#FINALLY POSTING AGAIN LADS | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

boobearymuch · 13 days ago

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Their Habits —♡ LADS Scenarios

—♡Summary: Everyone has habits, but not everyone enjoys having you point them out... —♡Tags: gender-neutral, pure fluff —♡A/N: Silly thing I whipped up after being told I bounce my leg too much lolll —♡ masterlist

—♡ Zayne

Zayne squints so much without his glasses. He insists he only needs them when his eyes get tired—but clearly—that wasn’t the case. “Zayne, look!” You eagerly pointed out a flyer posted on the door of his favorite boba spot. They were hosting an event next weekend, it read, and encouraged customers not to miss out on the opportunity. You watched his hazel eyes sharpen into a squint.

“Event…?” He still had trouble reading it, though, and absently tugged your clasped hands forward as he leaned in for a better look. After a few seconds, his eyebrows relaxed, and he hummed appreciatively, “They’re introducing new flavors. Perhaps we should…what?”

You failed to conceal an amused smile. “You need your glasses, old man.” The nickname was not received well, by any means.

“The text is small.” He answered coolly, “The average person would also have difficulty reading it.” Then he slipped his hand around your waist, eyes narrowing, “And I’m not old.”

You couldn’t help yourself, you laughed, “Have you considered contacts?” The look he gave you was deeply unamused, “No, no, you’re right. You look cuter in glasses, anyway.” Zayne's ears tinted pink under your playful stare.

“...Let’s go inside before they close.” You pinched his flustered cheeks.

“Are you sure? The menu is so tiny. What if you can’t read it and order the wrong thing?” Your mouth promptly shut after his grip on you tightened in a warning. Zayne remembered to bring his glasses on your next outing (and the one after that).

—♡ Sylus

Sylus hums nonsense when it’s too quiet. It’s like he constantly needs to fill silences with some kind of noise. Even his humming is off-key…

“What song is that?”

Sylus barely spared you a glance, “What song?” His fingers worked a microfiber cloth into the metal of his pistol.

“The one you were just humming.”

He huffed, “Didn’t realize I was humming, sweetie.” Then he removed the cloth to admire his handiwork, “Don’t you recognize it?”

You almost felt bad for saying this but, “...No?” Sylus finally glanced up from his work to shoot you a look. A concerning one.

“Really? You had it on repeat all day, yesterday.” Horror dawned on you at the realization, “The chorus has been stuck in my head since morning…” And then a laugh sputtered from your lips.

“Oh my god, that sounded nothing like it.” Sylus glared and returned his focus to his pistol with what you could only describe as a pout.

“What a picky kitten.” You bit your lip to stop the smile threatening to break loose. He was a god awful singer, but the room felt emptier without his noise. Gently, you padded over to where he sat, and invited yourself onto his lap. Despite his mood, a hand wrapped around your waist without hesitation.

“Sing it again.” Sylus’ hold on you tightened, “I think I like your version better.” A soft chuckle left him, and quietly, he hummed once more.

—♡ Rafayel

Rafayel taps. All. The. Time. Taps his legs, hands, pens, pencils, anything and everything within reach. And he’ll deny the hell out of it when you ask him to stop. “I wasn’t doing anything,” The candies on his phone screen lit up and exploded with color as he scored another combo. Too engrossed in his phone to realize the arm slung around your shoulders was still tapping you. You leaned into him with a huff.

“You’re doing it now.”

Rafayel gave you a sidelong glance, frowning, “I dunno what you’re talking about, cutie.” You suddenly captured his hand to still it, and Rafayel gave you the most scandalized look, “If you wanna hold it that badly, I’m not stopping you.”

“You’re not even aware you’re doing it,” You blinked incredulously, “Are you?”

Rafayel threw his head back and groaned dramatically, “Doing whaaat?” Then he lifted his head to press his forehead against yours and huffed, “Is this your way of telling me to get off my phone?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You look like a fish up close like this.” Rafayel pulled away to roll his eyes and clicked his phone off.

“Alright, fine, you have my attention.” Then he began tapping his foot, “You know, that’s a little offensive to say to a Lemurian. You could get cancelled for that.”

Your hand drifted to his bouncing knee, and you watched as both your hand and his leg now jumped up and down. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?!”

—♡ Xavier

Xavier is always chewing on something, and it is almost always never gum. It’ll be something random, like a straw from a drink he’d long since finished. The strings of his hoodie, a toothpick. Once, it was a plastic tie. He reminded you of a teething puppy; he’d probably chew on wires if you left him alone long enough. Today, though, his chew toy of choice looked a lot like…

“Xavier, is that my pen?”

He blinked, eyes floating from his comic book to your frown, “Yours…?” His jaw froze mid-chew.

“Yeah,” You scooted closer on the couch, “the one from my desk at work.”

A blush crept along his cheekbones, but he didn’t drop the pen like you expected him to, “...Are you sure?”

Your eyes fell to the pen trapped in the corner of his mouth, “The one with little stars on it? Yeah, that’s mine. I thought I lost it at work, why do you have it?”

The comic book shifted in his hands, “I found it, that’s why.” This explanation would be more convincing if he hadn’t shifted his gaze sideways. His blunt fingernails picked nervously at the corner of his book, curling the edges.

“Xavier,”

“Okay, I borrowed it.” You bit back a chuckle, and he guiltily removed the pen from his mouth. It shined with his spit, and the cap bore teeth marks, “You can have it back.”

You couldn’t hide your grimace fast enough, “...Actually, you can keep it.” Xavier merely blinked before bringing the tip back to his mouth. Then a smile curved the corner of his lips.

“My pen now, hm?”

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harrysfolklore · 8 months ago

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Harry Styles Answers the Web's Most Searched Questions | WIRED

this was posted on my patreon a few months ago, enjoy ! MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

"Hi I'm Harry Styles and this is the Wired Autocomplete Interview."

Harry introduced himself to the camera and you smiled, you were currently at WIRED Studios for Harry's long awaited autocomplete interview that he finally agreed to do thanks to yours and his fans persistence.

You were sitting behind the camera with the rest of the crew, watching him with a small smile.

A crew member passed the first board to him, he looked at it confusedly for a minute before speaking.

"Okay so. I'm answering what I think or what?"

Everyone in the studio laughed and the director quickly explained to him how the game worked once again, you rolled your eyes with affection and he sent a wink your way.

"Alright, how is Harry Styles?" he said after taking the little piece of paper off the board, "I'm good, I'm really enjoying being home in London, I was away for a while on tour and I'm going to stay here for a bit so that's exciting."

"How did Harry Styles," he paused to rip the next paper and reveal the rest of the question, "Become famous? Well, when I was sixteen years old I auditioned for a singing show called The X Factor, I got put in a band with four lads and we didn't win but we put out a song called What Makes You Beautiful," he smiled for a second, "that one put us on the map, we released a bunch of albums and now I'm here."

"How did Harry Styles meet his wife?" at this, he turned his gaze to you to give you a big smile, you immediately mirrored his and nodded your head, signaling that you were okay with him talking about it.

"We could say that it was basically a blind date, we had a friend in common who thought we would be a good match and set us up, we had an amazing first date but then I had to travel to Los Angeles for work so we couldn't really see each other after that but once I was back in London we hung out all the time, and now we're married."

He smiled at you again and you couldn't help but feel your heart melt, you had been married for 6 months now but the married life was still new for the both of you, and everything he called you his wife butterflies made its way to your stomach.

"How is Harry Styles still alive?" his eyes widened in surprise and he looked around the room, making a few present laugh, "Um, that's a weird thing to search on the internet, but I guess, I don't know if I can answer that, I don't think anyone can answer that we're just lucky to still be around and enjoy life."

He gave the camera one of his infamous "frog smiles" and handed the board to a crew member who was ready with the next one.

"Does Harry Styles have tattoos?" he revealed the first question of the new board, "Yes, he does. I have a lot of tattoos actually, they're basically all over my body. The most recent one is right here," he pointed at the back of his right arm, "It's my wedding date, actually, everyone might call me a sap but I was reserving this arm for tattoos about my wife a and future kids, so I guess it's finally time to fill it."

It was safe to say that fans watching at home and everyone in the studio absolutely melted, especially you.

