#with me... and it got me thinking a little tiny secret thought...

[bitchinbarzal]

Big sister sloane pls.

You didn’t plan to bring it up tonight.

It’s late. The house is quiet. Sloane’s tucked between you both on the couch, freshly bathed and still smelling like watermelon shampoo. Joe’s rubbing her back in lazy little circles as she sucks on the corner of her bunny’s ear, eyes starting to blink slower.

And then, like she can feel it coming, she lifts her head suddenly.

“You got somethin’ to tell me?” she asks suspiciously, nose scrunched.

Joe raises his eyebrows. “About what?”

“I don’t know,” she says, suspicious. “You both bein’ all… whispery. And lookin’ at each other like secrets.”

You smile gently and glance at Joe.

“Well,” you say softly, “we were going to wait a little longer… but yeah, we do have something to tell you.”

Sloane sits up straighter, bunny in hand like a shield.

“What is it?” she asks.

Joe shifts so he’s facing her, warm hand still on her back.

“We wanted to talk to you about maybe being a big sister.”

Sloane’s face freezes. She blinks twice.

“Like, with a baby?”

You nod slowly.

“A baby baby?”

“Uh-huh.”

She gasps. “From your belly?!”

You laugh. “That’s where babies come from, yep.”

Sloane stares. Then places her hand carefully on your stomach like she’s trying to feel something already. If anything, all she’ll feel is your taco bell from lunch.

Then she frowns.

“But… I’m already the baby,” she says quietly. “I’m the little one.”

“You are,” Joe says, voice soft. “You’re our first baby. Our best girl.”

“But if there’s a new baby, I won’t be.”

You reach out to brush her curls behind her ear. “You’ll always be our baby, Sloane. Nobody can ever take your place.”

She’s quiet for a second. Processing.

“Do you not like just me anymore?”

“Oh, bug,” Joe says immediately, arms coming around her to pull her into his lap. “We love you more than anything. We just… have so much love in this family, we thought maybe it was time to share some with somebody new.”

She rests her head on his chest.

“But what if the new baby’s cuter?”

Joe kisses the top of her head. “Impossible.”

“Or funnier?”

You grin. “Nope.”

She lifts her head, eyes watery now. “Or better at football than me?”

Joe gasps. “Absolutely not. You’re the MVP of this house. That’s final.”

Sloane snuggles back down into his chest, thinking.

“Will I still get bedtime stories?”

“Every single night.”

“Even if the baby cries?”

“Especially then,” Joe says. “You’ll need an extra good one.”

Sloane finally lets out a tiny sigh.

“Okay,” she says slowly. “But I get to pick the baby’s name.”

You and Joe both laugh.

“Deal,” you say, even though you both know you’ll have to veto whatever wild name she throws out first.

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Azul Ashengrotto - C&D Diner Vignette

"The consequences of looking down on me"

Same disclaimer about chipmunks/squirrels that I put on C&D Diner Cater's Vignette applies.

[Crisp & Dips]

Cater: Once we can figure out how to get along with the chipmunks, we should be able to get rid of those rumors that we're being mean to them.

Cater: You can leave the promotion of our collab to ya boi Cay-kun. I have a secret weapon called Magicam, after all.

Azul: …It's taking quite some time to clean everything up. I don't think we can get rid of all this oil without mopping up the floor later.

Cater: Sorry to barge in while you guys are cleaning～ Can you guys all come over here?

Lilia: Hm? What's up, Cater?

Idia: B-But we were just doing our jobs quietly…

Cater: Just double checking with everyone, but we're all good with making up with the chipmunks, right?

Cater: Like, they did a ton of stuff to us, right? I know some people might have different thoughts about it.

Lilia: I don't mind at all. There's no sense in continuing to wage war against each other.

Idia: S-Same same… It's a pain, so it'd be easier on all of us if we just joined the same squad.

Azul: Those chipmunks' mischief may have caused us some issues, yes… But I do agree with reconciling with them.

Lilia: Setting aside what we had to deal with, Azul was pelted directly with onions. How very benevolent to look past it.

Cater: Maybe he's just looking past it because it's all in the past? Wow, you're really mature, Azul, I shouldn't of been worried at all ♪

Idia: B-But I always figured Azul-shi was the saltiest in all of Night Raven College, ngl…

Azul: Ha ha ha! Oh, I never! None of that bothered me at all, not in the slightest!!

Lilia: Kheeheehee, that's good, then. It was just a tiny little prank by some little woodsy creatures, after all.

Cater: Okay, then let's all work together to all become pals with them, then! Now that we got a path forward, let's finish up our closing duties ♪

Idia: Ugh… I just wanna go home already… This cleaning feels like a never-ending quest.

Azul: I shall go sweep over yonder. I think I saw popcorn scattered around there, as well.

[sweep, sweep]

Azul: I've looked past it…? Just a tiny little prank…!?

Azul: There's absolutely… NO WAY I'D LET THAT GO!

Azul: The nerve of those insolent little chipmunks. I'm afraid the price of hitting me with onions and making me look a fool is an exorbitant one.

Azul: Time for them to realize the consequences of looking down on me. HEH… HEHEHEH…!!!

Azul: HAAHAHAHAA!!!!

―After the chipmunks have joined the team

Student A: Excuse me! I'd like to make another order!

Student B: Me too, over here! Bring me some water!

Azul: ���Now then, our next order consists of the "Snowdome Pancake" and the "Crisp & Dips Burger."

Idia: M-My stamina bar is in the red, fr… When're we wrapping all this up?

Lilia: This crowd won't simmer down so quickly. We've drawn in a lot of chatter thanks to our new special guests. The chipmunks are a huge hit!

Cater: Right!? This is all thanks to you little dudes! Let's go, high-five!

Chipmunks: Chit, chit!!

Cater: Eh, they avoided me!? Guess they're not in the best of moods now～

Azul: Heh, I did expect that they would be getting stressed around this time.

Cater: That's true. They're pretty hard-working chipmunks. Maybe we should give them a break?

Azul: Oh no, that's not necessary! Please allow me.

Azul: I've prepared a present for these lovely chipmunks in preparation for this moment. I do hope it will help liven their moods.

Chipmunks: Squeak, squeak!?

[Crisp & Dips]

Azul: I've prepared a present for these lovely chipmunks in preparation for this moment. I do hope it will help liven their moods.

Chipmunks: Squeak, squeak!?

Idia/Cater/Lilia: …! W-WAIT, THIS IS…!!

Lilia: …It's one of those things that hamsters like to run on. I think they were called running wheels.

Azul: That's correct. I had hoped that they could use it to relieve some of their built-up stress.

Chipmunks: Chit, chi-chit～?

Cater: Hm? Are they a little wary of it?

Azul: Oh, my. Well then, perhaps I should give it a light spin with my own hand?

[rattle, rattle, rattle…]

Chipmunks: Squeaken!

Cater: Oh, hey… The chipmunks leapt into the wheel. They're so cuuute, look how hard they're running ♪

Azul: Rodents such as these are known for their need to run long distances. Once they saw a tool that would allow them to run as much as they want…

Azul: It doesn't matter how wary they might've been, their instincts would take over and into the wheel they go. Heh, just as I planned.

[rattle, rattle, rattle…]

Chipmunks: Squeak, squeak!

Lilia: Oho, they're gaining speed. Kheeheehee. Looks like they really love your gift, Azul.

Idia: Hm…? H-Hey, check it, isn't this hamster wheel hooked up to something…?

Cater: You're right. Let's see… Woah! It's connected to a colander filled with veggies.

Azul: That's right. Using this hamster wheel, I've devised a system that will help with rinsing the vegetables.

Azul: Of all tasks, that one in particular was quite tedious. It is smooth sailing now, with the help of our chipmunk friends.

Azul: That's right, spin, spin…! Yes, now you're mere pawns in the palm of my hand! I'll drive you both into the ground for every ounce of stamina you have in your tiny bodies!

Idia: Did you just say you're gonna drive 'em into the ground…?

Azul: Heheheh…! It was all a pretense when I said I had procured this for their stress-relief!

Azul: Those poor, unfortunate chipmunks will run on and on, and all the while, that frustrating work of rinsing vegetables will be all on their shoulders. Two birds, one stone…!

Azul: You two must have felt so superior when you threw those onions at me, but now look at you, doing my dirty work. THERE'S NO BETTER FEELING IN THE WORLD!!!

Cater: Azul-kun!? So you really were still holding a grudge about those onions!?

Idia: A-And his revenge is hella brutal, too… See, like I said, the saltiest…

[rattle, rattle, rattle…]

Chipmunks: Squeak squeaker ♪ Squeak squeaken ♪

Lilia: Well, at least the chipmunks look like they're enjoying themselves.

Azul: Hmph. THEN I SHALL PILE ON MORE!!!

[thud!]

Azul: Look here, I've added more vegetables in need of rinsing. Now, hurry and spin more for me, you hear?

[rattle, rattle, rattle…]

Chipmunks: Squeak squeaker! Squeak squeaken!

Cater: Hm? They jumped off the wheel, and are heading towards Azul-kun…

Chipmunks: SQUEEEAK～!!

Azul: Wh-Why…? They shouldn't be able to resist the hamster wheel, and yet they've leapt off…!?

Azul: Why are you two climbing up to my shoulders? You chipmunks, go back to your wheel, now!

Idia: Check 'em out, all happy like they weren't all salty earlier…

Lilia: Looks like they really want to thank Azul for bringing them the hamster wheel.

Chipmunks: Squeak, squeak!

Azul: They weren't supposed to be this happy… No matter, I'll just re-capture them and put them back in the wheel. Hey! Stop running around!

Cater: The chipmunks looks like they're having fun. Must be thanks to the running wheel. Looks like they've completely become buddy-buddy with Azul-kun.

Azul: Urgh…! That was not my intention at all, why did this happen!?

Azul: I was going to work them until they couldn't move anymore…! Are you telling me my perfect plan was ruined…!?

Idia: Woah, why're you raging like a BBEG from some shady corp against those little chipmunks…?

Customer A: Hey, look, the chipmunks are on that waiter's shoulder. We should get them to let us take a picture!

Customer B: That's so cuuuute～!! He must be a real sweet guy, if the chipmunks love him so much like that～

Azul: Ah…!

Azul: This could be bad. If they were to realize my grudge against these chipmunks, it could present a negative impression of our diner to the town.

Azul: Instead… I should use this opportunity to help our image gain a much-needed boost!

Azul: With that conclusion, the plan is simple. Now I simply must show the customers just how well we get along.

Customer C: Excuse me～ Can I have our bill?

Azul: Of course! I will be right there!

Azul: Your total is 3,250 Madol.

Customer C: Here's 4,000 Madol.

Azul: Thank you. Now then…

Chipmunks: Chit, chit!

Azul: Is that the customer's change? Oh, and you've even prepared the receipt… Why, thank you.

Customer C: Look how the chipmunks are helping out. You must be such a wonderful person, to have such cute little animals love you so.

Azul: Ahaha, you praise too much… But yes, I do have quite the rapport with them.

Azul: It is all thanks to do them that my job is as easy as it is.

Azul: Indeed, it seems even now my reputation has continued to increase.

Cater: Hm? I don't really know why, but doesn't it look like Azul's done a complete 180? He's all smiles!

Lilia: I don't know, it looks to me like he's still got a plan or two up his sleeve.

Azul: Now then, my dear chipmunks, I do hope you'll continue to do your best. Especially for me, your best pal!

Requested by @howdopeoplelive.

[beatrixst0nehill]

"I've been a bad girl..... Yes, I really did it. This isn't a prank or anything. I couldn't help myself..... I'm sorry to all my fans, but you guys know what a naughty girl I can be. Every single day I've fantasized about getting a breast reduction. I have whole elaborate fantasies about being forced to do it by family or a boyfriend, like you see all the time on TikTok. One morning I woke up and just couldn't take it anymore, I masturbated in the mirror for a solid two hours, cumming over and over, staring at my breasts, imagining how small a surgeon could make them.

And oh how small he did..... I'm legit an A-Cup now. How fucking hot is that? From an H to an A..... my mouth waters just thinking of it. I scheduled an appointment with the surgeon and of course I couldn't contain myself. I was living out my biggest sexual fantasy, so I had to play it up, you know? I went in wearing a tiny pair of shorts, a skimpy tank top that fit two cup sizes ago, and sat down. The surgeon asked what I wanted, trying to not be too distracted.

I bit my lip and thought about my fantasies, playing them over and over in my head.... So I said, 'How small can you make my boobs? I just started dating this guy and he's really nice but he thinks my boobs are way too big and need to go. He loves small tits.... can you help me out?' I leaned forward, shaking my breasts for him. I think he knew I was just acting out a fantasy.

He sighed, shaking his head, suddenly playing along, he told me, 'Sweetheart, I'm shocked you let your breasts get this big to begin with. Wasn't your family embarrassed by them?'

I grinded on the seat in front of him, openly. 'Yes they were! I'm such a bad girl.... I loved all the attention these udders got from men. But now that I'm thinking of settling down..... well.....'

'Can't very well have a pair of breasts the size of watermelons in your wedding photos, huh? Your parents would be humiliated showing people that.'

'Exactly! I need to finally listen to my family and get rid of them so I'm not such an embarrassment for my new boyfriend.... can you help me out?'

The surgeon walked around me, lifting up my top, grabbing my breasts. 'My oh my, these are quite oversized. It's amazing you weren't ashamed to go outside looking like this.'

I blushed. 'I know..... they're enormous......'

'Don't fret darling.... I can get these tits flat as a board. But since they're so big and I don't want you having to endure so much humiliation. Let me flag this as an emergency surgery, and get these giant funbags of yours trimmed down immediately.'

My face was beat red by this point, I started fondling myself, still humping his chair, like the pathetic masturbation addict I am. 'Yes, please! Get rid of them for me so my bf won't be ashamed to show my pictures to his friends and family! Please!'

And he took me to the prep room right away, on the spot..... after my six-month recovery checkup, the vid above is the morning after my checkup. I gave my surgeon a really nice thank you. A whole night of them, he filmed this and I blushed again, smiling, so happy knowing he's the same man who reduced my huge boobs to almost nothing. I'm so thankful I let him have his way with me, he deserves it.....

And of course he knew my story was made up, telling me as he fucked me that he knew I was just a big titted nympho who fantasizes about getting her boobs chopped off. It was the best night of sex in my life. I think he wants to keep me around as his flat-chested mistress. His wife has huge plastic tits, as you might expect of a plastic surgeon's wife. I guess this will be our little secret, until she finds out and decides I need to be punished..... Maybe the surgeon can work on me again and his wife can decide what needs to happen to me as punishment..... Guess I better make sure I leave hickeys on him in places she'll see. ❤️"

[inkandoliveoil]

What the dessert knows Part 2

Wild West AU

Outlaw!Steve x fem!reader

read part 1

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: you and Steve seem to be growing closer and everyone notices.

again a very emotionally restrained Steve, pining, the slow burn is finally burning and a tiny bit of platonic outlaw!eddie x reader

Disclaimer: so sorry that it took so long, really wasn’t expecting all the support for the initial fic. thank you so much xx

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

The night bled quiet.

Moonlight spilled like milk over the outpost, brushing silver across the rooftops and whispering secrets into the canyons beyond. Somewhere, a coyote howled—a lonely, guttural sound that settled deep in your chest.

You sat on the front step of the bunkhouse, legs pulled up, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. The night air had bite, even in the desert. Your hands were healing. So was the rest of you, in ways harder to see.

Footsteps crunched behind you. Heavy. Familiar.

Steve didn’t say anything as he came to stand beside you. He had that stillness about him again, like a man listening for something only he could hear.

You looked up.

“Couldn’t sleep either?”

His jaw twitched. “Never do.”

You scooted over a little on the step, silent invitation. He hesitated. Then sat.

The quiet stretched between you—not uncomfortable, just… there. Like the weight of unsaid things was thick enough to settle into the cracks of the wood beneath you.

You finally broke it. “How long have you been chasing Callahan?”

Steve glanced sideways. Eyes dark under the brim of his hat. “Too long. Not long enough.”

