#and you’re buzzing around the room like a toddler

[itspileofgoodthings]

you ever struggle with someone’s personality until you realize which Austen heroine they are and then it all makes sense

[ari-ana-bel-la]

hiii how are you ?

can I request a dad Charles where his daughter tells everyone that she French instead of Monegasque (just like Arthur) and Charles is just losing it every time she says it

She's Monegasque, not French

It started innocently, as most things with toddlers do.

Charles was sitting in the Ferrari motorhome, his three-year-old daughter Yn nestled comfortably in his lap, her tiny hands clutching a crayon-streaked drawing of what she insisted was “Papa’s race car.” The sun was bright, the paddock buzzing with media and mechanics and laughter as the summer European leg of the season carried on in full swing.

And then it happened.

“Papa,” she said sweetly, tilting her head up at him, eyes wide and so heartbreakingly sincere, “I’m French.”

Charles blinked.

“Quoi?” he said, pulling back slightly, eyebrows lifting in gentle confusion. “Ma chérie, no, you’re not French. You’re Monegasque, like Papa.”

Yn looked at him, lips pursed, deep in thought. And then she gave a little shrug. “Non. I’m French, like Uncle Thur.”

Charles groaned softly and let his head fall back against the couch. “Not this again.”

From across the room, Arthur—lounging lazily in a chair, eating grapes like he was Caesar in a past life—choked on his laughter.

“I didn’t teach her that,” Arthur said through wheezes. “She came up with it on her own. Genius, really.”

“You encourage it!” Charles accused, pointing an indignant finger at his younger brother. “You always say you’re French!”

“Well, I am French,” Arthur said with a grin. “Monegasque passport and everything. And clearly, Yn has excellent taste.”

“Excellent taste in traitors. And Monaco is not France,” Charles muttered, pulling Yn closer as if cuddling her tightly would somehow absorb her back into Monegasque pride.

But it didn’t stop there.

No, Yn had decided. French it was.

She told the Ferrari PR team she was French when they asked where she was from. She announced it proudly to the camera when someone tried to film a cute moment with her and her dad. She whispered it solemnly to Carlos while sitting in his lap eating strawberries.

“Papa’s sad ‘cause I’m French,” she told Carlos.

Carlos, eyes sparkling with mischief, leaned in conspiratorially. “That’s okay, Princesa. I’m Spanish, and he still talks to me.”

“Does he love you?” Yn asked, dead serious.

Carlos blinked. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Then maybe he’ll still love me even if I’m French.”

Behind them, Charles face-palmed.

The drivers got wind of it quickly—because of course they did.

By the next day, the jokes were relentless.

“So,” Lando said at breakfast in the hotel, stirring sugar into his coffee like he was preparing to deliver a monologue. “Do I address her as ‘Mademoiselle Yn’ now or...?”

“She’s not French,” Charles groaned.

“She told my engineer she wants her birthday cake in the shape of the Eiffel Tower,” Max deadpanned, walking by and tossing Charles a sympathetic look. “Good luck with that.”

Even Seb, who was visiting that weekend with his kids, gave Charles a comforting pat on the back. “At least she’s not saying she’s German. Yet.”

And then there was Esteban.

“Oh, this is fantastique,” Esteban beamed, scooping Yn up in the paddock one afternoon. “You’re French, just like me!”

Yn squealed and threw her arms around his neck. “Oui!”

Charles practically melted into the tarmac. “Mon dieu…”

But it was Arthur who reveled in it most.

He started wearing a beret. A beret, for god’s sake.

One afternoon in the hospitality tent, he presented Yn with a baguette and a small fake mustache. “For my fellow French citizen,” he declared proudly.

“Merci, Uncle Thur!” Yn beamed, sticking the mustache crookedly on her nose.

“I am living in a cartoon,” Charles mumbled into his hands.

No amount of explaining helped.

“But Monaco is in France,” she argued one night while Charles tucked her into bed in the team’s motorhome. “It’s right there.”

“No, chérie,” Charles said gently, brushing her curls back. “It’s close, but it’s its own country. Like Papa said before, remember?”

“I like France better.”

He sighed and tried the next best tactic: bribery.

“If you say you’re Monegasque again,” he whispered conspiratorially, “Papa will buy you ten ice creams tomorrow.”

Yn narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “What kind?”

“Any kind. Strawberry. Chocolate. All of them.”

“Hmm…” she tapped her chin with exaggerated thought. “I still wanna be French.”

He clutched his chest. “Traitor.”

The situation hit a new peak during the Saturday driver briefing. Yn, accompanied by Carlos and Charles, had been allowed to come along briefly before things got official. She toddled in wearing sunglasses way too big for her face and a little Ferrari cap.

Yuki crouched down to her level with a big smile. “Bonjour, Mademoiselle Yn.”

“I’m French!” she declared proudly, striking a pose.

Yuki laughed. “That’s so cool! Then you must know that Uncle Pierre is also French!”

Yn froze.

All the drivers went still.

Charles raised his head slowly, eyes narrowing.

Yn’s nose scrunched up.

“…Uncle Pierre?”

“Yes,” Yuki chirped, unaware he was about to break the world’s most stubborn three-year-old. “He’s very French. Like super French.”

The silence that followed could have swallowed a pit lane.

Charles watched her face shift—concentration, confusion… and then determination.

She took off her sunglasses, turned to her father, and declared solemnly, “Papa. I’m not French anymore.”

Charles blinked. “You’re not?”

“I’m Monegasque now.”

“...Why?”

She folded her arms. “I don’t wanna be the same as Uncle Pierre.”

“WHAT?!” Pierre shouted from across the room, utterly betrayed.

Arthur was on the floor, laughing so hard he nearly cried. “Nooo! The French alliance has fallen!”

Carlos, barely holding it together, whispered, “Monaco wins.”

Charles scooped Yn up with the biggest grin he’d worn in days. “You have made Papa so proud.”

Yn patted his cheek. “Do I still get ice cream?”

He laughed, hugging her tight. “You can have all the ice cream you want, mon amour.”

Behind him, Pierre was muttering in disbelief, “What did I do? What did I do?”

And from that day on, Yn was proudly, defiantly, loyally Monegasque.

Until next week, when she decided she wanted to be Italian because “Papa’s car is red like Italy.”

And Charles just sighed into his espresso.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-🩷🎀

[ivyues]

Unlocked Trust: Stray Kids' reactions to the sharing of a phone PIN

Bang Chan

You’re in the kitchen preparing a snack when your phone buzzes on the counter.

“Chris, can you check that? My hands are full,” you call out.

“Sure,” he says, walking over.

“The pin’s 0921,” you add casually.

He freezes, eyes widening for a moment before he chuckles. “Wait, did you just give me your PIN without hesitation?”

“Yeah, why?” you reply, glancing at him.

“No reason. Just didn’t think you’d trust me that much,” he teases, smirking as he unlocks the phone.

“Are you seriously doubting my trust now?” you quip, rolling your eyes.

He checks the message, his expression softening as he reads it. “It’s your mom. She says hi. By the way, I’m remembering your PIN as proof of my VIP access.”

Lee Know

“Minho, can you look at my calendar real quick? I think I have an appointment tomorrow, but I can’t remember the time,” you say, restricted by the cat in your arms.

“Where’s your phone?” he asks.

“On the couch. Pin’s 0412.”

He picks it up, muttering, “If this isn’t my birthday, I’d be disappointed.”

“Why would it be your birthday?”

“Because you should’ve honored me with such a privilege,” he deadpans.

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

He quickly checks the calendar, then grins at you. “Yeah, 3 PM tomorrow. Oh, and I’m changing your PIN to my birthday now.”

“Excuse me?” you tease, pretending to be offended. “You think I’m just going to hand over my PIN to you like that?”

He raises an eyebrow, locking your phone with a smirk. “You trust me, don’t you?”

Changbin

He’s driving while you’re in the passenger seat, and his phone buzzes.

“Can you reply to that text for me?” he asks.

“Sure, what’s your PIN?”

“0309,” he says casually.

You pause, typing it in. “Isn’t that your mom’s birthday?”

“Yeah,” he admits with a grin. “She’s the queen of my life. But you’re a close second.”

“Wow,” you say, pretending to be offended. “Second place, huh?”

He laughs, glancing at you. “Fine, you’re tied for first. Happy now?”

You give him a side-eye, smirking. “Tied for first? I’ll take it… for now.”

He chuckles, eyes back on the road. “Don’t worry. You’re first in my heart.”

Hyunjin

You’re folding laundary when you realize your phone is across the room.

“Jinnie, can you put on some music? My phone’s over there.”

“Sure. What’s the password?”

“1010,” you say, not looking up.

“1010? That’s so symmetrical. Why?”

“Because it’s easy to remember,” you reply.

He types it in, then teases, “Guess I should memorize this for emergencies. Or when I need to snoop.”

You laugh. “Snoop all you want. My search history is just memes and dog videos.”

He swipes through your phone, humming along to the music that starts playing. You glance at him, amused by how he seems to have completely settled in. “Just don’t start getting any funny ideas with my PIN.”

However, since that day, you've noticed a significant increase in selfies of your boyfriend filling your camera roll.

Han

He’s lying on the couch, arms wrapped around a giant pillow, while his phone buzzes on the coffee table.

“Jisung, your phone’s ringing.”

“Can you answer it for me?” he mumbles sleepily.

“What’s your PIN?”

“4321,” he says, eyes still closed.

You laugh as you unlock it. “Seriously? 4321? That’s your password?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing,” you tease, “except a toddler could guess it.”

He opens one eye and grins. “But you’re the only one who knows now, so it’s genius.”

You raise an eyebrow, a playful smirk on your face. “Genius, huh? I’ll make sure to tell everyone you’re a mastermind.”

He groans, pulling the pillow over his face with a dramatic sigh. “That's how you abuse my trust.”

You laugh, putting his phone back onto the couch. “Your secret’s safe with me. But just so you know, this is going down as one of your most questionable moves.”

Felix

You’re baking cookies, hands sticky with dough, when your phone buzzes on the counter.

“Lix, can you check my phone? I think it’s a text from my sister.”

“Yeah, what’s your code?”

“0420,” you say.

He snorts as he unlocks it. “Isn’t that the date we first met?”

You grin. “Yep. Thought you’d like that.”

He looks at the text, then smiles warmly. “Your sister says hi and asks when we’re baking together again.”

“Tell her whenever she wants,” you say.

He leans in, brushing a kiss to your cheek. “Will do. And by the way, I like how you made our first meeting a memorable one… for both of us.”

Seungmin

You’re sitting on the couch, scrolling through your laptop, when your phone buzzes beside you.

“Seungmin, can you check my phone? I think it’s a notification from work.”

“Sure. What’s your PIN?”

“0525,” you say casually.

He freezes, then smirks. “That’s not my birthday, is it?”

You laugh. “No, it’s my dog’s birthday.”

“Of course it is,” he mutters, unlocking the phone. “I guess I shouldn’t expect to rank higher than your dog.”

You glance up, teasing. “It’s almost the same thing, right?”

He raises an eyebrow, a little smirk playing at his lips. “Me and your dog? Really?”

“Yeah, well, my dog’s loyal, cute, and always there when I need cuddles,” you reply.

“Okay, okay,” he sighs dramatically, “I’ll take second place… but I’m keeping my spot as your favorite human.”

You grin. “Tied for first, remember?”

He looks at you, still smiling. “I’ll take it.”

I.N

You’re sitting on the couch, reading a book when your phone buzzes on the coffee table.

“Innie, can you check my phone? I think I got a message from the group chat.”

“Sure. What’s your PIN?”

“0802,” you say absently.

He freezes for a moment, eyes wide, then grins. “Isn’t that my birthday?”

“Yep,” you reply, still focused on your book.

He chuckles, his voice light with excitement. “I can’t believe you gave me your PIN so easily. I guess I’m extra special, huh?”

“You’re the only one who knows it now,” you say teasingly, glancing at him.

He laughs, checking your phone. “It’s from the group chat, asking when we're all hanging out next. And don’t worry, I’ll keep your PIN secret… unless I need to buy something nice for myself.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll be sure to remember that.”

masterlist

[keeryhours]

wildflower chapter two

Eddie Munson x Henderson! female reader, Steve Harrington x reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary:

Corroded Coffin performs their homecoming show in Hawkins, and mistakes are made.

Chapter Warnings:

Smut (18+), p in v, unprotected sex, drunk sex, underage drinking, secret baby

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N:

This next chapter was a long time coming, but I hope you guys enjoy!

—

The rest of the week was a blur. You hadn’t thought of Eddie this much in over a year, and having him thrown back into your consciousness was like opening an old wound. You tried your best to push it out of your mind and keep yourself busy with work and chasing after Asher, but it was fruitless.

Steve and Robin were at your apartment Thursday night, the usual hangout since the three of you shared the night off. Asher was fresh out of his bath, dressed in his pajamas and sitting on the floor showing off his toy trains to Robin, who, to her credit, showed equal enthusiasm even on the 50th time of seeing the same Thomas the Tank Engine.

Steve and Robin had come armed with movies - these weekly hangouts usually turned into movie nights, especially when something new came into Family Video that one of them snatched up. Not that you’d complain.

“Alright, Ash. Time for bed,” you said, although the nearly 2 year old paid you no mind as he picked up Percy, the green train.

“You heard her, buddy. Time for the trains to go back to the station,” Robin said, helping the toddler gather his toys.

Asher pouted, but he helped put the trains in his toy box anyway. Once the toys were cleaned up, you lifted him into your arms, heading into his bedroom. A fresh diaper and a kiss goodnight later, you turned the lights off and slowly closed the door behind you.

Back in the living room, you flopped down on the cheap couch with a deep sigh.

“What’s on your mind, Henderson?” Robin asked, still lounging on the carpet. “You’ve been in your head all week.”

Steve looked at her like she was dumb. “Corroded Coffin?”

Robin rolled her eyes at him. “Are you thinking about going?”

You sighed again, running a hand through your hair to push it out of your face. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

Steve looked at you sympathetically. “You know…it might be good. You never got that closure. Even if you just want to go to throw a drink in his face.”

You bit back a grin at the idea. He deserved it, that was for sure. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Do you think you’re going to wonder what if for the rest of your life if you don’t go?”

Steve’s sudden sage words caught you off guard. You hated to admit he was right. After these two years of wondering what you had done wrong to deserve his abandonment, there were definitely still wounds deep inside that never had the chance to heal.

Maybe you did need to see him.

—

Saturday night, with Ash at your mom’s house, you stared at yourself in the mirror. You couldn’t believe that you’d let yourself be talked into this. Dressed in a short black skirt, tight top with a leather jacket over top, you felt like you were looking at your high school self again. Like nothing had ever changed. Like Eddie was going to walk up behind you at any moment and wrap his arms around your waist with a wink and a “Looking good, baby.”

“Ready to go?” Steve asked as you walked back out into your living room. Steve and Robin wouldn’t be blending into the crowd at The Hideout as well as you would, and the idea nearly made you laugh a little.

“I guess so,” you said. “I’m ready for a drink.”

The Hideout really wasn’t much different than you remembered, besides the fact that it was absolutely packed full with a huge line out the door. It was surreal to see so many people wearing Corroded Coffin merch, the crowd absolutely buzzing with excitement.

Inside, you pushed your way through to the bar, Steve and Robin following close behind. You may still be a few months away from 21, but you knew that wouldn’t matter.

“Hey, Chris,” you greeted the bartender with a smile. He hadn’t changed a bit in the past two years.

“Well! Long time no see,” Chris greeted, his face lighting up. He pushed three beers across the bar without having to be asked. “I should have known you’d be here to see your boy play.”

Your boy. You resisted a wince as you passed bottles to Steve and Robin and opened your own, taking a big swig. “Yeah, of course.”

The crowd was intense. It had been a long time since you’d been in this scene - hell, it had been a long time since your nights had been more exciting than an episode of Sesame Street. Visually you fit in, but you still found yourself standing off to the side with your friends rather than joining the crowd of fans.

You downed your beer in no time and ordered another. You were already multiple beers in before the opening act even came on.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, eyeing you as you popped open your fourth beer. “We can leave if you don’t want to do this.”

You shook your head. You were already here, you were going to do this. “I’m good,” you assured him, waving him off. He still eyed you warily, but didn’t push it.

You barely paid any mind to the opening act. Sure, they were good, but you knew what you were waiting for. Your heart thundered wildly in your chest, although the nerves in your stomach were fading with every drink.

When the opening act left the stage, the change in atmosphere was palpable. The crowd began to chant and cheer, and then -

There they were.

Gareth walked out first, drumsticks in hand. You felt your breath catch in your throat - the memories came rushing back. The other guys followed behind, and then finally - Eddie.

Eddie sauntered out with a cocky grin and a hand up in a wave to the crowd, who were screaming so loud you thought your eardrums might burst. Your blood felt like ice, you didn’t think your heart could beat any harder without killing you. He looked like himself, but there was something obviously different. He wore a tight pair of ripped jeans on his long legs, a Metallica tee with the same leather jacket he always wore. You hated how familiar it felt. He carried himself with the confidence of a real rockstar. You supposed that’s what he was now.

He approached the microphone. “Hello, Hawkins,” he drawled, and the cheers somehow grew even louder. A bra flew from the crowd and landed at his feet, and he reached down and picked it up with a chuckle, hanging it on the mic stand. You rolled your eyes.

“It’s good to be back in our hometown,” he continued, that grin still on his face. “You guys made us what we are. We owe it all to you. We couldn’t imagine ending the tour anywhere else.”

The crowd ate up every word. And Eddie looked like he reveled in the attention. He looked so natural on stage. He was living his dream, after all.

As Gareth hit his drum sticks together and the band started their first song, Eddie scanned the crowd. You had felt sure you, Steve, and Robin were far enough into the shadows on the sides that you’d be unnoticeable, but with that magnetism you two had always shared - Eddie’s eyes locked on yours.

He froze. The cocky facade dropped and his mouth parted in shock as you stared at each other. You felt dizzy all of a sudden, like you might pass out. Ever observant, Robin noticed immediately, eyes darting between you and Eddie. He nearly missed the opening line of the song before he jolted back to awareness.

“I need another drink,” you mumbled, pushing through the crowd and back to the bar.

You didn’t slow down on the drinks as the show went on. Eddie was taking shots onstage, like he needed to feel numb just as bad as you did. By the end of their set, Eddie was drunk, yet he still managed to perform perfectly.

“Thank you, Hawkins,” he slurred into the mic as the show ended. “Next round’s on us for everyone!”