"Does Harry Styles have siblings? I do I have a sister, she's older than me and her name is Gemma. A lot of people claim she's cooler than me for some reason but I don't thing that's true," he shrugged and revealed the next question, "Does Harry Styles speak Italian? I would like to think that I do, I spend a lot of time there and I've learned how to communicate pretty decently."

"Is Harry Styles an actor?" he said after peeling the first sticker of the new board, "He tries to be an actor that's for sure," he laughed and everyone in the room did as well, "I mean, I've been in a couple of movies, I've auditioned for a bunch of roles and my agent has sent me scripts to go through," he shrugged "So I can say that makes me an actor."

"Is Harry Styles american?" he shook his head at that one, "He is not! He's Britain, born and raised okay? He's very proud of it."

"What's Harry Styles BeReal? I don't have a BeReal, but if I did I wouldn't tell you," he pointed to the camera jokingly, "What are Harry Styles fans called? I think they are referred to as Harries, but I don't like to speak on behalf of them, you should ask them."

"What was Harry Styles first song? My first song was Sign Of The Times, I wrote it with friends that I love, and that is my wife's favorite song I've ever written, right love?"

"That's correct." you said from your spot, pretty audible so you know it would make it to the final cut of the interview.

"What are Harry Styles songs about?" he peeled the last sticker of the board, "They're about a lot of things, life, friends, love, my wife," he shrugged, "I even have one about the female orgasm."

You quietly giggled, knowing that his fans would go crazy over that last sentence.

"Did Harry Styles go to college? He did not, he became a singer."

"Did Harry Styles win a Grammy? He somehow won Album Of The Year last year, which is absolutely insane if you ask him."

"Did Harry Styles finish high school? Oh I'm glad the internet asks," he laughed, "Contrary to popular belief I did finish high school, I completed my GCES and I graduated, I don't know why there's a rumor there that I didn't finish high school tho."

"Anyway, last one!" he comically threw the board to the floor and grabbed the final board a crew member was handling him, "Who is Harry Styles best friend? Um, I have a ton of best friends. Jeff who's also my manager, Mitch who plays in my band, my childhood best friend's name is Johnny, so yeah, I'm very lucky in the friends department, I love my friends."

"Who does Harry Styles look like? My mom, I would say. A lot of people point out that we have the same smile," he shrugged, "My mom is a beautiful woman so I'm flattered."

"Who did Harry Styles write Love Of My Life about? My wife and London."

"And final question," he slowly peeled off the sticker for dramatic effect, "Who does Harry Styles love? Okay, that's cute that people search for that on the internet, um, I love my family and friends, I love my wife that's for sure, I love making music and performing," he listed with his fingers, "And love love, yeah, love is great."

He smiled to the camera and put the board aside to say his goodbyes.

"I thought my Google searches were much more appropriate that I expected. I was fun to see what people wonder about me, so yeah thank you WIRED for having me."

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dcxdpdabbles · 8 months ago

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I have this idea for a post but I feel like you would do it justice.

Basically, Danny is yeeted through a dimensional portal and reincarnated as the clone son of Tim and Connor(from when Tim cloned Connor during his death). This little shit wakes up after that, when Connor has already been found, as a six year old gremlin with a need for chaos.

Que pranks!

I don’t have much more than that so I will leave this in your capable hands.

-🎃

"Master Bruce, if I have to remind you to fix your tie one more time, Gotham will be without its protecter for many months to come!" Alfred snapped - actually snapped - from where he was attempting to reorganize the entirey of the Emberald Sitting room.

Right now, he moved all the furniture and all the wall directions. He was just adding some tastefully done flower pots to make the place look inviting but also regal.

It had been six hours, and from the looks of it, Alfred had not found the balance he desperately wanted. He started over four times. His patience was all but gone.

Bruce's hands snap to his tie, scrambling to get it set just right. He moves it only slightly to the left - not making much difference - with a nervous smile. Alfred's teeth snap shut with a click, and his eyes blaze with frustrated rage as he rounds the coffee table toward the billionaire.

Bruce looks to be holding back a scream.

Dick winces, sinking into his chair lest the aged Butler turns his ire onto him. He knows why this evening has to be just right. Especially to Alfred, but gosh, he could not handle how terrifying the butler could be.

It's just for one dinner and one evening. Dick tells himself. Once Alfred can finally say he married one of us off, things will return to normal.

"Honestly! If you didn't walk around looking like an unkeept vagabond all the time, maybe there would be a Lady of the House by now!" Alfred sneered at a pale-looking Bruce.

Or maybe Timmy bringing Kon over to announce their engagement means Alfred will try to marry the rest of us off harder. Dick despairs as Bruce endures another tongue-lashing. He wants to go help, but if he moves even an inch from his seat, Alfred might realize Dick is still in the room.

He can't afford to anger the beast any further.

"And you, Master Dick!" Alfred suddenly rounds on Dick, pointing one long finger into his face, with narrowed eyes and the grim reaper at his shoulder. Oh, dear.

Thankfully, that's when the doorbell rings. At once, Alfred's face clears into an excited smile. "They're here! I'll let them in right away; you lads, gather the rest of the family. And remember, we must make a great impression! Tonight is the night we invite Mister Kon into the family!"

The butler doesn't quite skip out of the room, but the bristle walking with a chipper head turning is the close that Dick has ever seen him do.

"I'm so happy for Tim." Bruce mutters,"but I can not handle any more reminders that I haven't had a spouse."

"Tell me about it," Dick sighs, following after his father into the hallway and down to the dining hall. He can distantly hear Alfred opening the door and greeting the two. "A hour ago, he made seven passive agressive reminders that Tamaraneans propse with a dinner and a mock battle. Seven. I mean, how does he even know what Tamaraneans do when courting?"

"It's Alfred." Bruce tells him, taking a seat at the head of the table. Dick sits in the chair to his right as the oldest and First Heir- considering the reply. It makes sense.

Damian, Cass, and Duke walk in, not even a moment later. All are dressed better than any gala Bruce could have dragged them off, too. He is rather impressed that Damian is a red suit that makes even Bruce pale in comparison. Then again, he is the only one besides Alfred who has an eye for such things.

"Has he already proposed, or is he doing it at dinner table and were all supposed to act supirse?" Duke asks while sitting down. "I want to know what kind of face I should have prepared"

"The clone has asked Father for his blessing in his courtship with Timothy. He knew we would have figured out his plans when that blunder. It is no surprise." Damian huffs. Dick knows he's just upset that his big brother is going to get married and move out soon. He's adorable when he's territorial.

"I can confirm that Kon hasn't asked yet." Steph announces, strutting into the room in all her purple gown glory. Behind her, the Row sbilings wander in with matching celtic blue suits, making Dick grin. It's always nice to see people appreciate the best color. "Tim isn't the type of person to not show off his ring whenever he has a chance."

"I've always wanted to see a real-life popersoal!" Jarro gasps, flying into the room with his own little suit on. It's a nice black with green undertones just like Bruce's.

He lands in the miniature chair with a dinner dining set Alfred had special ordered for him.

It sits on top of where a regular dining set usually is, always the second chair on Bruce's left, because he is literally the favorite. Bruce denies it, but they all see the tender smile he throws the floating star.

The Wayne kids know. Jarro is too precious and hilarious, so none of them mind that he's the favorite. In fact, Dick has half the mind that he's the favorite of the majority of the family.

Jason leans over to pat Jarro's head, grinning when the little starfish swears. He adores when the kid randomly curses out of Aldred's hearing range.

"Shh, they're coming!" Cullen says from where he was lingering by the door, hoping to see Tim and Kon. He always looked up to the older boys as someone who had been forced into the closet for his own protection.

Seeing people like him helped ease the fear, and Dick feels his smile wideing when Cullen scrambles back to his seat. He's so excited he's practically in the Speed Force.

Alfred opens the door first, stepping to the side to allow the guest to enter first. Dick feels himself sit up straighter, the moment really setting in, Kon is going to propose to his younger brother.

His little Timmy is growing up-

"Wow, this place is big!" A child says, running into the room. Who the heck is he? "It's amazing, Dad!"

