#Like yeah there are genuine stupid moments in his videos

[cressidagrey]

The mysterious Mrs. Piastri

We are interrupting our regularly scheduled programming for a Valentine's Day Treat. Remember that video where Oscar was asked "Get married or get a tattoo?" Well, it showed up on my FYP and I was like..:WAIT

Summary: 

Oscar Piastri had always been a calm, collected kind of guy. Unshakeable, even. Lando Norris, on the other hand? Not so much.

And today? Today was the day Lando fully lost it.

(divider thanks to @saradika-graphics )

Oscar Piastri had always been a calm, collected kind of guy. Unshakeable, even.

Lando Norris, on the other hand? Not so much.

And today? Today was the day Lando fully lost it.

It had started innocently enough, just another fan stage, just another round of questions.

“Oscar, would you rather get married or get a tattoo?”

Easy. Straightforward. Oscar barely had to think before responding, “Well, I already did one of those things.”

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say.

Because one second later, Lando spat out his drink.

“YOU GOT A TATTOO?!”

Oscar turned, confused. “What? No.”

Lando, looking equal parts betrayed and horrified, pointed an accusing finger. “Mate, I’ve seen you in swim trunks. There’s no way you have a tattoo. Where is it?”

Oscar frowned. “I don’t have a tattoo.”

Lando’s face twisted in confusion. “But you just said—” He stopped. His eyes widened. Oscar could see the moment his brain caught up.

“WAIT. WAIT.” Lando practically jumped out of his seat. “YOU’RE MARRIED?!” Lando looked genuinely stunned, his mouth hanging open in shock. 

Oscar nodded, calm as ever. “Yeah.”

Lando’s reaction was not calm. Lando let out a strangled, guttural noise, kind of sounding like an indignant cat.

“WHAT?!”

The interviewer, who had been mostly observing up until now, leaned forward, eyes shining with the excitement of a woman who had just stumbled upon the biggest scoop of the season. “Okay, hold on. You mean married married? Like, legally?”

Oscar frowned. “Is there another kind?”

Lando’s hands were now on his head, his entire world seemingly crumbling around him. “SINCE WHEN?!”

Oscar shrugged. “A while now.”

The crowd lost it. The interviewer looked like Christmas had come early. The McLaren PR team, wherever they were, was probably having a collective heart attack.

Lando’s jaw dropped. “I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW YOU HAD A GIRLFRIEND.”

Oscar frowned. “You know that," he told Lando pointedly.

“I DO NOT KNOW THAT,” Lando shouted. “WHEN HAVE YOU EVER MENTIONED A GIRLFRIEND—LET ALONE A WIFE?!”

Oh well. Oscar just shrugged. “Well. I do. She’s amazing. 10/10. Would always marry her again.”

Lando let out a hysterical laugh. “Wait, wait, wait. No, no. You’re telling me you have a freaking WIFE?!”

The interviewer seized the moment. “Okay, no, we need details. How long have you been together?”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. "Since we were 15."

Lando made a strangled noise. “15?! YOU’VE BEEN WITH HER SINCE YOU WERE 15?!”

Oscar nodded. “Yeah.”

The interviewer looked delighted. “How did you meet?”

Oscar tilted his head. “School?”

Lando groaned and turned to the audience. “Look at this guy. Look at him. Of course he’s been secretly married this whole time. Of course.”

The interviewer pressed on. “When did you get married?”

Oscar shrugged. “When I was 18.”

The entire crowd erupted. Fans were screaming, phones were recording, and McLaren PR was definitely hyperventilating somewhere.

Lando, meanwhile, looked like his whole world had just collapsed in real-time.

“You—you got MARRIED at EIGHTEEN?!” he wheezed. “WHY?!”

Oscar looked at him like he was stupid.  “Because I wanted to? Because I love her?”

The interviewer cooed over the answer. Lando physically recoiled. “What, like straight out of high school?!”

Oscar frowned. “Not straight out of high school. We waited a bit.”

“HOW LONG IS A BIT?!” Lando demanded.

Oscar thought about it. “Like… three weeks after graduation?”

Lando let out a strangled noise. “THAT’S NOT A BIT, OSCAR. THAT’S BASICALLY IMMEDIATELY.”

Lando dramatically fell back in his chair. The interviewer, meanwhile, was nearly vibrating with excitement. “Okay, okay, follow-up question—how did you propose?”

Oscar thought about it. “I asked her to marry me.”

The interviewer stared. “…That’s it?”

Oscar nodded. “Yeah.”

Lando threw his hands in the air. “UNBELIEVABLE.”

The interviewer, trying desperately to salvage something remotely romantic, asked, “Where did you propose?”

Oscar, as if this were a perfectly reasonable answer, said, “Uh. At home?”

The interviewer looked at him. "...At home?"

"On the bed," Oscar added.

Lando looked like he was going to have an aneurysm.

The crowd groaned. The interviewer looked physically pained. Lando just laughed in disbelief. “I knew you’d be the most unromantic bastard alive.”

Oscar rolled his eyes. “She said yes.”

Lando wiped imaginary tears from his eyes. “That poor woman.”

The interviewer shook her head in awe. “Oscar, mate, I have to ask—how did you manage to keep this a secret for so long?”

Oscar blinked. “No one asked?”

Lando just screamed.

The interviewer, who had completely abandoned all pretense of professionalism, leaned forward. “Okay, wait, wait, who is she?”

Oscar blinked. “My wife?”

Lando threw up his hands. “YES, OBVIOUSLY, but who is she? What’s her name? Where’s she from? What does she do?”

Oscar's forehead creased. "Is that... relevant?"

The interviewer just about had a stroke. Lando looked like he was going to spontaneously combust.

The fans were losing their freaking minds.

Lando nearly fell out of his chair. “YOU’VE BEEN MARRIED FOR YEARS AND I’VE NEVER MET HER.”

“I mean, I thought it was obvious?”

“OBVIOUS TO WHO?!” Lando yelled. “BECAUSE IT WASN’T OBVIOUS TO ME.”

Oscar just shrugged. 

Lando groaned. “Mate, I DIDN’T KNOW SHE EXISTED!”

Lando looked like he was seconds from grabbing Oscar and shaking him until some kind of information fell out. "Okay, I can't believe I have to ask this, but why the hell didn't you tell me?”

"I thought you knew," Oscar answered simply.

Lando just gaped. "How on earth would I have known?"

Oscar shrugged. The interviewer, meanwhile, was leaning closer, clearly invested in the whole thing now.

Lando, apparently having had enough, decided on a different tactic. Lando pointed at him, eyes narrowing. “You’re not getting away with this. You are going to introduce me to your wife.”

Oscar sighed, clearly knowing a losing battle when he saw one. “Fine,” he said after a moment.

Lando sat back, satisfied. “Good.” Then he paused. “Wait—does anyone else know? Like, do the team know?”

Oscar shrugged. “I think Zak does.”

Lando made a strangled noise. “Why does Zak get to know?!”

Oscar pointed out, “Because he’s my boss?”

The interviewer, clearly having thrown all professionalism out the window, was just enjoying the chaos. Lando looked like he wanted to scream. “But I’m your friend!”

Somewhere in the background, McLaren PR was probably losing their minds, trying to figure out how to handle the fact that Oscar Piastri, their quiet, low-maintenance driver, had accidentally revealed he’d been married since he was 18.

Not Oscar’s problem, though...After he escaped Lando Norris' clutches.

He had a wife to call after all.

Oscar Piastri was a man of routine.

He liked predictability. Consistency. A life largely free of unnecessary chaos.

Which was exactly why, after the complete meltdown that was today’s fan stage, he had retreated to his driver’s room, shut the door, and pulled out his phone. If there was one thing in his life that wasn’t chaotic, it was his wife.

The call rang twice before she picked up.

“Hey, love,” she greeted, her face appearing on screen. She was sitting in their apartment, hair tied up, wearing one of his hoodies. 

Oscar felt himself relax immediately. “Hey.”

She smiled at him. “So, how was your day?”

Oscar sighed. “Lando found out we’re married.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Oh.” A pause. “He… didn’t know?”

Oscar shook his head. "I thought he did."

She let out a small laugh at that. "How the hell did you think he knew?"

Oscar shrugged. "I dunno. We've been married for, what, five years now? How could he not know?"

Her smile widened. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you're about as romantic as a cactus?"

Oscar let out a huff. "I can be romantic."

Before she could respond, there was a loud banging on the door, followed by—

“LET ME IN, PIASTRI!”

Oscar sighed through his nose. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

His wife bit her lip, clearly seconds away from laughing. “Is that…?”

“YOU HAVE EXACTLY THREE SECONDS BEFORE I BREAK THIS DOOR DOWN AND—”

Oscar hung his head. “Yes.”

She was laughing now, and he couldn’t even bring himself to be mad because it was an adorable sound.

The banging continued. “I CAN HEAR YOU IN THERE. STOP IGNORING ME, OSCAR.”

His wife bit her lip, clearly trying not to laugh. “You should probably let him in before he tries to break the door down.”

Oscar debated not letting him in, but realistically, Lando would either A) find a way in, or B) make this everyone else’s problem.

So, with a long-suffering sigh, he got up and opened the door.

Lando barreled in immediately, eyes wild.

“WHERE IS SHE?!?” he demanded. “I NEED TO SEE HER WITH MY OWN EYES.”

Oscar sighed, holding up the phone. “She’s on FaceTime, you absolute lunatic.”

Lando’s head whipped around, and he nearly tripped over his own feet trying to get to the couch. He pushed past Oscar with a huff, then stared, wide-eyed, at the phone.

Lando was silent. For once.

His wife was, bless her soul, doing her best to fight her laughter at the look on Lando’s face. “Hi,” she said. “You must be Lando.”

Lando just continued to gape.

Then, slowly, he pointed an accusatory finger at the screen. “You’re real.”

She laughed. “I hope so.”

Lando turned to Oscar, looking personally betrayed. “SHE’S REAL.”

Oscar sighed. “I know.”

Lando turned back to the phone. “And you married him? At eighteen?!?”

She smiled. “Yep.”

Lando reeled. “WHY?!”

She tilted her head. “Because I love him?”

Lando looked like his entire world had been completely shaken. “You love him,” he repeated, staring incredulously down at her.

Oscar rolled his eyes. “Oi, mate, why’s that so hard to believe?”

Lando just groaned in exasperation. “You do not understand how hard it is, being friends with a guy for literal years, and never knowing he had a girlfriend—let alone a WIFE.”

“Mate, I’m pretty sure that says more about you than me,” Oscar told him bluntly.

Lando shot him a glare. “Oh, and you’re what? Mister Emotional Intelligence? You’ve been hiding this for years!”

Oscar shrugged. “Never came up in conversation.”

Lando looked horrified. “Don’t put this on me!”

Oscar shrugged. “You never asked.”

Lando flopped onto the couch, rubbing his face. “Unbelievable.”

His wife stifled a laugh, the corners of her mouth tugging upward as she watched Lando in his current state.

Lando, meanwhile, had moved to the “trying to wrap his head around this situation” portion of his breakdown.

“Okay, no. We’re fixing this. Immediately.”

Oscar sighed. “Lando—”

Lando pointed at the phone. “I need to meet her.”

Oscar sighed. “Fine. Silverstone.”

Lando gasped. “Really?!?”

Oscar deadpanned. “No, I just said it for fun.”

Lando turned back to the phone. “Mrs. Piastri, I will see you at Silverstone.”

She laughed. “Looking forward to it.”

Lando nodded firmly, then turned back to Oscar. “I will be grilling you for details later.”

Oscar sighed. “Of course you will.”