That set the crowd even wilder than they had been. The band exited the stage, and you pushed back through the crowd to the bar again, stumbling in your boots as the room tilted around you. You heard Steve calling your name from somewhere behind you, but you lost your friends in the crowd in your pursuit of yet another drink.

“One more on my tab, Chris,” you slurred once you reached the bar.

“Add her whole tab to mine,” an uncomfortably familiar voice came from behind you. “And another round of shots for me and the boys.” You felt chills across your skin as Chris nodded and pushed you another drink before he poured the alcohol into four shot glasses.

You saw his ringed hand reach forward and grab one of the glasses. You slowly turned to meet his eyes as he downed the shot, shooting you a smirk as he smacked it back down on the bar top.

“Well,” he slurred, his eyes just as glassy as your own. “Hello again, beautiful.”

You were so drunk that you didn’t even remember how he hurt you. How he abandoned you. You just saw Eddie, and your heart reached for him through your chest just like it always did.

“Eddie,” you whispered, as if there was nothing else to say.

He kept smirking at you, his large hand landing on your upper back and then sliding down to rest on your hip. His eyes roamed over your outfit, drinking you in hungrily.

You didn’t mind.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured, his hand squeezing your hip posessively and pulling you closer. Your head spun with the motion, and you weren’t sure if it was from the alcohol or from Eddie himself.

“I missed you too,” you admitted, both to him and to yourself.

“Want me to take you home?” he asked, leaning forward, his voice a purr in your ear. It sent goosebumps across your skin.

Even in your drunken haze, you knew you shouldn’t say yes. Eddie had done something truly shitty to you, and you had no intention of forgiving him that quickly, or maybe even at all. But he was just as intoxicating as the large amounts of alcohol in both of your systems, and you found yourself letting him lead you backstage and out the back door.

You were so drunk yourself that you hadn’t even thought about whether Eddie could even drive in his state, but he ushered you into the back of a car with a man already sitting in the driver’s seat before sliding in beside you. His hand rested on your thigh as you told the man the address of your apartment, rising higher and higher until it was teasing under the hem of your skirt.

He pulled you into him as the car started moving. Your lips found each other like they’d never been apart, and he kissed you hungrily, tasting like alcohol and cigarettes, but you didn’t care.

Neither you nor Eddie seemed to care a single bit that there was a stranger in the front seat as an audience to the two of you all over each other. Your apartment wasn’t far from the dive bar, and before you knew it you were stumbling out of the car hand in hand with Eddie, both of you giggling like it was 1985 again and you were just two kids in love.

It took you three attempts to unlock the front door of your apartment, your vision hazy and your brain even fuzzier from the feeling of Eddie’s hands all over you, pushing up your top right there in the hallway while he placed sloppy kisses against your neck and shoulders.

When the door finally opened, you barely had time to kick your boots off and drop your leather jacket before Eddie was pushing you up against the door, slamming it closed. You moaned against his lips as they devoured your own, his tongue exploring your mouth desperately. He pulled your top over your head and dropped it to the floor. Your lipstick was smeared across his face, and he wiped it off with the back of his hand.

“Look so fucking sexy,” Eddie mumbled as he moved in to attach his mouth to your neck, sucking love bites all across the skin. “I’ve thought about you every day.”

You didn’t have the brain power at the moment to process those words. The drinks had already taken all concepts of critical thought, but every moment of Eddie’s mouth and tongue against your neck drowned out coherent thought itself.

His hands lowered from your hips to the back of your bare thighs and he squeezed. You worked in tandem just like old times as you jumped up for him and he gripped your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his waist. You could feel how hard he was already through his jeans, pressed up against your core.

“Where’s your bedroom?” he asked breathlessly, moving back to your lips.

“Last door down the hall,” you mumbled back, and then you were pulled away from the door as he walked down the hall, carrying you like you weighed nothing. He was sloppy, still drunk and knocking into the table in the hall, sending a picture frame falling to the (thankfully carpeted) floor.

He pushed the door open to your bedroom, and seconds later you landed on your back on your soft mattress. Eddie’s eyes were completely glazed over with lust, locked on yours as he kicked his shoes off and started unbuckling his belt. You watched him with equal hunger as he undid his tight jeans and pushed them to the floor, his excitement obvious through the material of his boxers. He leaned over the bed and reached behind you to unzip your skirt, pulling it down your body and leaving you in your bra and panties.

You pushed the jacket off his shoulders and grabbed onto the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it. His body looked the way you remembered it, the familiar lines and curves coming back to you as you roamed your hands over his soft skin like second nature.

“Eddie,” you whined, pushing your hips up against his painfully hard erection. He hissed at the contact, his mouth trailing hot kisses down your neck and over your chest. He reached behind you and unclasped your bra, your nipples quickly pebbling in the cool air. His mouth moved to envelop one of your nipples, his hand attending to the other. He swirled his tongue around it, sucking on your tits as you arched beneath him.

It had been a while for you, honestly.

“Fuck, need you so bad,” he muttered. He sat up on his knees, eyes raking over your body for only a moment before he reached for the hem of your panties. He pulled them down your legs quickly, urgently pushing his boxers down. His hard cock sprang free, already leaking precum. He wrapped his hand around the base, squeezing, another hiss leaving his lips.

He grabbed the backs of your thighs again, spreading your legs and pushing them up towards your chest to take in the sight of your pussy, glistening and ready for him. He muttered another “Fuck,” under his breath.

He traced a finger through your folds, collecting your wetness on his finger and bringing it to his mouth. He moaned at the taste of you, just as sweet as he remembered.

He leaned back over your body, lining himself up at your entrance, not a single thought about protection going through either of your minds. He pushed in quickly, causing your back to arch and a gasp to fall from your lips, fingernails digging into Eddie’s shoulders as he stretched you intensely.

“Too big,” you managed to squeak out, which made Eddie chuckle against the skin of your neck.

“You can take it,” he assured you, starting up a slow pace, although it pained him to do so. “You always took it so well.”

It didn’t take long for your body to remember his. The pain faded into pure pleasure within the minute, and then you were moving your hips along with his thrusts. Eddie noticed and picked up the pace of his hips, giving up on being careful and fucking into you with reckless abandon.

High moans spilled from your lips, your eyes falling closed as the feeling of him enveloped you completely. You could think of nothing but the pleasure he was providing with every press of his cockhead against that bundle of nerves deep inside you. Even after all this time, he knew exactly how to fuck you.

Eddie’s own grunts and groans were unashamed as he rutted into you with no real rhythm, drunkenly chasing his own release inside you. Somehow through the drunk and lust filled haze, he had the thought to reach down and rub tight circles on your clit, building that tightening feeling in your belly faster and faster.

“G’na cum,” you whined, your pussy tightening around his cock enough to make him moan even louder as he started fucking you even faster.

“Yeah, princess, that’s it, cum on my cock, just like that,” he babbled encouragement, his own release approaching rapidly. “Fuck, yeah, all over my cock baby.”

Your orgasm crashed through you with the power of a fucking train, and your eyes rolled back, body trembling and pussy clenching around him over and over again as you chanted his name, sounding just like all his groupies at the concert.

That’s all Eddie needed to fall over the edge with a hissed “Shit, shit!” and a low groan against your neck as he spilled inside of you, filling you deeply with ropes of his cum.

Once you were both spent, Eddie pulled out of you, rolling off and collapsing on the bed next to you. You both caught your breath. You wondered if you should say something, but the pull of sleep in both of your drunken minds was too strong. It wasn’t long before you heard Eddie’s soft snores, before you were pulled under, too.

—

You were woken up by a pounding at your front door.

Still, your eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the light filtering through your bedroom windows through the pounding headache already plaguing you. Your heart stopped in your chest when you saw Eddie’s naked form still sleeping next to you.

Fuck, what did you do?

You jumped out of bed and pulled on a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants before walking into the living room before whoever was pounding on the door woke up your entire apartment complex.

You swung open the door, irritated, to find a panicked looking Steve standing there.

“Jesus Christ,” he said when you opened the door. “You just disappeared last night. I thought you got abducted or something.”

The guilt and emotions hit you as the full reality of what you’d done fell on your chest. “Steve…” you started, unsure how to even explain yourself.

“How did you even get home? You just went to the bar and-“ Steve stopped cold, wide eyes trained at something over your shoulder.

Despite the dread in your stomach, you slowly turned, seeing Eddie standing in the hallway behind you, looking sheepish and dressed back in his jeans with no shirt.

“Uh, hey,” he said, a hand running through his curls.

Steve slowly looked back at you. “What the fuck.”

You didn’t even know what to say as you looked between the boys. Eddie looked down at the picture frame on the floor that had been knocked down last night.

“Oh, shit,” he said, almost to himself. He leaned down and picked it up. “I, uh, might have knocked this over-“

He froze. And the second you realized what photo he was looking at, you did, too.

It was Asher. A recent portrait, The toddler sporting a huge gap-toothed grin, his big brown eyes and wild head of curls mirroring the man currently standing in your hallway.

Eddie stared at the photo, completely unmoving. You didn’t even think you were breathing at this point. You could feel Steve’s presence behind you, everyone frozen waiting for someone to make a move.

He finally looked up slowly, eyes meeting yours with questions swirling inside that you didn’t want to answer and he wasn’t sure he wanted the answers to.

Eddie said your name softly, fear lacing his voice. “What is this?”

tag list

three of you it wouldn’t let me tag, so if you requested to be on the list and you aren’t here that’s why! i’m sorry :(

@awkward00noodle @american-idiot-jpg @georgeweasleyslostearhq @fandom-princess-forevermore @emxxblog @hopesicle @hellv1ra @whimsiwitchy @avalon-wolf @kellsck @toomuchbucky @sashaphantomhive @losingmygrasponreality @the-disaster-in-waiting @eddiesgirl1944 @ashcal99

[revelboo]

I know its not ENTIRELY the case but I love how Waspinator's like "Dating? Got it. I can do dating. Im gonna be the BEST at dating. And then, i will have unrestricted access to Nap Lap, the most coveted place."

He’s trying his hardest

Worker Bee Pt 17

Waspinator x Reader

• Sprawled face down on your bed, you’re immediately awake when you hear and feel the bed shifting and creaking. He’d stayed in the living room watching cartoons with the rapt focus of a toddler for the bright colors and let you sneak off to bed alone last night. Apparently, he’d finally noticed you’d abandoned him. And you groan when his heavy weight comes down partially on top of you, forcing the air from your lungs. “You’re too heavy,” you groan, squirming to wiggle out from under him and he settles for just his head and an arm against your back. And a leg kicked out across yours. Sighing and resisting the urge to grab a pillow to beat him with, your nose wrinkles. Why does he smell like freshly turned soil? Has he been digging in your yard? He’s behaving at least and you’re too sleepy to care about holes in your yard.

• Venting against you, he’s alert until your breathing evens out and only then does he allow himself to recharge. Had checked the perimeter of his hive after returning to make sure all was well. Hadn’t been able to find any pretty flowers with the snow, but he’s pleased with what he had found to offer you. Sure that you’ll be impressed with him and accept his courting gift. And food? He’s seen you prepare your weird smelling food from the tall, cold box and the small beeping box. Simple enough.

• “Little friend?” What time is it? Ignoring as he croons at you, the mattress shifting when he moves over you. If you ignore him, he might go away and let you sleep. “Little friend.” Feel his mandibles slides through your hair and against the back of your neck to make your skin crawl. And then his wet glossa slides behind your ear and there’s no pretending you’re not awake anymore when you shriek and nearly elbow him in the face. “Awake?”

• “What’s have I said about licking me?” You growl, words becoming a wheeze when he slumps against your warmth to vent against your skin. “Can’t breathe.” Hooking an arm around you, he rolls so you’re sprawled on him, his wings flared out under him. And your eyes narrow when you look around. “There’s mud in my bed,” you say, voice that carefully neutral tone you use right before you get angry with him. And he whines when you sit up on him to stare at the mud smeared on your skin from him. Clawed servos resting on your hips, he’s afraid to move in case you bolt. “Why is there mud everywhere?” Knows how dangerous that calm tone is. That his little friend is about to yell at Waspinator most likely.

• “Waspinator’s little friend very lovely,” he manages and that is the last thing you expect from the big idiot. Startling a snorting laugh out of you, because if he thinks that’s going to get him out of trouble, he’s gravely mistaken. “Little friend’s frame very soft,” he adds and now you are laughing, because he’s so terrible at whatever this is? Painfully awkward flirting? That thought sobers you, because no. There’s no way he’s flirting. “Pretty scent.” Yeah, nope. This is getting uncomfortable now.

• “I smell like dirt right now, but thanks,” you mutter, sliding off of him to make his frame strain and another buzzing whine escapes him. Rolling onto his side to watch you purse your soft lips and examine the room, his antenna go back when you smile. “There’s more dirt, isn’t there?”

• “Prepared food for little friend,” he says, words a bit too quick as he rolls off your bed and follows you down the hall. How is there mud on the ceiling? Squinting back at him, that he’d fixed you food is especially horrifying. Bug breath eats silverware. And he bumps into you when you stop short at the living room. Is that an azalea bush? Roots and all? And what is that stink? “Flowers for little friend. Dating.” What are the symptoms of a stroke, because you can’t breathe right now, staring at the mess. Dating? What does he mean dating? And the fire alarm chooses right then to start screaming.

Previous

Next

[amirasainz]

Could you please do reader is Pierre or Daniel girlfriend and he’s so soft for her but she’s Lando bestfriend’s and him and Lando always fight over her, fluffy please with Lando being dramatic little shit?

Yay, I love this idea.

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo

The Brit and the Croissant

The paddock was buzzing with the usual chaos of a race weekend. Engineers hustled around the garages, drivers huddled with their teams, and fans filled the grandstands, eager to catch a glimpse of their favorite racers. Y/N stood at the entrance of the Alpine garage, her eyes scanning the scene for a familiar figure. The roar of engines and the scent of burning rubber filled the air, but all she cared about was finding him—Pierre Gasly, her boyfriend and the love of her life.

She spotted him adjusting his helmet, his usual confident smirk on display as he chatted with his race engineer. Pierre's eyes met hers, and his expression immediately softened. His cocky smile was replaced with a gentle one, reserved only for her.

“Mon amour!” Pierre called out, walking over and pulling her into his arms. He kissed her forehead, holding her close. “I missed you.”

Y/N laughed softly, running her fingers through his messy hair. “I saw you two hours ago, Pierre.”

“Two hours too long,” he mumbled into her hair, tightening his embrace.

Y/N loved how soft he was with her, how he let his guard down completely. On the track, he was fierce and competitive, but with her, he was a different person. She kissed him lightly on the lips, but before they could get lost in their little bubble, a familiar voice interrupted them.

“Ugh, get a room, you two,” Lando groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes as he sauntered over, wearing his bright McLaren suit and a pout that would rival a toddler. “You’re always hogging her, Gasly.”

Pierre glanced at Lando, a smirk forming. “Jealous, Norris?”

“No,” Lando scoffed, but his face said otherwise. He turned to Y/N, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Come on, Y/N. You promised you’d hang out with me today, and someone”—he shot Pierre a pointed look—“keeps stealing you away.”

Y/N chuckled, enjoying their little rivalry. “I’m not an object, you know. I can hang out with both of you.”

Lando placed a hand over his heart, dramatically sighing as if he’d been wounded. “Wow, Y/N, my best friend, my number one supporter…betrayed.” He wiped an imaginary tear, causing Y/N to burst into laughter.

Pierre rolled his eyes, though he was smiling. “You’re such a drama queen, Lando.”

“Says the guy who throws a fit every time he doesn’t get his favorite croissants,” Lando shot back, making Y/N giggle. Pierre’s love for pastries was notorious in the paddock.

“Touché,” Y/N teased, nudging Pierre playfully. “I have to give him that one.”

Pierre feigned a wounded look, leaning against the wall dramatically. “Et tu, mon amour? You wound me.”

Y/N placed a hand on his cheek, her thumb brushing lightly against his stubbled skin. “You know you’re my favorite French drama queen.”

Before Pierre could reply, Lando grabbed Y/N’s hand, pulling her towards the McLaren garage. “Come on, Y/N. Let’s go prank Oscar. I’ve got some rubber snakes that he’s definitely not going to like.”

Y/N shot Pierre an apologetic look, but he just waved them off, his expression soft. “Have fun. But remember, I get her back later.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando said dismissively, already plotting mischief. “We’ll return her in one piece.”

Pierre watched them walk away, his heart swelling as he saw Y/N’s bright smile. He loved her friendship with Lando, even if it meant sharing her attention more than he would have liked. Lando might be his rival on the track, but off it, the three of them had a bond that was rare and precious.

---

The day passed in a blur of laughter and chaos. Lando’s prank on Oscar had been a roaring success, ending with Oscar chasing Lando around the garage while Y/N tried—and failed—to stop laughing. They spent the afternoon joking around, watching practice sessions, and taking silly selfies, much to the amusement of the McLaren team.

But as evening approached, Y/N found herself missing Pierre. She loved Lando like a brother, but Pierre was her heart. She slipped away from the McLaren hospitality, making her way back to the Alpine motorhome.

Pierre was waiting for her, sitting on the steps with his phone in hand. When he saw her approaching, his face lit up, and he stood up to greet her.

“Back so soon?” he teased, though his eyes were full of warmth.

“I missed you,” Y/N admitted, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest.

Pierre kissed the top of her head, rubbing her back soothingly. “I missed you too, chérie. Did you and Lando have fun?”

“Yeah, but he’s such a handful,” Y/N said, pulling back to look up at him. “He’s like a hyperactive puppy.”

Pierre chuckled, nodding in agreement. “That’s why you’re good for him. You keep him grounded. But… I’m glad you’re back with me.”

Y/N smiled, feeling the familiar flutter in her chest whenever he looked at her like that. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Just as they were sharing a quiet moment, Lando’s voice broke through the calm. “Oi! Lovebirds! I’m still here, you know.”

Pierre sighed, turning to see Lando leaning against the wall, watching them with a fake pout. “Don’t you have somewhere to be, Norris?”

“Yeah, with you two. This is quality third-wheeling right here,” Lando said, unabashed. He sidled up beside Y/N, looping an arm around her shoulders. “Seriously though, Y/N, we need to plan more best friend days. Pierre hogs you way too much.”

Y/N laughed, pulling both boys into a side hug. “I don’t know how I got stuck with the two of you, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Pierre kissed her temple, his voice soft. “We’re lucky to have you, Y/N.”

Lando rolled his eyes but smiled anyway. “Yeah, yeah. But remember, Y/N, I was here first.”

Pierre glanced at Lando, raising an eyebrow. “And yet, she’s still with me, Norris.”

“Only because she pities you,” Lando shot back, sticking his tongue out like a child.