You waited. Let him unfold it in his own time.

“He was just some dumb bastard with a pistol when I first heard of him. Robbed coaches, ran off into the scrub like a damn jackrabbit. But he learned. Took pieces from the worst men he met. Started building a name. A crew.”

Your stomach turned at the memory of what he did to your village. What he would have done to you if you stayed.

“I’ve buried a lot of good people since then. Ones who tried to stop him. Others just caught in his path.”

His fingers flexed over the brim of his hat. “But I ain’t stopped. I won’t. Not till he’s in the dirt.”

You nodded slowly. “Good.”

He looked at you then—really looked—and something raw flickered across his face.

“You scared me,” he admitted. Quiet. Heavy. “When we found you. Thought you weren’t gonna make it.”

“I didn’t think I was either.”

Silence again. But this one had edges.

“I ain’t good at this,” he said, voice a little hoarse.

“At what?”

He hesitated. “Wanting someone like this.”

Your breath caught.

He stood too fast, hands on his hips like he could shake off whatever he’d just said. “I ain’t got the right. Hell, I probably got blood on me you don’t even wanna know about.”

“Steve.”

You said it like a lifeline.

He stopped. Didn’t look at you.

“I’m not asking for promises,” you said, rising slowly to your feet. “And I sure as hell don’t want saving. Not anymore.”

He turned then.

His eyes searched yours, like he was trying to find a reason not to touch you.

But you didn’t flinch this time.

You stepped forward, close enough to feel the heat of him. Close enough that the desert wasn’t so quiet anymore.

“I just don’t want to keep surviving alone.”

A beat.

Then his hand came up—slow, careful. He cupped the side of your face like you were made of gunpowder, like one wrong move would send the whole thing up in smoke.

“I don’t know how to be gentle,” he said. “Not really.”

“You don’t have to be.”

You said it without flinching.

“You don’t have to be gentle.”

And something in Steve’s face froze—like a man caught between instinct and desire, haunted by what he might do if he stopped holding back.

His gaze dropped to your mouth, then flicked away just as fast.

He took a single step back. Not out of fear. Not disgust. Just… control.

You didn’t press.

You just nodded once, slow and sure, and went inside—leaving him with the taste of something he hadn’t even touched yet.

Something he wanted.

Something he didn’t trust himself to deserve.

———

Life with the outlaws wasn’t like it used to be—before Callahan, before the fire, before you stopped believing in safety. Now, it was grit and dust and a rhythm you could survive inside. Days passed with purpose: hauling water, mending gear, learning how to ride better, shoot straighter.

And the people?

They were rough around the edges, sure—but they were yours.

Eddie became your shadow before long. You didn’t choose him; he just started showing up—outside your door at dawn with a pistol and two mugs of bitter coffee.

“We’re not gonna let you be helpless, sweetheart,” he’d say with a wink. “No damsels here. Only dirty hands and sharp aim.”

You liked him—really liked him.

Not like that. But in the way survivors like each other. Messy hearts recognizing each other in the dark.

“Steve said I should teach you,” he offered one morning, tossing a worn revolver into your hands.

You raised an eyebrow. “Thought I was bad with it.”

“You are,” he grinned. “But if I don’t help you, he’ll kill the next man that looks at you wrong.”

You laughed. Shoved his shoulder. But inside? The warmth stuck.

Because Steve was watching—and not just your aim.

He didn’t touch you, didn’t try anything.

But he was there.

Always.

A quiet, solid presence. Holding his whiskey just a little tighter when a man got too close. Stepping between you and a crowd before you even knew you needed him to.

He didn’t flirt.

Didn’t charm.

But his actions spoke louder than any words could.

He fixed your stirrup without asking. Left an apple on your saddle. Brought you a scarf when the wind picked up, muttering something about the cold and sunburn and “don’t argue.”

He always had one eye on you, even when he pretended not to.

———

The nights were hardest.

That’s when the memories came creeping in—Callahan’s laughter, the smell of burning canvas, the sound of women screaming.

You didn’t always cry. You didn’t always shake. Sometimes you just sat, frozen, watching shadows crawl up the walls like ghosts.

One night, Steve knocked once and opened your door halfway.

Didn’t step inside.

Didn’t say your name.

Just offered a blanket, clean and warm, and the flicker of something careful in his eyes.

You took it. Your fingers brushed his as you did.

It was barely a touch. But he felt it.

And so did you.

———

You started talking more.

Not about the big things. Not yet.

Just little pieces. Where you grew up. How you never liked sweet tea. How you used to dance barefoot in creek water because the boots made you feel trapped.

Steve listened. Always.

He’d sit beside you on the bunkhouse steps after patrol, boots kicked out in the dirt, hat low over his brow.

He’d nod. Sometimes grunt. Sometimes say nothing at all.

But his eyes would stay on you—like he was reading between your words.

One evening, you told him something you hadn’t told anyone.

“I wanted to kill him.”

You just said it unsure of whether you should have but Steve just looked at you with understanding eyes and so you continued.

“I waited for him to fall asleep. Had to hold still for hours listening to him breathe and I just wanted that to be the last time he would. But I just couldn’t do it.”

Steve didn’t offer comfort, not in the way people usually did. No pity. No platitudes. Just a quiet kind of rage in his jaw. His fists.

“There’s no going back once you cross that line,” he said. “It’s for the better believe me, and I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that you’ll never have to.”

———

The shift came slow.

Small things.

His coat over your shoulders when you forgot yours.

His body between yours and a drunk rider during a card game gone bad.

A glance across the fire that held for just a second too long.

You wanted to reach out. Sometimes you nearly did. But there was something sacred about waiting.

About letting it build.

Because Steve Harrington wasn’t a man of half-measures.

And if he ever let himself want you—truly—it wouldn’t be something he could walk away from.

You knew that.

He did too.

———

The camp knew, even if nothing had happened yet.

Lucy nudged you with her elbow while peeling potatoes.

“Saw the way he looked at you when you laughed. Boy’s got it bad.”

Eddie shook his head when you joined him for shooting practice. “If he doesn’t kiss you soon, I might.”

Mabel, with all her years and all her wisdom, just gave you a knowing look.

“He’s choosing the moment. That kind of man only chooses once.”

And so, you waited.

You worked.

You healed.

You laughed again, little by little.

And Steve watched.

Always.

Until one night, after a long ride in from the southern ridge, when your hair was wind-tangled and your hands were raw from the reins—he brushed past you on the way to the stables.

You thought he’d say nothing.

But just before he disappeared into the shadows, he paused. Looked over his shoulder.

His voice was hoarse.

“You looked good on that horse.”

That was all. But your heart raced like you’d been kissed.

Steve didn’t look back again.

But that small smirk on his lips said he knew.

🖤🖤🖤🖤

thank you so much for reading xx

I know this is a bit shorter than the first one but part 3 is pretty much already written <3

[drippywhinypuppiespurgatory]

...

[thatonegrimm]

Saja Boys reacting to reader giving them a homemade gift? (Either on their birthday or as a congratulations for a show). Also, could I be 💖 anon?

Thanks for your request! This is such a sweet concept and yes you can, I did add ideas from another anon to this as they were cute. Here you go!💌

🌙 Saja Boys x Reader – You Gave Them a Homemade Gift

----------------------------

🧿 Jinu 

You handed it to him shyly, wrapped in a small cloth bag stitched with stars.

“I know it’s a little goofy,” you murmured, “but I wanted you to have something… soft. For after everything.”

Inside: a tiny crocheted Derpy. Blue tiger stripes, big button eyes, floppy paws. Slightly uneven stitching in places, but unmistakably Derpy.

Jinu blinked.

Then blinked again.

“You made this?” he whispered, holding it in both hands like it might vanish.

You nodded. “Took me a while to get the stripes right.”

He sat down slowly, running his thumb along the yarn ears. “It’s perfect.”

You hesitated. “You really think so?”

“I think…” He paused. “I think this is one of the kindest things anyone’s ever made for me.”

You watched him gently place the little plush on his nightstand, right beside his real Derpy’s tiny hat.

And from that night on, the plush always stayed there—quiet guardian, gift from your hands to his heart.

----------------------------

💪 Abby 

He didn’t see it coming.

You pulled it from behind your back right before rehearsal, holding it up triumphantly like it was a treasure chest.

“For your big head,” you said, grinning.

Abby’s eyes went wide. “No way—you made that?”

The beanie was deep forest green, soft to the touch, with a tiny patch on the inside that had your initials stitched in small, uneven loops.

“I know you lost your favorite one,” you said, watching his expression. “So… this one’s backup.”

Abby grabbed it gently, like it might fall apart if he moved too fast.

“I’m gonna wear this forever,” he declared.

You laughed. “You’re going to sweat through it in like a week.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, pulling it on instantly. “I’m not taking it off.”

And you weren’t kidding—he didn’t. Not during rehearsal, not after, not even during interviews. He even got scolded once for refusing to let stylists take it off.

“I’ll let you style my soul,” he told them, “but not the hat.”

Because you made it. And that meant it was irreplaceable.

----------------------------

📚 Mystery 

You didn’t wrap it or make a big deal. You just… held it out one afternoon like it was no big thing.

“Here,” you said. “It reminded me of you.”

Mystery blinked at the tiny yellow duck. Soft crochet. Tiny black eyes. Its little wings poked out like it had somewhere to be.

He didn’t take it at first. Just stared at it, then at you.

“It’s a duck,” he said.

“It’s a keychain,” you replied. “For your bag. Or your jacket. Or wherever you want.”

He took it carefully, holding it by the loop. Turning it over in his hand like it might reveal a secret.

“…Why a duck?”

You shrugged. “Quiet. Observant. Has a lot going on under the surface. Waddles dramatically.”

He stared at you.

Then clipped it to the zipper of his coat.

He didn’t say anything else.

But weeks later, you saw it still hanging there. Even after missions. Even after laundry. Even when he switched coats—he transferred it carefully, like it belonged with him.

And sometimes, when he thought no one was looking, he gave it a tiny tap with his knuckle.

As if saying thanks.

----------------------------

💋 Romance 

You gave it to him backstage, right after a performance.

It was a pale pink knit pullover, soft and slouchy, with a big red heart stitched right in the middle. A little uneven. A little crooked. Very you.

Romance’s jaw dropped.

“Oh my god,” he breathed. “You knitted me love.”

You laughed. “Don’t make it weird.”

He was already tugging it over his head, eyes glowing like stage lights.

“It’s warm,” he murmured. “And soft. And smells like you.”

“You’re supposed to wear it casually,” you warned, “not seduce everyone in the room.”

But he just beamed, heart puffed and glowing to match the one on his chest.

“Too late.”

He wore it constantly after that. Took selfies in it. Wore it under his coat on chilly days. Clutched the sleeves like it was armor.

Because to him, it was.

Your love, looped into every stitch.

----------------------------

🔥 Baby 

You left it on his bed with a note.

“In case I’m not around to bully you in person. His name is Toast.”

Baby found it after practice—a plushie the size of his hand, stitched with tiny horns, a little fanged smile, and eyes just slightly crooked.

He picked it up. Stared at it.

Then immediately texted you:

"What is this. Why is it smiling at me."

"He's your emotional support gremlin. Be nice to him."

Baby sent you a photo of the plush in his hand. Then one of it on his pillow. Then another—secretly snapped—of it squished against his chest while he napped.

He never said anything directly.

But a few nights later, when you walked past his room, you caught a glimpse through the cracked door.

Baby, curled up on his side.

One arm wrapped around Toast.

His patterns dim and quiet, expression peaceful.

He’d never admit it—but he hadn’t slept that well in weeks.

----------------------------

M-List

[cressidagrey]

Wait, What?!

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Felicity Leong-Piastri (Original Character)

Summary: 

Oscar Piastri managed to keep his wife a secret on accident for nearly half a decade…

Come to think off, that was not the only one he kept a secret. 

Notes: Part 2 of The mysterious Mrs. Piastri verse...

(divider thanks to @saradika-graphics )

Text Messages: Lando Norris & Max Fewtrell

Lando: BRO. EMERGENCY. URGENT. YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE THIS.

Max: Oh my god, what now?

Lando: OSCAR. PIASTRI. IS. MARRIED.

Max: …Yeah, that tracks.

Lando: WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT TRACKS????

Max: I mean, I didn’t know, but also… not surprised.

Lando: HOW ARE YOU NOT SURPRISED??

Max: Because, mate, I knew Oscar back in the Renault Eurocup days. And he was in love.  Properly, stupidly, pathetically in love. You think Oscar’s all calm and unbothered? You should’ve seen teenage Oscar.

Lando: I CAN’T. MY BRAIN WON’T ACCEPT THIS.

Max: Bro, this man used to sit in the  paddock and stare at his phone, smiling at texts from her. Like, full-on grinning. It was disturbing.

Lando: NO.

Max: Oh yeah. Proper gobsmacked-in-love type of obsessed. We used to rip into him for it, and he didn’t even care.

Lando: WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE DIDN’T CARE???

Max: I mean, you know how Oscar is. He’d just shrug and go “Yeah, and?” Like we were the crazy ones.

Lando: I CAN’T PROCESS THIS.

Max: Mate, he was obsessed with her. Like, actual teenage boy, head-over-heels, no-thoughts-just-Felicity obsessed.

Lando: OSCAR???

Max: YES. You have no idea. We’d finish a race, and he’d be on his phone before he even got his helmet off. Always texting.

Lando: To her???

Max: Always. If he wasn’t texting, he was on FaceTime. If he wasn’t on FaceTime, he was watching her ballet videos like they were onboard footage.

Lando: …Ballet videos???

Max: She’s a ballerina. He tried to do ballet once. It went horribly.

Lando: PLEASE TELL ME THERE’S FOOTAGE.

Max: No, but I will never forget the look of pure pain on his face when he came back from one of her classes. “Max, this is the worst thing I’ve ever done. My calves don’t work anymore.”

Lando: I AM IN TEARS.

Max: And don’t even get me started on the food.

Lando: What food???

Max: Oscar always had the best snacks, and they were always things she made him. Like pandan cakes, curry puffs, some kind of egg tarts. Man was eating good.

Lando: I THOUGHT THAT WAS KIM?!

Lando: YOU’RE TELLING ME SHE WAS PACKING HIM LUNCHES LIKE A LITTLE HOUSEWIFE EVEN BACK THEN???

Max: Not even kidding. He always had food, and it was always from her. One time, I asked if I could have some, and he was like, “No, Felicity made this for me.”

Lando: HE WAS ALREADY A WHIPPED HUSBAND BEFORE HE EVEN TURNED 18.

Max: Precisely. Man has been gone for her since day one.

Lando: Selfish.

Max: To be fair, if someone made me homemade food with that much love, I wouldn’t share either.

Lando: …Fair.

Max: Also, she’s tiny. Like, I swear, I thought Oscar was going to break her just by hugging her. It was actually terrifying.

Lando: Who even is she???

Max: Felicity Lee? Leong? Something like that. She went to school with him. Tiny, startlingly pretty. I’m talking, ‘you do a double take and forget how to speak’ kind of pretty. That girl had Oscar so whipped before they even finished school, it was ridiculous.

GRID GROUP CHAT

Charles: WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN YOU HAVE A WIFE???

Charles: OSCAR, EXPLAIN. NOW.

Pierre: I JUST SPAT MY COFFEE OUT.

Carlos: I NEARLY DROVE OFF THE ROAD.

George: YOU HAVE A WHOLE WIFE??? A LEGALLY BOUND PARTNER???

George: I’m sorry, I need someone to confirm because I think I hallucinated.

Oscar: …Yes?

Charles: OH SURE, JUST CASUALLY. "Yes." Like you didn’t just drop the biggest bombshell on live TV.

Lewis: This is the most shocking news of the year, I need a moment.

Alex: You have a wife?

Alex: SINCE WHEN???

Fernando: The quiet ones always have secrets.

Max: Why do I feel like Daniel just screamed somewhere?

Daniel: I AM SCREAMING. I AM SCREAMING IN MY HOTEL ROOM. WHAT DO YOU MEAN OSCAR IS MARRIED??

Oscar: Five years.