Lando stood dramatically. “Good. Carry on.” And then he walked out like he had just personally fixed the situation.

Oscar turned back to his wife, who was fully laughing.

“I love Lando,” she said. “This is the best thing that’s ever happened.”

Oscar sighed. “I regret everything.”

She smirked. “Love you.”

Oscar huffed. “Yeah, yeah. Love you too.”

And somewhere, in the distance, Lando was plotting.

****

@/oscarpiastri ✅

Posted: 1 day ago

Caption:

So, the internet (and, more importantly, Lando) just found out I’m married.

To be honest, I didn’t think it was a secret. I’ve been married for years. I assumed people knew. Turns out, I was very, very wrong.

Yes, I’m married. Have been for five years this summer.

So, meet my wife—my best friend, my favorite person in the world, and the only one who has somehow put up with me for this long.

We met when we were 15. Two kids at boarding school, thrown together by pure chance. The only open seat in class was next to me, so she took it. I stole a pen from her once—completely by accident—but she still let me borrow her pens after that. Eventually, she started carrying a second one just for me. I told myself that meant something.

She always knew when I was having a bad day, even when I hadn’t said a word. She made school bearable, made exams feel less stressful, made me laugh even when all I wanted to do was complain. Somewhere between stolen lunch breaks and long walks back to the dorms, between late-night study sessions and whispered conversations about the future, I fell in love with her. Quietly, all at once and over time. I knew by the time we were 15—maybe even before then.

She was my best friend first. The person I trusted most. The one who understood the parts of my life that didn’t always make sense to everyone else. By the time I worked up the nerve to tell her how I felt, she just smiled and said, ‘I was wondering when you’d figure that out.’ Like she had known all along.

When I left school to chase this ridiculous dream, she didn’t ask me to stay. She just told me she’d be there, no matter how far I went. And she was. Through every win, every loss, every moment of self-doubt.

So when we turned 18, we didn’t wait. Three weeks after graduation, we walked into a registry office in London, signed a piece of paper, and walked out married. No grand ceremony, no expensive dress. Just us, two rings we picked out in under twenty minutes, and a promise we already knew we’d keep.

We told our families afterward. Some took it better than others.

I know getting married at 18 sounds a little mad. People told us we were too young, that we should wait, that we were being reckless. But why? I had no doubt in my mind then, and I have none now.

She’s still the first person I call after every race, no matter the result. She’s the one who tells me to go to bed when I’m up too late on the sim, who reminds me to eat when I forget, who talks me down when I start overthinking. She’s been with me through everything. Through junior categories to F1, through every high and every low, through the moments I wanted to quit and the ones where I felt like I was on top of the world.

She’s my best friend, my greatest love, the only person who can call me out on my nonsense and get away with it.

So, no, I don’t have a tattoo. But I do have a wife. The person who still looks at me like I’m just that 15-year-old kid stealing a pen and falling in love before he even realizes it’s happening.

I have no idea how I convinced her to marry me, but I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

10/10, would always marry her again. ❤️

Comments:

@/landonorris: FIVE YEARS??? YOU HAVE BEEN MARRIED FOR FIVE YEARS???

↪️ @/oscarpiastri: I assumed you knew. ↪️ @/landonorris: WHEN HAVE YOU EVER MENTIONED HAVING A WIFE???

↪️ @/mrspiastri: He does this thing where he forgets people don’t just know things.

@/danielricciardo: High school sweethearts. Eloped at 18. Best plot twist of the season.

@/mclaren: We have so many questions.↪️ @mrspiastri: Submit them in an organized document, I’ll answer the best ones.

@/f1updates: Today in ‘Oscar Piastri casually drops life-changing information’—he has a whole wife. Lando learned this at the same time as the rest of us.

@/lanoscult: Not Lando finding out with the fans and having a full existential crisis on stage 💀💀💀

@/thef1editz: POV: You just found out your best friend has been MARRIED FOR YEARS and never told you (attached video of Lando’s reaction with dramatic music)

@/wagsf1: WE NEED A FULL BOARDING SCHOOL LOVE STORY IMMEDIATELY.

@/f1tea: No thoughts, just Lando yelling ‘WHO GETS MARRIED AT 18’ like he was personally betrayed.

@/padlockthegrid: We’ve been watching this man for YEARS and never once suspected a wife??

@/georgerussell63: I feel like this is something you announce at a dinner, not in front of an audience.

↪️ @/oscarpiastri: I thought I had mentioned it. ↪️ @/landonorris: YOU DID NOT.

@/charles_leclerc: This is the greatest plot twist in F1 history.

@/fernandoalo_oficial: I respect this level of secrecy.

@/chaoticneutralf1: Oscar Piastri is terrifying. He just DOES things and assumes people KNOW.

@/mclaren: Oscar, any other life-altering facts you’ve forgotten to mention? ↪️ @/oscarpiastri: Not that I can think of. ↪️ @/landonorris: I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THAT.

@/mrspiastri: 10/10, would marry him again. (Even if he forgets to tell people.) ↪️ @/oscarpiastri: Love you too. ❤️

@/danielricciardo: Oscar, mate, do you have any other shocking secrets? ↪️ @/oscarpiastri: Not really. ↪️ @/landonorris: I AM NOT CONVINCED.

@/chaoticgrid: I will think about this every day for the rest of my life.

@/mrspiastri

Posted: 2h ago

Caption:

"So. Yesterday happened.

Since Oscar apparently forgot that telling people you’re married is something you actually have to do, I’ve spent the last 24 hours watching the internet lose its collective mind. You guys have questions. Lots of them. So, let’s go:

1. Wait… Oscar is MARRIED?!

Yes. Since we were 18. I know, I know. We should have made a big announcement. Or at the very least told his teammate. Oops.

2. When did you get married?!Right after we graduated. We were 18, ran off to London, signed a piece of paper, and then told our families. In hindsight, we probably should have done that last part beforehand, but hey, we were young and in love (and slightly impulsive).

3. Why so young?Because we were sure. It wasn’t impulsive—it was inevitable. People told us we were crazy, that we should wait, that we’d change. But we didn’t. We grew up together, and we only ever grew toward each other. If I had to choose again, I’d do it exactly the same way.

3. How did you two meet?We were 15, stuck at boarding school, and Oscar stole my pen. He swears it was an accident. I maintain that it was the moment he decided to make me fall in love with him.

5. Did you really not tell Lando?I thought he knew! Everyone close to us does! I assumed Oscar had mentioned it at some point, but, well… you all saw what happened. Apparently, Oscar’s ‘private life’ policy extended to his teammate of three years. Which is why we all got to witness his public breakdown in real-time.

5. Does this mean you’re an F1 WAG?Technically? Yes. Do I have the outfit coordination and expensive handbag collection to back it up? No. I do steal Oscar’s team hoodies, so that counts, right?

6. What’s your favorite thing about Oscar?The way he loves—quietly, steadily, with his whole heart. He still waits up for me if I’m out late, still kisses my forehead when he thinks I’m asleep, still tucks handwritten notes into his race gloves like he did back when he was karting. I’ve loved him for so long that I can’t imagine my life any other way.

7. And since Oscar said ‘10/10 would always marry her again,’ what’s your answer? 10/10. No regrets, no hesitation, no doubt. I’d marry him a thousand times over.

Comments: 

@/landonorris: I’M STILL NOT OVER THIS. ↪️@/oscarpiastri: I’m never going to live this down, am I? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Nope. But I love you anyway.

@/danielricciardo: This is the kind of romance novel material I expect from an F1 WAG.

@/mclaren: We demand a Netflix special on this.

@/wagsf1: This is the cutest thing we’ve ever seen. Please post more.

@/f1updates: The way she said ‘10/10’ like it was the easiest question ever 😭💖

@/wagsf1: He still tucks handwritten notes into his race gloves??? I’M GONNA CRY.

@/f1updates: This woman just broke the internet by being casually, devastatingly in love.

@/f1fangirl92: The way this man has been secretly in love since he was FIFTEEN is actually lethal.”

@/fanaccountoscarpiastri: So what I’m getting is that Oscar is out here winning races and marriage. I respect it.

@/paddockinsider: Be so honest. What did people say when they found out you guys eloped? @/mrspiastri: Oh, everyone thought we were insane. Random people who barely knew us were convinced we’d crash and burn. Now we get a lot of, ‘Wow, you guys really made it work.’ ↪️@/oscarpiastri: Wasn’t hard.

@/f1obsessed: Did you guys ever break up? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Nope. Not once. Not even a ‘we were on a break’ situation. We’ve been together since we were 15, which is wild when I think about it.

@/fanofeverything: Why did Oscar keep it a secret??? ↪️@/mrspiastri: It wasn’t a secret so much as… he never felt the need to bring it up? It’s not like he was hiding me in a basement somewhere lol. He just doesn’t talk about personal stuff unless someone asks directly. Which, apparently, no one did.

@/gridgossip: So who knew? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Mark. Andrea. Probably Zak? Our families, obviously. And, um. That might be it?

@/paddockinsider: Did Oscar just assume that everyone knew you guys were married? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Yes. 100%. This man did not think to mention it because he thought it was ‘obvious. ↪️@/mclarenmemes: “OBVIOUS TO WHO??” ↪️@/mrspiastri: To him. He just figured if someone asked if he was married, he’d say yes. But since no one did, he saw no need to bring it up. ↪️@/landonorris: HOW IS THAT YOUR LOGIC. ↪️@/oscarpiastri: No one asked. ↪️@/landonorris: I’M GOING TO LOSE MY MIND.

@/f1insider: We need more details about Mark Webber finding out. ↪️@/mrspiastri: I swear I saw his soul leave his body. ↪️@/mclarenmemes: OSCAR, EXPLAIN YOURSELF. ↪️@/oscarpiastri: Didn’t seem necessary to tell him at the time ↪️@/landonorris: “HOW IS MARRIAGE NOT NECESSARY INFORMATION???” ↪️@/mrspiastri: Mark Webber sat Oscar down like a disappointed dad and was like, ‘Mate. How do you just… forget to mention you’re married? ↪️@/mclarenupdates: “And what did Oscar say??? ↪️@/mrspiastri: “He just shrugged and went, ‘Not really relevant to racing. ↪️@/landonorris: “I NEED TO LIE DOWN.”

@/paddockdrama: People always joke that Oscar is a robot. Does that ever bother him? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Not really. I once asked him and he just shrugged and went ‘Doesn’t bother me. I don’t need to prove anything to anyone as long as you know how much I love you.’ ↪️@/landonorris: NO BECAUSE WHERE WAS THIS ENERGY WHEN I TOLD HIM I GOT P2 AND HE JUST WENT ‘NICE’??? ↪️@/oscarpiastri: It was nice.

@/paddockgossip: “Did ANY other drivers know???” ↪️@/mrspiastri: Oscar’s Prema teammates figured it out. The rest of the grid? Oblivious. ↪️@/landonorris: How did Oscar never accidentally spill?? ↪️@/mrspiastri: He doesn’t overshare. Meanwhile, I am still in awe that he just assumed people knew.

@/foreverf1: Wait, I need to know—who said ‘I love you’ first? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Oscar did. Completely out of nowhere, too. We were 16, lying on the floor doing homework, and he just looked over and went, ‘Oh. I love you.’ Like he just realized it in real time.

@/f1teaqueen: Okay but like… NO COLD FEET?? Not even a little?? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Nope. We were 100% sure.

@/wildforwags: Who actually officiated your wedding?? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Some very lovely lady at a London registry office. She called us ‘sweethearts’ and I think she knew we were completely insane, but she was very supportive about it.