Y/N groaned, hiding her face in her hands as Pierre and Lando continued their playful bickering. It was ridiculous how they always fought over her, but she wouldn’t trade it for anything. Their banter was the heartbeat of her days, and no matter how much they squabbled, she knew deep down that they cared for each other in their own weird, competitive way.

---

Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the three of them found themselves sitting on the grass, watching the track lights twinkle in the distance. Y/N sat between Pierre and Lando, her head resting on Pierre’s shoulder while Lando kept talking animatedly about his plans to prank Max next.

“You two are exhausting,” Y/N said, her voice laced with affection.

Pierre squeezed her hand, his thumb tracing circles on her skin. “But you love us.”

“Unfortunately,” Y/N joked, earning a laugh from both boys.

Lando bumped her shoulder with his, smiling softly. “You’re the best, Y/N. Thanks for putting up with us.”

Pierre nodded, his expression full of tenderness as he gazed at her. “Thank you for being the peace between us.”

Y/N looked between the two most important people in her life and grinned. “Always. You’re both stuck with me.”

And in that moment, with the night sky above them and the sounds of the track in the background, everything felt perfect. They were an unlikely trio, but they fit together in the best way possible, and no amount of bickering or teasing could change that.

They were family.

[evenyvn]

Love Know no Bounds

Poly! WooSan x Fem! Reader

summary : Bound by years of friendship, you, San, and Wooyoung teeter on the edge of something more—where every touch lingers too long, and every glance says what none of you dare to speak.

cw : she/her reader, sfw, slightly suggestive, fluff, a little angst, fast-burn, bestfriends to lovers, un-established polyamorous relationship, three of them are in denial and oblivious, yearning, more to be added.

masterlist — next

You’ve known them for as long as you’ve known yourself.

Choi San and Jung Wooyoung—your constants, your other halves—your world. From the moment you all could walk, it was always you three. Stumbling toddlers, mischievous kids, awkward middle schoolers, and now high school seniors standing on the edge of adulthood together.

Your parents would often laugh, shaking their heads fondly whenever the three of you tumbled into someone's living room, backpacks half-zipped, snacks stuffed in your hands, talking over each other without any care of the world. Three peas in a pod, they'd say.

But somewhere between childhood adventures and high school hallways, things shifted.

It’s subtle at first. An accidental brush of San’s fingers on your waist that lingers a heartbeat too long. The way Wooyoung’s gaze burns on your skin, especially when you laugh a little too freely—it's lingering, or how he sometimes watches San with a look that makes your stomach knot.

You pretend you don’t notice. But you do.

Because you’re guilty of the same things.

You've seen it when San sits beside Wooyoung on the couch on a movie night, thigh pressed flush against his, San's hand idly stroking slow, lazy circles on Wooyoung’s thigh. You see how Wooyoung leans into it without a second thought, biting his lip, pretending he doesn't crave more.

You feel it when San's arm curls around your waist protectively in crowded hallways, his hand splaying a little too possessively on your hip, his body pressed against yours like a silent promise as your heartbeats with his against his chest.

You feel it when Wooyoung’s eyes, usually so bright, so mischievous—now soften whenever they land on you, dipping down briefly to your lips, like he’s imagining a thousand different ways to kiss you, like he craves the taste of your lips.

And God, you can’t even blame them. You’re just as bad.

Your body reacts instinctively—tensing under San’s touch before melting against him, heart hammering when Wooyoung’s gaze pins you, it makes you squirm and blush and ache for something you’re too scared to ask for.

Because you're all terrified.

You’re terrified that one move, one word, could shatter the bond you spent a lifetime building. Terrified that giving in to the wildfire burning between you would ruin everything.

So you stay silent.

You laugh, you tease, you cling to each other with trembling hands, pretending the world hasn’t shifted under your feet. Pretending you don't notice how San’s breath hitches when Wooyoung leans too close, or how Wooyoung’s fingers brush your knuckles like a secret apology.

Love, real love—not in a platonic way like it used to be—it buzzes in every glance, every touch, every stolen moment too intimate for words.

You wonder sometimes, lying awake at night, what it would be like if you were just a little bit brave. If San pulled you into his lap and kissed you breathless while Wooyoung pressed close behind you, his lips finding the hollow of your neck—Sharing an unspoken devotion between the three of you.

If you could all stop pretending and start belonging to each other the way your hearts already do.

Because love doesn’t know bounds.

Not between you, not between San and Wooyoung, not between Wooyoung and you, not between San and you.

And deep down, you know—it’s not a matter of if.

It’s when.

join our taglist here!

divider by @.adornedwithlight | likes, reblogs, and comments are very appreciated ♡

[rafedarling]

queen have u seen the new photos of Drew. 🤭🤭

dad!Drew x reader where like it’s the blue suit red carpet and the whole family is in italy together and reader thinks drew looks so yummy so it’s like smut where they get back to the hotel and they have to be quiet AF

yass girl and not gonna lie, he looks fucking hot !

𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐤𝐲

pairing: dad!drew starkey x mom!reader summary: at the venice film festival 2024, drew and you, both acclaimed actors, make a stunning appearance on the red carpet for the premiere of the new movie, ‘queer’. your two-year-old twin daughters, ophelia and olympia, accompany you and drew, captivating everyone with their sweet presence. after the event, the starkey returns to their luxurious hotel suite, where, after putting the girls to bed, you and drew indulges in a passionate, intimate moment, trying to keep quiet as your daughters sleeping in the room next door. | word count: 2,8k warning(s): english is not my native language. 18+, smut, piv, creampie, cum play, sexual content, language, MINOR DNI!!

au: fill this form if you want to be tag. like, reblog & reply or much appreciated! tagging: @rafeyslamb

As the sun was setting over Venice, casting the city in a warm, golden glow as you and Drew Starkey arrived at the Venice Film Festival. The air buzzed with excitement as stars from around the world gathered to celebrate the premiere of QUEER, a film that had garnered significant attention for its bold storytelling and representation. Tonight, you and Drew were not just co-stars but partners, sharing the spotlight with your two-year-old twin daughters, Ophelia and Olympia.

As you stepped onto the red carpet, the cameras flashed, capturing the perfect image of a beautiful family. Drew looked stunning in a deep navy suit, the black lapels adding a sharp contrast that highlighted his chiseled features. His hair was styled just so, a little tousled, giving him an effortlessly handsome look. You wore a flowing, elegant gown that complemented Drew’s suit perfectly, the fabric shimmering under the lights as you walked hand in hand.

Ophelia and Olympia were dressed in matching white dresses, their blonde curls bouncing with every step as they clung to your hands, their little faces a mixture of awe and curiosity. They had been to events before, but nothing quite like this. The sheer scale of the festival, the grandeur of the venue, and the attention from the media were overwhelming for anyone, let alone two toddlers. Yet, they handled it with the grace of seasoned professionals, waving shyly at the cameras, their innocent smiles melting the hearts of everyone watching.

As you posed for photos, Drew leaned down to whisper in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “You look incredible tonight,” he murmured, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

You smiled, feeling a rush of affection for him. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased, glancing at him from beneath your lashes. “But I think the girls are stealing the show.”

Drew chuckled, his eyes softening as he looked at Ophelia and Olympia. “They are, aren’t they? Just like their mom—beautiful and captivating.”

The interviews followed, and as usual, Drew handled the press with charm and ease. The reporters were eager to hear about your experiences on set, the dynamics of working together as a couple, and of course, how you managed to balance your careers with raising your daughters. Drew’s answers were thoughtful and sincere, emphasizing how much he valued the time spent with his family, both on and off the set.

“They’re the reason I do this,” he said, glancing at you and the girls with a smile that made your heart skip a beat. “Having them here with me tonight makes it all the more special.”

The night continued with more photos, more interviews, and a palpable sense of anticipation for the premiere. But as much as you enjoyed the spotlight, the most important part of the evening was the shared experience with Drew and your daughters. You could see the pride in Drew’s eyes every time he looked at you or the girls, a silent acknowledgment of the journey you had been on together.

After the screening of QUEER, which was met with a standing ovation, the four of you were whisked back to your hotel in a sleek black car. The night air was cool and refreshing, a welcome contrast to the heat of the cameras and the lights of the red carpet. Ophelia and Olympia, who had been little stars all evening, were starting to show signs of fatigue. Their little eyes drooped, and they leaned heavily against you and Drew, their tiny bodies growing limp with exhaustion.

Back at the hotel, you and Drew worked together to get the girls ready for bed. The suite was spacious and luxurious, with a separate bedroom for the twins. After helping them out of their dresses and into their pajamas, you read them a story, your voice soft and soothing as they snuggled into their beds. Drew sat beside you, one arm draped around your shoulders, his other hand gently stroking Olympia’s hair as her eyes slowly closed.

Ophelia was the first to fall asleep, her hand clutching her favorite stuffed bunny. Olympia held out a little longer, her eyes fluttering open and closed until finally, she gave in to sleep. You and Drew sat there for a moment longer, watching your daughters’ peaceful faces, their soft breathing filling the room with a sense of calm.

Finally, you and Drew quietly left the room, closing the door behind you with a gentle click. The suite was silent, the only sounds the soft hum of the air conditioning and the faint noise of the city outside. You leaned against the door, your eyes meeting Drew’s across the room.

“They were amazing tonight,” you whispered, a smile tugging at your lips.

Drew walked over to you, his gaze intense as he cupped your face in his hands. “They take after their mother,” he said softly, his thumb brushing your cheek. “You were incredible too. I’m so proud of you.”

You felt a warm blush spread across your cheeks at his words. “Thank you,” you murmured, leaning into his touch. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Drew’s eyes darkened with desire as he leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours. “We finally have some time to ourselves,” he whispered, his voice low and husky. “What do you want to do?”

A shiver of anticipation ran down your spine at the implication in his tone. You slid your hands up his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his shirt. “I can think of a few things,” you replied, your voice breathless as you closed the distance between you, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss.

Drew responded immediately, his arms wrapping around you as he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing yours as he pressed you against the door. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you and the intense need that was building between you. His hands roamed your body, expertly undoing the zipper of your dress and letting it fall to the floor in a soft rustle of fabric.

You broke the kiss just long enough to help him out of his jacket and shirt, your fingers trembling slightly as you undid the buttons. Drew’s hands found your waist, pulling you close as he kissed you again, more urgently this time, his need for you growing with every passing second.

He backed you towards the bed, his hands never leaving your body as he guided you onto the soft mattress. The cool sheets contrasted with the heat of his skin as he hovered above you, his gaze raking over your body with a look of pure adoration.

“You’re so beautiful,” Drew whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he kissed a trail down your neck, his lips leaving a burning path on your skin. “I can’t get enough of you.”

You arched into his touch, your fingers threading through his hair as he continued his descent, his mouth hot against your collarbone. “Drew...” you moaned softly, your voice trembling with need as you felt him reach for the clasp of your bra, expertly undoing it and tossing it aside.

He paused for a moment, his eyes meeting yours as he gently cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure straight through you, making you gasp. Drew smiled at your reaction, clearly pleased with himself as he dipped his head to take one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

Your back arched off the bed at the sensation, a moan escaping your lips as you clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders. The pleasure was almost overwhelming, every nerve in your body on high alert as Drew lavished attention on your breasts, his hands and mouth working in perfect harmony to drive you wild.

After what felt like an eternity of blissful torment, Drew continued his journey downward, his lips trailing kisses down your stomach, his hands guiding your hips as he slowly pulled your panties down, leaving you completely exposed to him. He paused for a moment, his eyes darkening with lust as he took in the sight of you, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

“God, you’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe as he gently spread your legs, positioning himself between them.

You bit your lip, anticipation building as you felt the heat of his breath against your most sensitive area. “Drew, please...” you whimpered, your voice trembling with need.

He didn’t make you wait any longer. With a low growl of desire, he dipped his head, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The sensation was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through you, your hips bucking involuntarily as you moaned his name. Drew’s hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he continued to pleasure you, his tongue and lips working together to drive you closer and closer to the edge.

You clung to the sheets, your body trembling with the intensity of the sensations as Drew brought you to the brink of ecstasy. Just when you thought you couldn’t take it any longer, he pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours as he inserted a finger inside you, the sensation of his long, skilled fingers pushing you over the edge.

You cried out, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm as Drew continued to work you through it, his fingers and mouth never stopping until you were completely spent, your body going limp with exhaustion.

Drew climbed back up your body, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss as he positioned himself at your entrance. You were still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, but the feel of him so close, so ready, reignited the fire inside you.

You wrapped your legs around Drew’s waist, pulling him closer as he hovered above you, his breath warm and ragged against your lips. His eyes locked onto yours, a mixture of love, desire, and admiration swirling within them. He held himself there, just at your entrance, teasing you with the promise of what was to come.

“Are you ready?” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

You nodded, unable to find the words as anticipation coursed through your veins. The look in his eyes was enough to send another shiver of pleasure down your spine. You could feel him, hot and hard, pressing against you, and the need to have him inside you was almost unbearable.

“Please,” you breathed, your voice trembling with need. “I need you, Drew.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. With a slow, deliberate movement, Drew pushed forward, filling you inch by inch. The sensation was exquisite, a perfect blend of pleasure and pressure as he stretched you, your bodies fitting together like they were made for each other. You both moaned as he entered you fully, the feeling of him deep inside you almost overwhelming.

Drew paused, his forehead resting against yours as he took a moment to savor the sensation, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. “You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

“So do you,” you replied breathlessly, your hands gripping his shoulders as you adjusted to the feel of him inside you. The connection between you was palpable, an unspoken bond that had only deepened over time. Every touch, every movement felt like a promise, a testament to the love you shared.

Drew started to move, slow and steady at first, his thrusts deep and measured. Each movement sent ripples of pleasure through your body, building a delicious tension that made you gasp and cling to him even tighter. His hands roamed your body, one settling on your hip to guide your movements, the other brushing the hair away from your face as he kissed you deeply.

The kiss was passionate, filled with the kind of raw, unfiltered emotion that only came from years of love and trust. You could feel the intensity of his feelings in the way he kissed you, in the way he held you close as if you were the most precious thing in the world. It was more than just physical; it was a connection of souls, a merging of hearts.

As Drew’s thrusts became more urgent, the pace quickened, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge of another orgasm. He seemed to sense it too, his movements becoming more purposeful, his hand slipping between your bodies to find that sensitive bundle of nerves that he knew would push you over the edge.

When he touched you there, the sensation was electric, your body responding instantly as pleasure exploded within you. You cried out his name in silece, your back arching off the bed as the orgasm ripped through you, your body trembling with the force of it. Drew didn’t stop, his movements relentless as he continued to drive into you, prolonging your pleasure until you were a quivering mess beneath him.

Finally, with a few more powerful thrusts, Drew followed you over the edge, his own release coming with a guttural groan as he buried himself deep inside you. You could feel the warmth of his release, the pulsing of his body against yours as he collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving with exertion.

For a moment, the two of you lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, both of you trying to catch your breath as the aftershocks of pleasure continued to ripple through your bodies. The room was filled with the sounds of your breathing, mingling together in the stillness of the night.

Drew finally lifted his head to look at you, his eyes soft and filled with love. He reached up to gently brush a strand of hair from your face, his thumb grazing your cheek as he smiled down at you. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice hoarse but filled with sincerity.

You smiled back at him, your heart swelling with love. “I love you, Drew” you replied, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. “I love you, Drew.”

“I love you too,” he whispered back, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your lips. It was a kiss filled with all the love and affection he couldn’t put into words, a promise that he would always be there for you, no matter what.

He rolled over, pulling you with him so that you were lying on his chest, your legs still entwined. You could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, a comforting rhythm that lulled you into a state of contentment. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as if he never wanted to let you go.

The two of you lay there in silence for a while, simply enjoying the closeness, the feel of each other’s bodies pressed together. The world outside might have been filled with the glitz and glamour of the festival, but in that moment, it was just the two of you, wrapped in each other’s love.

Eventually, Drew shifted slightly, his hand running up and down your back in a soothing motion. “We should probably get some sleep,” he murmured, though there was a note of reluctance in his voice. “The girls will be up early.”

You chuckled softly, knowing he was right. As much as you wanted to stay in this moment forever, the responsibilities of parenthood would call soon enough. “Yeah,” you agreed, though you made no move to get up just yet.

Drew smiled, tightening his hold on you. “We’ll have plenty of nights like this,” he promised, his voice filled with certainty. “Plenty of moments where it’s just you and me.”

You nodded, feeling a warm sense of contentment settle over you. “I’m looking forward to it,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his chest before finally, reluctantly, rolling off of him.

You both moved slowly, the exhaustion from the day and the intensity of your lovemaking catching up with you. Drew helped you pull the covers up over your bodies, his arm wrapping around you once more as you settled against his side. The bed was warm and comfortable, and you could feel yourself drifting off almost immediately, the events of the day a pleasant blur in your mind.

As you closed your eyes, you felt Drew press a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Goodnight, my love,” he whispered, his voice the last thing you heard before sleep claimed you.

“Goodnight,” you murmured back, a smile on your lips as you finally surrendered to the peaceful darkness.

And with that, you both fell asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms.

[emilys-bangs]

Can I request #31 from the Marigold fluff list. With Married Em and Reader? Emily giving reader massage after a long day with the kids.

Thank you for requesting!! :) Join my celebration here <3

Tags: established relationship, mom!emily, mildly suggestive

Word count: 0.8k

Having twins is hard. Having twin boys is downright exhausting.

Every part of you aches. Your arms are sore, your bones creak, and if you have to bend down to the floor one more time you think your knees will crumble to pieces. It must show on your face, because the moment Emily walks through the door she orders you to bed. 

“Or take a shower. A bath. Just go and relax,” she insists. The command is softer than it should be; the sight of two toddler boys curled around her neck undeniably cushions any sharp edges usually on display.

“What about bedtime?” You yawn.

“I think we’ve got bedtime covered.” Emily rolls her eyes. “Please. I love you, but,” she places a singular kiss on your mouth, “get out of here.”

“Out’f here,” James parrots sagely, always eager to copy whatever Emily’s saying.

You wrinkle your nose at him, catching Emily’s small smile when he giggles. “Well, if you insist.”

“If I had any spare arms I’d shoo you away.”

“Shoo?” Theodore pipes up from under Emily’s chin.

“Shoo.” Emily says softly, brushing a kiss on his hair. “But it’s not a very nice thing to say, so maybe don’t say it. Unless it’s a situation like this one. Where someone’s being very very stubborn.” She levels you a pointed look.

It’s your turn to roll your eyes.

Emily laughs and leans toward you. “C’mon, loves, say goodnight.”