Pierre: FIVE YEARS????

Carlos: YOU GOT MARRIED AT EIGHTEEN???

Lando: WHILE THE REST OF US WERE STILL FIGURING OUT HOW TO TALK TO GIRLS, YOU WERE OUT HERE GETTING MARRIED???

Oscar: Yeah.

Charles: WHY DID NONE OF US KNOW???

Logan: You guys didn’t know?

Charles: YOU KNEW?!

Logan: Yeah, met her ages ago.

Lando: HOW. WHY. WHEN.

Logan: Prema? Arthur knows too, I am pretty sure. 

Pierre: YOU WERE HOLDING THIS INFORMATION FROM US.

Oscar: I didn’t think it was that big of a deal?

Charles: NOT A BIG DEAL?!

Carlos: You could have at least mentioned it.

Lewis: Does she exist? Are you lying? Do we need proof?

Oscar: …Yes, Lewis, she exists.

Lando: WHO IS SHE. WHAT IS HER NAME. WHAT DOES SHE LOOK LIKE.

Max: How did you manage this? You are… you.

Oscar: ???

Daniel: I NEED TO SIT DOWN.

Lando: YOU ARE SITTING DOWN.

Daniel: I NEED TO LIE DOWN.

Oscar: You guys are being dramatic.

Pierre: You hid a whole wife from us. We are allowed to be dramatic.

Oscar: You never asked?

George: WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE NEVER ASKED??? HOW WERE WE SUPPOSED TO KNOW TO ASK???

Oscar: I don’t really talk about my personal life.

Lando: CLEARLY.

Pierre: But why doesn’t she come to races?

Oscar: She doesn’t like the circus.

Oscar: It gives her anxiety.

Oscar: And she’s already given up enough for me.

Charles: WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE’S GIVEN UP ENOUGH FOR YOU??

George: Bro, are you hearing yourself?? That sounds serious.

Carlos: That sounds like something from a movie.

Oscar: I don’t know why you’re all freaking out.

Pierre: BECAUSE YOU DROPPED THE BIGGEST NEWS OF THE YEAR LIKE IT WAS NOTHING???

Lando: Yeah, and now we’re finding out your mysterious wife has sacrificed things for you??? OSCAR.

Oscar: Her family didn’t approve of us getting married so young.

Lando: Okay, fair, that’s kind of understandable—

Oscar: So they cut her off.

Lando: WHAT.

Pierre: WHAT.

Carlos: EXCUSE ME???

Daniel: I’M GOING TO FIND THEM AND YELL AT THEM.

Charles: HOLD ON. YOU’RE SAYING SHE LEFT EVERYTHING FOR YOU AND HER FAMILY JUST—DIDN’T SPEAK TO HER AGAIN???

Oscar: Pretty much.

Lewis: …That’s awful.

Oscar: It is what it is.

Lando: NO, NO, IT’S NOT JUST WHAT IT IS. WHAT THE HELL, OSCAR.

Pierre: HOW HAVE YOU JUST NEVER TALKED ABOUT THIS BEFORE???

Oscar: Because it’s not my story to tell.

Carlos: That’s… actually fair.

Max: Her parents are stupid.

Oscar: Yeah, well. Nothing I can do about that.

Lewis: That must have been really hard for her.

Oscar: It was. It still is, sometimes. But she doesn’t regret it.

Lando: BECAUSE SHE LOVES YOU???

Oscar: Yeah.

Pierre: Oh my god.

Daniel: I’m emotional.

George: Okay but we don’t even know her name.

Pierre: DROP THE NAME, OSCAR.

Oscar: Felicity.

Lando: FELICITY????

Pierre: That’s so cute, I can’t even be mad.

Daniel: FELICITY PIASTRI???

Oscar: Yeah.

Lando: WHERE DOES SHE LIVE?? WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN HIDING HER???

Oscar: We live near the McLaren HQ.

Lando: YOU LIVE TOGETHER.

Pierre: OF COURSE THEY LIVE TOGETHER, LANDO, THEY’RE MARRIED.

Carlos: I feel like I need to lie down.

Daniel: You and me both.

Lewis: Alright, so when do we get to meet her?

Oscar: I’ll ask if she wants to come to Silverstone?

TEXT MESSAGES: Charles & Arthur Leclerc

Charles: ARTHUR.

Arthur: yes brother dearest

Charles: YOU KNEW OSCAR WAS MARRIED???

Arthur: uhhh yeah??

Charles: AND YOU DIDN’T THINK TO TELL ME???

Arthur: why would i tell you? i thought you knew?

Charles: WHY WOULD I KNOW??? HE NEVER TALKS ABOUT IT.

Arthur: yeah, he’s private about it, but like… he’s been married for years. i thought it was just one of those things everyone knew??

Charles: EVERYONE??? APPARENTLY NOT ME.

Arthur: ok but be honest. if i told you “oh yeah oscar got married at 18,” would you have believed me?

Charles: …fair point.

Charles: BUT STILL. HE GOT MARRIED AT 18???

Arthur: i know. we were all out here at prema still figuring out how to flirt and oscar was out here being A HUSBAND.

Arthur: like, we were panicking over texting girls back and he was making plans for dinner with his wife.

Charles: HOW DID THIS NEVER COME UP???

Arthur: idk, he’s not the type to bring it up randomly.

Arthur: but if you do ask, it’s game over. bro is OBSESSED with her.

Charles: ???

Arthur: like, i’ve seen him sit through a full engineering debrief completely unfazed, no reaction, zero emotions.

Arthur: but then his wife texts him “good luck” and suddenly he looks like he just won the lottery.

Arthur: prema days were just a bunch of kids losing their minds over instagram likes while oscar was married.

Arthur: like, we’d be debating if texting a girl twice in a row was too desperate, and oscar was over there planning his life with his wife.

Arthur: her family basically disowned her when she married him.

Charles: …what?

Arthur: yeah. they thought she was ruining her life by marrying some kid in motorsport.

Arthur: they told her she was throwing everything away for him. that he’d never make it, that she’d regret it.

Arthur: and when she didn’t back down, they cut her off completely. oscar doesn’t talk about it because he knows.

Arthur: he knows what she gave up for him.

Arthur: and he takes that personally.

Arthur: like, have you ever seen oscar get actually angry?

Charles: …no?

Arthur: i have. once.

Arthur: i walked in on him on the phone with her father.

Arthur: it was the scariest moment of my life.

Charles: OSCAR???

Arthur: YES.

Arthur: he was so calm but also terrifying.

Arthur: like, i swear to god, he said something like, “i don’t care what you think of me, but you don’t get to make her feel like she’s not worth loving.”

Arthur: And then he told the guy that if he ever so much as thought about talking to her like that again, oscar would personally fly across the world and put him in the ground.

Arthur: and the worst part? her dad believed him.

Arthur: like. i could hear it. the silence. the fear.

Arthur: and then oscar just hung up like it was nothing.

Arthur: meanwhile, i’m standing there losing my mind, trying to comprehend that my quiet, nice, mild-mannered teammate had just casually promised to commit murder.

Charles: holy shit.

Arthur: yeah. so next time you see him, just know: that man would burn the world down for his wife and daughter

Charles: ARTHUR. EXPLAIN. NOW.

Arthur: explain what?

Charles: “OSCAR’S WIFE AND DAUGHTER”???

Arthur: ohhh yeah. oscar has a kid. her name’s Bee. cutest little girl ever.

Charles: WHAT DO YOU MEAN OSCAR HAS A KID.

Arthur: i mean oscar. has a kid.

Charles: SINCE WHEN.

Arthur: since like. three years ago.

Charles: HE HAD A CHILD AT TWENTY?

Arthur: yeah, man. wild, right?

Charles: WHY AM I JUST NOW FINDING OUT.

Arthur: idk. you never asked.

Charles: WHY WOULD I ASK “HEY ARTHUR, DOES OSCAR HAVE A SECRET FAMILY”???

Arthur: fair point.

Charles: DOES THIS MAKE ME A GRANDPA.

Arthur: oh my god. wait.

Arthur: it kinda does.

Arthur: papy charles.

Charles: I WILL MURDER YOU.

Arthur: relax, grandpa.

Charles: I AM NOT A GRANDPA.

Arthur: okay, old man.

Charles: FOCUS.

Charles: WHY DID NO ONE THINK TO MENTION THIS TO ME.

Arthur: because oscar’s private? plus, it’s not like it changes anything. he’s still the same oscar. just, y’know. a dad.

Charles: I CANNOT PROCESS THIS.

Arthur: bro, when i first found out, i thought he was crazy.

Arthur: like. imagine being twenty and deciding “yeah, i’m gonna be a dad now.” insane behavior.

Arthur: but honestly? he’s so good at it.

Arthur: like. weirdly good.

Charles: HOW.

Arthur: idk man. some people are just meant to be parents.

Arthur: he’s just so patient with her. like, you know how nothing ever rattles him? that times a hundred.

Arthur: she threw a toy car at his head once and he just smiled and said “nice aim, Bee.”

Charles: ???

Arthur: i’m telling you. completely obsessed with that kid.

Arthur: also she calls him “Papa” and it’s the cutest thing ever.

Charles: I NEED TO LIE DOWN.

Arthur: is it because you’re old now.

Charles: I AM GOING TO END YOU.

Grid Group Chat

Charles: OSCAR.

Charles: I NEED ANSWERS RIGHT NOW.

Oscar: …About?

Lando: What did you do now.

Carlos: This feels serious.

Charles: DO YOU HAVE A CHILD???

Pierre: Excuse me?????

George: What.

Alex: No way.

Lando: WHAT?!?!

Fernando: Interesting.

Lewis: Oscar?

Oscar: Yeah.

Lando: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YEAH????

Lando: THAT’S NOT A CASUAL QUESTION.

Lando: “YEAH” IS NOT AN ACCEPTABLE ANSWER.

Carlos: Wait, what.

Daniel: Oh my god.

Pierre: BACK UP.

Charles: HOW DOES ARTHUR KNOW BEFORE ME???

Oscar: He met her.

Lando: HE MET HER???

Pierre: SHE EXISTS IN A FORM THAT CAN BE MET???

George: OSCAR.

Max: Is everyone going to keep screaming?

Charles: OSCAR YOU HAVE A CHILD AND NEVER TOLD US???

Oscar: No one asked.

Lando: OH I’M SO SORRY, LET ME JUST RANDOMLY ASK EVERYONE ON THE GRID IF THEY SECRETLY HAVE CHILDREN.

Alex: Three years, mate. You’ve had a kid for three years and never said a word?

Oscar: Yeah.

Pierre: I am STUNNED.

George: STUNNED.

Lando: LIKE ACTUALLY YOU HAVE A THREE-YEAR-OLD HUMAN CHILD????

Oscar: Yes, Lando.

Lando: I need to sit down.

Charles: WHY HAVE YOU NEVER BROUGHT HER TO A RACE.

Oscar: Because I promised my wife I wouldn’t buy her a kart until she’s five, and if I bring her to a race, that’s all she’ll want for her birthday.

Carlos: …She’s already obsessed, isn’t she.

Oscar: Oh, completely.

Oscar: She watches onboards for fun.

Pierre: Onboards.

Lando: WHAT THREE-YEAR-OLD WATCHES ONBOARDS????

Oscar: Mine.

Logan:  Bee is kinda obsessed lol

Lando: BEE?!?! HER NAME IS BEE?!?

Oscar: Beatrice. But we call her Bee. 

Oscar: She also gives commentary.

George: Commentary.

Oscar: Yeah. She said George is a bit too careful, but she respects it.

George: …Tell her I appreciate that.

Oscar: She thinks Alex is underrated.

Alex: Smart girl.

Oscar: She says Max and Charles are the fastest.

Charles: Oh, she has taste.

Max: A future World Champion.

Lando: WHO DOES SHE THINK I AM THEN????

Oscar: She says you talk too much.

Lando: I AM BEING BULLIED BY A TODDLER.

Oscar: And she also doesn’t understand why you always “let” Max pass you.

Max: I like her.

Lando: THIS IS CHARACTER ASSASSINATION.

Charles: I need to meet this child.

Max: Me too.

Fernando: Same.

Lewis: When’s she coming to the paddock?

Oscar: She’s not, because if she meets Max and Charles in person, I will not hear the end of it.

Charles: Oh, we have to meet her.

Lando: NOT UNTIL I WIN HER OVER.

Lando: WHO DOES SHE SUPPORT????

Oscar: She’s three, Lando.

Lando: THAT DOESN’T ANSWER MY QUESTION.

Oscar: She says she supports “everyone.”

Max: That’s diplomatic.

Charles: No, that’s suspicious.

Charles: Who does she really support?

Oscar: …She says she supports whoever wins.

Pierre: OH SHE’S A GLORY HUNTER.

Carlos: NO LOYALTY.

Alex: A ruthless fan. I respect it.

Lando: I AM SUFFERING.

Oscar: She does like McLaren. She just thinks Ferrari is “prettier.”

Charles: YES.

Carlos: This child has taste.

Lando: I AM LOSING TO FERRARI ON VIBES ALONE????

Oscar: Sounds like it.

George: This is all well and good, but I need to know—what does she think about you, Oscar?

Oscar: …

Lando: OH MY GOD.

Daniel: OH THIS IS GONNA BE GOOD.

Oscar: She says I’m her favorite after Max and Charles.

Charles: YES.

Max: Acceptable.

Oscar: But she also says I have the best helmet.

Fernando: That’s a win.

Lando: I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU HAVE A WHOLE SECRET DAUGHTER WHO BULLIES ME FROM AFAR.

Oscar: She doesn’t bully you.

Oscar: She just doesn’t understand why you let Max pass you all the time.

Max: A wise child.

Lando: I HATE IT HERE.

Charles: I demand a meeting.

Max: Me too.

Pierre: We’re all uncles now.

Lando: NO. NOT UNTIL SHE ACCEPTS ME.

Oscar: Good luck with that. She also says you sound funny when you yell.

Lando: I’M GONNA CRY.

Lando: I NEED A SECOND CHANCE.

Lando: I CAN WIN HER OVER.

Max: She sounds very intelligent.

Charles: Yes. Clearly, she has excellent judgment.

Lando: STOP SUCKING UP TO HER, YOU’RE ALREADY HER FAVORITE.

Carlos: So what does she think about the other drivers?

Oscar: Do you really want to know?

Pierre: Oh absolutely.

Fernando: I am prepared.

Oscar: Okay.

Oscar: She thinks George sounds like Peppa Pig.

George: …

Lewis: Oh my god.

Alex: OH THIS IS PERFECT.

Lando: WE WILL NEVER LET THIS GO.

George: I AM LOSING TO A CARTOON PIG.

Oscar: She heard you on the TV and asked why Peppa was driving a car.

Pierre: No, you ARE a cartoon pig.

Alex: This is the best day of my life.

George: I hate all of you.

Oscar: Moving on…

Oscar: She thinks Fernando is the “oldest driver ever.”

Charles: At least she knows the history of the sport.

Fernando: I’m taking that as a compliment.

Oscar: She also says Yuki is small and should be allowed to stand on the seat so he can see better.

Yuki: I AM NOT THAT SHORT.

Pierre: SHE SPEAKS THE TRUTH.

Oscar: Oh, and she likes Lewis because she likes his earrings.

Lewis: That is the only valid reason to like me.

Oscar: She also thinks you’re the boss of everyone.

Lewis: That is also true.

Lando: PLEASE TELL ME SHE HAS A TERRIBLE OPINION ABOUT CHARLES OR MAX.

Oscar: She thinks Charles crashes too much but is “really, really fast.”

Max: Accurate.

Oscar: And she says Max is “really good, but scary.”

Max: I am scary.

Charles: No, you just race like a maniac.

Oscar: She also thinks you and Carlos are best friends because you wear the same color.

Carlos: I am okay with this.

Lando: WHY AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO LOSES HERE.

Oscar: Get better PR.

Oscar: She likes Daniel because she says his voice sounds happy.

Daniel: SHE IS SO REAL FOR THAT.

Charles: So she wants to race??