@/racewifematerial: What did you wear?? ↪️@/mrspiastri: A white sundress I bought the week before. Oscar wore a suit that was slightly too big because he borrowed it last-minute. We looked like two teenagers who ran away from home, which, to be fair… we kinda did.

@/formula1fangirl: Who took the wedding photos? ↪️@/mrspiastri: We handed a disposable camera to two very confused tourists outside the registry office. They did a great job.

@/landoandchaos: Oscar, babe, how did you manage to keep this from your friend for FIVE YEARS? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Listen, Oscar is elite at two things: racing and not offering information unless directly asked.

@/mclarenfanatic: Did he really think Lando knew? ↪️@/mrspiastri: 100%. I asked him and he was like, ‘Well, I didn’t HIDE it?’ And I was like, ‘Oscar. That is not the same thing as telling people.’

@/fastandflawless: Be honest, did you ever have a moment of ‘Oh my god, I married an 18-year-old racing driver, what have I done’?” ↪️@/mrspiastri: Not really? I mean, other people definitely thought we were nuts, but we knew exactly what we were doing. The real crisis moment was a few months later when I realized I’d have to file taxes as a married person.

@/waggossip: “Did Oscar have a big, romantic proposal, or was it just like, ‘Wanna get married?’ ↪️@/mrspiastri: Oscar woke up one morning, looked at me, and said, ‘We should get married. Logically, it makes sense.’ ↪️@/f1softies: YOU’RE JOKING. ↪️@/mrspiastri: I was like, ‘Okay?’ And he said, ‘Great, I’ll book an appointment.’ ↪️@/mclarenmemes: So let me get this straight. No knee. No ring. Just ‘We should get married.’ ↪️@/mrspiastri: Correct. ↪️@/f1wifeguys: And you weren’t even a little mad?? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Nah, I thought it was funny. If he’d done some big, dramatic proposal, I’d have thought he was concussed. ↪️@/mclarenupdates: Please tell me he at least got a ring after that. ↪️@/mrspiastri: He did! We picked one out together. It has both our birthstones.

@/paddocktea: Okay, but does he ever get super romantic out of nowhere?” ↪️@/mrspiastri: Oh, absolutely. Once, when I was really stressed out, he just looked at me and said, ‘You don’t have to do everything alone. I’m always going to be here.’ ↪️@/f1wifeguys: STOP THAT’S SO SWEET.

@/paddockinsider: What’s the most uncharacteristically romantic thing he’s ever said? ↪️@/mrspiastri: We were lying in bed once, just scrolling on our phones, and out of nowhere he goes, ‘You know, no matter how my life turned out, I think I would’ve found you in every version of it.’ And then he just went back to reading about Formula 2 tire degradation like he hadn’t just ruined me.

@/backmarkerbrigade: “So, like, what did you do after you got married? Fancy dinner? Celebratory champagne?” ↪️@/mrspiastri: ...Sandwichs at Pret-a-manger

@/gridlove: What’s the most Oscar Piastri way he’s ever told you he loves you? ↪️@/mrspiastri: One time he texted me ‘You’re my favorite human’ completely out of the blue. No context. No follow-up. Just that. It was adorable.

@/pitlaneprincess: Who cried more at the wedding? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Me. Oscar was annoyingly composed. He did squeeze my hand really tight when we said our vows, though.

@/drsforlove: “This man has been giving post-race interviews like ‘Yeah, good race, car felt good’ and then just casually drops a wife like it’s a tire strategy.

@/wildforwags: What’s something you wish you had done for the wedding? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Honestly, nothing. It was chaotic, but it was ours.

@/pitstopqueen: What was your first impression of Oscar? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Honestly? I thought he was too quiet. Then he made some dry, sarcastic comment under his breath in class, and I immediately knew we’d get along.

@/tracksidegossip: How long did you actually plan the wedding? ↪️@/mrspiastri: A week. And ‘plan’ is a generous term. We just Googled how to get married in London, booked the appointment, and that was that.

@/f1chaos: Oscar, be so honest, did you really think people would just ‘figure it out’ without you ever saying anything?? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Yes. Yes, he did.

@/paddockprincess: Wait, so how did Oscar’s family react to you guys getting married so young? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Honestly? They were really supportive. His mum just went, ‘That makes sense,’ and his dad laughed. Oscar’s family has always been the ‘if you’re happy, we’re happy’ type. ↪️@/oscarpiastriupdates: “So no dramatic reactions from the Piastris??” ↪️@/mrspiastri: “The most dramatic reaction was his mum sighing and saying, ‘You two are hopeless.’ But she meant it fondly.”

@/chaosinthepaddock: What about your family? 👀 ↪️@/mrspiastri: Ah. Well. See, they did not get over it in five minutes. ↪️@/f1tea: Omg. HOW mad were they??” ↪️@/mrspiastri: Very. Like, ‘multiple angry phone calls’ mad. Like, ‘we refuse to speak to you for years’ mad.” ↪️@/landonorris: Did they actually say you were ruining your life? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Oh, yes. There was a lot of dramatic ‘you’re throwing your future away’ speeches. Which was funny, because my future was literally the same, just with more love and an Australian husband. ↪️@/piastrination: Did Oscar ever try to talk to them about it? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Oh, he tried. But Oscar is Oscar, so he just very calmly said, ‘I love her, we’re married, and that’s not changing.’ Which, surprisingly, did not make them less angry. ↪️@/f1gossip: Have they come around since then? ↪️@/mrspiastri: No.

@/landonorris: Lando’s reaction when he found out vs. your family’s reaction when they found out—who had the bigger meltdown?” ↪️@/mrspiastri: Oh, my family by far. Lando was just confused—my relatives were furious.

@/gridgirlgossip: Oscar Piastri, the man who quietly eloped at 18, dealt with family drama, and then just went racing like nothing happened.

@/drsdiva: “This is the wildest reveal in F1 history. Netflix, do your job.”

@/f1softies: “The fact that Oscar has been in wife guy mode for YEARS and we had no idea.”

@/lando4lyf: Lando: ‘YOU GOT A TATTOO?!’ Oscar: ‘No, I’m married.’ Lando: internal system crash

@/piastriupdates: “Lando Norris finding out live on stage that his teammate has been MARRIED FOR FIVE YEARS is the funniest thing to ever happen in F1.

@/f1memesdaily: “Oscar Piastri eloped at 18, never told anyone, and assumed people would figure it out while Lando was out here thinking he was a single man. I respect the commitment to quiet chaos.”

@/danielricciardo: Mate. You were MARRIED this whole time?? I thought you were just too focused on racing to date anyone, and instead you were out here with a whole WIFE???

@/charles_leclerc: You were married at 18? And Oscar thought that was a normal thing to do?? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Yes. Yes, he did.

@/alex_albon: Tbh, I respect it. Absolute power move. Eloping at 18, casually keeping it a secret, and then just dropping it on Lando like that?? Unreal. ↪️@/mrspiastri: See? Alex gets it.

@/robertschwartzman: Oh, now everyone suddenly cares. Meanwhile, WE KNEW THE WHOLE TIME. ↪️@/mrspiastri: To be fair, you two were basically forced to know. ↪️@/robertschwartzman: Yeah, because he wouldn’t shut up about you. ‘Oh, I can’t come to dinner, I have to call my wife.’ ‘Oh, I’m flying to London to see my wife.’ Mate, we were 19, and you were out here married like a 40-year-old. ↪️@/mrspiastri: He still does that, btw. ↪️@/robertschwartzman: Not surprised. The man has been whipped since day one.

@/jehannadaruvala: “The funniest part was watching Oscar just assume we all knew. Like we’d be talking about normal 19-year-old things, and he’d casually drop, ‘Yeah, my wife said the same thing.’ ↪️@/mrspiastri: And did any of you ever ask for clarification? ↪️@/jehannadaruvala: Oh, we asked. His response? ‘What about it?’ LIKE SIR. ↪️@/robertschwartzman: “One time, I straight-up said, ‘Mate, do you realize you’re married?’ and he just blinked at me and said, ‘Yeah.’ As if that was a totally normal thing for a teenage racing driver. ↪️@/mrspiastri: Sounds about right. ↪️@/ollicaldwell: “Honestly, we stopped questioning it after a while. He was just so chill about it. ↪️@/arthur_leclerc: Yeah, it was like, ‘Oh, Oscar’s in a committed marriage while we’re all just trying to survive? Cool, cool.’

@/f1softies: Okay but does he ever have romantic moments?? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Oh, absolutely. They just happen out of nowhere and leave me emotionally ruined. ↪️@/mclarenupdates: Example, please. ↪️@/mrspiastri: One time, I was having a bad day, and he just looked at me and said, ‘You know, the best part of my life is that I get to love you.’ ↪️@/mclarenmemes: EXCUSE ME SIR??? ↪️@/landonorris: “WHAT THE HELL.”

@/f1updates: So you eloped… but do you think you’ll ever have a big wedding? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Not really. Oscar and I don’t love being the center of attention, so a big wedding never appealed to us. ↪️@/landonorris: THEN CAN I HAVE A BIG PARTY ON YOUR BEHALF??? ↪️@/mrspiastri: We literally just had a wedding reveal by accident and you want to throw an even bigger event??? ↪️@/landonorris: YES.

@/f1insider: So how did Mark find out?? ↪️@/mrspiastri: We didn’t tell him. He found out when Oscar referred to me as his wife in conversation. ↪️@/mrspiastri: We were in a meeting. Mark stopped mid-sentence and went, ‘Your WHAT?’ ↪️@/landonorris: HIS WORLDVIEW SHATTERED. @/mrspiastri: Oscar, completely unbothered, said, ‘Oh. Yeah. We got married a while ago.’ ↪️@/mclarenmemes: I CAN HEAR MARK WEBBER’S EXASPERATION. ↪️@/mrspiastri: Mark didn’t speak for a full minute. Then he sighed, rubbed his temples, and went, ‘Mate. You can’t just drop that into conversation like it’s nothing.’ ↪️@/oscarpiastri: I didn’t see the problem. ↪️@/landonorris: YOU WOULDN’T. ↪️@/f1updates: Does Mark ever bring it up now? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Every single time we see him. ↪️@/oscarpiastri: It’s been years. He should let it go. ↪️@/mrspiastri: Finally he just said, ‘Yeah, I should have figured.’ ↪️@/mclarenmemes: EXCUSE ME???” ↪️@/mrspiastri: Apparently, Oscar was too relaxed for someone hiding a major life decision. Mark said he’d seen too many drivers try to balance racing and relationships, and he knew Oscar had already locked it down. ‘Kid’s too stable for anything else.’ ↪️@/mclarenmemes: That’s actually terrifying. ↪️@/mrspiastri: Immediately after he went ‘Alright. Suppose we better make sure this doesn’t derail your career then.’ ↪️@/mclarenmemes: Classic Webber. ↪️@/mclarenupdates: Did he at least congratulate you? ↪️@mrspiastri: Yes. Eventually. But only after making sure we’d thought it through. ↪️@/f1softies: Did he give you a lecture?” ↪️@/mrspiastri: Not really. More like a ‘If you’re doing this, do it properly’ talk.

@/drsfordays: The fact that her family was furious while Mark Webber just sighed is sending me.

@/oscarpiastri_fanclub: So Mark Webber has known this whole time??” ↪️@/mrspiastri: Yes. And I think he’s still mildly offended that Oscar didn’t ask for any advice beforehand.

@/f1updates: Why doesn’t Oscar wear a wedding ring? ↪️@/mrspiastri: He does! He just doesn’t wear it when driving. ↪️@/mclarenmemes: Okay but I have never seen this man wear a ring in my life. ↪️@/mrspiastri: He wears it in the off-season. Also, fun fact: he has a silicone one for training that he keeps losing.