You get two soft g’night’s and spit-wet kisses on your cheeks before Emily whisks the boys away, already talking to them a mile a minute (and what have you gentlemen been up to this evening?). James’ voice threads through hers as he answers, bright and still buzzing with energy, fading away the further she takes them into their room. You take yourself to yours, steadfastly ignoring the nauseating mess in the living room and deciding to fix yourself a bath.

Despite your initial protests, you shut both your bedroom door and the ensuite door, muffling the noise that spills out into the hallway. You love your kids, and you love that they feel safe enough to express themselves, but you’ve been smothered in their racket ever since you picked them up from preschool. All the fuss and the noise gets too much by the time night falls.

Emily likes taking her time with bedtime, so you indulge yourself. Epsom salt, essential oils, and frothy bubbles all make their way into your bath. You bury yourself under nearly scalding water and stay there until your fingers prune, enjoying the silence and the way the water presses on your sore muscles. When you hear Emily padding around in your room you pull yourself out, steam rising off of your skin as you change into your pajamas.

Cold air slaps your face as you walk out of the bathroom. Emily is sprawled on the bed, reading, and there’s silence. Blissful silence.

“I wasn’t aware we owned a sauna.” She teases, putting her book down when she sees you.

“That felt good,” you groan, ignoring her ribbing and falling face-down on the bed. “I think I pulled two muscles today.”

“Where?”

You touch your shoulder, then the slope of your neck.

The bed shifts. You lift your head up and feel as Emily settles herself on the backs of your thighs, leaning forward against your back. “Can I interest you in a massage service?” She murmurs into your ear, dropping a kiss on the shell of it.

Your body tingles.

“Get to it, Prentiss.”

Her soft laugh beats against your skin. You’re suddenly hyper aware of everything: the crisp, cold sheets under you, the pressure of Emily’s body on yours, her strong fingers as they knead over your shirt. She works your muscles, digs her thumbs in until a knot comes loose.

You groan, face falling into the mattress.

“Good?”

“Yeah,” you mumble. “Don’t stop.”

“Your back is riddled.” She chides. Her voice slides over your skin, warm velvet even though you’re taking a scolding. She gets your shirt off of you, then traces the path of your neck with her fingers. “Jeez, babe. How’d it get this bad?”

“Mm, your kids.” You’re fusing with the bed. Becoming one with the mattress. Emily’s hands are hot, melting away the tension from your shoulders and neck. She’s working magic—dropping kisses, unloosening knots, reducing you to a puddle of contented sighs.

“Can I”—a kiss to your jaw—“apologize on their behalf?” One to the slope of your neck.

“That depends.” You’re breathless. “What does your apology entail?”

“Only good things, love.” Her voice is thick with promise. She turns you on your back, manipulating your pliant body until her coal-dark eyes shine down on yours. “Can I show you?”

She’s warm with the light of your bedside lamp. Outlined in gold, you can see the pulse beat in her throat, steady.

You reach a hand up and thread your fingers through her hair. Wordlessly, you tug her down, down, your arm heavy around her neck, body already arching up. Emily’s grin flashes, a glimpse of pearly teeth there and gone before they sink into your bottom lip.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu @ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi @temilyrights @professorsapphic @decadentcatcrusade @piiinco @jareavsheavn

[amyzworldds]

Title: Midnight Swing Fiasco

Masterlist

During a rare two-day holiday, half of Seventeen visits family, leaving yn, under Seungcheol’s strict supervision, restless in the dorm with Jun, Minghao, Hoshi, Vernon, and Woozi. Her frustration fuels a late-night adventure with Hoshi, spiraling into snacks, playground fun, and a chaotic twist. Pairing: Seventeen x 14th member Genre: Fluff, Humor Timeline: 2017

The dorm buzzed with an unusual quiet—it was a rare two-day holiday, and half of Seventeen had bolted to their family homes for some much-needed bonding. Dino and Seungkwan were off giggling with their siblings, Mingyu was probably cooking a feast for his parents, and others had scattered like leaves in the wind. But yn? She was stuck at the dorm, her parents gallivanting on a cruise somewhere tropical, leaving her in Seungcheol’s iron grip. “They handed me over like an orphan!” she’d whined earlier, flopping onto the couch with a pout. “Coups is stricter than Mom and Dad combined!”

Seungcheol stayed behind, of course—ever the dutiful leader, he wouldn’t leave with members still in the dorm, especially not with yn on his watchlist. Jun, Minghao, Hoshi, Vernon, and Woozi lingered too, too lazy or too comfy to travel. The vibe was chill, but yn was anything but. She stomped around all day, grumbling like a grumpy toddler.

“6 PM curfew on a holiday?!” she ranted, thumping her feet on the floor as she trailed Seungcheol from the kitchen to the living room. “It’s inhumane! Dino and Seungkwan get to wander around with their families, and they’ve still got two weeks of cleaning duty with me and Vernon! Why do they get a free pass while I’m stuck here with a bedtime like a five-year-old?!”

Seungcheol didn’t even look up from his phone, scrolling through texts from her parents—probably more “Thank you, Seungcheol!” messages. “Because they’re not the ones sneaking out for ice cream at 3 AM. You’re on probation, kid. Deal with it.”

She flopped onto the couch beside Vernon, who was sprawled out with headphones on, ignoring her entirely. “Vernon oppa, back me up! It’s unfair!”

He cracked one eye open, deadpan. “You’re the reason I’m still scrubbing toilets. I’m not helping you.”

“Traitor!” she huffed, crossing her arms and kicking the air. “I’m the only maknae suffering! Hoshi, tell him it’s cruel!” She turned to Hoshi, who was sprawled on the floor playing with a tiger plushie a fan had gifted.

Hoshi grinned, waving the plushie’s paw. “Horanghae, yn! But yeah, hyung, 6 PM is brutal. Let her live a little—it’s a holiday!”

“Live a little inside,” Seungcheol shot back, unmoved by her pouty pleading eyes. “No sneaking out, no chaos. That’s the rule.”

Night fell, and yn, still grumpy but resigned, begged for a compromise. “Coups oppa, pleeeease let me stay up late! It’s a holiday, and I wanna binge Friends! I won’t sneak out—I swear on my bunny!”

Seungcheol squinted at her, suspicious. “No funny business? You stay in this dorm, or I’m locking you in your room with bells and a padlock.”

“Deal!” she chirped, saluting him like a soldier. “I’m reformed! A good girl now!”

He snorted. “We’ll see.” But he let her have it—holiday mercy, he figured.

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

By 1:30 AM, the living room was a war zone of laughter. Yn and Hoshi were sprawled across the couch, a blanket fort half-collapsing around them, cackling at Friends reruns. “Ross is such a dork!” yn howled, clutching a pillow as she mimicked his whiny “Pivot!” Hoshi doubled over, nearly rolling off the couch. “He’s me if I ever get a girlfriend—‘Tiger pivot!’”

Their stomachs growled in unison, loud enough to drown out the TV. Yn groaned, patting her belly. “I’m starving. Oppa, feed me!”

Hoshi leapt up, striking a dramatic pose. “To the kitchen, my trusty sidekick!” He bolted off, only to flop back onto the couch two minutes later, defeated. “Bad news, yn-ie. No kimchi, no rice, no ramen—nothing easy! Everything’s raw, and I don’t cook. Where’s Mingyu when you need him?!”

“Off being a good son,” yn moaned, sprawling out. “This is torture! We’re gonna starve!”

They locked eyes, then glanced at the clock—1:35 AM—and then the door. Yn shook her head furiously, sitting up. “Nope, nope, nope! I’m not risking it! If Coups catches me, my 6 PM curfew turns into 5 PM—or worse, he’ll cage me like a zoo animal! My parents would just laugh and say, ‘You deserve it, sweetie!’ No way!”

Hoshi’s eyes gleamed, a mischievous tiger grin spreading. He leaned in, whispering, “But I’m not on curfew. And I’m a hyung, I’m older—Coups said you can go out with an older member, right? I’m your ticket to freedom, yn-ie! Convenience store run—chips, corndogs, the works! He won’t care if you’re with me!”

Yn’s jaw dropped, then her face lit up like a firework. “Oh my gosh, you’re right! He said ‘older member’! You’re my loophole, Hoshi oppa!” She bounced up, grabbing her hoodie. “Let’s go—quietly, though. If Woozi wakes up, he’ll snitch for fun.”

Hoshi yanked on his own hoodie and slippers, snagging his wallet with a flourish. “I’ve got the cash, you’ve got the chaos—perfect team!” He peeked into the hall, then waved her over. “Coast is clear. Operation Snack Attack is a go!”

Yn looped her arm through his, and they tiptoed out, giggling like kids sneaking cookies. The door clicked shut behind them, and they burst into the cool night air, skipping down the street arm in arm. “Freedom tastes so good!” Yn sang, twirling under a streetlight.

Hoshi laughed, hopping beside her. “Better with corndogs! Race you to the store!”

The convenience store glowed like a beacon, and they stormed in like giddy tornadoes. Yn grabbed a basket, piling in chips, candies, and sodas while Hoshi hunted down corndogs. “Two for me, two for you!” he declared, waving them triumphantly. “And gummy worms—tiger fuel!”

“Perfect!” Yn said, tossing in a pack of chocolate bars. “We’re feasting tonight!” They paid, Hoshi flexing his wallet like a hero, and shuffled out with bags swinging.

Hoshi munched a corndog, then nudged her. “Wanna hit the playground? Just to chill—eat, vibe, soak in the holiday spirit?”

“Chill? With you?” Yn snorted, linking arms again. “We don’t do ‘chill,’ oppa. Let’s go wild!” They bolted toward the nearby park, their laughter echoing through the empty streets.

The playground was a moonlit wonderland—swings creaking, a slide glinting, and a jungle gym begging to be conquered. They dumped their snacks on a bench, and the madness began. “Swing race!” Hoshi yelled, leaping onto one and pumping his legs like a maniac. Yn jumped on beside him, shrieking, “I’m gonna fly to the moon!”

“You wish!” Hoshi shot back, nearly toppling off. “Tiger power beats bunny hops any day!”

They abandoned the swings for the slide, taking turns zooming down—Hoshi belly-flopping with a “Horanghae!” and yn sliding backward, screaming, “I’m a rocket!” Then they set up her phone, propping it against the snack bags to record their antics.

“Acting challenge!” Yn announced, striking a dramatic pose. “Who’s the saddest? Go!” She fake-cried, clutching her corndog like a lost love. “Oh, my corndog, why’d you leave me?!”

Hoshi dropped to his knees, clutching his chest. “My kimchi… gone forever… I’ll never eat again!” A single tear rolled down his cheek, and yn gasped.

“You cried?! You win!” She tackled him in a hug, and they collapsed into giggles, rolling on the grass. “You’re too good, oppa!”

“Years of practice!” Hoshi panted, sitting up to grab a soda. “Your turn—best tiger impression!”

Yn leapt up, clawing the air. “Rawr! I’m Hoshi, king of chaos!” She pounced on him, and he yelped, spilling his drink. “Hey, that’s my title!”

They wrestled playfully, then sprawled out on the slide, munching chips and swapping dumb stories. “Remember when Mingyu tried to cook for the first time and set off the smoke alarm?” yn said, crunching loudly.

Hoshi cackled. “Coups hyung was so mad—‘You’re banned from the kitchen!’—and Mingyu just pouted like a kicked puppy!”

“Miss that guy,” yn sighed, then grinned. “But this? You and me, snacks, playground? Best holiday ever.”

Hoshi nudged her, his tiger plushie tucked under his arm. “Told you I’m the best member. Coups hyung can’t stop us!”

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

Back at the dorm

It was nearly 4 AM, and the dorm was wrapped in holiday silence—until Seungcheol’s phone erupted into a relentless buzz. He jolted awake, groaning as the screen flashed “Hoshi” over and over. “It’s a holiday,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. “Who calls at 4 AM unless—” His blood ran cold. “YN!” He didn’t answer right away, dread pooling in his gut. “Not unless the queen of chaos struck again. And Hoshi’s calling? Oh, this is bad.”

He stumbled out of the room he shared with Seungkwan, and shuffled into the living room. The TV blared Friends, Ross whining, but the couch was empty. No yn. No Hoshi. Just their snack bags scattered like a crime scene. Seungcheol’s eyes narrowed, his blood boiling hotter than a kettle. “Those two,” he growled, clenching his fists. “Worse than yn with Dino, Seungkwan, and Vernon combined. They’re the chaos kings. I should’ve locked them in separate cages!”

His phone buzzed again, and he snatched it up, barking, “Hoshi, where the hell are you?!”

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

Meanwhile, Back at the playground

An hour earlier, yn and Hoshi had turned the playground into their personal circus. Their energy was a bottomless well—running, sliding, wrestling, acting, and now swinging like maniacs. The swings creaked under their wild momentum, their laughter echoing through the empty park.

“Bet I can swing higher than you!” Hoshi challenged, pumping his legs with tiger ferocity. “I’ll fly to the stars!”

“No chance!” yn shot back, her hoodie flapping as she soared. “I’m gonna launch into orbit—watch me!” She pushed harder, swinging so high the chains rattled like they might snap.

“Careful, yn-ie!” Hoshi called, mid-laugh. “You’re gonna—WHOA!”

Too late. yn, caught up in her victory lap, misjudged her swing. She launched off at the peak, flailing mid-air like a cartoon character realizing gravity exists. “I’m a bird—oh no, I’m not!” she yelped, crashing to the ground with a thud. Her arm twisted under her, and a sharp crack split the night.

“AWWW!” she wailed, rolling onto her back, clutching her arm. Tears sprang to her eyes as pain shot through her. “Oppa! It hurts! I broke it—I BROKE IT!”

Hoshi leapt off his swing, skidding to her side. “Yn-ie! Are you okay?! Don’t move!” He hovered over her, eyes wide with panic as she writhed, clutching his sleeve.

“I’m dying!” she sobbed, dramatic as ever. “My arm’s gonna fall off! How am I gonna dance? How am I gonna eat ice cream? Gummy worms with one hand?! Hoshi, save me!”

“It’s not falling off!” Hoshi said, though his voice trembled. “Uh—uh—911! I’m calling 911!” He fumbled for his phone, dialing with shaky fingers. “Hello? Yes, hi, my friend fell off a swing—she’s hurt bad! We’re at the park near—uh, the dorm? Big slide, swings, help!”

Yn wailed louder, clinging to him. “Tell them it’s an emergency! I’m too young to lose an arm!”

“They’re coming!” Hoshi said, dropping the phone to hold her good hand. “Stay calm, yn-ie! You’re not dying!”

“I feel like I am!” she cried, flopping against him. “Coups oppa is gonna kill me before the pain does!”

The ambulance arrived in a blur of lights and sirens, paramedics rushing to the scene. They found yn sprawled on the grass, still clutching Hoshi, who was babbling, “She swung too high! I told her to be careful, but she’s yn!” They loaded her onto a stretcher, her arm limp and swollen, and Hoshi trailed after them, wide-eyed and clutching their snack bags like a lifeline.

At the hospital, the diagnosis came fast: a clean break in her forearm. “You’ll need a cast,” the doctor said, prepping the plaster. “Six weeks, no swinging.”

“Six weeks?!” Yn howled, propped on the bed with Hoshi at her side. “I’m doomed! I’ll never survive! Hoshi oppa, tell them I can’t live like this!”

“You’ll be fine,” Hoshi said, though he looked pale. “It’s just a cast! You’re tough, right?”

“Tough?!” she sobbed, grabbing his arm with her good hand. “I’m gonna die! They’ll amputate it—I’ll be armless yn! How do I dance ‘Clap’ with one arm?!”

“They’re not amputating!” Hoshi yelped, patting her head. “It’s just broken! Calm down!”

The cast went on—bright pink, at her insistence—and she slumped back, still sniffling. “This is the end. Tell Coups oppa I’m sorry. Tell my bunny I love her.”

Hoshi, now a jittery mess, pulled out his phone. “I can’t do this alone—I need Coups hyung!” He dialed, pacing as it rang, muttering, “Please pick up, please pick up…”

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

Back to Seungcheol

When Seungcheol finally answered, chaos poured through the line. Background chatter—beeping machines, a nurse’s voice—and yn’s wails hit him like a freight train. “I’m gonna die! My arm’s done for! No more ice cream! No more gummies! How do I live?!”

Then Hoshi’s voice, frantic: “Coups hyung, we’re in the hospital!”

Seungcheol’s jaw dropped, his phone nearly slipping. “Hospital?! What the—Hoshi, what did you two do?!”

“She fell off a swing!” Hoshi blurted. “We were just playing, and she swung too high, and now her arm’s broken, and she’s crying about amputation, and I’m freaking out—help!”

“Fell off a swing?! AMPUTATION!?” Seungcheol roared, already yanking on his jacket. “At 4 AM?! You snuck out?! With her?!”

“She was with me!” Hoshi pleaded. “You said older member, right? I thought it’d be fine! We just wanted snacks!”

“Snacks don’t break arms!” Seungcheol snapped, storming out the door. “Stay there—I’m coming!”

He hung up, muttering curses as he grabbed his keys. “Those two are a walking disaster. Hoshi and yn together? I should’ve known—wild plus wilder equals hospital! I’m chaining them both to the dorm after this!”

Seungcheol barreled into the hospital at 4:30 AM, his holiday peace shattered by the chaos twins. The ER waiting area was a scene straight out of a sitcom: Hoshi sat on a plastic chair, tears streaming down his face, munching a corndog like it was his lifeline. His hoodie was askew, his eyes puffy, and yet he kept nibbling, the greasy wrapper crinkling with every bite.

“hoshi!” Seungcheol bellowed, his voice bouncing off the sterile walls. Nurses spun around, glaring, but he didn’t care. Hoshi leapt up, corndog in hand, and ran at him, arms outstretched like a kid seeking a teddy bear.

“Hyung!” Hoshi wailed, crashing into him. “It’s awful! She’s hurt! I’m a wreck!”

Seungcheol shoved him off, holding him at arm’s length. “Get off me! Where’s yn? And why the hell did you two sneak out?! She’s on curfew—you know that!”

Hoshi sniffled, wiping his nose with his sleeve, still clutching the corndog. “I’m not on curfew! And you said she could go out with an older member! I’m older, hyung! I’m responsible!”

Seungcheol’s eye twitched. “Older?! Look at you!” He gestured at Hoshi—teary-eyed, corndog crumbs on his hoodie, slippers mismatched. “You look like a five-year-old who lost his mom at the store! When I say ‘older,’ I mean mature! You’re in the maknae line pretending to be older—you’re not part of the ‘responsible’ club!”