Oscar: Oh yeah. She watches all the onboards. She says the Red Bull looks "like a rocket ship," and McLaren is "super fast now," but Ferrari is "a little bit broken."

Carlos: You HAVE to bring her to a race.

Lando: Okay but actually. Do you think she’ll do karting?

Oscar: Yeah. Probably.

Oscar: She already yells “Lights out and away we go” when she runs down the hallway.

Fernando: Oh, she’s one of us.

Lando: She’s already got the spirit.

George: Unlike Lando.

Lando: I AM GOING TO FIGHT YOU.

Max: No, because you’ll lose.

Lando: I’M STILL PROCESSING. OSCAR HAS A WHOLE CHILD. A CHILD WHO GIVES HIM PERFORMANCE REVIEWS.

Oscar: Yeah, she told me my race suit is “not very pretty.”

Charles: What does she think of Max’s?

Oscar: “It’s blue. That’s okay.” She likes yours more, because Red is good. 

Charles: She has excellent taste.

Oscar: She also said, “You should win more too.”

Lando: Has she ever said that to Max?

Oscar: No, because she thinks he already wins enough.

Max: Wise.

George: What does she think about Mercedes?

Oscar: She likes the silver one better than the black one because “it’s shinier.”

Lewis: Fair.

Oscar: But she said, “It’s not as pretty as red.”

Oscar: She also thinks all our helmets should have “more animals and less boring stuff.”

Lando: SHE IS THE FUTURE OF THIS SPORT.

Oscar: Then she told me, “You need a koala on yours.”

Alex: That’s fair.

Lando: OKAY BUT DOES SHE HAVE ANY RACE STRATEGY OPINIONS.

Oscar: Of course.

Charles: Please share.

Oscar: The other day, I was watching a race replay, and she climbed onto the couch next to me, stared at the screen, and went, “Why are you still on those tires?”

Carlos: HAHAHA.

Oscar: And I said, “Because we haven’t pitted yet,” and she just shook her head and went, “That’s silly. You should get new ones now.”

Lando: SHE’S SO SMART.

Pierre: Does she understand tire compounds?

Oscar: She knows soft tires are fast, medium tires are okay, and hard tires are “boring and ugly.”

Charles: Honestly, she gets it.

Lando: NO BUT ACTUALLY DOES SHE HAVE THOUGHTS ON DRS.

Oscar: Oh, yeah. She calls it the “flappy thing.”

Pierre: I love her.

Oscar: She saw an onboard where I opened it, and she just went, “Oooooh, flappy thing makes you go fast.”

Max: I mean, she’s right.

Alex: Does she like overtakes?

Oscar: Yeah, but she only gets really excited when I do them. Otherwise, she just watches quietly and then claps if it looks cool.

Charles: Does she cheer for anyone else?

Oscar: One time, she saw you make a double overtake and went, “Ohhhhh, I like him.”

Carlos: Betrayal.

Oscar: She likes you too, don’t worry. But I think she just thought that move was cool.

Carlos: I suppose I will allow it.

George: Oscar, have you explained to her why Lando hasn’t won yet?

Oscar: Not really. I just told her, “It’s really hard to win in F1,” and she thought about it for a second and went, “Not for Max.”

Max: HAHAHA.

Charles: She is actually too smart.

Lando: I AM BEING DRAGGED BY A TODDLER WHO DOESN’T EVEN KNOW HER OWN LAST NAME YET.

Oscar: She does know her last name, actually.

Lando: GOOD FOR HER. I’M STILL SUFFERING.

Carlos: Has she asked why you haven’t won a race either, Oscar?

Oscar: No.

Pierre: WHY NOT??

Oscar: I think she assumes I’m too busy taking care of her.

George: Honestly, fair.

Lando: I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE A DAD.

Oscar: Believe it.

Lando: I CAN’T. AND NOW I’M GOING TO HAVE AN EXISTENTIAL CRISIS BECAUSE YOUR TINY CHILD THINKS I’M BAD AT MY JOB.

Oscar: She didn’t say you were bad. Just that you haven’t won yet.

Lando: SAME THING.

Oscar: It’s okay, Lando. I’ll tell her you’re trying your best.

Lando: STOPPIT.

Lando: NO ACTUALLY I CAN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT THIS. WHAT ELSE HAS SHE SAID.

Oscar: What do you mean?

Lando: I MEAN ABOUT F1. ABOUT ME. ABOUT YOU. ABOUT ANYTHING. I NEED TO KNOW HOW BADLY A THREE-YEAR-OLD HAS DRAGGED ME BEHIND THE VIRTUAL SAFETY CAR.

Oscar: Well, she’s got a lot of opinions.

Charles: What kind of opinions?

Oscar: She has told me she doesn’t like safety cars because they’re “boring,” and that red flags are annoying because she has to wait.

Max: I respect it.

Oscar: But she does like when there’s a big crash because she gets to say, “Uh oh!”

Lando: NO BECAUSE IMAGINE YOU BIN IT AND YOU HEAR A TINY LITTLE “UH OH” OVER THE RADIO.

Max: I would retire.

Oscar: She also said if I ever win a race, she wants to do the shoey with me.

Lando: THAT’S HORRIBLE. DON’T LET HER DO THAT.

Oscar: Felicity already said no.

Lando: Good. I’m still recovering from the fact that you have a whole wife and a daughter.

Oscar: You’ll be fine.

Lando: WILL I.

Oscar: No.

Lando: GREAT.

Lando: I’M NOT OVER IT.

Carlos: We know.

Lando: YOU HAVE A DAUGHTER.

Oscar: I do.

Lando: A WHOLE DAUGHTER.

Oscar: That is usually how it works.

Lando: YOU NEVER TOLD ME.

Oscar: You never asked.

Lando: WHO ASKS, “HEY, DO YOU SECRETLY HAVE A WHOLE TODDLER?”

Charles: I might start.

Lando: I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS.

Oscar: It’s not that big of a deal.

Lando: NOT THAT BIG OF A DEAL???

Oscar: She’s just a tiny person.

Lando: A TINY PERSON WHO WATCHES F1 AND HAS OPINIONS.

Oscar: Correct.

Lando: I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS.

Pierre: Bro, breathe.

Lando: NO.

[writeriguess]

hiii may I request katsuki x reader where he has to go to a work trip overseas and reader stays home, where she finds out she’s pregnant (or it could be the other way around, we stan prohero reader) 🥹 ofc when he comes back she has the news prepared, please tooth rooting fluff 🫶🫶

Future Little Explosive

Katsuki Bakugo had been gone for just over a week on an overseas work trip, and it was already driving you insane. He called every night, making sure you were eating properly, locking up before bed, and not overworking yourself. He was as gruff as ever, muttering complaints about jet lag and how annoying his colleagues were, but you could hear the longing behind every word. He missed you. And there was something you hadn’t told him yet—something that made every call feel heavier with a secret.

You were pregnant.

The realization had hit you two days after he left, when your body felt off in a way that couldn’t be ignored. The nausea, the exhaustion, the unusual cravings—it all clicked together. A few tests later, and there it was: two solid pink lines staring right back at you. You had spent the following days in a mix of shock, excitement, and pure anticipation, thinking of how to tell Katsuki the life-changing news. You could already imagine his reaction—equal parts disbelief and sheer pride.

You had started picking at your meals more, wondering if you should change your diet already. You found yourself resting your hands over your stomach absentmindedly, marveling at the fact that a tiny life was growing inside you. The thought made you emotional at odd moments, and you cursed your hormones when you teared up over something as simple as dropping a spoon. More than anything, though, you wished Katsuki was home to experience this with you.

By the time he was due to return home, you had everything planned. You wanted it to be perfect—something that would catch him off guard in the best way possible. You decorated the living room subtly, nothing too flashy because you knew your husband would immediately be suspicious if he walked into something too extravagant. Instead, you placed a small, neatly wrapped box on the kitchen counter with a onesie inside that read: Future Little Explosive.

When the front door finally swung open, you practically ran to him, throwing your arms around his neck as he grunted in surprise, his strong arms instantly securing you against him. He smelled like the airport and faintly of smoke, but to you, it was the most comforting scent in the world.

“Missed me that much, huh?” His voice was low, teasing, but there was a tenderness behind it that only you ever got to hear.

“You have no idea,” you murmured, breathing in his scent. It had been too long without him.

He kissed your forehead before stepping back, scanning you up and down with narrowed eyes. “You look different.”

Your heart jumped, but you played it cool. “Long week.”

As he dropped his bags by the door and toed off his boots, you grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the kitchen. “C’mere, I got you something.”

He raised an eyebrow but followed without protest, his sharp crimson eyes flicking to the small box on the counter. “What’s this?”

“Open it and see.”

With a skeptical huff, he tugged at the ribbon and lifted the lid. His brows furrowed at first as he pulled out the tiny onesie, turning it over in his hands. The room was silent for a moment, and you watched as realization dawned on his face.

His grip on the fabric tightened slightly, eyes flicking up to meet yours, wide and searching. “Wait… are you serious?”

You nodded, tears already pricking at your eyes. “Yeah, Katsuki. We’re having a baby.”

For a second, he just stared, his jaw clenching like he was trying to keep his emotions in check. His fingers trembled slightly around the fabric, his breath shaky. And then, with no warning, he surged forward, crashing his lips against yours in a kiss that was all passion, relief, and overwhelming love.

“Holy shit,” he breathed against your lips, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. “You’re serious?”

You let out a watery laugh, nodding. “Dead serious.”

A rare, unguarded smile broke across his face, something so raw and full of emotion that it made your heart swell. His hands, which had always been rough and calloused from years of hero work, were gentle as they moved to rest on your stomach. His touch was hesitant at first, like he couldn’t believe it was real. Then, he pressed his palm fully against you, his warmth seeping through your clothes.

“We’re gonna have a little brat running around, huh?” His voice was softer now, almost in awe.

You placed your hands over his. “Yeah, we are.”

He exhaled sharply, then let out a low chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. “Shit, I’m gonna be a dad.”

“Yeah, you are.”

For once, he seemed lost for words. His usual cocky attitude had melted away into something far more vulnerable, and it made you love him even more. He pulled you in again, holding you like he never wanted to let go. And in that moment, you knew—this was the beginning of something incredible.

[sturniphone]

𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 . . . 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆

in which . . . you grind on matt’s lap until you both cum, fully clothed—desperate, filthy, soaked. He makes you ride it out, promising next time, he’s fucking you properly.

You’re in his lap again. Matt’s room is dim, just soft yellow lamplight cutting across the sheets, casting golden shadows on his walls and making everything feel warmer, lazier, and more dangerous. You’re wearing one of his shirts—massive on you, falling off one shoulder, the sleeves swallowing your wrists. The hem rides high on your thighs, revealing those tiny pink sleep shorts that barely count. He’s already got his back against the headboard, legs stretched out, hoodie bunched around his hips, curls messy from your fingers. His hands find your waist like they belong there, fingers splaying wide, thumbs stroking under the fabric.

You’re giggling, leaning into him, mouth brushing his. It starts so sweetly—laughter between kisses, your noses bumping, smiles slipping against each other. But then he catches your lower lip between his teeth, gives it a gentle pull, and everything shifts. The air thickens. Your hips twitch forward instinctively. He hums. ❝There she is.❞

Your thighs tighten around his hips, the thick bulge under his jeans flush against your clothed pussy. You feel him twitch beneath you and swear you go a little dizzy from it. ❝Matt,❞ you whisper, and it comes out too breathy. ❝What?❞ His voice is low, cocky, curling into you like a secret. ❝You’re the one grinding on me like this. Fuckin' filthy.❞ You try to speak, try to sass back like you always do, but the second his hands slide down and grab two greedy handfuls of your ass, pulling you down hard against the thick bulge in his jeans—all that spills from you is a filthy, desperate moan.

The pressure hits your clit perfectly, catching it right on the seam of his denim, and your whole body jolts like he shocked you. It’s raw. Immediate. Addictive. Your forehead drops to his, breath gone. ❝Shit—fuck,❞ you gasp, voice all high and wrecked. Matt just grins, eyes dark and smug as sin. ❝So needy, baby.❞ His voice is deep, coated in thick arousal, syrup-slick and warm. ❝You get soaked just from sitting in my lap? Just from kissing me like that?❞

You nod before you can even stop yourself, lips parted, already dizzy. He chuckles, low and hungry. ❝Yeah. That’s what I thought.❞ You move without thinking, slow and aching, dragging your soaked cunt against the rough fabric again. The seam rubs your clit just right, friction sharp and perfect, and the grind of your hips turns filthy and desperate. Your little sleep shorts are bunched at your hips now, panties clinging to your folds, sticking to you from how wet you are. ❝Oh my god—❞ you whine, hips stuttering.

Matt’s hands tighten, keeping you right there, holding you still for the next slow grind. ❝Is that good, sweetheart? Haven’t even put my fingers in you yet.❞ You can’t speak. All you can do is ride—grind and rut against him like it’s the only thing keeping you alive. The roughness of the denim makes your legs tremble, your cunt pulse, and your thighs sticky with arousal. ❝Fuck,❞ Matt groans, his head tipping back, jaw clenched. ❝You’re going to make me cum in my pants. You know that? Just from this? From that pretty little pussy rubbing all over my cock like you fucking’ need it?❞

Your nails dig into his shoulders. You’re so wet you can hear it now—slick, messy little sounds every time your hips drag forward. The kind of sound that makes Matt moan into your mouth when you kiss him again, breathless and open. ❝Touch me,❞ you whimper. But he doesn’t. His grip only tightens. ❝Nah. Not yet, baby. You’re going to cum just like this. Want to feel that pussy soak through every fucking’ layer. Want to feel you lose it riding me in your panties like a desperate little slut.❞

You gasp, thighs quivering, stomach fluttering hard. ❝You feel that? How wet are you? Fuck, bet you’d let me slide right in, no problem. Would be soaked down to the base in one push. But you’re going to make a mess on me first. Want to see you cum, just like this.❞ You cry out—sharp, shameless—hips stuttering with every drag. The fabric’s sticky now, your panties a useless little scrap, and your clit is throbbing so hard it hurts. It’s too much. Too dirty. Too fucking hot.

❝Matt—❞ ❝Be a good girl,❞ he growls, grinding his cock up against you, the movement rough and sharp. ❝Cum for me. Fuckin’ ruin yourself on my cock like I know you want to.❞ And you do. The orgasm hits like a car crash, sudden and brutal. You cum with a whine, a cry, a shudder that starts at your spine and crashes through your whole body. Your thighs lock around his hips, your cunt clenching around nothing, your panties soaked, hot, twitching.

Matt groans. Loud. Guttural. His hands bruise into your ass as he bucks up once—twice—and then he’s cumming too, hard and messy, cock twitching against you, the front of his jeans going warm and wet as he spills with a broken, desperate grunt. ❝Jesus fuck—❞ he pants, dragging your body tighter against his, still rocking up into you like he’s trying to draw out every last drop. ❝Didn’t even fuckin’ get inside you, and I’m wrecked. You feel that, baby? Feel what you do to me?❞

You nod against his neck, gasping, your lips brushing his skin. Your bodies are tangled, soaked, sweat-slick and trembling. Matt presses a kiss to your temple, then your jaw. ❝Next time,❞ he mutters, already hard again beneath you, ❝you ride my cock for real. I want to feel that tight little pussy stretch around me. Wanna watch you cream all over me from the inside,❞ you whimper, still twitching. And Matt just grins, dark and slow.

Like he already knows you’re not leaving this bed anytime soon.

𝐋𝐎𝐋𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐒 . . .  ahh thank you for the req <3 i actually didn’t really love how this turned out, but it means a lot that you sent something in !!

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒 . . .  @chrepsi @ph3ebssturniolo @sturnsxbbyeilish

⌗ © sturniphone

[slushysturniolo]

Blind Boxes

cw: 18+, face-sitting, slight worship, dirty talk

Chris watches you on the bed opening what feels like the 20th blind box. Your fingers ripping the red tab, your tongue poking out, eyebrows furrowed and forehead creased in concentration. You look like you’re trying not to detonate a bomb. 

“Baby,” Chris sighs, perched on the side of your bed, “this is like…the fifth one.” His tone is hesitant, as if he doesn't want to set you off. 