@/f1updates: Oscar is so calm and logical on track. Is he the same at home? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Mostly, yeah. But sometimes, out of nowhere, he’ll just say the most devastatingly romantic thing. ↪️@/f1softies: EXAMPLES PLEASE. ↪️@/mrspiastri: One time, I joked, ‘You’re stuck with me forever,’ and he just looked at me, completely serious, and said, ‘That was the goal.’

@/f1updates: Do you ever wish you dated other people before settling down? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Nope. ↪️@/mclarenmemes: Not even a little? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Why would I? I already found my person.

@/f1updates: Serious question—why don’t you ever go to races?? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Anxiety. And I like my privacy. Nobody needs to see my terrified facial expressions. ↪️@/f1memes: You really married a professional racing driver and said no thanks to the circus.” ↪️@/mrspiastri: Yep. ↪️@/mclarenmemes: And Oscar’s fine with that??? ↪️@/mrspiastri: He knew what he was signing up for.

@/landonorris: So I still haven’t met you because??? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Because you are chaos incarnate and I am scared. ↪️@/landonorris: I AM DELIGHTFUL. ↪️@/mrspiastri: Oscar tells me otherwise. ↪️@/mclarenmemes: OSCAR, SAY IT AIN’T SO. ↪️@/oscarpiastri: No comment.

@/mclarenmemes: So you just send him off to work and watch from home like it’s the Super Bowl? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Yes. ↪️@/f1memes: AND HE’S FINE WITH THAT??? ↪️@/mrspiastri: He comes home, I feed him, we watch race replays together, and he tells me all the paddock gossip. We have an excellent system. ↪️@/f1updates: Oscar, confirm or deny? ↪️@/oscarpiastri: Confirmed.

@/f1updates: So, will we ever see you at a race? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Maybe. One day. ↪️@/mclarenmemes: OSCAR, MAKE HER COME TO ONE. ↪️@/oscarpiastri: She does whatever she wants. I learned that a long time ago.

[hollowwish]

Biggest pet peeve is when someone says jimmy needs to be portrayed as a pathetic wet cat and not too badass or whatever. Like do u guys know the wet cat behavior is a bit sometimes. Do you guys know he's played into before and will do so again. Do you guys know jimmy has his competent moments and really well roleplayed ones and that's he's not just stupid and bullied and little wet cat all the time. Do we even watch the same damn youtuber

He can be both wet cat and badass and competent. People just don't see the badass moments because theyre probably buried under the "jimmy is only sad bullied wet cat" belief

[ikeuki]

and the crowd is . . . confused ? / 제이크

( pairing ) sim jaeyun x fem!reader ✶ mutual pining? ; fluff/crack, miscommunication + cursing — ( wordcount ) 1.8k

ᯓ★ ikeuki’s note. never jump to conclusions ladies & gents! also cliffhanger lol sorry, will prob make a pt.2!

synopsis. after three years of crushing on popular classmate, sim jaeyun, you finally muster up your courage and decide to confess. but you overhear him fawning over someone who clearly isn’t you, are you too late?

“just do it! i swear i will do it myself if you don’t,” your best friend chaewon complicated. she was spread out on the cafeteria lunch table, clearly overreacting in your opinion.

“i’ll do it after break, trust trust,” you assured and kept your eyes on the mushy carrots on your plate.

jungwon groaned at your blatant lie, “oh come on! you said that last time!” he was right. you’ve been delaying your confession for about three breaks straight, coming up with a stupid excuse each time.

first it was that the year was an all-time stressful one where your crush was apparently “too focused on his studies.” but your friends knew better. especially when they saw jake sim playing video games during bio everyday.

next was that you claimed he was sick and the confession would just “add stress to his aching pain.” chaewon and jungwon genuinely could not take that one seriously, both overhearing from his friends sunghoon and heeseung that he was just on an extended family trip to jeju island.

most recently, you blamed it on no time! you just never seem to bump into him at school! LIE.

jungwon stared at you dumbfounded while chaewon turned your head for you to show jake laughing with his friends across the cafeteria.

he looked perfect. the rays of sunlight lightly illuminated his figure as he had that oh-so charming smile. his soft dark hair and bangs slightly hiding his eyes, but not enough for you to miss his sparkling gaze. the loud chatter of the cafeteria was suddenly quieter when all you could hear was his sweet voice laughing.

“here she goes again,” chaewon sighed, watching her best friend go head over heels this damn boy for the eighth time today.

the school bell snapped you out of your trance, watching as he and his friends got up to leave. before doing so, he grabbed his tray as well his friends, gathering the little wrappers and napkins they all used.

“dude—you don’t have to do that,” his friend commented, nodding towards the exit.

“yeah, but it doesn’t hurt,” jake smiled and quickly finished cleaning up. on his way out, he threw all the trash into the garbage can and piled the trays by the counter, before flashing a grin to the cafeteria ladies who all adored him.

that’s what you liked about jake the most.

of course, he was the most handsome boy you’ve ever laid your eyes on. but he was the sweetest too. you would know—because that’s how you first met him.

back in freshman year, you were completely lost on the first day, all your middle school friends going to a different high school than you. hugging your textbooks close to your chest and trying to keep a low profile, you wandered the entire school in search of your first class.

where the hell was class d-4?

taking a moment to look at the room number plates, you stood in the middle of the hall. suddenly, four boys or so rushed by you and one of them bumped into your shoulder causing you to lose control of your books.

they fell onto the floor as you rushed to pick them up. you didn’t even give the boys another glance as you assumed they were already gone. ‘so this is how high school is’ you internally grumbled and rolled your eyes.

but when you reached to grab your last textbook, another hand already picked it up. the figure was rising to his feet, you subconsciously followed.

“i’m so sorry about my friends, they’re playing this stupid game and—” the boy started, but you almost tuned his words out.

you looked at the boy standing in front of you. his shaggy dark hair and awkward stance while holding one of your textbooks. he nervously held the back of his neck and continued explaining his friends’ antics and apologized.

surprised was an understatement.

“—anyways i apologize on the behalf of my friends and all this,” he softly laughed. you couldn’t help but crack a small smile at his rambling, lightening the mood.

“ok good you’re smiling!” he noted and let out a sigh of relief. the last thing he wanted to do was make any enemies on the first day of a new high school.

“yeah and i forgive you, don’t worry. it wasn’t even your fault, i was standing in the middle of the hall,” you replied and looked at where both of you were now standing. it was true, your body was quite literally in the middle where people were trying to pass by.

“i was just trying to find my class,” you continued and looked back at the small post-it on one of your textbooks that read the room number you were in desperate search for.

“oh d-4?” he asked calmy and titled his head to the side like a puppy.

a faint blush painted your face as the boy widened his eyes awaiting your response. he really did look like one of those golden retrievers you would stay up all night looking at on tiktok.

“yeah…algebra?” you hesitated. “yeah yeah ms. park’s! i have her first period too, c’mon that’s where my friends were going,” he answered enthusiastically and lead the way down the hall.

he walked with your textbook still in his hands and began small talk, introducing himself and asking for your name. the two of you got a little close that year, thanks to the class.

jake would always say hi in the halls and the courtyard, whether he was alone or with his friends. as he got popular when joining the varsity soccer team in sophomore year and gaining more friends, he remained loyal to you in his acknowledgements towards you.

you were surprised when on the first day of senior year, he ran up next to you.

“hey y/n! how was your break?” he exclaimed with such interest. he still had his shaggy dark hair and that puppy-like habit of tilting his head when asking a question.

so if you two were that friendly, why was it so hard to confess your deep-rooted feelings for him?

wait, it wasn’t. cause what’s the worst that could happen…?

“y’know what, i’m going to do it,” you blurted. jungwon and chaewon stopped in the hall, running back to you and holding onto your shoulders.

“i should’ve recorded that—fuck!” chaewon shouted, catching the attention of passing by students.

“wait are you serious? like actually? actually!” jungwon repeated and started jumping up and down as if he just asked to be the best man at your wedding or something.

“yes. dead serious. today, after fifth period and before he walks to the field for soccer practice,” you nodded your head and looked straight, determined look in your eyes and all.

“should i be alarmed that you know his everyday whereabouts?” jungwon muttered.

“who cares! she’s finally doing it!” chaewon celebrated and jungwon whispered a “ok true,” getting giddy with her.

“wow i did not think you guys would be this hyped,” you raised your eyebrow at your best friends who were probably happier than you were.

“now this means we wouldn’t have to hear your delusional thoughts anymore!” jungwon exclaimed and raised both his arms in the air. chaewon joined in, “no more stalking and obsessing!”

“oh fuck you guys!”

the entire fifth period, you thought about how you would confess to your crush: jaeyun sim.

writing a love letter? too complicated.

asking him out on the spot? too risky.

texting him? too scaredy-cat.

before you knew it, the bell was ringing and passing period began which meant you had ten minutes to locate and find jake first and quickly tell him your feelings. luckily, there were a couple boys on the soccer team in your class so you just needed to discreetly follow them to the field.

and that’s exactly what you did. until a familiar figure was only a few steps away from you. you hid behind the bleachers as him and his friends were on the field getting ready.

you took a couple breaths and tried to collect your thoughts. what would you even say? ‘hey jake! could i talk with you for a second? so basically ive been in love with you since freshmen year wh—’

“isn’t she so cute!”

the voice you loved so much felt like a betrayal now. you peeped your head above the bleachers to see jake showing his friends something on his phone.

“much cuter than mine, bro i swear she’s the devil,” one of his friends mentioned and leaned in to see something on jake’s phone.

what were they talking about? more importantly, who?

“not mine—she’s an angel, i love her! her birthday’s next week,” jake smiled fondly, as if he were in love.

your heart shattered at the very sight. not that he was happy, but that he was…talking with heart eyes about a girl. one that was obviously not you, your birthday being months away.

“what’s her name?” someone asked, you narrowed your eyes to try to catch a glimpse of the photo but he casually put his phone back in his pocket before you could.

“layla!” he answered gleefully and laid down on the grass, thinking about his favorite girl.

you bit your lip, turning around and walking away from the field. your chest felt heavy and there was apparent discomfort spreading throughout your body. how could you be so blind?

of course, jaeyun sim would have a girlfriend! after all he was cute, sweet, athletic, smart, and popular! he had you fawning over him for the past three years, but obviously you weren’t the only one. did that mean he picked up other girls’ textbooks and walked them to class? fuck.

defeated, you decided to ditch your sixth period and walked to the parking lot instead. you pulled out your phone, texting the group chat.

TWO WONS = ONE RIGHT !! 😈😈😈

you soooo #missionfailed og won WHAT SPILL WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED chae aka the better won HUH NOOOOOOOO you soooo he apparently has a girl! omg kill myself!! hahahaha…hahaha chae aka the better won

og won ummm i didn’t consent to that

chae aka the better won 🫥 ANYWAYS im so sorry y/n HE FUMBLEDDDD og won jake DOESNT have a girl tho???? you yea he does i heard him and his friends talking abt HOW CUTE his girlfriend was. chae aka the better won AW HELL NAH

og won bros using her own memes now no no sunghoon told me during third that they’ve all been trying to set him up with jay’s cousin but he liked someone else or smth you THIRD???!!!! AND YOU DIDNT THINK TO TELL ME THIS DURING LUNCH?!?!? chae aka the better won jungwon. smhsmh og won SORRY SORRY but y/n. he’s single. you ok but then who tf is layla???? og won … who’s gonna tell her chae aka the better won y/n im going to hold your hand when i say this…that’s his dog. og won pls tell me u didn’t think layla was the “girlfriend” you oh fuck chae aka the better won

og won OKAY WHY AM I STILL GETTING SLANDERED

wait. did you just fuck yourself over?