Hoshi gasped, clutching his chest. “I’m wounded! I saved her! I called 911!”

“Saved her from what?!” Seungcheol snapped. “Where is she?!”

“Room 3,” Hoshi mumbled, pointing down the hall. “She’s… dramatic.”

Seungcheol stormed into Room 3, and the sight nearly broke him. Yn lay on the bed, her bright pink cast propped on a pillow, tears streaking her face as she shoveled chips into her mouth with her good hand. The snack bag rustled loudly, and when she saw Seungcheol, her wails hit a new octave.

“Coups oppa!” she sobbed, flinging a chip in the air. “I’m done for! My arm’s ruined! I’ll never dance again! I’ll starve—one hand can’t hold ice cream and gummies! Save meeee!”

Seungcheol froze, jaw clenched. “You’re not dying, yn! Stop eating long enough to breathe!”

“It’s the end!” she cried, tossing her head back. “I’m a crippled idol! Carats will forget me!”

Hoshi shuffled in behind, still sniffling, corndog now half-gone. “It’s my fault, hyung! I told her to swing higher!”

“No, it’s your fault for not stopping me!” yn shot back, pointing a chip at him. “You’re the older one!”

“I’m a tiger, not a babysitter!” Hoshi wailed, sinking into a chair. “I panicked!”

Seungcheol’s head throbbed. “Enough! Both of you—shut it!” He rubbed his temples, visions of headlines flashing: “Seventeen’s Maknae Breaks Arm in Midnight Swing Fiasco!” How would he spin this to the media? To Carats? To their managers? They had schedules post-holiday—this was a nightmare! “I can’t do this alone,” he muttered, yanking out his phone. “Jeonghan, Joshua—get here. Now.”

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

On the Road with Jeonghan and Joshua

Jeonghan and Joshua were halfway home from their family visits when Seungcheol’s call came through. “Yn’s in the hospital with Hoshi,” he’d barked. “Swing accident. I need backup.”

Jeonghan smirked, steering the car. “Told you. Yn plus Hoshi at 4 AM? That’s a recipe for disaster.”

Joshua sighed, sipping a coffee he’d grabbed for the drive. “I’m not surprised. She’s grounded, he’s wild—they’re a tornado together. Poor Coups.”

“Poor us,” Jeonghan corrected, accelerating. “We’re the cleanup crew. Bet she’s crying about ice cream again.”

Joshua chuckled. “And Hoshi’s probably eating something weird to cope. Five bucks says it’s a corndog.”

“Deal,” Jeonghan said, grinning. “Let’s save Coups before he locks them both in a closet.”

Back at the Hospital

Seungcheol cornered the doctor while yn and Hoshi bickered in the background. “She’s got a clean break,” the doctor explained, holding up an X-ray. “Six weeks in the cast. No heavy lifting, no swinging, keep it dry. She’ll be fine—dancing’s off for now, though.”

“Dancing’s off?!” Yn overheard, wailing anew. “I’m useless! Hoshi oppa, this is your fault!”

“My fault?!” Hoshi yelped, waving his corndog stub. “You swung like a lunatic! I said ‘careful,’ but nooo!”

“Quiet!” Seungcheol barked, turning back to the doctor. “Thanks. I’ll make sure she follows—or I’ll tie her to a chair myself.”

He marched back to the duo, who were now sniffling in stereo. “You two are killing me. yn, you’re grounded—still 6 PM, no exceptions. Hoshi, you’re on watch duty now. If she sneaks out again, it’s on you.”

“But I’m hurt!” yn protested, waving her cast. “Have mercy!”

“Mercy’s why I’m not grounding you both!” Seungcheol shot back. “Let’s go—Jeonghan and Joshua are on their way.”

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

At the Dorm

By 5:30 AM, Seungcheol herded yn and Hoshi back to the dorm, yn cradling her cast and Hoshi still nibbling corndog crumbs off his fingers. They slumped onto the couch like scolded toddlers, and Seungcheol loomed over them, voice booming.

“What were you thinking?!” he roared. “Swinging at 3 AM?! yn, you’re grounded for a reason! Hoshi, you’re supposed to be smarter than this!”

“I’m an older member!” Hoshi whined, pouting. “I thought it’d be fine!”

“You’re an older in age, not brain!” Seungcheol snapped. “You’re as bad as her—worse, because you encouraged it!”

Yn sniffled, hugging her cast. “I just wanted snacks and fun! Now I’m broken, and you’re yelling! You’re mean, Coups oppa!”

“Mean?!” Seungcheol laughed, incredulous. “I’m keeping you alive! If this leaks—‘Seventeen’s maknae Breaks Arm in Playground Mishap’—we’re toast! Managers will flip, Carats will riot, and I’ll have to explain why my ‘responsible’ members are swinging at midnight!”

The commotion woke the dorm’s stragglers. Minghao shuffled out, rubbing his eyes. “What’s with the yelling? It’s a holiday.”

Vernon followed, hoodie up. “Yn’s crying. Shocker.”

Jun poked his head out, grinning. “Did she sneak out again?”

Woozi stumbled in last, glaring. “Why is everyone loud? I was sleeping!”

Seungcheol pointed at the culprits. “These two geniuses snuck out, swung too hard, and now she’s got a broken arm! Hospital at 4 AM—happy holiday!”

Minghao blinked. “Swinging? At night? Classic.”

Vernon smirked. “Told you she’d crack. Glad I stayed out of it.”

Jun cackled. “Hoshi and yn? That’s a disaster duo—I love it!”

Woozi groaned. “Can I go back to bed? This isn’t my mess.”

“Not yet,” Seungcheol said, turning back to the couch. “You two—explain yourselves to them!”

Yn pouted, waving her cast. “It was a holiday adventure! Hoshi said it’d be fine—he’s older!”

“I am!” Hoshi insisted, then shrank under Seungcheol’s glare. “Kinda…”

“You’re a toddler with a tiger obsession!” Seungcheol barked. “And you—” He jabbed a finger at yn. “No more ‘adventures’! You’re benched ‘til that cast’s off!”

The door opened—Jeonghan and Joshua, finally. They stepped in, taking one look at the scene: Yn sniffling with chips, Hoshi mid-corndog sob, and Seungcheol on the verge of a meltdown.

Jeonghan smirked. “Well, well. What did I tell you, Shua?”

Joshua sighed, handing over five bucks. “Corndog. You win.”

“Help me!” Seungcheol pleaded. “They’re insane!”

Jeonghan sauntered over, patting yn’s head. “Broken arm, huh? You’re a legend, kid. Dumb, but a legend.”

Joshua crouched by Hoshi, grinning. “Crying and eating? That’s peak Hoshi.”

“I’m traumatized!” Hoshi wailed, hugging him. “She flew off the swing!”

“I’m the victim!” yn protested, shoving chips at Jeonghan. “Pity me!”

Seungcheol threw his hands up. “You’re all grounded—mentally! I’m done! I did not sign up for this!”

The room erupted in laughter—Jun filming it on his phone, Vernon muttering, “This is why I sleep through her chaos,” and Woozi stomping back to bed. Jeonghan and Joshua took over, calming the toddlers while Seungcheol plotted damage control, already dreading the inevitable manager call.

And so, the holiday ended in a hospital trip, a cast, and a lecture for the ages. Yn and Hoshi’s wild night cemented their chaos crown, but with Jeonghan and Joshua’s backup, Seungcheol survived—barely. Another tale of madness for Seventeen’s history books!

[angel5ofp0rn]

idk, just a thought 😋

141 x Drunk!Reader / Jealous!Ghost x Drunk!Reader

TW: implied drunk sex

(idk what’s up with me and making the reader drunk all the time ???)

also idk i just like the idea of Soap being a perv and Ghost being a fuckin weirdo 🫣

You didn’t expect the guys to actually give a shit about your birthday... Maybe it was just the excuse to drink.

Still, you couldn't deny that you loved seeing the squad out of uniform and all dressed up for the night.

You even put on a little skirt and low-cut top, curled your hair and wore makeup for the first time in months.

Price bought you your first drink just as a 'happy birthday, kiddo', but it didn't stop there.

Soap got you a few shots and Gaz let you sip from his drinks throughout the night.

You were feeling pretty buzzed by the time you convinced some of the guys to move to the dance floor.

Ghost watched quietly from his spot at the bar across the room. You expected as much.

The two of you have been keeping your distance; you were basically still strangers, apart from the random glances you give each other during training.

Ghost thought of at least saying happy birthday to you, but he wasn’t sure how to go about it.

He wasn’t exactly an affectionate man. Wasn’t great at showing his feelings.

Feelings? The fuck was he thinking?

You’re just nice to look at, that’s all.

It was strange seeing you with your hair curled and your skin showing, almost like a real woman. He had a nagging thought that if the guys weren’t around, he would've gone over to you.

You and Soap are on the dance floor, you tipsy and swaying while he holds your waist, keeping you steady as he mumbled something close to your ear.

"I don't think so." You muse, looking up at Soap. He had asked if Price was watching the two of you, knowing Price has a tendency to act like a father towards you especially. "Why?"

Soap took a moment before he spoke again, the alcohol clearly getting to him. His words were becoming more and more slurred throughout the night, although he still had that Scottish accent mixed it that kept him sounding charming... though almost unintelligible.

"Y'know yer beautiful, aye? An' th' lads, they've been eyein' ya for the whole night. 'Course ol' Price, he's been' tryin' to keep us from gettin' yer attention… But even Ghost! Ghost thinks yer fuckin’ gorgeous.”

"Ghost thinks that?" You tried to focus your eyes on Soap’s, fighting the alcohol.

Soap leaned in even close now, his breath smelling like strong liquor. He even placed his hand on the small of your back, right above your skirt as he spoke again.

"Oh, aye. But we all do… I do."

You giggled at that. Soap's arm wrapped tightly around your waist now, pulling you chest to chest and murmuring more drunken ramblings into your ear.

You quickly forgot what Soap mentioned about Ghost.

But Ghost was still watching.

He watched the way Soap leaned in to whisper in your ear, the cocky smirk on his face, how dangerously close his hand was to your ass.

He watched you drape your arms around Soap’s neck, eyelids heavy. He watched how your eyes wouldn’t focus on Soap’s eyes; they kept darting down to his lips.

Ghost didn’t watch to watch anymore.

“The steamin’ hell’r you doin’, LT!” Soap calls after Ghost as the masked man grabs your arm and drags you off.

“Let me go!” You groan, trying to pull away from his grip. When that didn’t work, you tried to stomp his toes.

No use, he had those fucking steel toes on as usual. After more ignored pleas, you resorted into trying to drop to the floor like a sack of potatoes; like an unruly toddler.

Ghost didn’t miss a beat. He easily scooped you up and slung you over his shoulder as he head towards the bar’s exit.

The second he set you back to your feet outside on the pavement you tried to shove him.

Stupid idea, really. Fucker didn’t budge.

“What is your problem?” You glare at him.

“My problem?” Ghost’s voice was low. “You were about to let MacTavish feel you up in front of everyone in there.”

“Who cares if Soap and I have a bit of fun? What, are you jealous or something?” You groan.

“Of course I am!”

You froze. Your eyes locked in with his.

“You’re… jealous?” You ask again, softer this time.

You can see the subtle movement of Ghost’s jaw clenching beneath his balaclava.

“You’re drunk.” Ghost states. “You should get back to base and sleep it off.”

He’s right, of course. But you don’t listen.

You don’t fully realize you’re doing it, but you reach your hand up and touch his face.

Well, his mask.

Ghost’s breath hitches, and he thinks of swatting your hand away but he doesn’t. He lets your cup his face. Caress his jaw. Rub your thumb over the fabric covering his lips.

He even lets you pull him in closer, lets you get just an inch away from touching noses before he speaks again.

“I cant kiss you.”

You finally come back to earth, your drunken mind suddenly sobering.

“Oh.”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, both silent. Both unsure of what happens now.

“Guess I’ll just go-”

“I want to.” Ghost speaks again. “I would like to.”

“Okay…”

“But I can’t.” His huge arms cross as he looks down at up. For something so genuine, he’s saying it as if it’s a threat.

“Right…” You nod slowly, your drunken brain trying its best to gauge what’s happening. “So..?”

“I can’t have you flirting with MacTavish.” He practically growls. “He doesn’t want more than a quick fuck.”

You frown at this, eyebrows lowering into a scowl.

“So you won’t kiss me, but I can’t flirt with anyone else?”

“Yes.” Ghost acts as if this was common sense.

“‘s’not fair.” You roll your eyes. “You can’t do that t’me.”

“Well, I am.”

“Are not.” You challenge. You push past him and re-enter the bar, leaving him outside and alone.

“Bonnie!” Soap calls you over as soon as he sees you.

He’s sat at a table with a bunch of other men that you don’t recognize. He pats his thigh, inviting you to have a sit on his lap.

Ghost’s warning still fresh in your head makes you hesitate.

But who is he to tell you who you can and can’t flirt with? He doesn’t even talk to you.

You try not to stumble as you make your way towards Soap, accepting the invite to sit on his lap. His arm instantly wraps around your waist, holding you in place.

“Didn’t know you had a barracks bunny.” One of the men snickers as he looks you over.

You frown, looking to Soap, waiting for him to correct them. To explain that you’re actually on the squad- no, the best sniper on the squad. An asset to the team, really.

Instead, Soap laughs along with the rest of them, giving your thigh a squeeze. “Nah, nah. ’m keepin’ this bunny all to m’self.”

You had to have heard him wrong, right? Maybe it was the alcohol affecting your hearing.

Before you could defend yourself, you felt Soap’s hand sliding up your thigh, slipping under your skirt.

Your face is burning. The guys all laugh. You feel sick.

Flirting and kissing is one thing… Soap treating you like a sex toy is another.

“Soap, stop.” You mumble, pushing his hand away.

Soap gives you a wink. He thinks you’re playing some sort of game here. His hand starts to creep up your bare thigh again. His lips press against your neck.

“I said stop!” You stand up and shove him by his chest, admittedly harder than you intended to.

Soap landed on his back on the dirty bar floor, his face a mix of pissed off and confused.

Price was by your side immediately, pulling you away from the table as Gaz helped Soap to his feet.

“I’m sorry, Price, I just-“

“I’ve got you a cab outside. Get your ass back to base and sleep it off.” Price barked.

Sober you could handle commands and threats like they were nothing.

Drunk you started tearing up immediately.

Price mumbled something that sounded like ‘for fuck’s sake, kid’ as you turned and walked outside.

Ghost was still outside, balaclava lifted so he could smoke a cigarette.

You didn’t notice him as you slid into the back seat of the cab, but he saw you.

Then he saw Soap and Price exiting the bar one your cab took off.

He watched calmly, smoking as normal while Price stood with his foot on the side of Soap’s head/face, Soap’s cheek pressed against the pavement.

He couldn’t hear what they were fighting about and frankly he didn’t care. He wondered if any of it had been the cause of your teary eyes.

•••

You lift your face off of your pillow and squint at the caller ID as your phone rang.

You’d only been back in your room for about an hour at this point and you’ve been trying to battle the spins.

You swipe to answer the call, smushing your face back into the pillow and closing your eyes again.

“H’llo?”

“Make it back to base okay, kiddo?” Price’s stern, gruff voice came through the speaker

“Mhm.” You mumble your response.

“Good. Sorry about MacTavish; drunken Scot can’t handle his alcohol…” Price sighs. “He’ll be dealt with in the morning.”

“s’okay.” You nod even though he can’t see it.

“You sure you’re alright then?”

“Mhm…”

Price exhaled a deep breath. “Get some shut eye. I'll be seeing you at 0530 sharp for PT."

"Yes sir. Love you."

You didn't fully realize that you told Price that you love him as if you were speaking to your dad.

Price was quiet for a second before his tone subtly shifted to sounding more gentle. "Love you too, kid. I'll see you at five-thirty."

You end the call and force yourself to sit up despite your still tipsy state. You knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep with everything on your mind.

Well… with Ghost on your mind.

You call him next, not really expecting him to answer at all. He kind of doesn’t; there’s no voice on the other end, but you could tell he was there.

“Ghost?”

“Yeah.”

“So- Why… why didn’t you kiss me?” You stand up off of the bed and pace your room. More like stumble around your room.

“Can’t.”

“But why?” You groan. “Is it because of Price?”

“We work together.”

“So?” You find a hoodie and pull it on over your going out clothes. “That didn’t stop Soap.”

Silence.

“And I… I really wanted you to, y’know? And… I think I said ‘love you’ to Price. Y’think he’ll be mad at me?” You start kicking your heels off.

“…you told Price that you love him?”

You kind of giggle at that, hearing it back. “No, I didn’t tell him I love him. I just said ‘love you’ to him.”

You think you hear Ghost snort at that. “Are we done here?”

“Well, no…”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to open your door.”

Ghost doesn’t speak. You look around the hall to make sure none of the guys would see you.

“Please?”

The call ends. Ghost slowly opens his door and peers at you from the small open space.

You look up at him, messy hair and mascara smudged under your eyes. Your hoodie covered most of your outfit and you were barefoot.

“You look ridiculous.”

“Can I come in?” You ignore his comment.

Ghost hesitates but he does step aside and let you into his room.

It was so dark in his room that you almost didn’t notice that he was maskless. Too bad you couldn’t see him better.

You didn’t really know what you planned on doing now that you were in his room… You honestly didn’t think he’d let you get this far.

Ghost’s hand touched your face. His thumb wiped under your eyes, attempting to fix your makeup.

The gesture was considerate though you knew he was just making the smudge bigger.

“I can’t kiss you.” Ghost repeated his words from earlier, but this time it was softer. More gentle.

You shook your head.

“We don’t have to kiss.”

[theonottsbxtch]

PREACHER’S DAUGHTER PT5 | MV1

an: AND WE'RE BACK!! WHO MISSED OUR FAVOURITE LITTLE FAMILY! can't wait to hear what you guys think of this part, i've loved being with them this week, this is a shorter chapter but i've got ideas for what might happen next! lmk if y'all wanna see anything in particular

wc: 3.2k

Theo was four when his parents welcomed his sister, and Max very nearly missed it, if not for Danny.

It had been a normal day at the garage, Max elbow-deep in an engine rebuild, grease staining his hands and his focus entirely on the task at hand. His phone, forgotten on the workbench, buzzed furiously with calls and messages. It wasn’t until Danny came barreling into the shop, panting like he’d just run a marathon, that Max looked up.

“Max! Man, what the hell are you doing?” Danny wheezed, clutching his knees.

Max straightened, wiping his hands on a rag. “Uh, working? What’s wrong with you? You look like you’re dying.”