"Slow down. You don't want to fall." Tim laughs, rubbing the stranger's hair with a soft smile.

"It's okay, Dad. I'm strong!" The boy flexes his tiny arms. Tim laughs again as Kon crouches down to the little boy's height.

"Woah! Look at all those musceles. You're going to help me protect your dad, son?"

"Yeah Pa, I'll be the strongest super or robin ever!"

"Tim? Who might this lovely chum be?" Bruce cuts in, voice slightly strained. No one calls him out on it since they are staring wide eye at the tiny little boy who looks like an exact copy of Tim at age five.

Dick knows because he was one of the few in the Wayne's who saw Tim at that age. He's practically a clone to oh no.

Dick thinks he's having a heart attack.

Tim looks up at them before a brillient glowing smile breaks across his face. "Everyone, Kon and I have an announcement to make!"

Kon wraps an arm around his waist, sending adoring looks to man in his arms before they both hold up their left hand.

There are twin silver bands on both of their fingers. "We got married in Las Vegas, and we have a son! I like you all to meet Danny Drake-Kent! I made him when I thought Kon was dead."

"I am Danny, clone of Kon-el and Tim Drake. Fear me if you dare!" His voice squeaks. Squeaks.

Scratch that, Dick knows he's having a heart attack.

You can hear a pin drop in the silence his announcement cause, as Danny puffs up his chest and floats a few inches off the grown.

Oh, great heavens, Dick is an uncle.

"A fellow clone, son!" Jarro cheers from his little table. He slams two of his star points on the table to a beat that he speaks to. "One of us. One of us."

Danny's blue eyes land on the star fish and widen. He raises both arms into the air chanting back. "One of us. One of us. One of us!"

"It's awesome is what it is!" Steph cries, jumping up from her seat. "Hi, Danny! I'm you, Auntie Steph! I'm the cool one."

"Isn't this lovely? Master Tim not only has a husband but a child as well. Unlike some Masters." Aldred doesn't quite glare at Bruce, but he doesn't have to. The Waynes know who he means as Bruce wince.

Danny pauses in his chanting to look her up and down, staring pointily at her plum colored dress before humming. "That's a bold statement for an eggplant."

Steph gapes at him as Tim roars with laughter.

Oh, Dick is going to love this kid. He leaves his seat, trying to get to his nephew as the rest of the family attempts to do the same. Damain makes alarming threats to Kon, letting him know he would easily take him out if he detects a hint of mistreatment to his brother and new nephew.

The Waynes act like they can't hear the threat because they all have their own versions of the shovel talk prepared. They just have to get the clone alone.

It's a nice dinner.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Super Robin #Part 1 #Kon/Tim #The family were ready for a announcement #Alfred is stressing about marrying off his the Waynes #Dick's pov #Danny is Kon and Tim's son with no memories of his past life #Meeting the family #Yeah Kon and Tim elopped #Tim was in a crazy era

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i-care-4u · 5 months ago

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it’s a tradition ✹ jude bellingham

SOCIAL MEDIA AU

PAIR: JUDE BELLINGHAM X FEMALE!READER

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED | MASTERLIST

A/N: literally decided to post an early birthday fic for jude! 😁

→ INSTAGRAM

2021

judebellingham

Liked by erling.haaland, yourusername, jobebellingham, and 140,002 others

judebellingham I want to say how fortunate I am to know someone like yourusername. I reflect on the memories and experiences we've had, writing about how you've made me laugh and smile. I talk about how you make me feel more alive and how much I value having you in my life. I'll close with a heartfelt wish for you to have a fantastic birthday, bud.

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yourusername Thank you I guess 😓 (Why did you chose this picture out of all the pictures you've took?)

↳ judebellingham yourusername Hey, this one gotta do (This is the most fun you look)

erling.haaland Hey, where's my silly birthday post?

↳ judebellingham erling.haaland See you next year, mate.

user1 Now if you don't bag her Bellingham...

footiefan7 Enough with the girl, give us more football posts

↳ judebe footiefan7 Tell me you’re single without telling us that you’re single

user2 She's so gorgeous

user3 Oh to have a dedicated post on Jude's page

judebellinghamlive I've seen two pretty best friends now

yourusername

Liked by judebellingham, jobebellingham, trentarnold66, and 5,920 others

yourusername Happy birthday to one of my bestest friends in the world! judebellingham You constantly brighten my day with your humor and charm. I also want to congratulate you once again for getting into the Dortmund team, you’re already achieving so much at your young age. I am so proud of you, bestie. Here's to another year of laughter and good times! 🍰

View all 109 comments

judebellingham Who's this cheeky lad you're hanging out with?

↳ yourusername judebellingham I think his name is Joe Birmingham??? Correct me if I'm wrong

yourbestfriend Okay WAG 🥰🥰🥰

↳ yourusername yourbestfriend Nah, is there a FAB option? (Friends And Buddies) 🤗

↳ user1 yourusername You can be like the honorary WAG

2022

judebellingham

Liked by yourusername, jobebellingham, gioareyna, and 402,920 others

judebellingham Happy birthday to the friend who's put up with my bullshit for so many years. I honestly don't know how you do it, but I'm grateful for your questionable (good) taste in friends. You literally deserve a medal for being this loyal after this long. My true ride or die buddy.

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yourusername Ooh, and she got a glow up since her last birthday post! 😍

↳ judebellingham yourusername This is a sign that I'm getting better at taking pictures, right?

gioareyna Do I deserve a loyalty medal too?

↳ judebellingham gioareyna No.

↳ yourusername judebellingham Tell him🤭

user1 She’s so pretty

bellinghammer Happy birthday to the funniest and sweetest girl ever!

user2 I always get excited for these birthday posts

ilobjude I hope Jude realizes how much we fans love Y/n

user3 I refuse to believe that they aren’t together

yourusername

Liked by judebellingham, jobebellingham, gioareyna, and 8,829 others

yourusername Happy birthday, Jude! Today is your big day, and you have an extra reason to celebrate: you have officially made the England team for the World Cup in Qatar! What an incredible achievement! I am quite impressed with all of your hard work and dedication to your football career. You've worked really hard to reach this stage, and the praise could not have come at a better moment. I am convinced that you will represent England honorably and make all of your fans proud. Congratulations bubs!

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judebellingham You finally got something nice to say about me

↳ yourusername judebellingham *And the only time I’ll say something nice to you, sir.

yourbestfriend If I were to be on the England team, would you write me a long ass paragraph too? 😍

↳ yourusername yourbestfriend I’ll write you a novel instead 🥰

↳ judebellingham yourusername I expect the same energy next year 🙄

2023

judebellingham

Liked by yourusername, jobebellingham, camavinga, and 1,503,292 others

judebellingham As another year passes, I can't help but think about all the moments we've made together yourusername. Listening to your late-night chats to creating any last minute plans, I consider myself extremely fortunate to have you in my life. You laugh at all of my idiotic jokes, even when they aren't very amusing. You give me the most honest advice when I need it most, and you always know what to say to make me feel better. When I am among you, I don't have to put up a face or pretend to be someone I am not. You accept me as I am, no matter the flaws. So, for your birthday, I simply wanted you to know how much you mean to me. You're more than a friend; you're a true partner in crime. I would not want to spend my life with anyone else.

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yourusername Awwww (I wrote this)

↳ judebellingham yourusername Selfish much?

camavinga At this point get a room already 🤣

↳ user1 camavinga What are you trying to say here?

↳ user2 user1 I feel like he knows something we don’t

madridistar OH NO WHAT’S HAPPENING….🧍‍♀️…..🐕

jobeyjude I just want to be friends with Y/n, is that too much to ask for?

mbappeswife My favorite time of the year! (Jude’s dedicated post to Y/n)

user3 My [zodiac] queen

modricsfave Happy birthday gorgeous! 🎉🎂🥳

yourusername

Liked by judebellingham, jobebellingham, vinijr, and 20,020 others

yourusername Another year older, and possibly wiser. Happy birthday, Jude! You're more than just a friend to me; you're my confidant, rock, and partner in crime. Our bond is unbreakable, and our relationship is something I treasure deeply. But don't forget that you've joined Real Madrid in addition to being another year older! I can't wait to see your success on that field. You've worked exceptionally hard to get here, and you deserve all the success in the world.