…pt.2?

[steddieas-shegoes]

for @thefreakandthehair (and @vecnuthy and @wormdebut while we’re at it) because sometimes you help a baseball player through French class so they can stay on the team and then they end up on the Savannah bananas and you decide to put the fictional men into situations about it *shrugs*

Eddie was going to have to transfer out of this class. This was one of his easiest classes and it was filled with every jock on campus attempting to fill their foreign language requirement with French.

And they were all failing. And annoying. And obnoxious.

And a few of them were also hot.

But Eddie wasn’t gonna focus on that!

He was gonna finish today’s assignment and then head straight to the advising office to find another class that worked with his work schedule.

“Hey,” the guy next to him whispered as the teacher droned on about conjugating verbs. “Do you have any idea what the fuck the homework was?”

Eddie turned to glare at the person, but his face dropped when he noticed who it was.

The campus celebrity: Steve Harrington.

Couldn’t quite make it on the college baseball team, but managed to make the sort-of professional, but mostly joke team Hawkins Hooligans.

Eddie didn’t like sports, never had. He could appreciate that it took skill and whatnot, but he didn’t care much to watch it or make celebrities of people who were just really good at one very specific thing usually involving some kind of ball. But he could appreciate a joke. And this team had jokes.

Steve was actually apparently good enough to play pro, had even been scouted by the MLB his senior year of high school. One week before his professional tryout, he tore a muscle in his shoulder, had to sit for three months and had to do physical therapy for another three, and voila! No pro ball for him. No college either since he missed spring training.

But he still had skill, and he still had a father with a lot of pull in the business, even if it wasn’t quite enough to get him on the Yankees or whatever.

So he was biding his time on the Hooligans until next year when he could try out for the college team again, maybe increase his chances of a real pro career.

Eddie definitely hadn’t watched videos of him during their first few games of the season where they faced the Indy Idols and the Chicago Charades.

He definitely hadn’t gotten a weird flutter in his stomach when Steve had been the one to lip sync to Hot For Teacher while pretending his bat was a guitar.

He definitely didn’t have a crush on Steve.

“Uh. Dude?” Steve asked him again, shaking him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah. It was the study guide for the first quiz. Not due until next class though,” he whispered back.

“Oh. Thanks.”

Eddie turned his attention back to the professor, not really needing to pay attention since he already knew quite a bit of French.

A tap on his shoulder made him yelp, and the entire room turned to him. He waved apologetically before turning to Steve with a murderous look.

“What?” He hissed out.

“Do you understand this?”

“Yes and you probably would too if you stopped talking to me.”

Eddie was ignoring the voice in his head screaming at him to let Steve keep talking to him for as long as he wanted.

“I don’t think that’s it,” Steve huffed before sitting back in his seat and folding his arms across his chest. He mumbled something else that sounded like ‘I’m just stupid’ but Eddie couldn’t be 100% sure.

“A lot of this stuff is just English spelled a little differently.” Eddie sighed. “You could almost definitely figure it out if you took some notes.”

“Yeah, probably.”

Eddie’s brows scrunched together as he glanced at Steve’s red face.

Hm. There was definitely something to unpack here.

“You can borrow mine if you want,” Eddie offered as he watched the professor switch slides on the presentation. “I don’t really need them until the final.”

“Oh!” Steve sounded genuinely surprised by his offer, like he hadn’t been basically asking for help only a moment ago. “You don’t have to do that. I mean, it wouldn’t do much good for me anyway.”

“What do you mean?” Steve had Eddie’s full attention now.

“I’m. I-“ Steve sighed. “I’m dyslexic, man. Reading’s hard for me.”

Well, fuck. Eddie felt like an asshole now.

“Oh.” Eddie looked down at his scribbled notes, cringing at the thought of someone else trying to read them, let alone someone who already struggled with reading from a printed page. “Yeah, my handwriting is shit so it’d probably be useless to you. Shit, it’s almost useless to me.”

Steve snorted, immediately covering his mouth to avoid any more noise from escaping. Eddie could see he was still smiling though. His eyes were very expressive.

“Don’t you have accommodations?” Eddie asked him.

“Nah, my dad doesn’t believe it’s a problem.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Said I just need to focus more and it’ll ‘work itself out.’”

“He sounds like he’s a lot of fun at parties.”

Steve snorted again. “Yeah, a blast.”

“So you aren’t a natural at French?”

Steve shook his head. “I’m barely a natural at English.”

“I could help you?” Eddie was an idiot. An idiot with a crush on someone who would never be interested in anything he had to offer except tutoring.

“Help me? You’d help me?” Steve seemed eager, maybe a little desperate.

Eddie kinda liked that.

“I mean, yeah. If you’re actually willing to put in the work and not expect me to just do the work for you.”

Steve smiled. God, that was a nice smile. Eddie was absolutely fucked.

“I work well with a reward system,” he smirked. “If you’re willing.”

Eddie’s eyes widened momentarily as the realization sunk in that he’d just been flirted with.

By Steve Harrington.

“Oh, I can definitely work with that.”

Steve nodded once, grinned at Eddie as he picked up his pen and ripped off a small piece of his unused notebook paper. He scribbled something down and folded it once before handing it to Eddie.

“Let me know when I need to show up, Eds.”

Eddie unfolded the paper and nearly dropped it.

Stevie H. 555-555-0086 My dorm at 7? No clothes required

When Eddie looked back up, Steve was facing the front, seemingly paying attention to the lecture.

Eddie quickly pulled his phone from his pocket and put Steve’s contact info in. He could wait until after class to send him a text. He could.

Instead, he typed out something quick to hold them both over until later.

Studying naked is my favorite thing 😉

Steve’s knee nudged against his in response.

Maybe Eddie wouldn’t take that trip to advising after all.

And if he was featured on the next TikTok for the Hawkins Hooligans, with Steve fake serenading him in the stands, nobody had to know he didn’t really like sports.

He liked Steve, though. Even when Steve actually managed to play real competitive baseball. Even when Steve managed to get a spot on the Cubs.

Especially when Steve proposed to him during a game in maybe the worst recorded French of all time.

[sanakiras]

TIDAL WAVE OF LOVE

PAIRING — choi seungcheol x reader

WORD COUNT — 1.3k

SYNOPSIS — even the strongest of people break sometimes. you’re used to hiding your feelings; your boyfriend is there for you when everything gets too much.

TAGS — angst, self-esteem issues, fear of failure, mc has a bit of a breakdown :(( but also a lil comfort

NOTE — cleaning out the drafts! this is wayyyy shorter than my usual works but i still felt like posting it <3 i had a very stressful semester in uni before the summer break and i came across this video on twt of coups giving wonwoo a little comforting squeeze which i found very endearing sooo that kinda became the inspo for this!

the moment he calls out a greeting to you from his kitchen, you close your eyes for a moment. it would’ve probably been wiser to have gone home instead of his place.

you greet him the same way, hoping he doesn’t hear the crack in your voice.

“how was your day?” he asks you once he’s returned to the living room, giving you a kiss.

you press your lips together. “fine. nothing special.”

the first thing he notices is the lack of eye contact you make with him. you’re also being considerably less touchy with him than usual, which he finds strange.

“everything okay?”

“yeah.” you put up a smile that doesn’t appear genuine in the slightest.

he figures you could just be in a bad mood — but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

he knows for a fact that it’s not with the way you’re trying real hard to hide your face from him. you only do that when you’re upset about something.

“baby, talk to me.”

“about what?”

the response comes out snappier than you meant it to. you two have been together quite a while — so he’s come to know that you tend to get a little colder and distant before the dam breaks.

you look at him so briefly to the point where he’d miss the motion if he blinked. the expression equals a silent apology.

of course he always does his best to give you whatever space you need. that being said, he’s also come to know you get into your own head a lot, and sometimes there’s someone who needs to pull you out of it.

you bite your lip in a pathetic attempt to hold back your tears. “it’s fine, cheol, just let it go.”

“well, i care about you, sweetheart. what’s going on?” he’s persistent but gentle about it. you have a habit of keeping your feelings to yourself and hardly ever letting anything out, which leads to everything just piling up and making things worse.

“i don’t wanna talk about it.”

the lump in your throat begins to rise.

“i can see that, but you’ve clearly got something you need off your chest. are you okay?”

you don’t show anyone when something’s wrong unless they mention it first. and even when they do, you’re hesitant.

it’s an exhausting way to live, but you still choose to do so.

it’s one of the reasons why you hate crying. your glossy eyes always betray you.

then you make — what you consider to be — the mistake of looking into his big, worried eyes once more, and you just completely fall apart in front of him.

the tears begin to flow before you can even comprehend it.

“it’s just—god, i don’t even know why i’m so fucking emotional, i just—” your breath shudders, the mildly angry expression that was previously on your face now nowhere to be found, “everything’s been so stressful recently, and i’m scared i won’t pass my classes, and i feel like such a slow learner compared to everyone else—”

he’s rubbing your back, just allowing you to you let everything out. he keeps quiet.

“i feel fucking fragile. and weak. every little thing is just too much right now. i’m sorry, i feel stupid.”

he lets you cry into his chest as his arms are wrapped around you, one hand softly rubbing the back of your head. “don’t feel stupid, baby. you can vent to me, always.”

the sound of your heavy sobs hurt him, because he feels like you’re always so hard on yourself, but he’s glad you’re releasing them. it’s healthier to let it all out than to keep it in.

“it’s just like i can’t breathe, y’know?” you mutter in the crook of his neck, subconsciously wetting his shirt with your tears, “i can’t take a single break ‘cause i’ll fall behind. i’m so tired. i feel like i’m not even smart enough to take the damn course, let alone pass the fucking test—”

once he feels like you’re about to start hyperventilating, he moves back to let him look at you. “long breaths. you’re okay, just breathe with me.”

he purposefully takes long, deep breaths, counting the seconds out loud to guide you, and it works. your breathing is steadying bit by bit, sobs faltering, melting into soft hiccups and numbness.

with dried tears and a slightly hoarse voice, you let out a sigh. “i just hate feeling so incompetent. for once, i’d love to feel smart. i wanna feel like i’m able to keep up as well as everyone else does, y’know? i’m… i’m procrastinating everything and i don’t know how to change it. it all sucks.”

“it’s not easy, baby. don’t be too hard on yourself.” he presses a swift kiss to your skin, and you hold him tighter, as if he were to slip out of your hold if you didn’t.

“it’s not easy for me. it is for them.”

“there’s nothing wrong with that. would you think differently if someone in your class had to put more effort into passing the course? you wouldn’t, right? because at the end of the day, you both make it to the finish line. that’s what matters.”

deep down, you know he has a point. you put the pressure so high on yourself, yet don’t apply the same logic to your peers.

you don’t really understand why.

“and you say it’s easy for them, but i know for sure that they put more effort into it than you might think. trust me. you’ll get to where you want to be, one way or another. if you take a little longer to do that than a classmate, who cares. it’s your life. i know you’ve worked so hard—” he twirls a strand of your hair between his fingers, “even if you don’t pass that class now, it won’t be the end of the world, and there’ll be another chance. you’ll get there.”

now there’s just a few last tears running down your cheeks. “except i’m worried that i won’t.”

