that bookstore."

Eddie nods, takes a sip of his coffee--he's actually drinking it-- says, "Yeah. Yeah, I think that'd be cool."

The store isn't busy when they arrive, and Wayne drifts towards the magazines to leave Eddie to his own devices.

Wayne loses himself to quiet browsing, wanting to give Eddie space, to maybe chat with Robin Buckley, strike up the beginnings of a friendship. Enough time passes, though, that Wayne is wondering where his boisterous, noticeable nephew could've disappeared to so silently.

He winds around a shelf and sees Eddie and Steve Harrington in deep conversation. He can't hear it, not really, but they're standing close, with pink in their cheeks. As he watches, Steve says something that makes Eddie laugh and pull a few strands of hair over his mouth.

They're almost inseparable after that. Eddie, Steve, Robin, and all those kids. They play dnd, have movie nights, spend hours at the diner. And Eddie, he's writing, sketching, gets down Wayne's acoustic guitar and plays around for a while.

When he asks how things are with "that Harrington boy," Eddie flushes red and says, "none of your business, old man" before giving Wayne a quick, affectionate squeeze. 

---

Two and a half months after Eddie came to stay, Wayne's walking back from the river, the sky the light navy of new dusk. His fishing rod is draped over one shoulder, tackle box held easily in his fist, the walk home pleasant, a perfect end to a good day.

The light from the front porch seeps through the trees, and he's thinking about a cold beer, a warm pizza, if Eddie's found his way home yet, when figures standing on the porch stop him in his tracks.

It takes a second, longer, for his eyes to adjust from the dark of the woods, and the glow of the bulb, but then he sees--

Eddie and Steve locked in a fierce embrace, desperate and very much private.

He turns right back towards the river, doesn't mind giving the boys some time.

He waits a good half hour, just enjoying the forest, before heading back. Steve's car is gone, the porch vacant, but the cabin is lit up, bright and warm and inviting.

Wayne steps inside, and his nephew is there, laptop open, but he isn't working, just smiling to himself, chin resting on his fist.

"Okay?" Wayne asks.

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Eddie's smile doesn't fall from his face.

He doesn't want to interfere, ask too much, not when he's sure things are still young. Instead, he asks, "What'd you say to ordering a pizza?"

And Eddie, heedless of Wayne's question, says,"you know. I've been thinking about maybe staying here for a little longer."

And Wayne, his smile grows, and he claps a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "You're welcome here for as long as you want. Already consider it your home anyway."