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judebellingham Gracias amiga 🤍

↳ yourusername judebellingham Those Spanish lessons coming in HANDY 🤭

vinijr Happy birthday Jude! 🎉

camavinga Family ☝️

judebells_ We stan a supportive friend like Y/n 🙌

2024

judebellingham

Liked by yourusername, jobebellingham, ardaguler, and 4,901,639 others

judebellingham Today marks as Y/n's birthday, and I just want to say how everything has changed for the better since the past year. You have given me so much love, happiness, and joy in the previous year, and I will be eternally grateful for every moment we've spent together. I still can't believe you're mine and I can call you that. It feels as if a dream has come true and I can't wait to see what's next for us.

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yourusername I love you beautiful 💕

↳ judebellingham yourusername Love you more than anything 🤗

jobebellingham Saw this one coming 🫣

↳ beellinghamm jobebellingham I just want to know how long you’ve been waiting for this moment to happen

user1 It’s official…Y/n is my favorite WAG

halamadridjude You’re such a lucky man

user2 Mama y papa 😇

vinisoulmate I wish I had someone adore me the same way Jude does to Y/n

bellingfanatic I don’t know what’s his biggest win, Champion’s League or finally dating Y/n after so many years

user3 Sending you both lots of love 🫶🫶🫶

yourusername

Liked by judebellingham, jobebellingham, lukamodric10, and 206,385 others

yourusername I can't believe I call this cameraman, judebellingham, "mine." In all seriousness, you know I value you for so much more than just taking my pictures. Happy birthday to the man who I refer to as my partner and best friend, who tries his best to keep me sane throughout the day. Every day, I fall more deeply in love with you. You're like my other half, the missing piece that makes me feel complete. You've witnessed my most raw and vulnerable moments, and you still adore me for who I am. I consider it a privilege to have you at my side, someone who understands and accepts me for who I am, camera or not. Love you lots, bud.

View all 1,920 comments

judebellingham Here's to growing gray hair together!

↳ yourusername judebellingham Okay. Now you're making me feel old.

yourbestfriend Remember the times when I called you a WAG?

↳ yourusername yourbestfriend Yes, you've won…

user1 IT'S ABOUT DAMN TIME THEY STARTED DATING

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chaos-in-deepspace · 5 months ago

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LADS: Knocked Up | 18+

Damn my laptop for this virus called "Brainrot" after I saw a post by @pixiiipie So anyway now we gotta do our due diligence and knock up these men. I don't make the rules but I will enforce them. Also Zayne turned out fluffy but Xavier and ESPECIALLY Rafayel get chaotic reader to the max.

♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Warnings: Joking of MPreg, Mentions of Pegging, Zayne Losing his sanity again, Crack taken seriously, suggestive themed ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Pairings: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader. ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Synopsis: You decide to pop the question to your beloved boyfriend, "So can I knock you up?"

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Xavier

Xavier looked so content, so vulnerable as you walked through the apartment. He was in the kitchen, grabbing a snack, when your arms wrapped around his midsection. Xavier hummed, noticing you and relaxing into your hold.

“Xavie baby, I have a question.” You said, your voice light and Xavier paused in his actions.

“What did you need?” He finally asked and you chuckled, your face pressed in his shoulder blades. He knew that snicker, it was one that you had whenever you were up to no good, a common theme these days.

“How’d you feel about me getting you preggers?” You finally asked. You could feel Xavier’s back tense up at the thought. You couldn’t see his face, but you were certain his eyes were wide like saucers at the moment.

“My star, you do realize that’s impossible, correct?” Xavier finally asked and you groaned into his back. He shuffled a bit until he could turn around, your body still wrapped around him but now your face was in between his pecs.

“We just aren’t trying hard enough, Xav. Trust me, I can do it.” You said, looking up at him with your pleading eyes. Xavier looked away from you, his cheeks a bit red at the thought of what you were asking.

“Where did this line of thinking even come from? Did you want kids?” He asked, looking at you with confusion. You couldn’t help but snicker at the thought and shook your head.

“I never said I wanted kids. I just was implying my want to breed you.” You stated it so bluntly that Xavier looked up at the ceiling as if asking for some divine intervention from your insanity.

“You want to somehow get me, a male, pregnant, yet you don’t want children?” Xavier said slowly, as if gauging the situation.

“Mpreg you, ya. That’s the goal. Make your boobies bigger.” You said with a nod. Xavier sighed as he grabbed your arms from around his waist and pulled them off. He pressed your arms against your chest as he leaned a bit.

“I think I need to go for a walk.” He said and you pouted.

“Without me?” You murmured and Xavier felt a small part of him breaking at the pleading look in your eyes. Despite how insane you were, he still loved you.

“You can join me if you stop this line of questioning.” He offered. You let out a hum, thinking things over before shaking your head.

“In that case, no. I’ll be here, waiting for you to come back, with rose petals on the bed. Have fun, love.” You said as you gave him a quick peck on the nose before getting things ready for his return.

Zayne

“Oh Zayne.” Your singsong voice came out, making the man in question stare over at you. He adjusted the glasses on his face, looking you over as he wondered what you wanted. Your voice was too sweet, too innocent. You were up to no good.

“Yes?” He said, closing the medical text he was currently reading for fun. You made your way over to his desk, sitting on the edge of it and smirking as his eyes went from your thighs to your face. You had just finished your check-up with him and opted to stay until his shift was over. That had been half an hour ago and you had grown bored.

You crossed your legs, flashing him a bit more skin as your head tilted, “I was thinking…I wanna get you pregnant.”

Out of everything Zayne had come to expect for you to say, that certainly hadn’t been it. He paused for a moment, looking at you then looking away just as fast. He took his glasses off and placed them in the front pocket of his lab coat.

“I’m sure I don’t need to be the one to remind you that I don’t possess the proper organs to carry a child. I would think you’d know this, however if you needed an extra lesson in reproductive health and basic human anatomy, I’d be more than happy to teach you.” He said with a sigh, leaning back in his chair.

He watched your mischievous smirk turn into a frown as you looked away. Your cheeks were slightly puffed up as you pouted; your legs were swinging half-heartedly as you gave the man a subtle silent treatment.

Zayne could tell immediately that your mood had dropped, so he just sighed. You heard him clearing his throat and his chair rolling on the ground as he stood up. His arms were placed on either side of your legs as he looked at you with a serious expression. You finally looked back up at him, curious as to what he was up to.

You watched as a blush crept up to his cheeks, turning them red alongside his ears. He couldn’t even look at you as he spoke, “I never said that had to stop you from trying.”

Those words snapped you out of your funk as your jaw dropped. He still wasn’t looking at you, but he knew you were content by the little squeal you let out. You cupped his cheeks, immediately going to pepper his face with several kisses.

“Ah you’re the cutest, Zayne.” You said, leaving a few more kisses before forcing him to look at you, “For the record, I never had any plans on stopping.” You said and Zayne sighed.

“Of course you didn’t.” He murmured, making you smirk. He knew loving you came with a price, he just forgot that the price was his sanity.

Rafayel

“Hey fish boy, bend over and lemme breed that bussy and fill you with my babies.” You said unprompted as you looked at him. The poor man had been mixing paint as you sat down on the comfortable sofa across from him. Rafayel seemed to pause, your words processing in his head. You could see when they finally began making sense in his mind when his cheeks and ears began getting red.

Rafayel shot you a small pout, “I guess a good morning isn’t enough anymore?” He complained, making you snicker.

“Raf this is serious. I couldn’t sleep at all because it was all I could think of.” You said, now getting up to walk over to the artist. The man was already shrinking away, his body tense as he prepared to run off if need be.

“Then get a new brain…besides shouldn’t the role of getting someone pregnant be my job.” Rafayel finally asked, not able to make eye contact with you.

“Okay but who’s the submissive and breedable one between the two of us?” You asked and Rafayel gave you an unimpressed look.

“If you’re asking me, then that description would fit you.” He finally huffed.

“Absolutely not. Now come ooooooon, Raf.” You said, getting close enough to wrap your arms around his neck, “Lemme breed you. Please?”