“you will. and once you do, you’ll be happy that you got to that point because you worked hard and deserve that success. if not today, then tomorrow. yeah?”

you take a deep breath, exhaling slowly, the last shudders of your breakdown bubbling to the surface as your heart rate finally slows back to normal. “yeah. thank you.”

to show your gratitude, you give him a hug, which he happily embraces, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“anytime. i’m here for you.”

even the strongest of people break — but they can still pick up the pieces and start over.

do your best (but maybe not sometimes) <3

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

[melancholymegumi]

💌 mailbox ask! “plss do a part 2 for yuta and his bunny girl.”

a/n ; I just saw a video about bunny tantrums and I thought of this somehow. this doesn't count as a part two, but i for the life of me can't think of anything for a part two , so I'm sorry anon but I hope this'll make it up for you ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

cw ;; reader throws a tantrum because yuuta wouldn't give them any sweets because she needs to cut back on sugar (reminder for myself) , reader is mean towards yuuta but it's okay he enjoys it , punishment mentions , i don't know anything else.

yuuta is a patient man. I'm sure everyone knows that already. he's gentle yet ruthless with curses and curse users and especially you. his little bunny hybrid.

he's the most patient man in this world at this point — you barely even remember when was the last time he gave you a punishment. he has been taking care of you ever since he adopted you from a hybrid shelter — or in your words , ever since he saved you from a grimy place.

but even patient people have their own limit.

everything was going so well. you and his friends went shopping , you weren't fussy or anything and the most important part is that you had fun. that's all that matters to him really. that night however it's like everything went upside down.

you've asked him for sugary treats after dinner , which he immediately refused to your demise. something about how you've been having too much sugar lately , and about how you would get the zoomies if you had any more. but in your defense , who cares? after all gojo does say that sweets help his brain refresh doesn't it?

and that's where it all went wrong. you ignored him for the night , you didn't even snuggle against him when you were watching a movie. not to mention the stomping and the fact that you threw a pillow at him when he asked you to pass him one. yuuta thought it'd go away by tomorrow , but unfortunately for him, it didn't.

it just got worse from there , actually. you started name-calling him. calling him stupid , stomping your foot whenever he talked and again with the ignoring. his string is getting stretched out. he was tired of this, but he also finds it amusing how much you're getting worked up by a few days without full blown sugar. that night in midst of brushing your hair — which you actually we're struggling with considering he brushes it for you about 90 percent of the time by the way, he leaned against the doorframe with an amused face his voice laced with honey and a hint of annoyance.

“y'need help with that bunny?” to which you responded with a scoff and calling him stupid before basically slamming the hairbrush on the bathroom counter before walking past him and bringing yourself downstairs. he was trying to keep himself composed , only following you down the stairs with a very amused smile on his face.

and then it happened. the string snapped.

his last straw was when you kept stomping your foot and demanding him for stuff that night , which he was happy to oblige , but not when he was already tired out from missions at what not— and especially not tonight.

he stared at you for a couple moments as you were sitting on the couch , blocking your view from whatever movie you were watching that night with a very obvious pout on your face after he told you that you needed to brush your teeth.

“are you done?” his voice was so... eerily cold. you could tell he was on his last nerve , but do you care? no. which is why you told him to move out of the way and started name-calling him again. he took a deep breath before very slowly , began speaking again.

“you have ten minutes. alright princess? ten minutes to get your little bunny self up and wait in our bedroom with your nightgown off. panties on. can you do that f'me? yeah?”

that was your genuine sign to pray to whoever could hear you because yuuta is not a fun person for a punishment.

[soobinsonly1bf]

a simple head can't ruin a friendship, right?

(soobin x m!reader)

warnings: nsfw, sub!loser!soobin, m!meandom!reader, oral (male receiving obviously), degradation, A LOT of dirty talk, a whole lot of cursing, in reality reader is sweet, soob is just a massive freak (and a homosexual)

!!nsfw under the cut, minors dni!!

you were laying on your best friend's bed, like everyday, while he was playing some stupid video game on his computer, also like everyday. he was venting for the last few hours about some girl not wanting to go on a date with him. not like you were exactly listening to him, you were too focused on your phone.

"jeez, soob, all that talking only because of some girl? come on, bro..." you chuckled, not even hiding the amusement over the whole situation.

"hey, it's not funny! she's really pretty... and she was really different over texts. i thought that after our first date she will want to go on another one, but... she just refused."

"she just saw how much of a loser you are and panicked!" you said, laughing. "i bet she realized that even if she would let you hit, she would have to fake her orgasm."

"you're saying that as if you'd be able to make anyone cum." he said, frowning and stopping his game. he turned around on his chair to face you.

"it would be really nice if you could shut your mouth for once, you know?" you said, trying to ignore him and respond to some random person texting you.

"you don't even look like you'd be able to make anyone make a sound." soobin continued, he was the one to laugh now.

hearing that you just put your phone away, looking at him with annoyance painted on your face. "bro, you're a fucking virgin, so don't even try to be so damn cocky now."

"what? i'm just telling the truth!"

"is this a challenge?" you asked, getting up from the bed. "maybe you could shut your mouth if i kept them occupied." you said simply, just ignoring the way the other boy looked at you.

"what if- what if that is a challenge?"

"then you'll lose pretty quickly." you said, chuckling, as if it's the most normal conversation in the world. well, considering how long you know each other, it kinda was the most normal conversation. you knew this can turn out to be fun... or to be the biggest regret of your friendship.

"maybe-"

"on your knees." you interrupted him, genuinely curious of what his reaction even would be. your eyes opened wider at the sight of your friend getting on his knees in front of you, without a second thought, as if his body reacted to your words faster than his mind.

"oh my... you really are that desperate for some action? or maybe you just like dick after all?" you looked down at him, meeting his dark eyes, locked on yours. "which one is it? or maybe both?"

after soobin stayed quiet, you spoke again. "open your mouth for me and be good, yeah?"

once again, soobin without any hesitation opened his mouth, waiting for your next move. with every moment, you were getting more anxious about doing this with him, but if you already went that far... besides, he would tell you if something was wrong, you're sure of it.

you quickly unzipped your jeans, letting them fall to your knees. soobin was keeping eye contact with you non-stop, not even daring to look down at your cock the moment you took it from your boxers and gave it a few pumps.

maybe it was embarrassing, but seeing soobin on his knees right in front of you, ready to obey and please, was enough to make you hard. he was waiting for your cock, his mouth open. both of you already forgot about the whole challenge thing, now the only thing on your mind was what was about to happen.

"you know, you look pretty when you're on your knees... but if that girl saw you like that, she'd laugh in your face. hope you know that." you said and took a small step forward, now touching soobin's cheek with your dick. you chuckled, smearing your precum on his skin.

"you never did this before, yeah? let's just hope that will shut you up for good." you almost put your dick in his mouth, but you spoke again. "if anything's wrong, just pinch my thigh, alright? now, stick your tongue out a bit and keep your teeth away... don't force yourself." you said, putting your cock in front of his mouth, letting him start at his own pace, which he probably would thank you for, if he wasn't already licking along your length.

soobin immediately went to work, excitement obvious on his face. carefulness thrown through the window, he already put your dick in his mouth, trying to take it deeper. you hissed at the too sudden friction.

"jesus christ, soobin, calm the fuck down." you said, taking a handful of his hair and pulling him away. "start slowly or you're gonna hurt both yourself and me. i seriously didn't know you were so damn desperate to have my dick in your mouth." you sighed, your grip on his hair loosening, but still being there, to remind him to take it slow.

he only mumbled something you didn't even catch and licked the head of your cock. "yeah, just like that. don't try to fucking deepthroat me the second you see my dick."

he gave long licks along your lenght and little sucks on the head, his eyes closed. you fully let go of his hair, letting him do what he wants. now enjoying both, the feeling and the sight, you can't help but chuckle. you never expected to have soobin of all people giving you head. you couldn't complain though.

"tell me, have you always wanted to do that? it really seems like it." you wanted to laugh, but to your surprise, a groan was pulled out from you. soobin took your dick in his mouth again and looked up at you.

you felt yourself throb and you weren't sure if it was because of the sight in front of you or the way soobin rolled his tongue around the head of your cock. probably a mix of both, actually. "fuck, is this really the first cock you have ever sucked? you're a goddamn natural, bro. i'm starting to think it would be a waste if you got yourself a girlfriend."

it didn't took long for the taller boy to have his mouth fully occupied, bobbing his head up and down on your length. he wasn't able to take your whole dick, but for some reason it was still completely enough for you to get closer and closer to the edge. you weren't sure when, but your hand was back in his hair, your head thrown back in pleasure. you couldn't care less about staying quiet. god, soobin really was good with his mouth.

"shit, i'm close." you warned him, feeling the familiar sensation in your lower abdomen. at your words, he only started bobbing his head faster. "pull- pull away..." you said, knowing it won't take long till you cum. when he didn't move, you needed your full self-control to do it yourself.

he whined at the burning sensation on his head, caused by you roughly pulling him away from your dick by his hair. you couldn't even say anything and you were already cumming right on his face.

when your cock stopped throbbing, you took a deep breath, trying to calm down your breathing. you finally looked down at soobin, who just sat on his ass where he was kneeling a moment ago.

"i told you to pull away." at that he just shrugged, smiling. you sighed, but an amused smirk appeared on your mouth at the sight of your friend's face all dirty with your release. "god, look at you. you're really fucking proud of yourself, aren't you?"

"hell yes i am, i just made you cum." he said in a "duh" manner, making you chuckle. his voice was a big rough, his face all red and hair messy. you couldn't help but think he looked perfect like this.

"you're really fucking dumb... but you did well, bro. even really well, i'd say." his stupid grin only grew wider at this. "now go clean yourself, my cum is not becoming your new skincare product."

———————

a/n: i highkey want to write a part two where they remember about the challenge and reader shows soobin he can make him make noises he didnt even know hes able to make...

[freshl6ve]

𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒.𝐒 | 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐐𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄

NSFW!! | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑─𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊

₊⊹⁀➴ : At the bustling Summer Smash festival in Chicago, Chris Sturniolo and his brother Matt, accompanied by Y/N, navigate through the lively crowds. The brothers are frequently recognized and asked for photos, adding to the festival's electric atmosphere. As the day progresses, Chris’s excitement grows, particularly for his upcoming performance with his favorite artist, Lil Skies. Feeling overwhelmed and craving a brief escape from the festival's chaos, Chris becomes eager for a quick, intimate moment. He convinces Y/N to return to the hotel with him, seeking a private retreat before he hits the stage. Their hurried getaway provides a moment of connection amidst the festival frenzy.

𝐀 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐋𝟔𝐕𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄-𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋

˚⊱🦌⊰˚ : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐈 𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬. The city of Chicago blurs outside the window, a dizzying mix of tall buildings and summery sun. The energy in the cab is palpable; Chris is bouncing his leg up and down nervously while Matt scrolls through his phone, seemingly unfazed.

“Can you believe it's finally here?” Chris exclaims, breaking the silence. “Lil Skies is about to be right in front of me man, this is crazy!”

Matt chuckles, glancing at his brother. “You've been talking about this nonstop for months. I'm surprised you haven't lost your voice yet.”

Chris grins widely, unabashed in his excitement. “How could I not? He's been my favorite artist for years now. It's like a dream come true, man. I just hope I don't embarrass myself when I meet him later.”

I turn to Chris, offering a reassuring smile. “You won't embarrass yourself, Chris. You guys are practically best friends at this point. Remember when you went on stage with him last year? Everything went smoothly then, and it'll be the same this time.”

Chris lets out a sigh of relief, his leg finally stilling. “Yeah, yeah you're right. I just get so nervous sometimes, you know? I don't want to say something stupid or just embarrass myself”

I reach out and place my hand gently on Chris's thigh, giving it a comforting squeeze. “You'll be fine, Chris. You're one of the most genuine and charismatic people I know. Skies loves you, just like everyone else does.”

Chris glances down at my hand on his thigh, a touch of bashfulness in his expression. He smiles softly, his nervous energy seemingly soothed by my gesture.