Danny shot him a glare, pointing accusingly at the phone vibrating incessantly on the workbench. “Your wife is trying to call you! She’s in labour, man! She’s having the baby!”

Max froze, the rag slipping from his fingers. “What?”

“She’s at the hospital! Her aunt’s with her, but you need to move! Now!”

Max’s heart lurched into overdrive. Without a word, he sprinted to the workbench, grabbed his phone, and bolted out the door. “Danny, lock up!” he shouted over his shoulder as he jumped onto his bike.

Danny shook his head, muttering, “You owe me for this one, man.”

Max arrived at the hospital in record time, still in his grease-stained shirt and boots. His wife was mid-contraction when he burst into the room, panting, his face a mixture of guilt and relief.

“You’re here,” she said through gritted teeth, her eyes narrowing slightly before softening at his frazzled appearance.

“I’m here,” he confirmed, rushing to her side and taking her hand. “I’m sorry, angel. My phone was on silent—”

“Save it,” she hissed, squeezing his hand so tightly he thought his bones might break. “You’re here now. Just don’t let go.”

Max didn’t. Not for a second. Hours later, they welcomed a healthy baby girl into the world. Max cried as he held her for the first time, the tiny bundle swaddled in pink resting against his chest. He looked at his wife, her hair damp and her face radiant despite her exhaustion.

“She’s perfect,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re perfect.”

Their daughter, Mary-Ann, came home a few days later to a little house with a white picket fence that they had purchased not long before her birth. It was a modest place, but it was theirs, filled with laughter, love, and the chaos that only a toddler and a newborn could bring.

Theo was adjusting to his new role as a big brother with enthusiasm and curiosity. He followed his parents around, always asking to hold the baby or show her his toys. “She likes dinosaurs, right?” he would ask, clutching his favourite plastic stegosaurus.

“She loves dinosaurs,” Max assured him, grinning as he ruffled Theo’s hair.

Max had seamlessly embraced fatherhood, splitting his time between the garage and his family. He spent his evenings teaching Theo how to kick a football in the back garden and his nights rocking Mary-Ann to sleep.

The house, with its picket fence and flowerbeds lovingly tended by his wife, was the picture of the life Max had never imagined for himself. Yet, here he was, living it and loving every moment.

The day of Mary-Ann’s baptism dawned clear and bright, the kind of perfect day that made everything feel just a little more magical. Their little family was dressed in their Sunday best, Theo proudly wearing a bowtie that his mother had wrestled him into after much negotiation, and Mary-Ann bundled in a delicate white christening gown.

They arrived at the church to find her aunt, Danny, and a few close friends waiting for them, just as they had for Theo’s baptism years ago. Her aunt immediately swooped in to coo over Mary-Ann, her face soft with affection.

“She’s the spitting image of you at this age,” her aunt said warmly, brushing a soft curl away from Mary-Ann’s forehead.

“Let’s hope she doesn’t inherit my teenage rebellion,” she joked, glancing at Max, who chuckled.

The service itself was intimate and beautiful. As the pastor spoke, Theo sat on Max’s lap, squirming occasionally but staying quiet enough to earn whispered praise from both his parents. When it came time for the baptism, Max and his wife stood together at the front of the church, Theo holding onto his mother’s hand while Max held Mary-Ann close.

The pastor asked Theo if he wanted to say anything, and the boy puffed out his chest importantly, his tiny voice ringing out through the quiet chapel. “We’re all gonna be... um... part of Chris-tain-ity now!”

There was a soft chuckle from the congregation, but Theo frowned, frustrated by his own mispronunciation. His brows knitted together, and before anyone could stop him, he muttered under his breath, “Damn it.”

Max’s head snapped around, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at his son. “Where did you hear that, Theo?”

Without hesitation, Theo turned and pointed to Danny, who froze mid-grin. “Uncle Daddy says it all the time.”

The entire room dissolved into laughter, but Max’s expression darkened. “His name is Uncle Danny. Not Daddy,” he corrected firmly. He handed Mary-Ann to his wife with exaggerated care and then fixed Danny with a dangerous look. “Uncle Danny also has five seconds to run.”

Danny’s eyes widened as he stammered, “Now, hold on a second—”

“Five.”

Danny bolted toward the back of the church, nearly tripping over a pew. Max didn’t miss a beat, stepping around the altar and charging after him. Theo laughed hysterically as he watched his father chase Danny out the door, and his mother shook her head, trying to stifle her own giggles.

When Max returned a few minutes later, slightly winded but victorious, Danny trailing behind him with a sheepish grin, the ceremony continued. The pastor, who had been struggling to keep a straight face, resumed his blessing, and little Mary-Ann was baptised without further incident.

As they left the church, Theo clung to Max’s hand, his face lit with excitement. “Daddy, can I chase Uncle Danny next time?”

Max ruffled his hair, smirking. “Not until you’re faster than me, kid.”

The two of them loved the life they had built together and sometimes when Max woke up he had to pinch himself. Just under half a decade ago he was eating dry hotdogs and drinking stale beers in a rundown trailer. Now he was helping his wife. His wife. In the kitchen with his two kids. Not one, two. Max was a father and everyday he woke up he couldn’t really believe. it.

The smell of cinnamon and vanilla wafted through the house as she stood at the counter, carefully icing a tray of perfectly golden cupcakes. Mary-Ann was nestled in her baby chair nearby, happily chewing on a soft toy, and the kitchen felt like the warm, beating heart of their home.

Out in the garage, Max had Theo standing on a small step stool by the workbench, his tiny hands gripping a wrench that was far too big for him. Max crouched beside him, guiding his hands as they worked on an old oil pan together. Theo giggled every time Max made a joke, his high-pitched laughter filling the air.

She wiped her hands on her apron, grabbed a glass of iced tea, and wandered outside to watch her boys. Leaning against the doorframe, she crossed her arms and smiled. “Teaching him how to change oil already? He’s four, Max.”

Max turned, his grease-streaked face lighting up when he saw her. “Hey, never too early to learn the basics, right, buddy?”

Theo nodded enthusiastically, smearing a streak of oil across his cheek as he waved the wrench triumphantly. “Mama, I’m helping!”

“I can see that,” she laughed, walking over and kissing the top of his messy hair.

As her gaze wandered around the garage, it landed on their old motorbike, tucked into the corner, its polished chrome gleaming even in the dim light. Her smile turned into a smirk, and she gestured toward it with her glass. “You know, you’re going to have to sell that death trap.”

Max froze mid-laugh, a look of horror crossing his face. “What? No way. We’ve got so many memories with that bike.”

“We have two kids now, Max.”

He frowned, standing up and crossing his arms. “But what if Theo wants it when he grows up?”

She raised an eyebrow, placing a hand on her hip. “He’s not stepping a foot on that thing.”

Max threw his hands up in exaggerated protest. “Oh, so when it’s us, it’s fine, but when it’s Theo, it’s a problem?”

She grinned, completely unbothered. “Yup.”

Before he could argue further, Danny strolled into the garage, a familiar plastic container in hand. “Alright, where’s the good stuff? I heard there’s baking going on in that kitchen, and you know the deal—Danny gets dibs.”

She laughed, pointing toward the house. “I’ll bring you some in a second. Just made a fresh batch.”

As Danny leaned against the workbench, Max glanced at him, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Hey, Danny, you wanna buy that death trap over there?”

Danny raised an eyebrow, glancing at the bike. “How much are we talking?”

Max grinned. “Fifty bucks.”

Danny’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What’s the catch?”

Max smirked, holding out a hand. “You buy it, but I still get to use it whenever I want.”

Danny laughed, shaking his head but reaching out to shake Max’s hand anyway. “You got yourself a deal, man.”

Max turned to her with a triumphant grin, wiping his greasy hands on his jeans. “See? It’s sold. Problem solved.”

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head but smiling as she headed back into the house. “You two are impossible.”

As she disappeared into the kitchen, Max knelt back down beside Theo, who looked up at him with wide, curious eyes.

“Daddy, what’s a death trap?”

Max chuckled, ruffling his hair. “It’s something fun that your mom doesn’t like.”

From the kitchen, she called out, “I heard that!”

While she packed up some of her baked goods for Danny she too thought of how lucky she was. How all her prayers had been listened to. How she finally made it out of that house. How she was going to witness all her own kid’s life milestones with joy and love, not hatred and jealousy. 

The morning of Theo’s first day of school, the sunlight streamed through the windows as the family bustled to get ready. Theo stood proudly in his brand-new school uniform, his backpack almost as big as he was. Mary-Ann, her curls tied up in tiny pigtails, was toddling around in her nursery outfit, clutching her stuffed bunny like it was her lifeline.

Their mother, however, was a whirlwind of emotions. She double-checked Theo’s lunchbox for the third time and nearly forgot to zip Mary-Ann’s coat, all while blinking back tears.

“I can’t believe they’re both going,” she murmured, her voice trembling as she fixed Theo’s collar for the tenth time.

Max, leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee, tried to hide his grin. “Sweetheart, they’re not moving out. It’s just school and nursery.”

She shot him a glare. “Don’t start with me today, Max.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Come here, buddy,” he said, crouching down to Theo’s level. “You ready for your big day?”

Theo nodded, his little chest puffed out. “I’m gonna make so many friends!”

Max ruffled his hair. “That’s my boy. And you,” he added, turning to Mary-Ann and lifting her into his arms. “You take care of those nursery teachers, alright? Show ‘em who’s boss.”

Mary-Ann giggled, planting a slobbery kiss on his cheek.

After a bittersweet drop-off that left her sniffling the entire car ride home, they returned to their now eerily quiet house. For the first time in years, it was just the two of them.

She walked into the living room, glanced at the toys still scattered around, and sighed heavily, sinking into the couch. “It’s too quiet.”

Max sat beside her, pulling her into his side. “I told you this morning was gonna hit you hard.”

She swatted his chest lightly. “It’s just… I’ve never been in the house without one of them here. It’s so empty.” She buried her face in her hands, her voice muffled. “What if they need me? What if Mary-Ann gets scared? Or Theo forgets his lunch?”

Max chuckled softly, rubbing her back. “Sweetheart, Theo’s got this. The kid’s practically running for class president. And Mary-Ann? She’s gonna have the nursery wrapped around her finger before lunch.”

She peeked at him from behind her hands, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “You think so?”

“I know so.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her temple.

For a moment, she leaned into him, letting the comfort of his presence soothe her. But the silence of the house pressed in again, making her sigh.

Max pulled back slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You know, we’ve got the house all to ourselves now.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Max…”

He grinned, running his fingers lightly up her arm. “I’m just saying. We’ve got a whole empty house and a few hours of peace.”

Despite herself, she laughed, smacking his shoulder. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m practical,” he countered, leaning closer. “We might never get this chance again, angel. Think about it.”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes, but her cheeks flushed. “I can’t believe you’re suggesting this right now.”

“I’m just trying to make the most of the quiet,” he teased, his hand slipping around her waist. “And besides, you’re way too stressed. Let me help you relax.”

She laughed despite herself, the weight of the morning momentarily forgotten as he kissed her neck, his stubble tickling her skin.

“You’re ridiculous,” she murmured, tilting her head to meet his lips, her heart finally feeling a little lighter.

And if she counted the exact weeks, that day was how she ended up pregnant with her third and final child.

Nine months later, their family grew again with the arrival of a boy they named Daniel. It was a tribute to Danny, their ever-reliable friend who had, over the years, become less like a buddy and more like an honorary member of the family.

Daniel came into the world with a loud cry and a shock of dark hair, immediately staking his place in the chaos of their household. Mary-Ann, now three and brimming with sass, had proudly declared herself the "boss" of her new baby brother. She often toddled around after him, dragging her favourite stuffed bunny in one hand and fussing over Daniel like a miniature mother.

Theo, at five, took his role as the eldest sibling very seriously. He loved showing off to Mary-Ann and anyone who’d listen about how he could hold his baby brother “without dropping him” (a feat Max closely supervised with a hovering hand). Theo also began peppering Max with endless questions about how cars worked, proudly announcing that he’d take over the garage one day.

The house was louder now, bursting with life and love in every corner. Daniel’s cries, Theo’s endless chatter, and Mary-Ann’s theatrical storytelling meant there was never a dull moment.

Max had learned to juggle bottles, bedtime stories, and car repairs, often collapsing into bed with her at the end of the day, marvelling at the whirlwind their life had become.

On quieter days—though “quiet” was a stretch—she’d watch Max play with the kids in their backyard. Mary-Ann would climb all over him, Theo would ask a million questions about the engine of a toy car, and baby Daniel would sit in his lap, chewing on whatever he could grab.

Sunday mornings had become a cherished tradition for her. Dressing Theo in his little button-up shirts, coaxing Mary-Ann into tights and her favourite frilly dress, and cradling baby Daniel in his soft onesie all felt like sacred rituals. She loved sharing her faith with her children, teaching them the hymns, and watching their faces light up during Sunday school.

But as much as she loved church, there was always a weight to bear. Her parents still attended the same church, their presence lingering like a spectre of the past. While most of the congregation had embraced her family with warmth, her parents had not. They’d sit on the far side of the pews, casting disapproving glares, and every so often, there were whispers—cutting, cruel words spread by those who believed her parents' version of events.

Still, she focused on her children. Theo beamed when he memorised Bible verses, Mary-Ann proudly showed off her colouring pages, and baby Daniel giggled at the choir. Sharing this part of her life with them felt like reclaiming something pure.

That afternoon, the church hosted a children’s Bible study, and she stayed to help with crafts and snacks while Max wrangled the baby. Daniel was perfectly content napping on his dad’s chest while Max sat in the corner, earning approving glances from the other parents for his patience and attentiveness.

As they packed up to leave, her father appeared, stepping out of the shadows like a storm cloud. His eyes were cold, his expression a mask of disdain. He walked past her, close enough that she could feel the venom in his whispered word:

"Whore."

The word cut through her like a knife. She froze, her heart pounding, the air sucked out of the room. Before she could even react, Max’s voice broke the moment.

"Angel, hold Daniel."

She turned to him, startled, as he handed her the baby with a calmness that belied the fire in his eyes. Then, without hesitation, Max spun on his heel and marched toward her father.

The sound of Max’s fist connecting with her father’s jaw was thunderous in the quiet room. Her father staggered back, clutching his face, as gasps rippled through the remaining churchgoers.

Max stood tall, his voice steady but cold. “Don’t you ever call my wife that again. You lost any right to speak to her the day you hurt her and abused your power. She’s a better person than you’ll ever be.”

Her father glared up at Max, but he didn’t dare rise. The weight of his disgrace was palpable as the onlookers murmured, their judgement no longer directed at her but at the man who had insulted his own daughter in a house of worship.

She stood rooted to the spot, Daniel cradled in her arms, her cheeks flushed. She could feel every eye in the room on her, but the only one that mattered was Max’s. He turned back to her, his expression softening, and strode toward her.

Max placed a gentle hand on her back, his touch grounding her. “Let’s go, angel,” he said quietly, his voice carrying none of the anger from moments before.

She nodded, unable to form words, and followed him out, their children close by. As they left the church, she glanced down at Theo and Mary-Ann, both wide-eyed but clutching each other’s hands tightly.

When they got to the car, she took a deep, shaky breath. “Max—”

He cut her off with a kiss to her temple. “Don’t. You don’t owe him anything. Not even your anger.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she leaned into him, Daniel squirming lightly in her arms. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Max tilted her chin up so she was looking at him. “You and these kids are my family. No one, not even him, gets to treat you like that.”

taglist: @sinofwriting @le-le-lea @vanicogh @iamred-iamyellow @rayaskoalaland @spookyanamurdock @iimplicitt @hellowgoodbye @maximuminfluencerstarlight @lottalove4evelyn @piceous21 @ladscarlett @leclerc13 @linnygirl09 @labelledejourr @cmleitora @fortunapre @felicityforyou @isagrace22 @bookishnerd1132 @formulaal @mastermindbaby @daddyslittlevillain @inmynotes63 @litllefox @hollstopia

[babygirl-riley]

Daddy’s Gonna Buy You a Mockingbird

When coming home Simon hears his daughter start to fuss.

Warnings: angst, mentions of childhood trauma, fluff, swearing, Dad!Simon

simon x reader guide

simon x reader family edition

Simon was fucking tired, the mission was long and difficult. It took them 4 months to plan the fucker just for the target to know their every move. He lost lots of men and women those nights, they had to camp somewhere in the middle of the desert cause transportation got fucked.

He unlocked the door of his home and walked in. Immediately he heard the whimpering. Simon heard you trying to lullaby both of your toddler. Simon was told that she has been sick for almost 4 days. It was teething that led to two ear infections. His poor angel was getting her ass jumped left and right with them infections.

He took his mask and boots off leaving them on the shelf near the door. He locked the door as he made his way through the hallway. When getting closer he heard you sniffling. “I don’t know what to do baby girl,” The toddler cried harder as you cried with her. “I am sorry. What do you need baby?”

Simon tapped the door making you jump. At first you thought you were going to fight but then relief came through. “Simon,” You started to sob. “Just take a shower and I will be there in minute.”

“I can take her.” He said walking fully in.

“No,” You wiped your tears quickly before shaking your head. “It’s fine you just got home. Please just take a shower love.”

Simon nodded, he didn’t want to but he could tell if he didn’t you would burst. He saw the dark circles under your eyes, how red your eyes were. You haven’t gotten any sleep. That tugged at his best strings, you have been dealing with this all by yourself so he wants to be able to help you.

Simon quickly got into the shower, washing all the paint, blood, sweat, and dirt from him. He waited for a moment before turning the faucet off and get out. He heard your sobs once more as he wrapped the towel around himself. Opening the door that showed you laying on your side curled up. Simon walked up to you and sat next to your body. He placed a hand on your hip rubbing circles.

“Not the best welcome home,” You sighed turning to face him. “Im sorry.”

“For what love? Taking care of our child? Don’t ever apologize for that.” He reassured, basically whispering.

“Just me crying and Im so fucking tried. She doesn’t sleep nothing longer than maybe 5 minutes before she is screaming. And I wanted to give you a warmer welcome and instead buzzed you off and…”

“Thats enough sweethear’ it has been a long week for you,” He got up to grab sweatpants and went around to his side to pull the blankets up and over him. You watched as he laid and scooted closer to you wrapping his arm around you. “Come ‘ere, get some sleep my dove.”

He doesn’t remember when you fell asleep or even him. Simon heard the soft whimpers start, you didn’t move and he was glad that you didn’t. He was also very happy that you moved out of his grasp while in your sleep. Simon carefully and quietly headed out of the room. Rubbing his tired eyes as he made it to his daughter’s room.