“Sixth,” you quip without missing a beat, not hint of shame in your voice. “And this one has the secret that I want. The odds are like, one in twenty-four.”

Chris squints. “You know that’s literally gambling, right?”

You ignore him, pulling back the tab and pulling the little plastic bag out of the box, crinkling it in your hands and closing your eyes. “You have to close your eyes, that’s the trick,” you mutter, almost to yourself. Chris stares at you like you’ve completely lost it. He scratches his stubble, waiting for you to tear it open. 

“I GOT IT,” you gasp, holding up the tiny figurine. “No fucking way! I got it, Chris!” you beam, showing him the little frog on a skateboard.

Chris blinks. “Bro,” he says, grabbing the figurine out of your hand and inspecting it. “You paid like fifteen dollars for this?”

“Mhm.” You grin, and take it back from him, setting it down on your makeup vanity, which is adorned with other figurines. 

Chris huffs out a laugh and mutters, “This shit is so corny,” but he’s already reaching into the POPMART bag for another blind box. “So what? You just get one of these?” he says, inspecting the box, looking at all the different characters. 

“Yeah, well, you gotta pick which one you want the most.” You walk over to him, taking a seat on his lap, your back leaned against his chest, his head on your shoulder, still holding the box. Chris stares pensively at the little box and nods. 

“Alright, I want this little bunny shit.” he reaches his other arm around you and begins to tear the box and plastic little baggy open. His eyebrows raise. “Oh shit, I got it,” he says, meeting your eyes. “Do you have anymore?” he says, trying to sound nonchalant. 

“No, I don’t actually,” you smirk. “Why? You having fun?” You wiggle your eyebrows, suppressing a laugh. 

Chris shrugs, holding the tiny pink and white bunny in his hand. “I mean…he’s kinda fire.” 

You scoff. “You think that bunny is a boy?”

“Yeah, he’s a boy to me. You think I’d pull a girl bunny?” he raises his eyebrows at you as you turn to face him fully, straddling his lap now, arms lazily draped around his neck. 

“Noo, I just thought you thought 'this shit was corny' and that you wouldn't give it a gender. You’re more into this than me.” 

“Chill on that,” he smirks. 

Chris places the little bunny on the bed beside you both and rests his hands on your waist, his fingers pressing lightly on your sides. His thumbs start rubbing little circles on your hips right where your shirt has risen, exposing some skin. You can feel the air shift, the way Chris squints his eyes at you, his tongue darting out to moisten his pink lips. “You’re so weird,” he murmurs, his eyes flicking down to your lips. 

“Says you,” you giggle, running your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp softly. Your laugh dies as you feel Chris press his lips to your throat. 

“I think I deserve a reward now,” he mutters, his lips now resting under your earlobe. He slides his hands in your shirt now, rubbing your lower back. 

“For what?” You clear your throat and adjust on his lap. “Pulling the character you wanted?”

“No..” he pulls back and kisses the corner of your mouth. “For not clowning you too hard for your addiction to plastics figures.” 

“Hmm, okay,” you whisper. Chris places soft kisses on your jawline, his hands dipping down, giving your ass a light squeeze. “You can keep the bunny,” you tease. Chris lets out a gruff laugh against your neck, shaking his head. 

“Damn, I get the bunny and my girl?” his breath fanning against your collarbone. 

You feel Chris’ lips dragging along the column of your throat, his hands squeezing your ass tighter now, his hips lifting slightly so you can feel how hard he is underneath you. 

“Jesus Chris, blind boxes got you really excited.” You let out a breathy laugh, grinding your hips into his.

“Fucking insufferable,” Chris mutters, his eyes rolling, a playful smile on his lips. Chris leans back onto the bed, bringing you with you. You straddle his lap, placing a hand on his chest, steadying yourself. “Shorts and underwear off.” he looks up at you with hooded eyes. 

You scramble to get them off, and Chris watches you, hands behind his head, and he makes no moves to get undressed. 

Chris smirks, eyes dragging slowly over your now bare legs as you toss your clothes to the side. “Come here,” he murmurs, patting his chest before motioning up toward his face. “Right here.”

You blink. “Wait… you want me to ride your face? That’s your reward?”

He raises an eyebrow like you’ve offended him. “Duh. You think I put up with all that blind box talk for nothing? I love eating your pussy, baby. It’s like, my favorite hobby.”

Chris takes your hands and gently guides you over his face. Your knees nestling into your light pink comforter, you look down and see him staring up at you. He places his hands behind the back of your thighs. 

You hover above him, thighs already shaking with anticipation, and Chris looks up at you like he has never seen something more beautiful. His hands grip your thighs firmly, thumbs digging into the soft flesh, his breath already warm where it ghosts over your center.

“Fuck,” he groans, eyes locked on your pussy. “You’re so messy, baby. You do that just from riding my lap?”

You swallow hard, nodding, and he lets out a breathless laugh. “God, you’re so fucking pretty like this.”

He pulls you down in an instant, his tongue touching you, making your whole body jerk. His mouth instantly latches to your pussy like he’s starving. He drags his tongue slowly and deliberately flattening it until he reaches your clit, sucking softly. 

You gasp and reach for your headboard, trying to brace yourself. You rock your hips to meet his movements, his nose hitting your clit perfectly. 

Chris groans into you, his face covered in your slick. It sounds so sloppy, like he’s not letting one single drop of you go to waste. He flicks his tongue slowly on you, and one of his hands slips up to grab your ass, and the other on your lower abdomen, trying to anchor you in place so you can’t run from him. 

“Taste so good, ma,” he murmurs between licks. “Could stay down her for fucking ever, fuck, you gonna cum?”

You nod your head quickly, your legs shaking beside him, and you grind down onto him ever harder. 

“Please keep using me like that, fuck, come on baby…give it to me..wanna feel you come all over my face, I know you can,” he continues worshiping your clit. 

You come throwing your head back, incoherent babbles fall from your lips as you slow your hips down; it’s all becoming too sensitive and overwhelming.

“Chris, baby..baby too much.” You whine and shiver on him, but Chris is lost in you. Chris finally opens his eyes and looks up at you, his eyes completely hooded.

“Good girl,” he coos, looking at you in your fucked out state. “Such a good girl cumming for me like that.” he kisses your inner thigh softly. 

You move to lie down on your back, your chest slightly heaving, and give Chris a tired smile. Chris palms himself through his sweatpants and wipes his mouth, clearing his throat. 

“Gonna eat you on your back now,” he grins.

“What??” Your eyebrows shoot up in disbelief. “Chris, no, I’m too sensitive.” 

“Nope. Gonna eat you on your back, now.” he rolls over onto his stomach. “And I am going to keep that bunny,” he mumbles before burying his face between your legs. 

 

taglist: @y3sterdaysproblem @sturnslutz

[that-one-girl2020]

Hey, I was wondering if you could do a skit about what were the Saja Boys fighting about and what Jinu and Rumi were talking about, because I really want to know.

Interlude

Saja Boys x Rumi’s Sister! Reader

A/N: Sorry getting around to this one took a little bit, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with it until I started writing it. This takes during part 5! Rumi and Jinu’s conversation happens before the start of the part and the fight between the guys happens during the Idol Awards. Rumi and Jinu’s song is still Rumi and Jinu’s song, just with some edits.

Synopsis: What happened between Rumi and Jinu before the Idol Awards without the romantic undertone? What fight did the boys stage as part of their plan?

CW: Self mutilation (only mention), toxic parenting (thanks Celine), arguing.

Word Count: 2,024

Master List

(Reminder: Baby = Jum, Romance = Chungae, Mystery = Hyeon, Abby = Kwan)

What did Rumi and Jinu talk about?

“Okay, sooo…” Rumi drawled as she joined Jinu. The two had agreed to meet up the night before the Idol Awards to discuss Jinu’s answer. “I’ve been meaning to ask. Why does the bird wear a tiny hat?” She raised an eyebrow curiously at the three-eyed magpie perched atop its blue tiger friend.

“I made it for the tiger, but the bird keeps taking it,” Jinu explained, looking at said bird. Sussie only narrow its eyes at the two, daring them to try and take the hat from him.

Rumi and Jinu chuckled. She was surprised at how easy it was to get along with Jinu when she looked past his surface. Yeah, his appearance had flustered her at first, but he was just an ordinary guy.

“So, about tomorrow, have you thought about my proposal?”

Jinu’s face became solemn. “Look, I want to believe in your crazy plan, but I don’t think I’m the one to help you.” His mind was stuck on thoughts of you. The soft moments the two of you shared together. The self-inflicted marks you had on your arms from scratching at your patterns. He was conflicted. If he actually helped Rumi with her plan, would that help you or would it just trap you into a life of never fully accepting yourself if your patterns didn’t disappear? But if he went through with his own plan, would you hate him?

Rumi’s voice interrupted his thoughts, “Actually, you already have.” Jinu looked at her curiously. “I spent my whole life keeping this secret, this shame of what I am, and the more I hid this shame, the more it grew and grew until it started to destroy the one thing that gave me a purpose, my voice.”

Jinu listened to her quietly. He was frustrated on your behalf. Rumi spoke with no regard for you or what you were going through by also having to hide this part of yourself. But he couldn’t change the way Rumi felt about her situation.

“But since I’ve met you, and the more I talk to you, become friends with you, I don’t understand it, but somehow, my voice has healed,” Rumi went on.

Jinu listened as she sang.

“I tried to hide but something broke~ I tried to sing, couldn't hit the note~ The words kept catching in my throat~ I tried to smile, I was suffocating though~ But here with you, I can finally breathe~ You say you're no good, but you're good for me~ I've been hoping to change, now I know we can change~ But I won't if you're not by my side~”

There were flaws in her song, holes that made something inside Jinu ache. Rumi was still blinded by illusions. A reality that she wanted but wasn’t hers. And he ached because he was the source of Rumi’s comfort when it came to accepting a part of herself that you shared. It shouldn’t be him there, it should be you. Why couldn’t Rumi just talk to you? Why couldn’t Rumi see that you were hurting?

“Why does it feel right every time I let you in?~ Why does it feel like I can tell you anything?~ All the secrets that keep me in chains, and~ All the damage that might make me dangerous~ You got a dark side, guess you're not the only one~ What if we both tried fighting what we're running from?~ We can't fix it if we never face it~ What if we find a way to escape it?~”

Jinu kept back, keeping his distance from Rumi as she sang of false hope. ‘Escape it’? Escape a part of him that makes him who he is? He doesn’t always like that part of him, but it's still exactly that. A part of him. He couldn’t be so naive as to want to escape it. But he could feel the genuine emotions Rumi was putting into her words, her desire for a friendship like this. Someone who can understand her and see all of her without judgement. And Jinu wanted that too.

“We could be free, free~ We can't fix it if we never face it~ Let the past be the past 'til it's weightless~”

He just didn’t think he would be getting the non-judgemental relationship he wanted from Rumi. But that didn’t mean he didn’t want her friendship. So he opened up a little bit, let a crack shine through to his true self.

“Ooh, time goes by, and I lose perspective~ Yeah, hope only hurts, so I just forget it~ But she’s breaking through all the dark in me when I thought that nobody could~ And she’s waking up all these parts of me that I thought were buried for good~”

You. He told Rumi about you, vague as it was. The girl that reminded him what its like to be human. To care. To love.

“Between imposter and this monster, I been lost inside my head~ Ain't no choice when all these voices keep me pointing towards no end~ It's just easy when I'm with her, no one sees me the way she does~ I don't trust it, but I want to, I keep coming back to~”

And Rumi smiled with understanding. Because she had people like that too. People she wanted to be better for, to be able to open herself up to fully. She and Jinu really were a lot alike.

“Why does it feel right every time I let you in?~ Why does it feel like I can tell you anything?~ We can't fix it if we never face it~ What if we find a way to escape it?~”

The two sang together, voicing their similar hope and wish. To be free to love the people that they do. For all of them to be seen and accepted whole heartedly. No secrets. No lies.

“We could be free, free~ We can't fix it if we never face it~ Let the past be the past 'til it's weightless~”

The two felt like they were floating. Like they could share the deepest parts of them and the other would only accept it with open arms. Like they had known each other for years instead of just a few weeks.

“Oh, so take my hand, it's open (Free, free)~ What if we heal what's broken? (Free, free)~”

The two friends took each other’s hands. If the whole world fell apart and they lost everyone else, at least they would still have each other. Because Jinu knew the dark secrets that Rumi kept hidden from everybody else. And Rumi knew the light hopes that Jinu kept hidden from the world.

“I tried to hide but something broke~ I couldn't sing, but you give me hope~ We can't fix it if we never face it~ Let the past be the past 'til it's weightless~”

The two stood in silence for a moment, Rumi shocked at how strong her voice felt as she sang with Jinu, and Jinu shocked at how quiet his head was. That hadn’t happened around anyone except…you. “I…I don’t hear his voice,” Jinu admitted in his shock. “I’ll make sure the Saja Boys lose tomorrow.”

Rumi’s lips twitched up in a small smile, “Then we’ll both win.” Rumi looked down in consideration, tempted to leave without asking but her curiosity got the best of her. “Who is she?”

Jinu blinked, “Huh?”

Rumi jokingly rolled her eyes. “Who is she?” She repeated. “The girl you mentioned when we were singing?”

Jinu startled, his back straightening as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He hadn’t really thought that one through. “Oh, uh, a girl, just a girl I met, uh, during one of our performances. She…she just sees and accepts all of me,” Jinu told her, a blush on his cheeks.

Rumi was tempted to ask if this girl knew about them being demons but she couldn’t help but internally coo at how bashful Jinu was about this girl he obviously liked. She must be really special. “I’m happy for you, Jinu. If it all goes to plan, you should ask her out.”

Jinu chuckled, “Yeah, only when you finally ask out those two girls.”

Rumi spluttered, her face turning red, “Ah, no, we’re just friends!”

Jinu smirked, crossing his arms smugly, “But you knew exactly what girls I was talking about, didn’t you?”

Rumi only stuttered more, feeling caught, “No, just, they, they’re—ugh, just shut up. You’re so annoying sometimes.” She turned on her heel to leave. She desperately wanted to end this conversation. “Bye Jinu.”

Jinu couldn’t help but want to tell her the truth. About his past. He wanted this friendship with her to be genuine, to share who he really was. “Rumi, wait. I…”

Rumi looked at him expectantly.

“I…” He couldn’t do it. “I can’t wait to see you on that stage tomorrow.”

For you, he would betray Gwi Ma. He couldn’t be selfish. This way, you could live a happy life.