“Thanks,” he says quietly, his voice laced with a hint of vulnerability. Matt looks up from his phone, catching our interaction and smirking to himself.

The Uber comes to a gradual stop outside the festival grounds. I reach for my bag as Chris and Matt gather their things.

“Thank you so much,” I say to the driver, adding a generous tip on my phone. Matt thanks the driver as well, and the three of us step out of the car and into the chaotic frenzy of the festival.

Chris, still holding my hand, looks at both me and Matt with an excited gleam in his eyes. “Skies invited me to hang out at his artist venue before his set. Let's head over there before the crowds get even crazier.”

Matt nods, following Chris's lead as we navigate together through the festival grounds. People recognize us every so often, asking for photos or short videos. Chris and Matt oblige graciously, their easy charm on full display. However, Chris seems to be focused on one thing entirely now— getting to the artist venue quickly.

As we're walking, a familiar voice calls out from the crowd. “Chris! Matt!”

We turn to see a group of fans standing nearby, waving and smiling. Chris and Matt immediately respond with waves and friendly greetings, taking a moment to stop and chat. I stand back a bit, giving them space to interact with their fans.

The fans around us recognize me too, and some of them ask for pictures with me as well. I happily oblige, posing for a few quick snaps while smiling warmly. A few of them also ask if I can take pictures of them with Chris and Matt, and I nod, holding up my phone to capture the precious moments.

The fan interaction goes on for a few more minutes, with Chris and Matt, chatting with their fans. Even though Chris was eager to get to the artist venue, he never rushes the fans, genuinely taking the time to make each interaction special.

During our interaction with the fans, several of them compliment me, expressing how pretty they think I am and how lucky I am to spend time with Chris and Matt. Chris, always observant, overhears these comments and a subtle smile tugs at the corners of his lips. He's used to some fans feeling possessive or jealous about interactions with girls, so it's a pleasant change for him to see the fans being supportive.

Amidst the flurry of compliments, one fan curiously asks me, “Are you and Chris dating?” I quickly respond, my tone casual, “No, we're just really good close friends.”

Chris stands close by, listening in and noticing the subtle change in my demeanor. It's not that we're ashamed to be a couple, but we just aren't quite ready to share that news publicly.

The fan nods in understanding, seemingly satisfied with my response. However, Chris can't help but steal a quick glance at me. He appreciates the fact that I chose not to reveal our relationship at this moment, knowing that when we're ready to make our love public, we'll do it on our own terms.

Matt glances down at his phone, noticing the time. He leans into Chris, speaking quietly in his ear, “We need to go, more people are coming in.”

Chris nods, addressing the fans once more. “It was nice meeting you guys. Remember to stay hydrated, it's going to be a hot one out here today.” He then takes my hand firmly, signaling that it's time to move on.

With a final wave to the fans, Chris resumes leading the way through the festival grounds, his hand still firmly grasping mine. The crowds seem to get denser as we approach the artist venue. Chris's impatience to see Skies becomes more evident, his steps quicker now.

We weave through the throngs of people, the buzz of excitement in the air growing louder with each step. As we near the entrance to the artists' area, I can feel Chris's grip on my hand tighten. Security guards stand at the gate, checking credentials before letting anyone through.

Chris and Matt both pull out their all-access passes, flashing them to the guards. The guards nod in acknowledgment, giving us a cursory glance, and then wave us through. We pass a few other artists loitering around, some familiar, some not, but Chris is focused on one thing only— Skies.

The artist area is a whole different world compared to the festival outside. It's still bustling, but it feels more contained and intimate. We spot Skies across the room, chatting with his crew. Chris's eyes light up as he spots his friend, and he quickens his pace, pulling me along with him.

As we approach, Chris and Skies immediately spot each other. Chris lets go of my hand, his face breaking into a huge smile. He and Skies greet each other with a dap, pulling each other into a tight hug. Matt joins in, greeting Skies with the same enthusiasm.

Skies notices my presence and asks casually, “Who's your plus one?”Chris grins and introduces me, “Oh, this is my girl, Y/N. She came along with us this year.”

“Y/N this is Skies, Skies this is Y/N” I smile and shake Skies's hand, introducing myself, “Nice to meet you.” Skies returns the smile, saying, “The pleasure is all mine.”

Now that introductions are out of the way, the guys fall into easy conversation, swapping stories and catching up. Skies is genuinely happy to see Chris, his warm smile never leaving his face. Matt chimes in occasionally, keeping the conversation lighthearted and friendly. For a moment, they almost forget I'm standing there, until Chris subtly puts his arm around my waist, pulling me a little closer.

As they chat, I stand there quietly, occasionally glancing over at Chris. His hand rests comfortably around my waist, his thumb rubbing small circles against my hip. Every now and then he glances at me, shooting me a soft smile before rejoining the conversation with Skies and Matt.

While the guys talk, I pull out my phone to check something. A mischievous idea pops into my head, and I say jokingly, “Chris, say cheese”

Chris, always game, grins and poses, throwing a peace sign and sticking out his tongue. I snap a picture, then continue taking a few more fun snaps of him in different goofy poses. Suddenly, he grabs my phone and leans in and plant a small kiss on my lips, snapping one more pic for good measure.

Matt, who was watching our little photo session with an amused expression, chuckles and jokingly rolls his eyes. “Can you two get a room or something?”

I playfully swat him on the arm, while Chris laughs, his arm still around my shoulder. We're all having a good time, caught up in the lighthearted banter and the carefree atmosphere of the festival.

The guys continue their conversation, their voices blending into the background noise of the artist area. Chris's arm stays wrapped around my shoulder, his thumb idly drawing circles on my skin through my shirt. Despite the chaotic buzz around us, this simple gesture grounds me, reminding me that he's here with me, that we're sharing this experience together.

As I listen to the guys chatting, I can't help but feel a sense of contentment. Being here with Chris, experiencing this moment with him... it's perfect.

The conversation between the guys ebbs and flows, covering a range of topics from music to recent events. Chris occasionally chimes in with a witty comment or a humorous anecdote, earning laughs from both me and the others. In between conversations, he would sneak a quick glance at me, his gaze warm and affectionate, before returning to the discussion.

As the conversation continues, Chris gently pulls me in front of him, his arms wrapping around my waist like they were made to fit there. He pulls me a little closer, my back resting against his chest, his chin resting on my shoulder.

In this position, I can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against my back, his breath warm against my neck. His touch is comforting, anchoring me to him.

As the guys continue talking, I lean back just slightly, unintentionally pushing back against Chris. His breath hitches slightly at the contact, his arms instinctively tightening around my waist. We're so close that I can feel the beating of his heart against my back, the steady rhythm picking up just a notch.

Realizing the unintentional touch, I quickly apologize. “Oh, sorry,” I murmur, glancing back at Chris.

He just laughs softly, his lips brushing against my ear as he replies, “You don't need to apologize. I don't mind.”

As Chris's lips brush against my ear, a playful thought crosses my mind. I feign offense and whisper back, “Chris, behave yourself. We're in public, remember”

He chuckles softly, pulling me closer, “Can't help it, ma. You make it too hard to be good.” I slap his arm lightly, pretending to be upset but unable to suppress a smile. “You're incorrigible.”

As the guys continue to chat, Chris leans in, his lips close to my ear. He whispers so only I can hear, “Wanna go back to the hotel room and help me relax a bit?”

His voice is sultry, a hint of desire in his tone. I can feel his breath against my skin, stirring something within me. I reply quietly, “What about Matt?”

Chris glances toward Matt, who is now engaged in conversation with Skies. He's unlikely to notice our absence right away. “Matt's busy, he won't mind,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

I pretend to consider it, playing along with his game, “Are you sure?”

Chris turns to Matt and Skies, interrupting their conversation. “Hey, I just remembered... I left my hoodie at the hotel room.” Matt rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath, “I told you to grab it before we left, you idiot.”

“I know, I thought I wasn’t going to need it though” Chris glances at Skies and Matt, his plan formulating. “I’m gonna go back to the hotel really quick to grab it. I should be back before you go on stage”

Skies just nodded. Chris grabs my hand firmly, his fingers intertwined with mine, and leads me out of the Artist venue. We exit the noisy, chaotic area, making our way through the main festival grounds. He pulls out his phone, quickly requesting an Uber to the hotel.

As we walk, fans occasionally call out for Chris to stop and chat. However, Chris, focused on his plan, keeps his pace steady. He shoots apologetic smiles to the fans and waves. He's keen to get to the hotel, knowing that he has to be back in time for Skies' performance.

A few fans try to approach, but Chris politely declines, explaining that he's on a bit of a time crunch. He keeps his pace quick, his hand firmly around mine. A few disappointed fans call out after us, but he doesn't stop.

We reach a fairly quiet spot away from the main crowds, waiting for the Uber to arrive. He glances down at his phone, checking to see how long until the car arrives.

A few minutes later, a car pulls up, and we get in. The Uber driver greets us, and Chris gives him the hotel address.

We buckle up as the car pulls away, and I glance at Chris, a small smirk playing on my lips. He notices and gives me a sly smile in return, seemingly proud of his little plan.

During the ride, Chris's hand rests on my thigh, his thumb drawing small circles. His touch is warm and reassuring, and I can feel the tension in his body, knowing he's eager for what's to come.

We chat idly with the Uber driver, maintaining a casual demeanor externally, albeit a hint of anxiousness and anticipation beneath the surface.

As the car continues through the city, heading towards the hotel, we talk about mundane topics, keeping things light and easy. All the while, I can feel the air of expectancy growing in the small car. Chris's hand on my thigh occasionally tightens, his touch a silent message of his desire and impatience.

The drive goes by quickly, and soon we arrive at the hotel. Chris pays the Uber driver and we get out of the car, his hand taking mine once more as we enter the hotel lobby.

We make our way to the elevator, waiting for a few moments until it arrives and we step inside. The second the elevator doors close, Chris's body is pressed against mine, pinning me against the wall. His lips find mine as he kisses me hungrily, his hands gripping my hips.

His touch is ardent, filled with the pent-up need that has been building since we left the festival grounds. His tongue glides against my own, igniting a fire deep within me.

He pulls me closer, his body flush against mine, his hands gripping my hips with a possessive touch. I can feel his heart racing, the rapid rhythm mirroring my own. I respond to his kiss, my hands clinging to the fabric of his shirt as he explores my mouth intently.

The elevator ride seems to be taking forever, but we're too lost in each other to care. All that matters is this moment, this passionate exchange of desire.

The elevator pings, signaling our arrival at our floor, and the doors open. Chris breaks the kiss, though reluctantly, and grabs my hand tightly. He leads the way out of the elevator, striding purposefully down the corridor towards our room.

His steps are hurried, filled with a mixture of impatience and urgency. I follow behind him, feeling the excitement and determination radiating from his every move.

Chris pulls the key card from his wallet with a swift, almost frantic, motion. He opens the door, pushing it open wide before immediately pinning me against it. The door closes behind us, shutting out the outside world and enclosing us in private seclusion.

His body is pressed against me once more, trapping me between him and the door. His hands find their way to my waist, his mouth reclaiming mine in a possessive kiss.

He kisses me fiercely, his tongue delving into my mouth with a sense of urgency, as if he's starving for me. His hands grip my hips, holding me in place, while he deepens the kiss. I respond eagerly, my hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

He presses himself against me, his body hot against mine, the evidence of his desire evident as he grinds his hips into me.

Chris's lips find their way to my neck, mouthing along the sensitive skin. His kisses are firm, nipping and sucking at the tender flesh. I gasp, my head tipping back, a soft moan of pleasure escaping my lips as I breathe out his name.