When he approached the room there she was. Standing up in her crib crying, once her eyes landed on his she cried harder. “Daddy.” She called a couple of times.

“Alright princess, you’re alright daddy’s here.” He said picking her up.

It took him a back of how hot she is, sweat gripping her pjs. Her crying increasing as she gripped onto his shoulder. “Shhh I know,” He said bouncing up and down. “I know baby.”

He felt her diaper and walked to the changing table, which to her was a sin. When he placed her down she screamed a bit, immediately he gently placed a palm on her chest. Putting small pressure. She stopped screaming as she still cried. His daughter loved when he did that when she wanted to be cuddled yet when he had to do certain things like this.

Because of how many times he has done this with her, he one handed did the diaper. He left her only in her diaper, get some air to her skin due to sweating and her being hot. As she still cried, he picked her up and lead out of the room walking to the kitchen. “Let’s try a warm bottle and me a tea yeah?” He said quietly, holding her close as she still cried.

While working on the bottle he rocked back and forth waiting for the teapot to heat up. He wrapped both of his arms around her holding her more close. “I’m ‘orry my birdie, teeth are arseholes. I know.”

She held around his neck placing her head down on his shoulder. Simon kept holding on until the smallest noise came from the pot. He didn’t want to wake you, he was even surprised you haven’t woke up yet. His daughter became more whimpering than crying.

He poured his mug first so the water could cool down just a bit more. Then poured water into her bottle. He made his tea before finish making her bottle. Afterward he walked to the living room and placed the tv on. Miss Rachel was her favorite to watch lately, that’s what you mentioned.

He placed her forward towards the tv as he placed his mug on the side table. Simon held her close to him as she drank her bottle. Rubbing her belly as he watched the show with her. He hated this woman, just found her annoying, you mentioned to him that it was her job to do that fake high pitch thing. To him it just made him want to mute it and never see it again.

His daughter leaned closer to him as he sipped his tea. She sniffled and hiccuped due to crying the whole time. He smoothed her thick blonde hair back, making her eyes roll. Another thing she gets from him. People massaging his scalp or play with his hair he would pass out from.

After three videos both Simon and her were laying on the couch. He had her on his chest with a blanket on both of them. “Shh I know,” He said as she started to whimper again. “Daddy is here, don’t worry. He will stay. I would do anythin’ for you not to be in this pain.”

She sucked on her binki her eyes rolling fighting sleep. Yet another thing she got from him. Fighting sleep. Simon remembered when you told him you were pregnant with her. He was terrified. Scared that he wouldn’t be good to her, that he would turn into his own father.

Simon actually left for hours from the house making you think that it was a bad idea to tell him. Until he came back in tears, first time you seen him break down. Telling you his fears and worries. You would comfort him and hold him that he has never been an ounce of his father. Never be like him.

Simon remembered when he asked for his dad to hold him. His dad told him to stop being a child, to grow up. Or even watch him cry in pain and laugh at the fact he was crying. He even remember Tommy being hit for even mentioning that his throat hurt. Telling him that is something to be crying about when he was hurt.

Because of those memories he was going on for months in his mind that he didn’t believed that, didn’t believe that he would be a good father, it wasn’t until she was born. When he held her in his big hands. He knew that this was the opportunity to not be his low life father. And yet here he was being not that, his father would have never been comforting him when he was sick. Holding him. Loving him. He was grateful to be able to be here for her. For you. To show the love and care that he wanted to.

Simon sighed as he felt her breathing slow down, falling into deep sleep. He settled more down into the couch as he closed his eyes, holding on to his princess.

You woke up with the sun beaming into the room. You groaned as you placed a hand to where Simon would have been. It was cold. You opened your eyes and frowned. Was a dream that he was home? You sighed getting up and heading to your daughter’s room. For it to be empty too.

You walked around the house figuring out where the hell was your daughter. Which when you heard Miss Rachel on the tv and two figures on the couch. It made your heart swell. You walked to around to face both your daughter clinging onto her father. Simon softly snoring and his daughter as well. You forget how similar they look.

The soft features of when they slept. Their hair. Their nose. You also noticed that she was just in her diaper and didn’t look sweaty. You inhaled deeply feeling a bit of relief. Hopefully that means that her temperature went down and back to normal.

You smiled thinking about the time where you were almost about to pop. Simon holding your tummy telling your daughter that he will protect her with every ounce of his being. Not matter where or what she is doing, he will be there. You would play with his hair as he rubbed your tummy, feeling her move every time he would place a hand on your tummy.

You grabbed both bottle and mug, walking back to the kitchen. “Definitely going to be a daddy’s girl.” You whispered, starting to make breakfast for your perfect family.

[batsandbirdbrains]

I want to read this so badly I’m begging someone to write some variation of it pls

The one where Dick isn’t the step-dad, he’s the dad that stepped up

Im fiddling around w the ages because it’s more fun that way. Also it’s in the yj cartoon universe but the timeline will be wonky bc I didnt care for seasons 3&4. So anyway let’s make it post season 2, Dick is 16ish, and like so many of my other yj fic ideas, he’s currently heavily disliked by most JL and yj team members bc of the whole deep cover thing. Also Artemis never went back to be Kaldur’s backup, she refused, so Dick did double time as both Nightwing and Renegade, Deathstroke’s apprentice. He and Bruce had a falling out bc Bruce didn’t like how he didn’t do everything perfectly while Bruce was gone.

So anyway Dick is living in Blüdhaven, his exhausted, he’s not taking very good care of himself, he’s running himself ragged as both Nightwing and also at his day job at a seedy dive bar.

And one night he comes home, ready to face plant on his dusty couch, only to be greeted by his arch nemesis: Talia al Ghul.

He can’t fuckin stand her. The feeling is very mutual.

Talia was very close with Bruce when Dick was younger. Dick was definitely not super jealous at the time. Also definitely didn’t let her words about him not being his real son get under his skin. That never happened.

And now she’s sitting in his couch, looking around and judging his non-existent decor. With a tiny kid next to her.

The tiny kid looks equally disgusted with the apartment. And way too much like Bruce for Dick’s comfort.

“Is this a hallucination or is there actually a succubus sitting in my living room,” Dick manages to say in a bored voice.

“Charming as always, Richard,” Talia says back at him. Before he can reply, she continues with, “I’m here on important business, so please for once drop the attitude with me.”

“And what’s so important you’ve dragged a toddler into my humble abode?”

“Tone,” she snaps at him, and he snorts at her. She’s not his mother, she doesn’t get to lecture him on his snotty attitude with her.

“Look, if you’re looking for Bruce, you’re way off target. We haven’t spoken in months. You’d think you and your little spies would know that.”

“Of course I know that,” she huffs at him. “That’s exactly why I’m here with you. I need you to do something very important for me.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that? Drop dead for ya so your little Bruce clone over there gets all my inheritance? I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear he’s cut me off entirely, so no need to worry.” He sways a bit as he turns around, and he only limps a little bit as he heads to his fridge. Not that there’s anything in there, but maybe if he rummages around and stares at it long enough, food will appear. He doesn’t pull his head out of the fridge before saying in a mocking tone, “You can leave now.”

“I need you to raise Damian.”

Dick stares at the flickering lightbulb in his fridge, the hum of it buzzing between his ears.

“I must finally be completely nuts,” he says, straightening up, hand still on the fridge door, “because I could’a swore I heard you just say you want me raising the love child you must’ve had with the man who kicked me to the curb six months ago.”

“Richard, will you take this seriously please?”

The way her voice sounds almost desperate is what gets Dick to finally turn around.

“Are you serious?” he asks. “You’re being forreal right now?”

“I’m being completely serious,” she tells him. “I don’t want my son anywhere near my father. I want him raised by a good man.”

“So take him to Bruce! What do you need me for?”

“Did you not just admit that Bruce kicked you out?” She said slowly to him. “You, his sixteen year old son-“

“Ward.”

“-who he once used to tell me was the light of his life? He turned on you, just like that. The boy he’d raised for eight years. Richard, you are still a minor-“

“Then why are you asking me to raise your baby?” Dick screeches.

“M’not a baby!”

“Oh my God, it talks!”

“Richard!” Talia is pinching the bridge of her nose. She looks like she’s regretting the decision to come here. Good.

“Richard,” she says again, softer. “Please. You are a better man than Bruce Wayne. You know that.”

“Do I?” he laughs, feeling so out of his league right now. He has no idea what’s happening.

“You’re a smart boy, Richard, I know you’ll figure this out.”

“You’re really leaving your kid with a kid?”

“You’ve graduated high school, haven’t you?” she says, as if that means anything. “Quite the achievement for one your age, considering all your extra curricular activities. Not to mention saving the world from an alien invasion.”

Dick’s face darkens at the mention of it, and for some reason, he doesn’t immediately want to shrug off the hand Talia lays on his shoulder.

“You’re a good man,” she says gently. “You’re bright. You’re resourceful. You will be good for him. Better than anyone else he might be able to go to.”

He’s overwhelmed. He’s still in his Nightwing costume. He’s covered in dried blood and mud. He’s tired.

But now Talia is leaving, and there’s a two year old mini-Bruce sitting on his couch staring into his soul.

“Okay,” Dick breathes. “It’s okay. We’re okay. Uh-“

Dick doesn’t know what to do. Damian is still staring at him. Dick’s not sure he’s even blinking.

“Do you like Frosted Flakes?”

Damian’s never had Frosted Flakes. Dick remedies that immediately. Damian’s smile after his first bite is enough to ease the tightness in Dick’s chest just a little bit. He ends up getting Damian safely tucked into bed, leaving the door to his room ajar so he can go have a breakdown in the living room so he doesn’t disturb him.

Of course Dick will raise Damian. He doesn’t really have any other choice, does he? Plus, he’s somehow already managing to worm his way into Dick’s heart. God, is this what Bruce felt like when Dick first came to live with him-

No.

He stops that thought immediately. He’s nothing like Bruce. He’ll never be anything like Bruce. Because now that Damian is his, he won’t ever let him go, he won’t ever make Damian leave just because he might do something Dick doesn’t like. Damian is his now, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure Damian always knows that.

Except Dick is broke, and there’s hardly anything edible in this apartment, and his job doesn’t pay well enough to support himself and a toddler.

And Dick doesn’t have that many options on who to call for help.

So after a week of juggling his job and his new kid and a bunch of different possible outcomes, he makes a decision.

And the next night, he shows up on doorstep with Damian asleep in his arms and an overstuffed bag strapped to his back.

Slade only raises an eyebrow.

“What’s with the kid?”

“He’s mine,” Dick chokes out. “Don’t question it. Please.”

Slade just sighs, then steps aside to let Dick in the door. The house is familiar, Dick spent a lot of time here during his stint as Renegade. It used to feel so suffocating, being in Deathstroke’s home. Now it feels like a relief.

“What are you doing here, kid? Not that I’m not happy to see you,” Slade asks, sitting in a chair and swirling a half-empty glass of whiskey. He motions for Dick to sit on the couch across from him, and he does after a moment of shimmying the bag off his back without jostling Damian too much.

He sits there for a moment, Damian on his lap with his face tucked against his chest. He has one hand twirling Damian’s hair between his fingers, and he doesn’t look up when he speaks.

“You said I could come back anytime,” Dick says. “No questions asked.”

“I think you and I both know that didn’t apply to a situation like this.”

“Please,” Dick pleads. “I need the work. So I can take care of him.”

Slade’s face changes, but he doesn’t say anything. They’re both quiet for a long time, Dick trying to focus on the soft breaths from Damian as he sleeps. Eventually, Slade stops swirling the glass so he can bring it up to his mouth to empty the rest of it.

“You can stay in your old room for now,” Slade says, getting up. “But we’ll be relocating by the end of the week.”

Dick doesn’t know what to say, just stays rooted to the couch, hugging Damian a little tighter. Slade sees it and lets out a huff of a laugh.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I’ll pick somewhere with good schools for the kid.”

Dick’s mind is moving like molasses as Slade walks behind the couch, grips his shoulder, and leans close enough to whisper in Dick’s ear, “Welcome back, Renegade.”

Dick waits until he hears Slade move into the kitchen to bring Damian and their stuff up to his old room. It still looks the same, not that it had many personal touches to begin with. A couple trinkets. Some souvenirs from jobs. A picture he and Slade had taken together, posing as tourists while they scoped out a target. If you squint, they almost look like a family.

Dick tucks Damian into bed, making sure he has the stuffed elephant he insisted he needed so he and Dick could match. It had been $30 - completely outrageous for a stuffed doll, in Dick’s humble opinion - but the way Damian’s face looked so excited at the prospect of having a similar kind of toy to the one he knew Dick had made him instantly cave. Dick had to beg off the cooks at the bar for a few free to-go boxes for a few days afterwards, but it had been worth it.

Dick shuts off the light, leaving the curtains drawn enough for the light from the moon to shine in just in case Damian woke up before morning, then collapsed into the bed next to him. He wrapped his arm around Damian, wanting to keep him safe, to let him know Dick was right there if he needed anything.

And Dick went to sleep trying not to feel like he just sold his soul. It will be worth it. It has to be worth it.

[kathlare]

buy me presents

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie and Lando celebrate Christmas Eve in Mérida, blending their families in a vibrant, heartwarming holiday gathering.

Wordcount: 3.1 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

December 24th, 2024 - Mérida, Mexico

The streets of Mérida buzzed with the warmth of the holidays. Lanterns and fairy lights illuminated the colonial buildings downtown, their golden glow reflecting the festive energy in the city. Amelie stood on the porch of her family’s home, brushing her hair over her shoulder as she watched Lando’s car pull into the driveway.

Her heart gave a little leap, as it always did when she saw him, even now, more than a year into their relationship. The December air was cooler than usual for Yucatán, but Lando had assured her his family would love the warmth—both of the weather and of her family.

Lando stepped out of the car first, a grin breaking across his face as he caught sight of Amelie waiting for him. He was dressed in a light linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and dark trousers that made him look effortlessly put-together. His curls were slightly messy, but it was the look Amelie adored most. His family began to file out behind him: his mum, who looked around curiously at the colorful neighborhood; his dad, who immediately offered Amelie a warm smile; his sisters, Cisc and Flo, who were chatting excitedly, and his older brother Oliver, who carried baby Athena, while his wife Sav trailed behind with their other daughter, Mila.

Amelie smiled brightly as Lando walked up the path, his steps quickening when he got closer. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her, lifting her slightly off the ground in a warm hug.

—Hola, mi amor,— he murmured into her ear, his voice soft and teasing. —Miss me?—

—Not really,— she quipped, her laugh betraying her words as she clung to him. —You were only gone for an hour.—

—Longest hour of my life,— Lando teased, pressing a quick kiss to her temple before setting her down.

—You’re so dramatic,— she teased back, smoothing his shirt where she’d wrinkled it in their embrace.

—You love it,— he shot back with a wink.

Amelie rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her grin. She stepped back to greet the rest of Lando’s family, embracing Cisca and Flo first, their easy warmth already making them feel like part of her own family. Oliver and Sav offered polite hugs, and Mila ran to Amelie with open arms, giggling as Amelie scooped her up effortlessly.

—Hola, preciosa,— Amelie cooed, peppering the toddler’s cheeks with kisses. Mila squealed in delight, clinging to Amelie like they’d known each other forever.

—She’s obsessed with you,— Sav said with a laugh, brushing a strand of her dark blonde hair out of her face. —Athena too, honestly. I think they’re more excited to see you than anyone else.—

—That makes two of us,— Lando quipped, earning a playful smack on the arm from Amelie as she set Mila back down.

—Come on, everyone,— Amelie said, gesturing toward the house. —My family’s inside, and I hope you brought your appetite because dinner is going to be huge.—

Lando intertwined his fingers with hers as they led his family inside. The sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses drifted from the dining room, where Amelie’s family had already gathered. Her mother, Victoria, greeted the Norris family with open arms, her natural warmth immediately putting everyone at ease. Elías, Amelie’s father, offered Adam a firm handshake before pulling him into a quick embrace, the kind that felt more familial than formal.

—Welcome to our home,— Elías said, his voice rich with sincerity.

—It’s beautiful,— Cisca replied, her eyes darting around to take in the vibrant colors and cozy decor.

Amelie’s siblings quickly made their way over, with Callum introducing himself to Oliver, the two older brothers immediately finding common ground in their easy confidence. Jack, ever the charmer, entertained Flo and Cisca with jokes, while Chequito hovered shyly around Lando, clearly starstruck.

—You must be Sergio,— Lando said, crouching slightly to be at eye level with Amelie’s youngest nephew. —I’ve heard so much about you.—

Chequito’s face lit up, and he glanced at Amelie for reassurance before offering Lando a small smile. —I watch your races. You’re really fast.—

Lando grinned, ruffling the boy’s hair. —And you’re really cool. We’ll have to race sometime.—

Amelie watched the interaction with a fond smile, leaning into Stella, who stood nearby holding Emilio. —He’s good with kids,— Amelie murmured.

—You two are disgustingly cute,— Stella teased back, nudging her gently. —Go save the turkey before Lando eats it all.—

Dinner was a lively, chaotic affair, filled with the kind of warmth that only comes from mixing two families who already adore each other. The table was laden with a feast: turkey, pasta, sandwichón, ham shank, and a variety of fresh salads. Lando’s family tried everything, with Cisca and Flo particularly fascinated by the sandwichón, while Oliver couldn’t get enough of the turkey.

—This is amazing,— Adam said, raising his glass of wine in a toast to Victoria and Elías. —Thank you for having us and for such a wonderful meal.—

—It’s our pleasure,— Victoria replied with a smile, glancing at Amelie and Lando. —We’re just happy to finally meet all of you.—

Throughout the meal, Lando and Amelie couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Their touches were subtle, Lando resting his hand on her thigh under the table, Amelie brushing her fingers along his wrist as she passed him the breadbasket, but enough to make both their families exchange knowing looks.

—So, Lando,— Manu said with a mischievous grin, leaning forward. —When are you moving to Mérida? You seem pretty settled here already.—

—Don’t tempt me,— Lando shot back, winking at Amelie. —I could get used to this.—

Amelie rolled her eyes, her cheeks flushing pink. —He’d melt in the summer.—

—Only if you weren’t around to keep me cool,— Lando said smoothly, earning a chorus of groans from the table.

Amelie playfully shoved Lando’s shoulder, shaking her head at his shameless flirting, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement.

Dinner stretched late into the night, filled with laughter, teasing, and the occasional stories from both families. Victoria recounted embarrassing tales from Amelie’s childhood, much to her daughter’s mortification and everyone else’s amusement. Not to be outdone, Adam and Cisca shared anecdotes about Lando’s early racing days, including a particularly memorable incident involving a too-small kart and a tantrum at age six.