But then, as Rumi left, Gwi Ma summoned him to remind Jinu of the type of person he really was.

~~~

What were the boys fighting about during the Idol Awards?

The boys were tense. They had passed the Huntr/x girls earlier. Their skin crawled with the urge to do something. Just last night, you had been crying on their couch, in their arms, singing to them in your sweet voice about how you had been shoved into a mold that didn’t fit you. And those girls had played a role in it.

But they had to stick to the plan.

The five of them were in their dressing room, ready for their cue. The air was tense. The five of them knew the next part of the plan that had to happen, they had to come up with an excuse not to perform. They had discussed it earlier and decided to stage a fight between them. But it would only be believable if it was about a real topic. None of them wanted to start it.

“Jinu,” Kwan began, a frown on his lips and a furrow in his brow. “Are you really friends with Rumi? The girl who played a direct part in ruining (Y/n)’s life?”

Okay, so they were going with this topic. The other Saja Boys hadn’t gotten to know Rumi like Jinu had so there were definitely…opinions about her.

“You don’t know her, and yeah, she’s not perfect, but she is my friend,” Jinu rebutted.

“Sure, a friend who doesn’t deserve the sister she has,” Jum added fuel to the spark of agitation.

“It’s not like we deserve her either,” Hyeon crossed his arms, saying what they all had been thinking for a while.

Chungae bristled, “That’s not for us to decide, that’s up to her.”

”You know what choice she’ll make, she’s too good for us,” Jinu reminded them all bitterly.

“She is, but this isn’t the way to protect her,” Chungae scowled.

”Then how do you suggest we protect her, huh?!” Jinu burst out. “Please, I’d love to hear some other ideas!”

“This whole thing was your idea, don’t tell us you're tapping out now!” The five devolved into spitting vitriol at each other, whatever came to mind first.

“I’m not letting us all be sealed away, away from her!”

“Well, how do you think this is gonna end?! We’re on different sides!”

“What, and you wanna leave her alone with all these people?!”

A stage hand tried to get their attention, “Boys, you're on in two minutes!”

They continued.

“How are we supposed to protect her, love her when all we do is break everything we touch?!”

“All we can do is our best for her!”

“Our best is never good enough, look where it got us!”

“This is the best we can do for her?! Betraying her and throwing her to the wolves?!”

The stage hand turned to another, “Change of schedule, go and tell Huntr/x that they’re going on.”

Mission success. They separated to ‘get some air.’ The next stage of their plan commenced.

Outtakes:

*Later*

You: *earnestly concerned* “So…what did you guys argue about?”

The Saja Simps: *not wanting to tell you they argued about not being deserving of you* “Uhhh…”

Jinu: “Global warming.”

Chungae: “Nail polish colors.”

Hyeon: “Cats or dogs.”

Kwan: “Is water wet.”

Jum: “The meaning of life.”

You: “…”

You: “Okay, don’t tell me then.”

…

*Meanwhile, with Polytr/x*

Mira: “Why are you so close with Jinu…?”

Zoey: “Yeah, you two are oddly close for someone you’ve known for a few weeks.”

Rumi: “Uhhh…we bonded over our mutual dislike for a side of ourselves and sang about our emotions…?”

Mira and Zoey: *Gasp* “You sang an emotionally revealing and trauma bonding song with Jinu before us?!”

…

Taglist: @brights-place @itmechaosartist @reni502 @chin-chii @cultish-corner @enerofairy @mama-m1na @akariis4snowball @gremlinartstudio @shynotded @shadowmoonlight0604 @omgsuperstarg @neigesprincess @sleep-7372 @hurts-my-brain @kiwibackie @gh0stied3ath @naysha140 @theferretkids @lelantyuu @sexyindependentdowntospendit @hornehlittleweeblet2 @moonymoo1 @moochiwoochi @cheolright @crescent-z @prorpy @mey-archive @cami1qx @nerdalicios @xxsadlovexx @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @blackheart34 @anonymousewrites @scarletrosesposts @justanindiangirl12 @beexboo @tatsuri-zomushiki @call-me-nyxx @queenofviolenceandnerds @randomfan218-blog @jaybbygrl @unholycheesesnack @ocean-mochi @iviorienne @confusedparticle @otakusimp1 @nosbaby07 @fries11 @ri-eveowe @1950schick @libdarkheart @yourjustassaneasiamx @the-bookish-artist @anduinandwrathionlover @eternallyrosyfire @lysira340 @lansy-4 @strayharmony943 @maximumtrashchild @bleufu1 @minepugs @valeriele3 @arieslucy @nisarelle @suzieq1948374 @esposamultifandom

[soeyekonic]

— ✩♬ ₊˚. back to friends ⭑ D.A

˚⟡˖⋆ synopsis after months of pretending nothing happened, dani overhears you talking about someone new, and suddenly, the silence between you isn’t so easy to ignore anymore.

disclaimer: daniela avanzini x fem!reader. pt2 of ‘you get me so high’. slight angst… i feel like it isn’t heavy but from what i learned from pt1, my perception might be a bit off 😣

currently playing: back to friends - sombr

the weeks after the livestream feel like walking through an old house you used to live in.

everything’s still there, her laugh, her hoodie draped over a chair, the late-night snacks she picks at in the green room. but now, there’s something missing.

the warmth that used to live in the silence between you. the comfort of her hand brushing yours when no one was looking. the secret you used to share like a song only you two could hear.

you still talk.

you still work together, still dance, still stand next to each other in interviews.

you still laugh when she says something stupid and roll your eyes when she steals the last fry. and every so often, she slips.

a look that lasts too long.

a text at 2:14 a.m.

a kiss behind a locked bathroom door in a hotel in korea.

you let her. every time, you let her. because you want to believe maybe this time will be different. that she’ll wake up and finally say it out loud.

choose you out loud.

but she never does.

instead, she pulls away before the sun comes up and says, “we should keep this between us,” like that’s love.

—

you start pulling back. not all at once, but in tiny pieces.

you answer her texts slower, you start sleeping with your door locked, you stop waiting for her to choose you.

and one day, you realize it’s not even anger anymore. it’s grief. grief for the version of her you thought might fight for you.

—

it’s been three months. enough time to fake some kind of peace.

you’re sitting on the floor of the dance studio with lara, scrolling through photos between run-throughs. she’s got her head on your shoulder, watching your screen.

you swipe past a blurry selfie, sunlight and someone else’s smile tucked into your neck.

��who’s that?” lara grins.

you hesitate for half a beat. “oh, uhm. her name’s mia,” you say finally. “we’ve been seeing each other a little.”

lara blinks. then smiles softly, genuine. “you look happy.”

you do. or maybe you're trying to be.

you don’t look up at her, but someone else hears.

across the studio, daniela freezes mid-step, she wasn’t supposed to be listening. she wasn’t supposed to care.

but she does.

“you’re seeing someone?”

you look up. your stomach sinks. dani’s standing there, arms crossed, trying too hard to sound casual.

lara stands, sensing the tension and quietly backing away.

you nod. “yeah.” dani doesn’t say anything, just stares.

“what’s her name again?” she asks, tone sharp. “mia.” “right.” she scoffs. “that was fast.”

your jaw tightens. “it’s been three months, dani.”

“so what, you’re just over it now?” you blink. a bitter laugh leaves your chest. “over what?” she doesn’t answer. “over you pretending i didn’t exist? or you only wanting me when no one else was watching?” daniela’s face hardens. “you know why it had to be that way.”

“no,” you say, louder now. “i don’t.”

she steps closer, arms falling to her sides. “i had to protect myself. my image. if i say something, if we confirm anything, it turns into a headline, a scandal. not a relationship.”

you shake your head, voice shaking. “you didn’t have to protect yourself. you just had to keep me hidden.” her eyes flash. “that’s not fair-” “you’re right, it’s not.” she swallows hard. “you think i don’t care about you?” you laugh, dry and tired. “you care about the version of me that lives in secret. you care about me in hotel rooms and locked bathrooms and 2 a.m. phone calls. but you don’t care about me when people are watching. you never have.”

“that’s not true.” “then why-” your voice breaks, and you try again, quieter. “why did you let me sit there on that livestream while you called yourself straight? while everyone watched and knew and you still couldn’t even look at me?”

she looks like she might cry. but you’re already past the place where that changes anything. “i was scared,” she says, barely above a whisper. “i didn’t know what would happen if i said it.”

“i know what happened when you didn’t.” your voice cracks. “i sat there like a ghost. like i didn’t matter. like i wasn’t the one you’d been crawling into bed with for months. like none of it was real.”

she’s shaking her head now. “it was real.”

“then why couldn’t you say it?”

“because i’m not you,” she snaps suddenly. “i don’t know how to be that brave.”

and that, that’s what does it. you go still.

you look her dead in the eyes and say, “i wasn’t brave, daniela. i was in love. there’s a difference.”

her breath catches. her lips part and she says nothing.

you stare at her for a long moment, and then, quietly, “i needed someone who wouldn’t hide me.”

you turn, walking away slowly, not out of drama but out of the weight of finally putting something down.

and her voice follows you, cracking in the silence. “is this really it?” you stop at the door.

“you made it ‘it’ the second you cared more about being seen as straight than being seen with me.”

and this time, you don’t wait for her to follow. you don’t want her to.

because loving someone isn’t supposed to feel like disappearing.

and you’re done being invisible.

a/n: uhhhh ty so much for all the support since i posted “miss possessive” and especially since i posted “you get me so high” i didn’t expect this much attention, i was just writing for funsies 😭😭😭 i will let this marinate a litttttle before posting the alternative pt2

[fushiguro-megloomy]

strawberry wine

[part 2] pairing: modern au!viktor x artist!reader prompt: “if somebody were to kiss me, i’d want that person to be you” tags: you're jayces childhood bff, no use of y/n, alcohol, heavy kissing, drunk kissing, basically just a bunch of buildup towards a smutty fwb part two???, viktor being a menace wc: 4k notes: AU where nobody is sick or dying yay! also i think i managed to keep this pretty gn!reader but any future parts will be afab/fem art is from pinterest, dividers from chachachannah & webc00re

You never meant for things to get this far. You told yourself it was just a little fun, harmless and fleeting—nothing more. You had a career to focus on, friendships in the balance. But now, here you are, pacing the living room carpet thin, your cuticles raw from nervous chewing, and your thoughts spiraling into places you swore they’d never go.

It feels juvenile, almost laughable, like some smitten teenager waiting by the phone and sneaking kisses in shadowed corners. You were supposed to be above this, weren’t you? I mean, as a grown adult you should know how to keep it casual, uncomplicated. 

But nothing about this is simple anymore. Not the friendship. Not the secrets. And certainly not the way your heart betrays you every time his name crosses your mind.

It definitely wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Moving back to the city hadn’t been on the bingo card for this year, but here you were. Your life had been tucked away in the quiet of rural landscapes, where your art had room to breathe—endless skies, rolling hills, and the kind of solitude that made inspiration flow without any distractions. But your career had expanded, and with that expansion came the relentless pressure of galleries, art buyers, and a future that demanded more from you than that peaceful escape ever could. 

So, the city had called you back. Concrete towers, crowded streets, the city offered more. Shows. Opportunities. Jayce. The only thing about this cold, steel jungle that still felt like home. Jayce—your childhood friend, your constant in a world that had never stopped changing. Thrown together since you were practically in diapers, he was the one piece of your old life that had somehow survived the years and distance between you two. And now, after what felt like an eternity, here he was, sprawled across your tiny couch, looking too comfortable for someone who was just supposed to be a guest. The apartment was a bit small, as city apartments tended to be—packed between towering neighbors—but Jayce’s presence was the only thing about it that felt remotely like home.

"You know," he said, half-lounging. “I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

You didn’t look up from your canvas, your brush already dipping into the paints like second nature. “Who?”

“Viktor” 

You paused, only long enough for your brush to hover midair before you flicked your gaze in his direction. “Ah, yes. The famous business partner.”

Jayce’s grin didn’t falter, but there was something softer behind it now. “Yeah, something like that. But seriously, he’s a good guy. Brilliant, actually. You two would get along.”

You didn’t reply at first. Instead, you let the brush finish its arc, eyes back on your work, moving with the rhythm of a familiar task. “mhm” you murmured, distracted by the way the strokes of paint were bleeding together. “If he’s anything like you, how bad can it be?”

But Jayce, of course, wasn’t done. His voice took on that soft  tone he reserved for moments when he really wanted to get his point across. “I’m serious, okay? I want you two to meet. You both mean a lot to me, and I think you’ll really hit it off.”

You didn’t look up, but you felt a weight behind his words, pushing against you with silent pressure. “Yeah? I’m sure it’ll happen, then.”

Jayce’s eyes lit up, a flash of triumph in them, like he’d just won some small but important battle. “You’ll see. I’m telling you—when you meet him, you’ll click. I know it.”

You leaned back in your chair, releasing a slow exhale, the kind that said everything without saying anything at all. A nonchalant nod was all you offered, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of saying more. “Fine. Fine. I’ll meet him. But don’t make a whole thing out of it.”

Jayce chuckled, and there was an odd note of relief in the sound, like he’d just been granted some unspoken permission. “No big deal, I swear. But you’ll see. You two are more alike than you think.”

-

When you finally did meet Viktor, Jayce was practically vibrating, his energy as unsubtle as ever. It had been after one of your gallery openings, a night you’d half-dragged yourself through on fumes and politeness. Your heels had barely cleared the threshold of his apartment before the faintest twinge of suspicion began to creep in—something about the way he hovered, grinning like a man with a secret.

“You deserve a good meal after tonight,” Jayce had said, ushering you in with the kind of charm that usually preceded one of his schemes. “Thought you’d want to celebrate somewhere that doesn’t reek of overpriced wine and small talk.”

You rolled your eyes but let yourself be corralled, the promise of food outweighing the odd note in his voice. His large apartment, at least, was familiar territory: warm, cluttered with bits of tech and sentimental junk from years past, the faint scent of whatever candles he refused to admit he hoarded lingering in the air.

And then you heard it—the low murmur of another voice, sharp-edged and vaguely amused, drifting from the kitchen.

Jayce froze, his grin faltering for a split second before it reappeared, brighter than ever. “Oh, right,” he said, far too casually. “Viktor’s here.”

You blinked, narrowing your eyes at him. “You conveniently forgot to mention that part.”

“Come on,” he pushed, throwing an arm around your shoulders and steering you toward the source of the voice. “It’s no big deal. Just dinner. You’ll like him, I promise.”

And there he was, perched by the kitchen counter with a faintly perplexed look on his face. He was slimmer than you’d expected, pale and sharp-featured, with hair that looked like it hadn’t met a comb in days. His amber eyes flicked up to meet yours, narrowing slightly as if he were trying to solve a puzzle that had just been placed in front of him.

“Ah,” he said, his accent lilting and crisp, “so this is the infamous artist.”

You shot a glare at Jayce, who was already heading for the stove with the kind of forced cheer that made it painfully clear he’d orchestrated the whole thing. “You owe me for this,” you muttered under your breath, stepping further into the kitchen.

Viktor’s lips twitched, the barest hint of a smirk appearing. “And here I thought I was being ambushed. Seems we’re both victims of his enthusiasm.”

Jayce turned from the stove, wooden spoon in hand, his expression utterly unrepentant. “You’ll thank me later.”

The dinner was simple but undeniably good—Jayce’s doing, of course. The man couldn’t let anyone step into his apartment without insisting they be properly fed, and tonight was no exception. Roast chicken, buttery vegetables with rice, warm bread that filled the space with its yeasty aroma—it was the kind of meal that made you feel at home even when you weren’t.

Conversation flowed easily around the table, mostly carried by Jayce, but Viktor wasn’t exactly quiet, either. He had a way of chiming in at just the right moment, his dry humor landing squarely between Jayce’s more exuberant anecdotes and your own occasional contributions.

“You mean to tell me,” Viktor said at one point, leaning back slightly in his chair, “that Jayce still hasn’t learned to cook rice without burning it? After all these years?”

Jayce, halfway through explaining some disastrous culinary attempt from his youth, turned to glare at him. “Excuse me, this rice was cooked perfectly.”

“It was fine,” you agreed, though the memory of a slightly crunchy bite or two made your lips twitch in amusement.

Viktor’s amber eyes sparkled as he gestured broadly. “Oh, fine! A glowing review, truly. Don’t let it go to your head.”

Jayce groaned, but there was no real bite to it. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” Viktor said, raising his glass in a mock toast, “here I am. Invited to dinner. Again.”

Jayce just rolled his eyes and went back to his story, leaving you to glance at Viktor with a small smile. He caught it, of course, and gave a little shrug as if to say, what can you do? For all his sharp humor, he was easy to talk to, his wit balanced by an underlying warmth that kept him from coming off as too cutting.

Which was why you were only mildly surprised when the spoon incident happened.

Dinner was winding down, Jayce had disappeared into the kitchen to fuss over coffee, leaving you and Viktor to handle the cleanup.

He moved with a surprising ease, balancing a stack of plates in one hand, his cane steady in the other. It was a casual sort of competence, as though he’d long since adapted to whatever limitations life had handed him. You hadn’t thought much of it, impressed by how naturally he maneuvered, until the soft clatter of a spoon hitting the floor broke the quiet rhythm of tidying.