Rafayel took your arms off him and turned around, his ears still a brilliant shade of red, “Absolutely not. I know I’m irresistible, but I’m not ready to have kids.” He said and you chuckled.

“I didn’t say we needed to have kids.” You finally said, not giving up as you now wrapped your arms around his back and placed a small kiss on the back of his neck. “Just wanna breed.”

Rafayel finally seemed to have caught on as he swallowed a lump in his throat. He didn’t bother looking back at you as your words were finally making sense, “Is this your unsubtle way of asking to peg me?”

You let out a fake moan, “Oh my gods Raf, you are so sexy when you finally use your brain. I could kiss you right now…in fact.” You said as you moved his head to press a peck on his lips, “I just bought a new strap.” You stated.

Rafayel rolled his eyes, his face still scarlet, “You’re the absolute worst.” He finally said, making you chuckle.

“And yet here we are, with you still helplessly in love with me.” You murmur, glad he finally figured your line of questioning out.

“Whatever you say, little pearl.” He murmured.

I regret absolutely nothing. In fact, I'm happy I did this. The world needs more chaos and I am here to deliver when I can. Also someone tell me why the first thing I do when my wrists are better is write this?

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musicallisto · 12 days ago

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· · · · ♡ IF (SAINZ WIN == TRUE) (cs55)

… starring carlos sainz x f!engineer!reader ... 4.4k words ... in which carlos is an effusive, self-assured lad to every member of his team... except ferrari's head software engineer, making her wonder if he secretly hates her guts. ... based on this request ... warnings for language (minor) ... my first ever (posted) fic for carlos aaaaa (i have written A Lot More about this man because he occupies my every waking hour, but i shan't share it yet). in honor of me missing my communication networks final last week i made the reader a software engineer, but you would Never catch me willingly coding anything in c++ outside of my mandated assignments. no not even for carlos sainz jr. i have morals. this is open for part 2 if you guys enjoy it <3

He speaks the language of princes.

It's not in anything he says, no, he's much too industrious to waste time boasting, but rather in all that he doesn't. Carlos walks into the Ferrari motorhome, with that good-natured smile and that slightly disheveled hair from the morning's cycling session, and heads bow. Not out of plight, or even obligation, but mostly because it's hard not to. His warm greetings to everyone—Ciao's and even Come stai?'s to his team members strolling down the hallways before the weekend—, his keen interest in remembering little things about engineers' and photographers' lives, his nonchalant stride around the parc fermé all force camaraderie at least; reverence to most.

Wherever the red car goes, Maranello or any other corner of the world, religion follows, and though Carlos Sainz has never quite fit into the nooks they keep for their idols—their walls are carved for Monégasque shoulders—, he's at least always carried the air of a rebel leader on unforgving land.

But if Carlos is Ferrari's bastard prince, then clearly you are a subject he would not go to war for.

Or so he makes you think, once again, on that hot Singaporean afternoon.

You hadn't meant to interrupt, really, but with only one hour to go before FP1, you needed to talk to Riccardo Adami; something about the software updates, optimization of the data acquisition systems to account for Marina Bay's sweltering heat—run for half a second too long, overheat half a degree too much, and everyone's calculations would be going to hell. So of course you'd corrected it, supervised a brand new version of your code for the weekend, for that tenth of a Celsius; competition drove you. Almost just as much as those solar eyes boring into you when you walk into the room.

"Riccardo, about the softw—oh. Carlos. Hi," you timidly trail off when Carlos' eyes meet yours.

The room gets quiet, and it is only then that you notice how much space his laugh takes. Usually, you would've recognized the accent from outside the door, the boisterous voice regaling the Fifty-fives with another funny story—how could you not, when it sends shockwaves down your stomach? He seems to have been in an animated conversation with his race engineer, but as you get closer to the two men you notice the crinkles lengthening Carlos' eyes are fading with his smile. You aren't sure he's even said hi back.

"We've changed the code for acquisition, but some loops could still cause problems with overheating, particularly the engine oil temperature sensors…" you explain, though half your attention is directed to your peripheral vision, in which Carlos sways on his two feet, averting your gaze at all costs.

But you're not a college girl with a crush, you're Scuderia Ferrari's head software engineer and so you go on with your precisions to Riccardo. What to expect during free practice, how to overshoot any nonessential sensors that might fuck up the data analysis... until, mid-sentence, Carlos excuses himself awkwardly, pats Ricky on the shoulder, and walks out of the room.

You will your face into not betraying the sudden ache in your throat. How he simply acted like you weren't there... didn't even inquire about the updates. About the race. About your flight, about how much you loved Singapore's twinkling lights, about... you.

"Xavi and Charles know this already, but we really gotta test it all now before it gets cooler for FP2," you conclude with a too-hard swallow. Back firmly turned to the door Carlos just disappeared out of.

Riccardo thanks you, offers his own insight, some banalities about the risks of rain—no, you shouldn't consider them banalities. Nothing, on a Friday, is a banality anymore; yet everything is when you remember how Carlos' entire face shuts close when you're around, how his tone quietens down, how he repeatedly and stubbornly conceals all his rays of brazenness from you.

Does he hate you? Despise you? Are you not worth his effrontery?

This is ridiculous. You're not a college girl with a crush, you're a damn senior member of the team with responsibilities and he doesn't owe you anything more or less than you him—

"Riccardo," you neither ask nor plead. "Has Carlos... said anything about me?"

"About you? Like what?"

"I don't know... but you did see he just... left while I was in the middle of talking, right? And he looked annoyed as soon as I came in." And for all that's holy, try to pass this off as mere politeness and not a heartache that is eating you alive.

"Maybe he was just bored."

"So I'm boring?"

"No," Riccardo wheezes, in uncharacteristically high spirits for the conversation. "But I've worked with a ton of drivers, and you know, they're all the same. Less time discussing boring analytics is more time they spend in the sim. Or on track. What, you think he's angry at you or something?"

"I just... don't get why he's always so guarded and distant with me but so outgoing and confident with you guys. Charles isn't like that either. It makes no sense. We're a team, all of us."

The Italian looks at you for long seconds, amusement noticeable on his features, and you would shake him up and tell him to stop giving you those pity eyes if you lacked the tiniest bit of respect for the man; instead, you frown and cross your arms.

"He'll be in a good mood tonight when we top free practice," Riccardo assures you before you can ask him if he needs anything else. "and even better tomorrow after getting pole. You can talk to him then if you want."

A smile creeps its way on your lips without you conjuring it. There it is, that loyal veneration that only men and women of the Scuderia possess. Something in those southern eyes Carlos shares with legend has made you religious, too.

"I'll hold you to that... we could all use a Singapore miracle."

Singapore is a miracle.

Surely any other team would scoff at the word, bragging that a pole position has nothing to do with miracles, that it's all meticulous teamwork and endless iterations on calculators, but Ferrari is deeply supersitious at its core. You—the centenarian team, its red-hot beating heart—don't shy away from thanking divine intervention. Maybe that's the reason why it still works.

After Carlos' last pole in Monza, the whole Scuderia had dared to dream of something different, a glimmer of scarlet in the season's overwhelming orange. Of course, an uncatchable Max had put a dampen on the fervent Tifosi's mood, but the formidable hope machine had revved back to life...

and now it's roaring in Marina Bay.

Leclerc's side of the garage claps for a hard-earned P3, but it's the Spaniard's team that erupts into cheers and rushes out into the pitlane to congratulate their hero. You stare at his lap time on your monitor with a grin—1:30.984, not even a tenth faster than his teammate—as cheerful screams, in Italian and Spanish, fill the garage; they get louder when Carlos walks back inside, grinning ear to ear and not even bothering to dodge the strong-arm pats on his head and back.

"Twice in a row, cazzo!"

"And this time you won't have Verstappen underfoot!"

"Perfect lap, Carlos, that was a perfect lap..."

"Grazie a tutti," Carlos beams, fire suit down to his waist, running clammy hands through his hair—he parts the red sea as he walks deeper into the garage, close to where you are. "I think we all did a very good job today, and now we gotta finish the job tomorrow..."

He laughs with the mechanics, a sun of fire and victory casting its rays onto the tarmac, and maybe it's the euphoria of the moment, but a sudden wind of courage rushes through your blood, and you walk up to him.