By the time the plates were cleared and the clock struck 11:50 p.m., the group began migrating to the living room for the traditional Mexican Christmas prayer. Amelie had explained it to Lando earlier, her excitement palpable as she described the significance of celebrating Jesus’ birth with family.

The living room was cozy and festive, with twinkling lights wrapped around the tree and a small Nativity scene set up near the window. Everyone gathered around, some standing, others sitting, with the children perched on laps.

Victoria led the prayer, her voice soft but steady as she spoke of gratitude, love, and family. Lando stood next to Amelie, his arm wrapped around her waist as they bowed their heads. It was a quiet, reflective moment, a sharp contrast to the boisterous energy of dinner, but it felt deeply personal and intimate.

When the prayer ended, the room erupted in cheerful voices wishing each other a merry Christmas. Champagne glasses were distributed, and as the clock struck midnight, everyone clinked their glasses together, exchanging hugs and well-wishes.

Amelie turned to Lando, her eyes shining with warmth. —Merry Christmas, Lan,— she said softly, leaning into him.

—Merry Christmas, Ames,— he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear before pressing a gentle kiss to her lips.

—Ugh, get a room,— Jack groaned from across the room, making them break apart with matching grins.

—Don’t tempt us,— Lando shot back, earning a collective laugh from the group.

The next part of the evening was the highlight: the Secret Santa exchange. A large sack of gifts was brought out, and one by one, names were called.

Amelie went first, pulling out a beautifully wrapped package and handing it to Flo with a cheeky grin. —You’re welcome in advance,— she teased, earning a laugh from the younger girl.

Flo unwrapped the gift to reveal a handcrafted leather journal with her initials embossed on the cover. Her eyes lit up, and she immediately ran to hug Amelie. —This is amazing! Thank you so much!—

Lando, in true dramatic fashion, waited until nearly the end to reveal his Secret Santa recipient: Jack. He handed over a sleek, gift-wrapped box, smirking as Jack tore it open to reveal a state-of-the-art gaming headset.

—No way!— Jack exclaimed, turning the headset over in his hands. —You’re the best, mate. Seriously.—

—I know,— Lando quipped, earning a round of laughter.

When it was Amelie’s turn to receive her gift, her name was called, and she looked surprised when Oliver stepped forward with a mischievous grin.

—Mila helped me pick this out,— he admitted, handing her a carefully wrapped gift.

Amelie opened it to find a delicate gold necklace with a small star pendant. Her breath hitched slightly as she looked up at Oliver and then at Mila, who was beaming.

—It’s beautiful,— she said sincerely, bending down to hug the little girl. —Thank you, Mila. And you too, Oliver.—

By the time the last gift was unwrapped, the adults were nursing their champagne and the children were starting to nod off. Lando’s family began to gather their things to head back to their hotel downtown, much to Amelie’s quiet disappointment.

She pulled Lando aside as his family prepared to leave, her hand tugging gently at his. —Are you really going to leave me here all alone?—

—You’re hardly alone, Ames. Your entire family is here,— he replied, though his teasing grin faltered when he saw the pout on her lips.

—But it’s Christmas, Lan. Don’t make me sleep without you tonight. It’s cruel.—

Lando chuckled softly, brushing a thumb over her cheek. —You’re ridiculously persuasive, you know that?—

—Only because I know what I want,— she shot back, her voice dropping to a whisper. —And right now, I want you to stay.—

He sighed dramatically, as though the decision was agony, but the twinkle in his eye gave him away. —Fine. Let me drop my family off at the hotel, and I’ll come right back. Happy?—

—Ecstatic,— Amelie replied, grinning as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She pressed a soft kiss to his lips, her smile lingering against him. —Drive safely.—

—Always do,— he murmured, stealing one last kiss before heading off to see his family out.

True to his word, Lando returned not even thirty minutes later, dressed down in a plain white t-shirt and grey sweatpants, looking entirely too comfortable as he slipped back into the house. Amelie was waiting for him in the living room, curled up on the couch in one of his hoodies.

—You look cozy,— he teased, dropping down beside her and pulling her into his arms.

—And you look like you’re ready for bed,— she shot back, snuggling closer to him.

—Funny, that’s exactly where I was planning to go.— He smirked, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head. —Merry Christmas, Ames.—

She looked up at him, her expression soft and full of affection. —Merry Christmas, Lan.—

The rest of the house was quiet now, the children fast asleep and the adults having retired to their rooms. In the warm glow of the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree, Lando and Amelie stayed curled up together, their whispers and laughter filling the quiet night as they soaked in the joy of the holiday—and the undeniable comfort of being home, in every sense of the word.

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liked by charleslefrenchie, lanmelfreak, and others

lanmelieupdates: Amelie via Lando’s Instagram story 🎄💫 Looks like Lando celebrated Christmas with Amelie this year! 🎁🌟

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lanfan420: they probably wore matching pjs and kissed under the tree i’m gonna SCREAM → mclarenmami: @lanfan420 manifesting a lanmelie christmas post 🙏🎄 → maxie_willdrive: @lanfan420 i just know he made her hot choc at 2am like the simp he is

softforamelie: ames got him acting like a hallmark movie boyfriend and i LOVE IT → lanmelfreak: @softforamelie it’s the power of the right woman 😌

itsjustf1things: Lando used to be my roman empire now i just think about them 🤧

hatersinthedust: remember when ppl said she was a PR stunt??? lmaooo → f1hottea: @hatersinthedust they’re probs cryin rn 💅

jealoustea24: can’t believe she bagged a driver, he bagged Amelie. equality. → aimeesburner: @jealoustea24 feminism won this holiday season

charleslefrenchie: charles somewhere shaking his head bc lando became that guy

gridgossipqueen: he didn’t even TRY to hide it this year 😭 the soft launch era is officially dead → gossipgurlll: @gridgossipqueen we are in the FULL MARRIED LIFE ERA now babe → lanmelieforever: @gridgossipqueen next stop: matching stockings & engagement rings 🎅💍

wheelnwine: he’s so whipped it’s almost embarrassing. ALMOST. → sleighnorris: @wheelnwine she could tell him to bark and he’d ask what pitch

christmaswithlanmelie: someone needs to leak what they got each other. respectfully. for research.

delulusince2020: imagine telling 2021 us that lando would be spending xmas cuddled up w her under a blanket and NOT playing COD with the boys

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Lando tiptoed behind Amelie, barefoot and freshly showered, holding the edge of the bowl they’d just devoured—a warm brownie drenched in melted vanilla ice cream, topped with crushed almonds and sea salt. Amelie had whipped it together in five minutes flat while Lando snuck back through the side gate like a teenager sneaking in past curfew. Not that anyone would’ve minded—they were adults, after all—but something about the stealth of it all made it even more fun.

Especially because Lando had dramatically tiptoed through the hallway with the bowl like it was stolen treasure.

Now, they crept toward her room in the far corner of the house, lit only by the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the windows and the colorful papel picado dancing on the walls.

—Don’t step on the creaky tile... there, skip that one,— Amelie whispered, pointing at a spot on the floor like she was leading a secret mission.

—Roger that,— Lando whispered back, clutching the bowl like it was a priceless artifact, and carefully stepping over the cursed tile.

Amelie pushed her bedroom door open with the slow precision of a spy disarming a bomb. It gave a tiny squeak, and both of them froze like statues.

Silence.

They exchanged a glance. Then Amelie grinned and slipped inside, Lando close behind, softly nudging the door shut with his heel.

Her bedroom smelled like her perfume—sweet and woody, with a hint of something floral that always drove him insane. The string lights above her headboard glowed faintly, casting a warm, dreamy ambiance over the room. Lando placed the empty bowl on her desk, then turned to find Amelie already pulling her oversized hoodie over her head, revealing the little tank top and pajama shorts she wore underneath. His hoodie. Of course.

She caught him staring, eyes gleaming with smug satisfaction. —Like what you see, Norris?—

—You know I do,— he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he grabbed his own shirt hem and peeled it off, tossing it into the corner chair. She was already crawling into bed, hair messy from the hoodie, bare legs tangled in the soft cream-colored sheets like some casual little siren.

He slid in beside her, the mattress dipping slightly with his weight. She was already turned on her side, facing away, but as soon as he settled in, she inched back against him. A perfectly natural movement. Innocent.

At first.

Then her hips wiggled slightly. Her ass pressing against his crotch. Just enough pressure to stir something low in his belly.

He froze.

—Ames…— he warned softly, but there was a smile tugging at his lips already. He knew that tone in her breath. The low little hum she gave as she adjusted herself again, her back arching just enough to graze him again.

—Hmm?— she murmured, all false innocence, as if she hadn’t just started a silent war with her hips.

—Don't you dare,— he hissed through a whisper-laugh, bringing his hand to rest on her hip to still her. —Your entire family is in this house.—

—So? They’re asleep,— she whispered, voice honey-sweet and laced with mischief. She did it again. A slower press this time. More deliberate.

Lando's jaw clenched. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly through his nose, like a man desperately summoning patience.

—You’re evil,— he murmured, tightening his hold on her hip, keeping her still. —Do you want me to die in here? Is that it? Do you want your brother to walk in and murder me on Christmas morning?—

Amelie giggled, biting her bottom lip, thoroughly entertained by his unraveling. —You used to be so much braver, you know,— she teased, voice featherlight and teasing against the dark. —2021 Lando wouldn’t have cared if we were in the backseat of your car or in the pool house at my cousin’s wedding.—

—2021 Lando was a reckless idiot. 2025 Lando would like to live to see the New Year,— he gritted out, trying to subtly shift himself away from her. It didn’t help. She just scooted back again.

—Mmm, you're no fun anymore,— she pouted, her fingers sneaking under his arm to rest on his stomach. —You used to pull my thong aside in the back of the Netflix party tent like we were in a damn fanfic.—

Lando let out a strangled sound.

—Jesus Christ, Amelie.—

She giggled again, completely pleased with herself.

His hand moved from her hip to her waist, then up to gently pull her arm back around herself. —You keep doing that and I swear to god, Ames, I’ll carry you out to the car and we’ll relive 2021 right now.—

That got her to pause—for a second. But she turned her face into the pillow to muffle her laughter, her shoulders shaking.

—You’re actually sweating, aren’t you?— she asked between soft giggles.

—Shut up,— he groaned, pressing his face into her hair, inhaling deeply. —I hate you.—

—You love me.—

—Unfortunately, yes.—

There was a long beat of quiet, his chest against her back, the slow rise and fall of their breathing syncing. He loosened his grip, hand settling comfortably on her stomach now. She relaxed into him, her teasing quieting—for now. The room felt warm, and peaceful, and a little buzzed from sugar and affection.

—You really were gonna carry me out to the car?— she whispered suddenly, teasing laced with curiosity.

Lando smirked against her hair. —Keys are in my jeans. Want me to prove it?—

She giggled again, softer this time, sleepier.

—Maybe next Christmas. For now… Merry Christmas, baby.—

—Merry Christmas, troublemaker,— he whispered, brushing a kiss to her shoulder. —Now go to sleep before I combust.—

Amelie hummed, entirely too smug, and finally stilled.

But her smile? That stayed.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Just us

a/n: This is purely self indulgent because I saw Matt’s story and I’m so tired I will self comfort myself with this. Enjoy!

summery: You’re living with the boys and come back home after the longest day to find Matt in the studio. Watching him work had always been your favorite way to decompress. Being friends for years means it comes with extra perks, ones that make you question if you both are just friends after all.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You were barely standing on your feet as you finally dragged yourself home. The day you had had been excruciatingly long and screw day, the past couple of weeks you had has been insane. It felt as if you had been up on your legs, doing something at every given moment. There was little sleep too and now you had reached the level of tiredness where even if you were exhausted at the end of the day you still couldn’t fall asleep.

The familiar buzzing of the house managed to pull a smile from you as you kicked off your shoes. There were perks of not living alone. Especially on these long days like this. You knew that you at least wouldn’t have to worry about feeding yourself. And some chores that you just couldn’t push yourself to do, someone else might handle. Plus, you got to come back to a place that didn’t suffocate you with loneliness. That was one of the reasons Noah had offered you a place in the house. You had been friends with them for years so you all were pretty good at reading each other without words. So when handling studies, apparent, and part-time jobs with Bad Omens got hard, they jumped in offering you a lifeline.

“Look who is back”, Jolly nodded your way with a smile. “Got you your kombucha so you can get out of my hair now”, you lowered the grocery bag onto the counter. Three sets of hands instantly move to rummage through it. “You are all toddlers”, you snorted. “You usually bring cool shit back”, Noah shrugged, turning over a yogurt box. “Yeah, snacks for my children”, you shook your head, hand running over your shoulders. “Pasta for dinner”, Jolly moved his hand to rub your back, you turned to him knowing that it was his way of asking if everything was fine. So you gave him the best smile you could master, “All in, extras cheese for all my troubles”, you bowed dramatically before moving towards the stairs.

With a deep sigh, you made your way up. Stopping to drop off your blazer and jeans in your room. Frowning slightly at the lack of hoodies in your drawers. Well, there were plenty of them just… not the ones that called your name. So with only an oversized shirt on your body, you once again ventured into the hallway. You knew that not many people understood that but the sound of heavy music blasting from the end of a hallway instantly made you feel better.

You knew that it had to be Matt there considering that you haven’t seen him downstairs. He hated being interrupted when he worked. It was called Matt Sound Kingdom for a reason. You knew that you shouldn’t bother him, especially now that they had been working so hard on creating new music and how easily an interruption could defuse inspiration, yet you still carefully pushed down onto the door handle, pushing the door ajar just slightly.

And here he sat, cap on his head. All windows shut only the mood lights he preferred on, even if you fussed about it not being good for his eyes. Leaning your head on the frame you let your gaze just linger there. You loved watching all of them fully submerged in their element but it was always something about Matt doing his thing, getting all bossy that got you the most. Some people thought he was standoffish or cold at times but you knew better. He was passionate and that sometimes came with the price.

“I made it into your daydream”, his voice startled you, making you bang your head onto the door slightly. “Jesus, Matt”, you hissed, pressing your palm onto the sore spot. “It wasn’t me snooping around”, he threw you a look before pushing his chair back slightly as he turned to you. With an eye roll, you stepped inside, closing the door behind you. Not missing the way Matt’s eyes lingered on your bare legs. His jaw flexed as he licked his lips.

“So, you haven’t seen my shirt, have you”, he mused, making you look down as well. “Well, it was out of service for you”, you shoot him an innocent smile, turning to pull a chair out for yourself. “Don’t need that, come here”, Matt patted his thigh but something about sitting down on his lap with just a shirt and thong made you halt. You two were close. Fuck that, you shared beds on multiple occasions and it was never awkward. He was a total black cat. Not too big on physical touch, only when he was overstated for it did he slip into your room for a cuddle.

“Matt”, you muttered in a warning tone. “Y/n”, he shot back instantly, “Come here, I can tell that it was a shit day”. That completely threw you for the loops and you instantly felt the burning sensation in your eyes. “It was fine”, you tried to make it sound truthful enough. But Matt just shook his head, leaning forward. One hand grabbed the back of your thigh as he pulled you closer to him. Leaving you no choice but to straddle him. Now buried deep in the crook of your neck, with his scent all over you, you couldn’t help but let out the deepest sigh. One that had been pressing on you all day long.

“That sounded rough, do you want to talk about it or nah”, Matt asked, kissing the side of your head. You simply shook your head, not mustering enough energy to give him a proper answer. “Fine, but we are talking about it at some point”, he pointed out, pulling your legs tighter around himself before scooting the chair closer to his sound tech. “You mind if I continue this for a bit?”, it was sweet that he asked, considering that you were the one interrupting him. So you shook your head again, letting the heavy sound slowly drown out all the thoughts in your head.

That’s how you both stayed. Completely losing sense of time. With you lazily twirling the ends of his hair while he worked. And Matt whose hand slipped up and down your thighs, as he nodded along to the sound. Or drumming his fingers over your lower back as he searched for the right beat. You pulled back slightly after a while, wanting that up-close privilege of watching him once again.

“What?”, he muttered, catching your gaze. You just smiled at him, “I love seeing you like this”, you mussed, reaching to put his cap backward, so it wasn’t so much over his face. “Like what?”, his fingers reached out to carefully brush away the loose strands of hair away from your eyes. “Just being you”, you shrugged, “I know not many people step their foot here. I know I have a free pass”. Matt chuckled slightly, “Who told you that?”, “This guy called Matt, he’s really sweet”, you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Is that so, you like him?”, your heart skipped a beat because you doubted that he knew just how much you liked him. “Yeah, I do”, you muttered, watching him watch you. “He likes you too”, Matt hummed. “How would you know?”, you shook your head. “He told me too, we had a conversation about you”, his eyes slowly crept onto your lips before he pulled his gaze back up to meet your eyes.

“Matt”, you muttered, you two had tiptoed the line multiple times. But both of you had always put the band first. You knew that the rest of the boys wouldn’t mind but work and love in one mix nearly always ended in tragedy. “Can I do something stupid?”, he asked, fingers slipping to hold onto your hips, slowly reaching beneath the hem of your shirt. “Not if I do it first”, you breathed, cupping the back of his neck as you leaned forward, brushing your lips over his. He chased the kiss almost instantly, pushing deeper into you. It was equally slow and passionate as it was messy. You felt a shiver run down your back as the realization slowly hit you, making you pull back.

“Shit, sorry”, you grunted, trying to wriggle out of his hands only to have him firmly holding you down. “And where do you think you’re running now?”, Matt mussed, licking his lips. “Don’t do that”, you huffed, pushing his face further away from you. “Do what?”, he churched, “Look so fucking kissable”, you whined, making Matt let out a full deep laugh. “I’ve been dreaming about kissing you ever since that New Year’s kiss”, he admitted, making your shoulders droop slightly, “No, you have not”.

He shot you a look, “Love, I practically sleep in your bed every night after that, how else do you want me to show it to you”, while that was true you never took it as a sign of anything more than him wanting a cuddle. “Start by taking me on a date”, you pointed at his chest. “That can be arranged”, Matt mussed, leaning in to kiss your lips once more. “And others?”, you pulled back watching him. “Considering that you are here in my shirt with only a thong…”, he stared but you quickly hit his chest playfully, “They already know, I think we were the last ones to catch up. We don’t have to tell anyone anything, though”, he reassured you, hosing you high onto his thighs. “Just us”, you muttered. “That’s all that matters for now, baby - just us”, Matt kissed your temple before reaching to pull your head back, a smirk forming onto his face as his lips met your neck.