“Ah,” Viktor said, glancing down at the rogue utensil with a faint frown as he set down the plate stack. “Of course.”

You paused mid-step, glancing between him and the spoon. “Need a hand?”

He tilted his head, his expression a little too innocent. “If it’s not too much trouble. You know, the leg and all...”

“Oh, for—” Jayce’s voice floated from the kitchen, half-annoyed but not quite committed to intervening.

You sighed, setting down the napkins you’d been folding. “Yeah, sure. I’ve got it.”

But just as you crouched down, Viktor shifted. A casual tap of his cane sent the spoon skittering across the floor, its metallic clink faintly echoing as it landed farther away.

You froze, staring at the spoon in disbelief, then turned your gaze to him slowly. “You’re kidding.”

Viktor’s lips twitched, the faintest glimmer of amusement flickering across his face. “What?”

“You just—”

“What?” he repeated, wider-eyed this time, his free hand gesturing vaguely toward his cane. “I’m handicapped.”

Jayce reappeared in the doorway, a coffee pot in hand and a look of pure exasperation on his face. “Viktor.”

“What?” Viktor said again, his voice laced with mock indignation. “I am!”

Jayce muttered something unintelligible as he poured coffee, his focus shifting between you and Viktor like he couldn’t decide which one of you deserved his scolding more. Meanwhile, you straightened, crossing your arms as a grin tugged at the corners of your mouth despite your best efforts.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous,” you said, stepping across the room to retrieve the spoon—again.

“Very generous,” Viktor agreed, his tone breezy. “Honestly, it’s quite inspiring. Jayce, you should take notes.”

Jayce groaned, setting the coffee pot down with a little too much force. “You’re both ridiculous.”

But you were already laughing, the sound bubbling up before you could stop it. As you returned the spoon to the table with a pointed look, Viktor gave you a small, almost triumphant smile. And maybe, you could see what Jayce meant when he’d said you’d get along.

-

The first time you realized you might feel more than just friendship for Viktor was when you noticed the way your sketches had started to change.

It had been weeks—maybe even a couple of months—since that dinner with Jayce, when you had awkwardly danced around each other, getting to know one another. The initial weirdness had faded into easy companionship, and you found yourself spending more time with Viktor than you expected. You hadn’t quite noticed it happening, but somewhere along the line, you’d become an unintentional trio. Jayce had been bursting with barely-contained glee at how easily the two of you seemed to get along, and it made your chest warm, knowing how much that mattered to him. It felt... right, this newfound ease between the three of you, a quiet sort of harmony that made you smile more than you expected.

But as the days passed, something shifted without you realizing it. You were at home one evening, flipping through your sketchbook, the soft pastel dust smudging the edges of the pages as your fingers moved. The forms you’d drawn were abstract models, capturing shapes and shadows in a fluid, organic way. It wasn’t anything new—nothing that stood out. But then, you stopped.

There, in the shadows of the page, you saw it.

The subtle arch of a jawline. The curve of lips that you knew too well. Even the moles, small and almost unremarkable, but there they were—on the page, right beneath your fingertips. You blinked and flipped to another sketch, only to see it again. A line here, a shadow there. It wasn’t him exactly, but it was.

To the untrained eye, maybe it wouldn’t have been obvious. Hell, maybe even to you on any other day, it might’ve gone unnoticed. But now, in the quiet of your studio, the shapes were almost unmistakable. The soft angle of his nose, the way his eyes looked when he was thinking too hard, the way his smile would pull up on one side when he was being particularly smug.

You frowned, setting the sketchbook down, your hands hovering above it as if it had betrayed you. Was this some kind of coincidence? Or was it something more, something you had been avoiding realizing? You’d never consciously set out to draw him, but there he was, tucked into the lines and curves of your art like an uninvited guest you hadn’t known you were entertaining.

It was ridiculous, you told yourself. Of course it was just... coincidence. But even as you tried to convince yourself, there was a small, unspoken truth sitting in your chest, heavy and undeniable, and the first time you realized Viktor might see you as more than just a friend was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it hit you all the same.

He mentioned a piece you’d shown him, his tone thoughtful. “You’ve been doing something different lately. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s a change. It’s...” His gaze flickered to yours, then dropped back to the floor, but the brief flash in his eyes sent an unexpected flutter through your chest. “...more. More than what you usually show.”

The words themselves were harmless, even complimentary, but it was the way they hung between you that made something inside you stir—something you couldn’t name, not yet. You didn’t think much of it at first, but the way his eyes lingered just a second longer than necessary made your breath catch. The way the corners of his mouth lifted into a half-smile, not teasing, but... fond.

It was a simple thing. A fleeting moment. And yet, it lingered in your mind as you retreated to your apartment, your thoughts whirling with the possibility that Viktor—your friend, the one you had so casually laughed and bantered with for months—might be seeing you differently, too.

The shift was subtle, but it was there. And it unsettled you more than you cared to admit.

-

Everything came to a boiling point one night at your apartment. You’d ventured into town earlier that day, mostly for a change of scenery, and happened upon a small farmers market. You couldn’t resist grabbing a few bottles of strawberry wine, its sweetness and fruity undertones practically calling your name. Jayce had scoffed at it when you got back, claiming it was too sugary to have any real punch. “There’s no way I’ll even get drunk off this,” he’d muttered with a dismissive wave.

An hour later, he was sprawled out on your pullout, snoring softly with a stupid grin plastered across his face. You and Viktor stood nearby, both trying—and failing—to suppress your amusement at how quickly Jayce had succumbed to the wine’s effects. For all his size, Jayce was a surprising lightweight.

“I swear, every time,” you said, laughing quietly.

Viktor, leaning against the doorway, gave a soft chuckle. “Some people just don’t know when to stop.”

You rolled your eyes, glancing over at the slumbering man. “Guess we let him sleep it off.”

“Let him have his beauty rest,” Viktor teased, his voice light as he nodded toward the bottles. “We can always finish it ourselves.”

So you did, winding up on the roof with the cold night air around you. The worn-out couch up there had seen better days, but it was still enough to settle into and talk, a simple quiet comfort settling over you both. The soft glow of string lights and the silvered moonlight made the world feel like it was wrapped in a quiet hush despite the never ending sounds of the city. You both settled into the couch, the cushions sinking in the middle, which pushed you just a little closer to Viktor than you'd anticipated.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was easy, like you had spent years in it. You noticed how close you were sitting now—your thighs pressed together, and when you passed the bottle of wine, your fingers brushed his. A small spark of awareness ran through you each time, and you tried to ignore it, feeling your face warm despite the cool air.

The wine was sweet, fruity, and a little stronger than you expected, especially when you found yourself reaching for another sip and another, the soft buzz in your head gradually growing stronger.

By the time the bottle was halfway gone, you were both leaning more heavily into the couch, and you couldn’t help but giggle at how little wine was apparently needed to bring Jayce to the brink of passing out. You felt... lighter. Almost giddy, as if the laughter that came so easily was spilling out along with the alcohol. And Viktor, sitting just beside you, didn’t seem to be immune to it either. His face was flushed in the soft light, his lips curling into an easy smile.

“You know,” you said, leaning back and feeling the warmth of the couch soak into your bones, “I don’t do this enough. I’m so... wrapped up in work and life and... I just forget to relax.”

Viktor tilted his head, eyes slightly narrowed as he watched you. “Relaxing can be overrated,” he said with a smirk, the words a little slower than they’d been earlier. He took another drink from the bottle, his thumb brushing against the glass in an unconscious rhythm. When he passed it to you, your fingers brushed once again, and you lingered just a bit longer than necessary.

“Well, maybe for you,” you chuckled. “But, for me, it’s like... it's like a luxury, I guess. You know? I don’t remember the last time I just sat with someone and... and didn’t feel like I had to be somewhere or do something.”

“You eh–... don’t have to worry about that here,” Viktor said quietly, his voice light, with that usual teasing edge. But something was different in his tone, something that made the words feel heavier than they should have been. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but the air seemed to shift, the quiet between you stretching into something almost… charged.

You took another sip, your hand a little unsteady now. The whole situation felt absurd—awkward, even, yet strangely intimate in a way you hadn’t expected. Your gaze drifted toward his lips without thinking. It was brief, but enough to send a flutter through your stomach, and suddenly, your mind couldn’t focus on anything but that soft, confident curve of his mouth. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was something else entirely, but you couldn’t seem to think straight anymore.

Viktor shifted closer again, and the couch beneath you groaned as it sank with the weight of it. The space between you closed, and you could feel the warmth of his body pressing against yours shoulder to shoulder, like the alcohol spreading through you, making your pulse quicken.

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. His presence was a solid thing beside you. His eyes were locked on yours, studying, but still so calm. You could feel the punch of his gaze on you, like it was seeping through your skin, sending heat rushing to your cheeks. It wasn’t just the wine now—you could feel it all over, heat blooming beneath your skin, making you fidget slightly.

“Sometimes… you get caught up in what you’re doing, and you forget about everything else,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the way your nerves were tightening your chest. “I’ve been focused on my career and—god, I’ve probably been a little… I don’t know, closed off.” You laughed lightly, but it was nervous, unsure of where this was even coming from. But suddenly all your senses were barraged by him, his smell, his eyes.

“I just—I haven’t thought about it. Relationships, I mean. Not in a long time. I don’t know if I’m even ready for anything like that. Not now, not with everything I’m doing.” You trailed off, self-conscious, suddenly feeling like you were saying too much, rambling without stopping. The words seemed to just slip out of you, tumbling over each other.

You took another shaky breath, your heart thudding in your chest as you tried to make yourself stop, but you couldn’t. It was like you were helpless.

“And, I mean, if anybody were to kiss me…” You faltered, realizing too late just how much you were giving away. Your pulse quickened, your thoughts jumbled as your mouth just kept moving. “I would want that person to be you.”

The air between you thickened, the silence stretching long and heavy. Your heart pounded in your chest, a nervous rhythm that drowned out everything else. You waited for him to say something, to break the tension that was suffocating you. But there was nothing. Just the weight of his gaze on you, steady and searching.

When you finally dared to glance at him Viktor's expression was unreadable. One thick eyebrow was cocked slightly, and his mouth hung open just enough to suggest he was about to say something, but didn't. He was so close but somehow the distance between you felt infinite.

You opened your mouth to say something, to fill the silence, but before you could speak, his hand moved, his fingers brushing against your jaw in the gentlest touch. The sudden warmth of his palm made your breath catch, and before you could even fully process it, he was pulling you in. His lips met yours, soft at first, as though testing the waters, as if the moment itself was delicate. But that softness didn't last, between the buzz of alcohol, the closeness, the heat between you—it all blurred together. The kiss deepened, quickly turning urgent, hungry. His hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the bottle slipped from your grasp, its clang against the concrete floor echoing in the quiet of the rooftop

You didn't care. You were too lost in the feeling of him against you, his lips moving against yours with a desperate kind of need. The kiss grew messier– clumsy, teeth scraping, tongues tangling. You could taste the faint sweetness of wine on him, the mix of flavors making everything feel dizzying overwhelming.

You found yourself gripping his shirt, pulling him closer, as if trying to merge your bodies together, desperate for the contact, for whatever it was that had been building between you two for so long. 

-

The next day was a harsh slap of hangover reality. Your head pounded, your mouth was dry, and every time you glanced at Viktor across the room, your stomach flipped in a way that had nothing to do with the booze.

Jayce, of course, was none the wiser. He chatted away over breakfast like nothing had changed, blissfully unaware of the shift that had unraveled everything you thought you’d had under control. And you? You were wholly committed to keeping it that way. It was a one-time thing, you told yourself. Just a fleeting, drunken thing—something you could both quietly bury and move on from.

At least, that was the plan.

Until it happened again. And then again.

Now it feels like a thread being pulled tighter and tighter, until you’re not sure if you’re going to unravel completely or snap under the weight.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. But here you are. And you don’t know how to stop.

©lilsworks 2024

[heartsriki]

FOR YOUR EYES ONLY ⌇편지

pairing ᝰ ni-ki x fem!reader — featuring.. jungwon | word count: 2200+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ highschool au!, fluff, misunderstandings, sunshine x grumpy.

synopsis — After seeing your tiny crush nishimura riki sneak something into the confession box you just had to investigate.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊guys I swear ill make a non highschool au with riki soon... I couldn't help myself.. anyways its FEB!! can't wait to write valentines themed fics!

Finally.

It was your favorite month of the whole year.

You worked as a library assistant at your school—not because you particularly loved the job, but because it was better than joining a club.

Well… that’s what you told people.

In reality, you had a secret gig.

Tucked away in the most secluded part of the library was your confession box—a simple, unassuming container where students could slip in anonymous notes pouring out their feelings.

It started as something just for you. A place to vent when things got overwhelming. But then, he found out.

Jungwon.

You had no choice but to let him in on your little secret, and somehow, he became your best friend. Over time, word spread, and people started using the box themselves. What once held only your thoughts turned into a place where students whispered their love stories into folded pieces of paper.

Only Jungwon knew you were the one behind it.

And now, February had arrived—the holy grail of confessions. Sure, people submitted notes year-round, but around Valentine’s Day? The numbers spiked.

You weren’t going to lie. You loved it. Not just the thrill of reading them (and occasionally sharing the best ones with Jungwon, who never breathed a word), but the idea that you were helping people express what they were too afraid to say out loud.

So here you were, stationed at the front desk, pretending to browse book requests on the computer when a group of girls giggled their way to the back of the library.

Your eyes flickered toward them, amused. Definitely not because you were excited to read their confessions later. Nope. Definitely not.

Then, moments later—he walked in.

Riki.

The second you saw him, your instincts flared up. Suspicious.

Riki never stepped foot in the library. He barely did his assignments, let alone read for fun. So why was he here?

You watched, careful not to make it obvious. He glanced around, acting almost… nervous? And then, without a word, he disappeared into the back.

Seconds later, he reappeared from the other side—hands in his pockets, expression unreadable, walking out as if nothing had happened.

Your breath hitched.

No way.

Did Nishimura Riki just put a confession in your box?

Your hand scrambled for your phone. You had to tell someone.

You:

JUNGWONJUNGWONOMG

PLSPLSANSWERLOOKATURPHONE

Wonnie:

Ok what the hell

What is it?

You:

You are NEVER going to believe who just slid into the back of the library.

Wonnie:

Is it Jake again? Poor guy

Maybe Jay? Idk tell me

You:

Nishimura… Riki…

Wonnie:

… Fr?

Maybe he confessed to you?

You:

Right, totally.

Wonnie:

Think about it.

And you did think about it.

You and Riki had a… relationship. Not exactly a friendship, but not total strangers either.

You first met in detention.

It was your first time there, and you had no idea what you were supposed to do. So, naturally, you turned to the guy next to you—the one with his headphones on, slouched in his seat like he owned the place.

Curious, you tapped his shoulder.

He flinched, looking caught before turning to glare at you. “What?”

You blinked. “How did you sneak those in? Can I listen too?”

Before he could answer, you asked another question. “Wait, also—what are we supposed to do in here?”

His face twisted in disbelief. “What do we do in detention? You sit here. Now be quiet before—”

“Mr. Nishimura, sneaking electronics in again?” The teacher’s voice cut in, hand outstretched.

Riki groaned, slumping back in his seat before begrudgingly handing over his phone and headphones.

When the teacher walked away, he snapped his head back to you, eyes burning with betrayal.

You swore he glared at you for the rest of the day.

Ever since then, you tried to make it up to him—with snacks, lunch, even passing him worksheets to copy. Eventually, after weeks of bugging him, he forgave you.