"Bravo, Carlos."

Your voice hits him like the purr of an engine in the ruckus, overshadowing any other sound; he whips his head in your direction, shiny eyes colliding with yours, and for the first time you don't back off but hold them in awe, and his smile doesn't fade, but rather shifts. To surprise, or... coyness?

"You were incredible out there, we're all so so proud of you," you praise, and the more you look at him the wider your smile grows, and the quieter the rest of the world gets.

"Thank you, Y/N," he rubs the back of his neck, his free hand fiddling with the hanging sleeves of his fire suit. "We... I couldn't have done this without you. Because, you know, the overheating, or what you were saying to Ricky before? I didn't understand everything, but at least I didn't cook to death."

Coyness? In Carlos Sainz? When he's still sweaty and panting from qualifying first? What a bizarre sight, one that makes you giggle.

The way your nose scrunches up beneath sparkling eyes is so endearing, Carlos almost feels his breath hitch in his throat, almost reaches out to lightly brush your arm, hold the steady coolness of it.

"Great, that was what we were going for, pretty much," you reply, and for a second you could've sworn he wanted to touch your arm and changed his mind, but...

you bury the idea before a craving for his warmth can nestle in your chest.

"Great," he repeats. "So, I'll... see you later," and with that he leaves you there, stranded in the middle of the garage, to be lauded by the press and fans.

You'd be lying if you said his shadow disappearing out the backdoor as quickly as it had come doesn't slice a gash in your heart—always whisked away to some important obligation, and you, like everyone else, duty-bound to pick up the pieces behind him. But this time around the cut doesn't run as deep, doesn't bleed as red; because for the first time in months Carlos talked to you, joked with you, and looked the tiniest bit glad to be doing so.

If that's how good of a mood a pole puts him in... then clearly you'd better make damn sure he wins this race.

Ferrari is deeply superstitious at its core. Maybe that much is true in any sport—when victory eludes you, athletes find obscure laws to trick themselves into believing they still retain control—, but a team so old, on which glory has rained so often, does not withstand the passage of time without a few pillars of faith. And so it makes sense that Ferrari drivers, of all people, would have their pre-race traditions.

Leclerc plays the piano on Saturday nights; you hear him every time you pass by the team hotel's lounge, his melancholy tracks grounding you in a precise time and place. Now the car is out of bounds, the comfort of your object-oriented programming and optimized lines of code off-limits; now's the time for withdrawal and rest.

Typically, you like to hang out in the lounge while Charles plays, trying to distract yourself with a book or simply basking in the music. The predictable, calculated flow of Charles' arpeggios soothes you, like lines of code running one after the other. So does the Monégasque driver's easy conversation. Although it doesn't shoot butterflies in your belly like Carlos' does... but you're not supposed to play favorites.

This Grand Prix eve is just like any other, save for the unordinary trepidation that carpets the hotel. With one of their own sitting on pole, it's obvious strategists struggle more than usual to drop the words "tire management" and "pit stops". Eager to escape the nervousness, you excuse yourself from the dinner table, and make your way to the lounge.

Charles is already there, if the usual pieces echoing in the distance at dessert are any indication, and you barely even get lost in the elegant halls before you find the lounge... though there is no piano to be heard. Maybe this hotel has two music rooms—maybe Charles went to bed early—or maybe...

maybe he's sitting on the piano stool and chatting with Carlos, wet and sleepy from his evening shower.

Neither driver notices you at first, and you stop dead in your tracks, wondering if you should just leave. You wouldn't want to intrude—intrude on what, the rational part of your brain says, but with Carlos I always feel like I'm intruding on something bigger than myself, the rest of your body answers—, but you really enjoy this unspoken tradition with Charles... and, well, this is everybody's lounge, and...

"Y/N," Charles sees you eventually and beckons you over. "Sorry, I don't think there'll be a lot of music tonight, Carlos is distracting me."

"You could kick me out anytime," Carlos remarks good-naturedly, but you don't miss how he angles his body away from you ever so slightly. The sight sends a dagger through your heart. So he actually hates you then. So you didn't breach any barrier earlier at the circuit, didn't melt any ice. So he didn't look pleased and a little excited to be talking to you.

"That's okay, I'll just head to bed then—"

"Oh no no no," Charles interrupts, "come sit with us. I was trying to convince Carlos to give the piano a go, maybe you'll be more successful than me."

"Absolutely not, mate."

"Come on Carlos, it will relax you!"

"No, you're the musician, not me. One of us has to be the sportsman, no?"

Unsure, you flick between the two men, Charles' inviting face and Carlos, who's still doing everything he can to avoid looking at you in the eye. And then you decide—fuck it. You're just as much a member of the team as he is. He cannot drive you away with his... stupid cold shoulder tactics any longer.

You take a seat on the sofa opposite Carlos, and watch in half delight, half annoyance as he turns his shoulders away from you. Though his body language appears relaxed, one leg strewn across his knee and elbows hugging the backrest, he is, as usual, going to hell and beyond to not acknowledge your presence.

Charles has the merit of lightening the mood with his jokes and fan encounters of the day: some bizarre, some endearing, because he seemingly never has a boring day in the paddock. His easy laughter mixes with the distant voices down the halls when your attention drops—too fast, too soon, as always, it's irremediable—to Carlos, the soothing scent of his shampoo and the little droplets that run down his temple whenever he shakes his head in amusement... before you know it, you're staring again, eyes shining with undisclosed heartache. Something Charles sees, and recognizes very well, with a jot of curiosity.

Charles may not be the most perceptive when it comes to these things, but he is in love too, and he'd know the signs anywhere. That's why after a little while he lets silence blow his last words away like wind does the mist, and stands up from the piano stool.

"Well, I'm going to bed," he announces with an air of conniving finality, and he smiles his crooked smile at Carlos. "Gonna need all my energy to take the lead in turn 1."

This snaps you out of your reverie. Half-gone, you bid him goodnight at the same time as the Spaniard does, and you brace yourself for his own excuse... but it doesn't come. Carlos lazily watches as Charles leaves the lounge. You don't dare to move, as if your slightest sound could remind him you're there and trigger his fight.

You would've thought a tête-à-tête with you to be Carlos' worst nightmare... but he makes no sign of leaving. And sends solar flares up your chest and throat. "Whatever problem he's got with me, he'll have it sort it out with me like an adult" sounds much more intimidating when it's so plausible.

"You think he has the slightest chance of overtaking me in turn 1?" Carlos chuckles.

You look him straight in the eye and read no resentment, not even that sheepishness from before—just relaxed delight, and the slightest hint of reddened cheeks against tan, damp skin. It takes you a second, maybe even two, to realize there's no one else in the room. He's talking to you. Joking with you.

Why is the script running without error all of a sudden, even though you changed no variables?

"Maybe," you give a noncommittal shrug and a smile. "Why not? It all depends on you."

"He can lead the first lap if he wants. That will just make it more fun to cross the finish line ahead of him after."

"You better win this one, Sainz, because I..." you start, and midway through your sentence are hit by how absolutely ridiculous you're about to sound, but he's leaned in already, intrigued by your words, and his burning gaze and strong hands fiddling in his lap have you losing all notions of propriety. "I've... coded a little something for you. If you win. A surprise. It's not much, but... yeah."

Your whole face burns deep scarlet as you trail off... and the light in Carlos' eyes darkens, then goes out completely. His smile fades back to the usual professional grimace he reserves for you. Distant. Cold. He rises to his feet.

"I should get some sleep."

Terror strikes you. Incomprehension too.

"No, Carlos, wait."

He turns his head to your outstretched hand... your pleading eyes almost rip through his heart.

"Why do you dislike me so much?"

And then his shoulders slump, like crushed by an immense weariness, and he sighs, long and hard, before his gaze falls back to yours. Those big brown eyes, gentle, compassionate, and those fingers tapping against his thigh like they're waiting for an invisible cue to reach out for yours.

"... Can we talk about this after the race?" he says, shooting daggers through your stomach.

So he didn't deny it. Didn't reassure you, tell you it's all a misunderstanding, that he bears no ill will towards you, that you're imagining things as usual and that you two could be on the best of terms if you just got out of your head a little bit.