Kind of.

Even now, he still acted so indifferent.

Whenever you waved at him in the hallway, he looked away. When you invited him to sit with you and your friends, he ignored you. Even when you walked beside him, talking about anything and everything—he barely responded.

At first, you assumed he was just bad with people. But then you saw him with his friends—laughing, joking, talking.

So why was he only like this with you?

Eventually, you gave up.

You distanced yourself, refusing to waste energy on someone who clearly wanted nothing to do with you.

But then, every now and then, you’d catch him staring—or see him approach you, only to hesitate and walk away.

It was confusing. Frustrating. You told yourself you didn’t care anymore.

Until the school trip.

It had been late at night when you were sent to fetch supplies from the shed—a small, isolated building at the edge of the woods.

You weren’t scared, but walking alone with only a flashlight wasn’t exactly comforting.

By the time you found everything, thunder rumbled outside. Moments later, the skies opened up.

Heavy rain. Lightning. The kind of downpour that turned dirt trails into slippery nightmares.

Running back wasn’t an option.

So, hugging your knees to your chest, you sat in the shed—silent, alone, trying not to cry.

Minutes passed. Then—

The door burst open.

You jumped, heart nearly stopping—until your eyes locked with his.

Riki.

He stood there, soaked from head to toe, breathless, his curls sticking to his forehead.

Did he… run here?

He didn’t speak. Just stared for a moment, like he was checking if you were okay, before stepping inside and sitting next to you.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “You’re helpless, you know that?”

You blinked, then let out a soft, teary laugh. He was trying to act tough. But he was clearly worried.

Neither of you spoke after that. You just sat there, listening to the storm. Well, you spoke—rambling like you used to, and for once, he didn’t seem to mind.

By the time the rain cleared, something between you had shifted.

And now, months later, here you were—staring at an empty confession box, knowing Riki put something inside, yet not finding his name anywhere.

Jungwon’s voice pulled you back.

“I knew I’d find you here.” He smirked. “Anything good?”

You forced a laugh, trying to mask your disappointment. “Yeah, some interesting ones. Oh—Minji completely dropped her last crush and moved on to a new one. Isn’t that crazy?”

Jungwon squinted at you. “You’re looking for Riki’s, aren’t you?”

You groaned, immediately dropping your head onto the table. “I’m pitiful. Don’t look at me.”

Jungwon laughed, dragging a chair out and sitting across from you. “You’re not pitiful. Just mildly down bad.”

You groaned, keeping your forehead against the table. “But I know he put something in there. I saw him! I was so ready to read it, but it’s like—poof!—nothing!”

Jungwon tapped his fingers on the table, thinking. “You sure he actually put something in the box?”

You lifted your head slightly. “Of course, I literally watched him sneak in.”

“Then…” Jungwon grinned knowingly. “What if he took something out?”

That made you pause. You sat up straight, eyes wide. “Wait… What?”

“Think about it,” Jungwon continued. “If he put in a confession and realized he wasn’t ready, maybe he took it back.”

Your mind raced. That… actually made sense. But why would Riki take it back? And more importantly—who was he confessing to?

The thought made your stomach twist, and you weren’t sure why.

Jungwon smirked, clearly enjoying the sight of you struggling. “You could just ask him, you know.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, right. ‘Hey, Riki! Weird question, but did you happen to steal a confession from my box?’”

“Why not?” Jungwon shrugged. “Or are you scared of the answer?”

You opened your mouth, ready to deny it, but the words never came. Were you scared? The idea of Riki confessing to someone else made your chest feel tight in a way you weren’t ready to unpack.

Before you could respond, the student council room door creaked open again.

And there he was.

Riki stood in the doorway, hands shoved into his pockets, his hair a little bit above his eyes which flickered between you and Jungwon before settling on you.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of you. “Welp. That’s my cue to leave.” He patted your shoulder before slipping past Riki, whispering a quick, “Good luck,” on his way out.

The door clicked shut. Silence.

You swallowed. “Um… Did you need a book or—”

“I didn’t take it back.”

Your breath hitched.

Riki sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “The letter. I didn’t take it back.”

Your heart was pounding now. You tried to keep your voice steady. “What do you mean?”

His gaze dropped to the floor. “I put it in there without a doubt, I think… someone else removed it. Maybe it was a sign not to confess to you.”

You.

Your throat went dry. “It was… for me?”

Riki let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Obviously.”

You blinked. “Obviously? What do you mean obviously? You ignore me ninety percent of the time!”

He huffed, looking almost embarrassed. “I don’t ignore you.”

“You literally pretend not to hear me half the time!”

“Because I don’t know what to say!” Riki finally looked at you, frustration and something else—something softer—lingering in his expression. “You drive me crazy, you know that? You talk too much, you’re way too nosy, and you never leave things alone. And somehow, I—” He stopped, exhaling sharply. “I like you, okay?”

Your brain short-circuited.

Riki rolled his eyes at your stunned silence. “This is embarrassing.”

You snapped out of your trance. “Wait, wait. Back up. You like me?”

He groaned, turning toward the door. “Forget I said anything—”

You grabbed his sleeve before he could leave.

He froze.

Slowly, you grinned. “You like me.”

Riki’s ears were turning red. “Shut up.”

You laughed, warmth bubbling in your chest. You never thought you’d get anywhere with him, and yet—here he was, out of breath looking at you so fondly, confessing in the most Riki-like way possible.

February was definitely your favorite month of them all.

BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The moment Riki stepped into the library, he knew he was making a mistake.

This wasn’t his scene. He didn’t do books, didn’t do anything that required more effort than necessary. But here he was, standing in the one place he actively avoided, shoving his hands deeper into his hoodie pockets as his eyes flickered toward the back.

He could feel your gaze on him.

You were always watching him.

Not in a weird way—more like you were constantly trying to figure him out. Always with that curious glint in your eyes, like he was a puzzle you were determined to solve.

He hated it.

No, that wasn’t true. He hated that he liked it.

And now, as he made his way toward the confession box—the stupidest thing he’d ever been a part of—he was hoping you weren’t paying too much attention.

With one last glance around, he slipped to the back, pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket, and dropped it inside.

Then, without missing a beat, he walked out through the other side, playing it cool.

It took everything in him not to look back.

He could already picture the way your brain was short-circuiting, the way you were probably grabbing your phone to text Jungwon. You always told him everything, after all.

Riki swore under his breath as he left the library.

He wasn’t even sure why he did it.

Well.

That was a lie.

He knew why.

It was because of you.

Because you confused the hell out of him.

You were supposed to be annoying—loud, persistent, way too nosy for your own good. You were supposed to be someone he could easily brush off, like he did with everyone else.

But you weren’t.

Because no matter how many times he ignored your waves in the hallway, you still smiled at him. No matter how often he shut you out, you never stopped trying.

And then you stopped.

You finally gave up on him.

And for some reason, that made his chest feel too tight.

Ever since that night on the school trip, when he found you curled up alone in the shed, it had been harder and harder to act like he didn’t care.

That night, when he heard you were missing—it was like he could imagine you with red eyes, shoulders shaking—he couldn’t stop himself.

Didn’t even think.

He just ran.

Ran straight into the storm, through the rain, barely able to see a damn thing—but knowing exactly where he was going.

When he finally got there, when he saw you small and fragile under the dim light, something in him cracked.

He never wanted to see you like that again.

But he didn’t know how to tell you that.

He wasn’t good with words. He wasn’t good with feelings.

So he wrote it down instead.

It wasn’t a confession, not in the way you expected.

But it was something.

Something for your eyes only.

Something he thought you would have found by now.

So when he walked passed the student council room later that evening, seeing you and Jungwon hunched over the pile of notes, he knew immediately.

You hadn’t seen it.

Because if you had, you wouldn’t be looking for his name like he overheard.

And now, as both your heads snapped toward him, your eyes wide and startled—

Riki sighed, stepping forward.

…You took it, didn’t you? He thought looking straight at Jungwon.

Because if you didn’t find his letter in the box…

Then someone must have.

What was Jungwon playing at?

What happens next? Click (optional)

[sc3ptre]

Hii, I was wondering if I can request a Drew Starkey fic, were the reader and Drew Starkey do Truth or Drink interview together, like how Madelyn Cline and Madison Bailey did, and they’re baicly flirting the whole time and the chemistry is just so good, and yeah. I hope you have a great day!!!

Y/n Y/l/n and Drew Starkey play Truth or Drink

Pairing: Drew Starkey x fem!reader.

Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

A/n: Changed the blog's name a few days ago! Hope you guys stick around 🙂

Genre: suggestive fluff

Warnings: suggestive comments, flirting

Word count: 0.7k

The rules were simple: ask your partner an uncomfortable question. They either answer it… or take a shot.

You were seated across from Drew with a tiny table between you both, cluttered with cards, shot glasses and just enough alcohol to make bad decisions feel fun.

“Alright,” the interviewer smiled off-camera. “First up, just for the people at home, who are you two and how do you know each other?”

Drew leaned forward, his smile already smug. “I’m Drew… Y/L/N.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning. “And I’m Y/N… Starkey, I guess.”

The crew laughed. Drew looked over at you, eyes gleaming with that familiar mischief. “Y/N, care to answer the question?”

You turned to the camera with a grin. “Before we played enemies on Outer Banks, I actually crashed into his car on the way to the audition.”

“No way,” the interviewer said. “I thought that was a fan-made rumor.”

You both shook your heads. “I wish it was,” you laughed. “But hey…great icebreaker. Also, great way to get someone’s number. Highly recommend.”

“Don’t say that,” Drew groaned, laughing. “Car crash statistics are gonna spike next week.”

You giggled as he reached for the first card. “Alright, Y/N,” he said, holding it up like a threat. “Might wanna fill that glass.”

You groaned, pouring your shot. “Here we go…”

Drew smirked. “What’s something I do that annoys you?”

You paused. “We’ve lived together.”

He added quickly, “With other castmates too.”

Your eyes met his, thankful for the quick assist. “Yeah, during the pandemic. So I know his darkest secrets, like, blackmail worth material,” you teased, looking toward the crew. “Is this PG-13 or…?”

“As clean as you can keep it,” the producer said.

“Right.” You took the shot. The crew erupted with laughter.

“That bad?” Drew asked, amused with his eyes a little wide.

It was a mix of things, really. He used to narrate his scenes in his sleep which was terrifying but quickly became comforting and he also had a habit of singing off-key very early in the morning which made you want to smother him with a pillow but now, it was your favorite kind of concert before breakfast, even better when it was a duet. Then, when you became a couple, it was the moaning while eating food you cooked, the walking around half naked when your A/C broke and the dirty talk he didn’t realize he was doing, muttering “Fuck, you look hot” even when doing mundane things, all things making you horny 24/7.

You gave a coy shrug. “I’ve grown to love it, I swear but some stuff just isn’t for the internet. I’m protecting your legacy, Starkey… even if I do love seeing you in the mornings.”

He smirked. “You love seeing me all the time, admit it.”

“I plead the fifth.” You reached for a card. “Okay. Who would you want to be stranded on a deserted island with?”

Drew didn’t hesitate. “I’d say Chase… but we’d be dead in a day and a half, he doesn’t like to cuddle and he’s mean when he’s hungry.”

You snorted. “He refuses to cuddle?”

“He does, so I’m picking you.”

“Of course.” You grinned. “You ever seen The Blue Lagoon?”

His eyes darkened slightly and he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “That one shot got to your head quick.”

“About time for a remake, don't you think?” you teased. “It’s a classic. Sand, sun, morally confusing tension…”

“Sounds familiar,” he mumbled, eyes locked on yours.

“Yes, it does…let’s see,” You looked away, cheeks hot and grabbed another card but Drew beat you to it. 

“If someone wanted to date me, what would you warn them about?”

You turned toward the camera. “Well… he’s a big guy…he eats a lot.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Eats a lot?”

You smirked. “Like… a starved man, especially certain… things.”

The crew howled with laughter. Drew leaned back in his chair, grinning wide. “What kind of things, Y/n?” he asked innocently.

You made a show of thinking. “Mmmm…tacos?”

More laughter erupted while Drew filled your shot glass and his. “Good save but for that one we’ll drink together.”

“Cheers to tacos,” you said, clinking glasses, both knocking them back in unison.

When the round wrapped up, the producer leaned in. “Final thoughts, what was it like playing Truth or Drink together?”

“Great for me,” Drew said, shooting you a look. “Y/n?”

You giggled, cheeks flushed and eyes warm. “I think we need a ride home but I had a really good time,” you added, looking at Drew with a smile that didn’t need translating.

He smiled back. “Yeah. Me too…in the mood for some tacos?”

[nhmkhnh]

SLEEPY HEAD.

PAIRINGS: CAITLYN X SLEEPY!FEM!READER X VI

AUTHOR'S NOTE: it's been a while since i last write fluff, so yeah here we go! reader is a chess girl in this post btw!

WARNING(S): lowercase.

navigation.

1. you’re a strategic genius with the soul of a nap-loving cat.

you’ll be in the middle of analyzing a high-stakes board game, murmuring, “if i move here, they’ll go there… checkmate in five,” and then—nothing. silence. caitlyn peeks in expecting a brilliant play and finds you fast asleep, head resting on the board, a black bishop pressed into your cheek.

2. vi absolutely lives for carrying you around.

it started as a joke. “sleepy again, huh?” she scooped you up bridal-style—and then just… never stopped. she refuses to let you walk home if you’re yawning even a little. “why walk when you’ve got a six-pack uber, babe?”

3. caitlyn is the quiet protector during your naps.

she adjusts pillows. places a warm cup of tea by your hand for when you wake. uses her jacket to shield your eyes from the sun. she reads quietly beside you, one hand protectively on your thigh, always alert for anything that might disturb her favorite sleepyhead.

4. you have a habit of sleep-mumbling chess moves.

at first, caitlyn thought you were dreaming of arguments. then she realized: you were calculating strategies in your sleep. vi thinks it’s hot. caitlyn thinks it’s worrying. you, when told? “oh. i guess i was… trying to beat myself.”

5. vi and caitlyn develop a habit of lowkey competing to be your human pillow.

one evening it’s vi’s biceps. the next it’s caitlyn’s lap. neither of them admits they’re keeping score… but they are. vi: “you fell asleep on me yesterday. just saying.” caitlyn, cool as ever: “yes, and you moved once. i remained still for four hours.”

6. you sleep in weird, curled-up positions like a little shrimp.

vi takes photos. caitlyn adjusts your limbs with surgical precision. both are obsessed. “they look like a cinnamon roll,” vi coos. “that snores,” caitlyn corrects gently. they both kiss your forehead at the same time.

7. despite your laziness, you always win at strategy.

vi: “they sleep through the whole mission brief and still outsmart the enemy.” caitlyn: “it’s infuriatingly hot.” you: yawns “i just… think better horizontal.”

8. caitlyn once built a custom travel chess set just for you.

it’s tiny, magnetic, and folds neatly into a pocket. you were so touched, you immediately fell asleep while thanking her. caitlyn just smiled, picked you up, and carried you to bed.

9. vi has a secret stash of photos of you napping in adorable places.

you curled up on a windowsill. you snoring with a book on your face. you spooning a giant stuffed kiramman mascot from caitlyn’s childhood. vi shares them with caitlyn when they’re both feeling soft—and horny, because sleepy you is apparently their shared weakness.

10. caitlyn talks to you when you’re asleep.

it started when she couldn’t sleep one night. she whispered things like, “i love the way your hair gets messy when you nap,” or “you terrify me with how brilliant you are.” you never respond—but once, you smiled in your sleep. caitlyn blushed for days.

11. you have a “sleepy voice” that kills both vi and caitlyn instantly.

it’s raspy, low, barely-there—like dragging velvet across skin. when you sleepily say, “five more minutes,” vi nearly drops her protein shake. caitlyn has to pretend she’s not flustered, even as she fans herself with a case file.

12. despite your sleepy nature, you always wake up when vi or caitlyn have nightmares.

even in your deepest nap, if vi’s breathing gets sharp or caitlyn tenses beside you, you stir and pull them close. no words. just soft, sleepy presence and your thumb rubbing slow circles on their spine.

13. you call caitlyn and vi “sun” and “storm” depending on nap placement.

if you’re dozing with caitlyn: “mmm… warm like sun…” with vi: “mm, stormy and safe…” the names stick. caitlyn melts every time. vi pretends not to love it but will correct people: “i’m her storm, get it right.”

14. sometimes you pretend to be asleep just to get cuddles.

vi catches on first, of course. “you’re fake-snoring again, huh?” she teases. you open one eye with zero shame: “and yet you’re still petting my hair, officer punchy.” vi grins. “guilty as charged.”

15. caitlyn and vi don’t mind that you’re always sleepy—because you’re always you when sleepy.

no masks. no pressure. just a soft, brilliant, drowsy girl who trusts them enough to fall asleep mid-sentence, knowing they’ll always be there to catch your head before it falls. they don’t just love you when you’re awake—they love you especially when you sleep.