One more time, he's running away. Sweeping everything under the rug, for just one more session, one more race, hiding behind the excuse of concentration and professionalism.

But who are you to revoke him that? It's a damn good excuse. You need to win. He needs to win. Not be bothered about... interpersonal relationships while clipping walls.

"... Alright," you concede, voice and bones all broken, glistening under your frozen skin. "But if it's something I've done, then I'm sorry. I really do... enjoy your company. And you."

"It's not something you've done," he speaks quietly. Gosh, your frailty in this moment—you, so proud and unshakable on the pit wall, so dedicated and thorough on TV, so immeasurably devoted to Ferrari, to Charles, to him... "Or, well, I guess not directly..."

If he looks into your confused, imploring eyes one more second, almost brushes your arm with his one more time, then he's done for. But he thinks he knows this already.

"I don't dislike you," he starts speaking and as soon as he opens his mouth he knows there's no stopping himself now, so he blurts it all out as quickly as he can to get it over with and hopefully bury some meaning in the pits of his accent. "Not at all. In fact I really like you. I think you're gorgeous, and smart, and clever, and fun, and every day I wish I could spend more time with you outside of races and get to know you better but then I remember that can never happen and it's so frustrating and I have the hardest time concentrating. So I just avoid you. It's easier."

Silence thick as a thundercloud tethers you to one another. He runs a hand over his face, sighing deep, and you blink. Once, twice.

You've always prided yourself on your brains—not everyone gets to be in charge of all the computing for a Formula 1 car—but right now, you are all utterly lost.

"Carlos, I... I don't get it." Or maybe you do, heart thumping in your ears, but you're too scared you might be wrong.

"In any other life I would've asked you out on a date." This time he speaks more slowly, more purposefully, too. Like he's imbuing every syllable with the depth of his confession. "But it kills me that it can't be this one."

"... Why not?" you tentatively ask after an instant, feigning not to notice how his hand is now resting on the back of your sofa, right next to your ear and neck.

"Because you're a senior engineer! That would be like... like dating Ricky. Even if you're much prettier than Ricky. But you don't need to tell him that," he adds with a nervous laugh, which you mirror; though you fall silent as soon as his hand comes to rest on your shoulder, right where your collar ends, millimeters away from your skin. His body's warring with his own words... one wants to resist, the other to give in. "What if I leave Ferrari? That's a crazy conflict of interest."

"That's a silly idea, you're not leaving Ferrari anytime soon. Are you?"

"I don't know, it's... hypothetically... you know what I mean," he exhales in defeat. His hand clasps a little tighter on your shoulder, his scent dizzying, closer than ever before. Can he feel your frantic heart thumping underneath your skin? If he keeps licking his lips like this, will he sense your breathing getting more erratic?

"I do. But... the problem is I like you too, Carlos."

If embers could burn back to life, light a hearth out of nothingness... they wouldn't shine as bright as Carlos' eyes just then.

"Don't mess with me."

"I'm not messing with you. Why wouldn't I like you?"

"Because you're not supposed to have a favorite."

"I won't tell Fred if you don't."

He laughs, a brittle but adorable little thing, like a small bird taking its first flight. If you could hear the sound more often, see that bashful smile on his handsome face more every day... you wouldn't need any other prince to die in war for.

His hand runs down your arm, his thumb lightly caressing your skin through the fabric of your shirt before he grabs your shaky hand in his.

"Now's not the best time, but... I think we've got to have an important conversation after the race tomorrow," his deep, soft tone pacifying you just as much as the abstract shapes he traces on the back of your hand.

"After you win, you mean."

"Right. After I get my surprise, no?"

"After you win," you repeat with a grin, and he squeezes your hand, smiling too. Something, deep down, tells him he'll win regardless of the race result.

"Cosa diavolo sta facendo?"

Even in spite of the roaring crowd and the bellowing V8s speeding down the straight, the dumbfounded voices around the pit wall come to you clear as day.

"Russell 1.4 behind Lando," Ricky, sitting on the other side of Vasseur, speaks into his headset.

The team principal keeps quiet, eyes fixed on the cascade of numbers and brackets on your screen. He understands before the rest of the wall what his driver is doing; and as you relay all the information you get to the race engineers, you understand it too.

"Lando .8 behind, .8 behind with DRS—Russell no DRS... Copy that."

He's doing it on purpose. Keeping Norris just close enough to shield him from the Mercs while making sure he can't catch up. You'd laugh in triumph and disbelief if you weren't gritting your teeth so damn hard, heart on the verge of exploding as the last laps tick out in a blur.

Just a few more minutes. Just a few more seconds, and the night sky over Marina Bay will explode in crimson lights...

Mechanics spring to their feet and climb the wall to the track, bumping their fists in the air. Cheers, claps, exclamations, a bouquet of red roses swaying in the wind to greet its champion at the finish line. And then, the unmistakable roar of a racecar speeding past the chequered flag at three hundred kilometers an hour. Liberation.

You spring to your feet right as the fireworks go off, yelling to the sky. Carlos won. Carlos won! Your Carlos—in the middle of Red Bull's flawless season...

"¡Vamos Fred! ¡Vamos Ricky!" Flashes of red and gold pass his high spirits by, diligently braking into the first corner.

He laughs, he screams it all out, unclenching all his muscles, woozy from the G's, from the adrenaline, from the win... from you, watching him from the pit wall. From the memory of your skin against his, your adoring eyes and the formidable lightness inside his chest that has him feeling like he's the king of the world.

In a few minutes, he'll be posing with his trophy and the team in front of his P1 plaque for the group photo, and he'll drench you in champagne—your lively laughter will fill his heart with the gold of medals. And later in the evening, before the afterparty, he'll pull you aside and tell you maybe this victory has made him reckless, and he'll kiss you senselessly like a prize he fought for.

For now, though, he's nodding his head at Lando who gave him a congratulatory wave from his car when his on-board screen lights up with an unexpected message. Glowing red letters read, "Great job, smooth operator! 🌶️" Laughter escapes him as small virtual fireworks go off on his screen... and he presses the radio button on his steering wheel.

"Did she have one of these ready for Charles too?"

A few seconds of white noise, and then, your mischievous voice, dripping with joy.

"You know me, Carlos. Never play favorites."

… f1 taglist; @retvenkos @giuseppe-yuki (want to be added? send me an ask!)

#f1 #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #cs55 imagine #cs55 fic #cs55 x reader #cs55 #mywriting #this got so much longer than i had originally planned lol <3

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alwaysthefool · 12 days ago

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Hi, I read your post about wanting request. If you didn't mind, can I ask headcannon + story where MC being slapped by their friend until she bruise, and the Lads men just come when her friend is in middle of shouting some unkind words to her and they see her bruise?

Hi sure but I do hope nothing like this happened IRL and if it did, I’m so sorry! But anyway, enjoy!

Warnings: violence, misogyny, murder mentions ⚠️— if that is bothersome to you, you can skip to Zayne, Tara, and Rafayel’s parts which are less violent

Tags: angst, comfort, f!reader (she/they)/MC. I added Tara, hope you don’t mind.

[I’m considering the friend to be a guy in Sylus and Xavier’s case, and NB in Zayne, Tara, and in Rafayel’s.]

(Premise for Xavier and Sylus)

You didn’t know why he’d do that. Your friend called you out to the park where you’d hang out after training on your way back home. You never considered him close, but there he was, in front of you, pouring his heart out, shocking you with details about you that you did not remember telling him. Your heartbeat grew faster from stress, a small relief knowing the watch on your wrist would send a distress signal to him.

“So, will you go out with me?” He smiled with his teeth, eyes widened.

“Uh,” You laughed in hesitation, not saying anything substantial, looking behind you to see if he had arrived. “I…”

But before you could say anything more, his expression turned angry. “You’re waiting for him, aren’t you?”

A slur left his lips, and before you knew it, you were on the ground, ears ringing, and your cheek burning. You didn’t expect it, and it only ‘hit’ you, a few moments later. You had been slapped, and hard. Usually, you’d clap back immediately, but were stopped by what he called you over and over again. Those words you’d heard before, which haunted you, and froze you, hurting far worse coming from someone you considered a friend.

Xavier

Hmm, so in such a situation, I think Xavier, based on his lore would straight up……. Yeah. Of course, he’d try to hide it from you, but if he saw this happen, he wouldn’t be able to hold back at that moment.

In one of his tender moments (the one where she’s treating him to drinks), such a situation does happen, but MC wasn’t hurt there. I think this behaviour would be his response to MC being physically and emotionally scarred.

Xavier, arriving at the park, did not even think to assess the situation. He saw you on the ground crying, and immediately lunged at that hunter in front of you. Camaraderie meant nothing to him in front of his beloved crying. It was impossible to see him coming.

You had no idea what happened, but a glowing light surrounded you, familiar and comforting. Xavier kneeled down in front of you, pushing your hand out of your face gently, his jaw tensing as he saw your bloodied lip and red cheek. The ringing in your ear had stopped, but the echoes of those words didn’t. You pulled away from him, hugging your knees, trying to say something, but you knew if you tried to speak a single word, a flood of sobs would come pouring out your lips.

Red eyed and red faced, you looked away from him.

“[Name],” He tried, his voice gentle. “Come to me, please.”

He looked at you with such tenderness, you couldn’t resist. You finally sobbed into his shoulder, with him holding you lightly, stroking your back. “Let’s go home,” He whispered. “It must hurt, right?”

You nodded, finding your way to his back, nudging him. Xavier chuckled. “You demand a piggyback ride from me like it’s your right.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, as he lifted your thighs around his waist. “You’re my knight in shining armour after all.” You mumbled weakly.

You couldn’t see it, but you were sure Xavier smiled. As you left the park, you tried to glance back to see what became of your former friend, but Xavier stopped you abruptly. “Don’t look! It’s not a pretty sight.

I’ll get Jeremiah to clean up later.”

Sylus

Well, you already saw what happened in his story, right? He’s a criminal, so he wouldn’t hesitate to off that person, but he’ll spare you of the sight. I’m not sure if he’d make the person suffer though…

If you heard hurtful words, he’s going to tend to those SO tenderly, and assure you that all of that was nonsense.

You promised to meet Sylus after work, texting him that you’d be a bit late because your friend had something important to say. His guard was already up at that moment, and when he saw your heart beat rise in the watch he’d given you, he was already on his motorcycle. Sylus felt his world crumble when he saw you listening to such cruel words, hurt, on the ground.

He did not even finish taking his helmet off when his evol flung the man in front of you almost a yard back.

You weren’t shocked. It was similar to how you’d first met, and though that was a negative experience, every time he’d come to save you since then had been nothing but warm. You looked up at Sylus, who was a few feet away from you, faint red tendrils on his sleeve. As always, everything was up to you, but this time he outstretched his arms for you.

You ran to him, almost jumping in his arms, crying on his chest. He held you firmly, resting his face on the top of your head. “My kitten.” His voice, too, was broken, but on hearing him, you nuzzled your face on his torso, earning a bitter chuckle out of him.

“Will you tell me what happened?” He wrapped his coat around you, guiding you to his car, keeping you firmly against him. Luke and Kieran were there too, and on Sylus’ gesture, ran towards your ex friend who you could faintly hear groaning in the background. Sylus was going to take his time with him, and you did not mind.

“If I do, I’ll cry a lot.”

“That’s alright. I’ll make sure to kiss all your tears away.”

(Premise for Zayne, Rafayel, and Tara)

(This is kinda insp off kdrama moments LOL)

You stepped in the café where your friend had agreed to meet you. You waved to them, happy to see them after so long, but they seemed to be tense. Right as you approached them, a glass of water was thrown at you, making everyone turn their heads at the commotion.

“It’s all your fault!” They yelled, clutching the glass. “I was demoted because of you!”

You frowned, still giving your friend the benefit of the doubt, asking them what you did. They scoffed, as if appalled by your cluelessness. They came closer to you, and a slap landed on your face, making you turn red immediately. It stung, but not as much as what they said next. “How did you pass the evaluation and not me? Your evol is terrible, you’re weak, and an airhead!”

Their words drawled on, hurting you like knives to the chest, until…

Tara

Since she isn’t a canonical LI (i.e. her relationship with MC is so far ‘just because’), her reaction would obviously be milder.

She’d be confrontational to the person who hurt MC, and after the situation is handled, she’d try to cheer MC up. She’d try to distract you, but would also be willing to be a shoulder for your tears if that’s what you want instead.

Tara stood between you and your friend, reaching her hand out from behind her to hold your arm, as if to keep you safe. “What do you think you’re saying?” She asked the fellow hunter, eyebrows furrowed. “Do you even know why you weren’t promoted?”

After explaining to the now ashamed friend the reason behind why what happened did, Tara turned to you, holding your cheek. You felt your lip quiver at the gesture, and her eyes widened. “Oh, no no no!” She pleaded. She took you outside and sat you down at the outer tables, quickly grabbing an ice cream from a nearby vendor, holding it to your cheek like an ice pack.

You smiled at that, wiping away whatever hint of tears there were in your eyes. She smiled even wider, scooting her chair over near yours. “How are you feeling?” She asked, her eyes expectant.

“Kinda ashamed.” You replied, honest about your heart.

“It’s not your fault.” Her tone was reassuring. “That person has their Mars in Capricorn, giving them the tendency to blame others for their own faults. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if Jenna didn’t want them on the team for that attitude alone.”

“How do you even know their birth chart?” You laughed.

“Okay, I made it up.” She took the ice cream packet from you, opening it and bringing it close to your lips before it started to melt. “But it was worth it if I got to hear you laugh.”

Zayne

He’d be very mature about it, and comfort you like a baby. Being a doctor, he’d immediately see to your wounds, and be gentle for the rest of the day.

From what we saw with Carter, he would bear a grudge against that ‘friend’ and remember their face in case they visit the hospital in the future. 😈

Zayne pulled you away from the prying eyes, the commotion, and the snake you called a friend. Outside, in the shade, he blew on and examined your face, stroking his thumb lightly over where you were hit. Amidst his evaluation, his eyes met your puppy eyes, brimming with tears. So he pulled you in, not caring for who would see.

“Shh.” He comforted you as you held his coat tightly. When you finally pulled away, not meeting his face, he put his hand on your back and took you to his nearby parked car, opening the passenger’s side door for you, making sure you were sat comfortably before going over to the driver’s seat. He touched your face with calloused fingers, as if seeking permission to hold you, and so you turned to him, looking at his eyes that always held that look of reverence for you.

He took an alcohol pad out of his pocket, cleaning your face with it, asking you if it hurt anywhere else.

“Are you sure?” He asked when you said you weren’t. You nodded, thanking him silently. He leaned over to give you a kiss on the forehead, and tied your seatbelt for you, before putting on his own, and turning the keys into ignition.

“Where are we going?” You asked.

“My house. I want to take good care of you, if you’ll let me.”

Rafayel

Boy oh boy. I feel like he would be so petty about it.

Although he’d gossip and make jokes, he’d subtly try to check on MC’s feelings too.

You stood there, face drenched in the water your friend threw on you, but you were still in a better condition than them, who had been soaked with paint water Rafayel emptied on them. The crowd in the café watched the drama intently as Rafayel retorted to the insults thrown at you with more snide remarks.

You were wide eyed when Rafayel took your hand, wrapping you in his cardigan, holding your shoulders and taking you to the door, apologising politely to the cashier for the mess on the way out. Outside, he brought his face close to your cheek, looking at it closely.

You pulled away, red from the proximity. “What are you doing?”

“Relax.” He stood up straight. “I’m just making sure my bodyguard isn’t out of commission.”

“Well, it’d take a lot more than that to stop me.” You mumbled, walking with him. “But… thanks.”

Rafayel smiled, holding your hand in his own. “So, tell me, how’d you like to get your revenge? Planting some stolen protocores in their third rate bag and then reporting them? Using their number to sign up for spammy websites?”

“No, Rafayel!” You laughed, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I think just gossiping with you is enough.

#love and deepspace #tara x mc #tara x reader #lads x reader #lnds x reader #Xavier x MC #sylus x mc #sylus fics #sylus x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #headcanons #self insert #hcs #fanfiction #comfort #angst

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