“Chris...,” I whisper breathlessly, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

He hums against my neck, the vibration sending a shiver down my spine. His tongue glides over the spot he just kissed, and then he nips at my earlobe, his teeth gently tracing the line of my ear.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin. “Say my name again.”

I comply, repeating his name in a breathless whisper. “Chris,” I breathe, my fingers running softly through his hair. “Chris...”

He groans, his lips trailing down my neck to my collarbone, his hands moving to the hem of my shirt, his touch urgent and impatient.

Without breaking the kiss, Chris slides his hands down to my thighs, gripping them tightly. In one swift motion, he lifts me off the ground, my legs wrapping around his waist instinctively.

He carries me across the room, his lips still pressed against mine, and crosses to the bed. He lays me down gently, following me down and settling between my legs, his body pressing into mine.

The mattress dips under our weight, causing the bed to creak softly. His body is hot and firm against mine, his hands roaming under my shirt, leaving trails of fire on my skin. I arch into him, my body craving his touch, wanting more.

The room is filled with the sound of our ragged breaths, the air heavy with the palpable tension between us.

Chris kisses a trail down my throat, his hands slowly pushing my shirt up as he goes. He pulls back for a moment, his eyes dark with desire, and tugs my shirt over my head, tossing it aside.

His gaze roams over my bare skin, admiration and hunger in his eyes. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, his hands trailing down my body, his touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

Chris's hands slide down to my hips, his fingers finding the zipper of my skirt. He pulls it down slowly, his eyes locked on mine as he does so. The denim slides down my legs, leaving me in only my underwear and bra.

His gaze roams over my body, appreciating every dip and curve, his hands roaming over my newly exposed skin.

Chris moves over me, his body hovering above mine. He gazes down at me for a moment, his eyes filled with affection and desire, before ducking his head down and kissing me deeply.

His lips are firm and insistent against mine, his tongue seeking entrance to my mouth. I melt into him, hands grasping at his back, pulling him closer, my body on fire with need.

I feel a sudden rush of boldness and determination, inspired by both the heated moment and my desire to help him relax. With a surprising strength, I push against his chest, flipping us over so that he's now laying under me, his back against the bed.

I settle myself on top of him, legs straddling his hips, and regard him with a playful smirk. “Let me help you relax those nerves before you go on stage with Skies.”

Chris stares up at me, surprise and excitement sparkling in his eyes. A slow, sultry smile spreads across his face as he realizes my intentions. His hands find my bare thighs, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin.

“Oh, ma,” he purrs, his voice huskier than usual. “You're more than welcomed to help me relax in any way you want.”

I lean down, capturing his lips in a soft, but firm kiss. When I break away, I murmur against his skin, “Good. Now relax and focus on me.”

With that, I begin trailing kisses down his neck, my lips gently nipping at the sensitive flesh. I can feel his pulse under my lips, racing and erratic.

His hands find purchase on my hips, his grip tight as I continue to pepper kisses along his neck and collarbone. I can feel his body responding to my touch, his breathing becoming more ragged, his heart rate increasing.

He lets out a low moan, his head tilting back against the pillow, his eyes closing as he focuses on the sensations my kisses are evoking in him.

My hands move to the hem of his shirt, my fingers tugging at the fabric gently. I slowly pull the shirt up his body, my hands tracing along his abdomen, feeling the taut, muscled flesh under my palms.

His skin is hot to the touch, his muscles flexing slightly at my touch. I hum appreciatively, my fingers exploring every dip and contour as I continue to reveal more of him.

I pull the shirt over his head and toss it aside, admiring his bare chest for a moment before continuing my assault. My lips find the hollow of his throat, my tongue tracing up to his Adam's apple. My hands move to his chest, exploring the planes of muscle and skin, my touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

Chris gasps softly, his back arching slightly, his hands gripping my hips tighter.

My mouth trails down his chest, my teeth gently nipping at the tender flesh. I focus on areas where the marks won't be easily visible once he wears his shirt again.

I leave a trail of kisses and gentle bites, my lips occasionally sucking at the skin, leaving small, red marks in my wake. Chris groans when I find a particularly sensitive spot on his chest, his body jerking slightly under my touch.

“God, ma,” he breathes, his voice thick with need. “You're driving me crazy.”

His fingers dig into my hips, his body arching up into mine. His eyes are dark with desire, his lips parted as he pants for breath.

I continue my descent, my lips and tongue mapping out his chest, my hands roaming over his muscled torso. He's responsive to my every touch, his body reacting to each caress.

My hands reach the waistband of his jeans, and I pause for a moment, looking up at him through my eyelashes. His gaze is hazy with desire, his eyes pleading silently for more.

I tease for a moment, my fingers grazing the skin just above his jeans, before I start to unbutton them, slowly pulling down the zipper.

I slip my hand into the opening, my fingers brushing against the hot, hard length of him. He groans low in his throat, his hips instinctively bucking forward as if seeking more contact. I wrap my hand around him, giving a slow, teasing stroke from base to tip.

Chris moans louder, his eyes fluttering shut as I continue to touch him with just the right amount of pressure and speed. I can feel him trembling slightly under my touch, and he whines softly, pushing himself further into my grip.

I pull his boxers down, revealing his fully erect cock. It stands proudly, thick and throbbing, the tip glistening with pre-cum. I wrap my lips around the head, teasingly licking at it before taking him into my mouth inch by delicious inch.

Chris moans and gasps with pleasure, his hands reaching down to grip the back of my head. He thrusts gently, slowly, savoring the feeling of my mouth on him. “Oh fuck,” he gasps out, his hips bucking involuntarily. “Your mouth... so fucking good.”

Chris whines and pleads, his breathing becoming more erratic as I continue to suck him. “Don’t stop... please don't stop,” he pants out, his fingers tangling in my hair. His hips buck faster, desperate for more friction, more pleasure.

I increase my pace, hollowing out my cheeks as I suck him harder. My tongue swirls around the head of his cock, teasing the sensitive spot just beneath it. Chris's whimpers and moans become more frantic, his grip on my hair tightening.

His body starts to tremble as I feel him reaching his climax. I redouble my efforts, taking him deeper, faster, until he's hitting the back of my throat with each thrust. Chris cries out, his voice raw with pleasure as he finally gives in, spilling hot ropes of cum down my throat.

Chris lies back, panting heavily, a satisfied smile on his face. I smirk, hovering over him, my fingers trailing teasingly down his chest. “Feel good?” I say, my voice low and husky. Chris blinks up at me, still trying to catch his breath.

Chris gave me a nod with a lazy smile on his face. I grin back, taking the opportunity to take off my bra, letting my breasts spill out into his view. I then slide off my underwear, leaving me completely naked in front of him.

I straddle Chris, my dripping wet pussy hovering just above his cock. I tease him, rubbing my folds against the length of his shaft, smearing my juices on him, making him twitch in response.

Chris wraps his arms around my waist, his hands digging into my hips as he effortlessly flips me over onto my back. He positions himself between my spread thighs, the tip of his cock pressing against my entrance. Without warning, he thrusts forward, burying himself deep inside me in one swift motion.

Chris starts to fuck me with a raw, primal hunger. With each thrust, he pounds into me deeper, harder than before, claiming every inch of my body. He lets out a guttural moan as he takes control, losing himself in the moment.

I arch my back, crying out in a mix of pleasure and pain as Chris continues to ravage me. “Chris, slow down,” I whimper, my voice barely above a breathless moan. But he doesn't listen, his pace relentless, driving into me with a force that makes my vision blur.

Chris slows down his pace, leaning over me to whisper in my ear. “You can take it,” he growls, his breath hot against my skin. He lifts my legs up over his shoulders, changing the angle of his thrusts and hitting a spot deep inside me that makes me gasp.

With my legs over his shoulders, Chris resumes his relentless pace, driving into me with a force that makes my whole body tremble. Every nerve ending is on fire, my breath hitching as I moan and whimper beneath him.

Chris's thrusts become even more brutal, his cock pounding into my drenched pussy with a wet, obscene sound. My inner walls clench around him, trying to milk his length, as my juices flow freely, coating his shaft and dripping down onto the sheets beneath us.

Chris grabs ahold of my hips, pulling me roughly against him as he fucks me with an intensity that makes my whole body tremble. My moans turn into screams as I feel myself nearing the edge, my muscles tensing and clenching with every brutal thrust.

As I shatter in a climax, my pussy clamping down on Chris's cock, he doesn't let up, continuing to pound into me with a primal, animalistic ferocity. My juices gush out around him, making the sounds of our flesh slapping together even louder and more lewd.

Chris breaks the kiss, trailing hot, desperate kisses down my neck and over my collarbone. When he reaches my ear, he growls softly, his hot breath sending chills down my spine. “You like it when I fuck you like this, don't you?”

Chris senses my reluctance to admit the truth, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. “Admit it, baby,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing teasing patterns on my skin. “You love it when I lose control and take you hard, just like this.”

A shiver runs through me at his words, my cheeks flushing with a mix of guilt and arousal. I can't deny the intense pleasure I felt when Chris let’s go and ravished me with primal desire. It was raw, animalistic, and utterly intoxicating.

Chris starts to move within me with long, slow thrusts, his cock sliding in and out of my depths with agonizing slowness. “Tell me,” he pants, his voice husky with desire, “how many times do you want me to fill this pretty little pussy with my cum?”

“Tell me, baby,” Chris growls, his thrusts getting faster and more forceful as he demands an answer. I can only whimper in response, my nails digging into his biceps as I hold onto him for dear life.

“Do you like it when I fuck you so deep, your tight little cunt is milking my cock for every drop of cum?” Chris asks, his words punctuated by harder, faster thrusts that make me cry out in ecstasy.

“Do you like it when I use you like my personal fuck toy, pounding you into the mattress until you can't walk straight?” Chris grits out, his hips slapping against mine with brutal force. “Do you crave the feeling of my cock claiming your throat, marking you as mine for everyone to see?”

“Do you love the way I make you scream, your pleasure so intense it borders on pain?” Chris snarls, his thrusts becoming a frenzied pace now. “Do you secretly hope I'll breed you raw, fill your fertile womb with my seed until you're swollen with my child?”

“Do you fucking like it?” Chris demands, his voice straining with pleasure as I clench around him, milking his cock for every last drop. “Say it, goddamn it!”

Chris grabs my face with one large hand, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my cheeks as he thrusts himself in and out of me with brutal force. Spit drips from the corners of my mouth, tears streaming down my cheeks as I gasp for breath around him.

Chris fucks me mercilessly, the head of his cock battering against my cervix with every thrust. I moan around him, the sound muffled and desperate. “Please...more...Oh Chris, yes!”

The dirty talk and brutal fucking push me to the brink of sanity. I'm sobbing and moaning, begging for more, my nails leaving half-moon indents in Chris's skin as I cling to him for dear life. “F-fuck me harder! Fill me up, mark me as yours!”

Chris doesn't slow down, pumping his hips in a fast, hard rhythm that has the headboard slamming against the wall and bed frame creaking ominously under us. But he's close—I can feel him throbbing inside me, his thrusts becoming erratic and desperate.

“Shit, fuck, goddamn...” Chris chants, his balls slapping against my ass as he pounds into me. The sound of our bodies coming together again and again fills the room with a symphony of pleasure. “I'm going to fill you up, my dirty little slut.”

Chris leans down, his hot breath fanning over my neck. I wrap my arms around him, my fingers digging into the hard planes of his back as I hold him against me. His hair is a mess, sweat-dampened strands clinging to his forehead.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Chris moans against my neck, his lips moving against my skin in a hot, open-mouthed kiss. His hips jerk, driving himself deeper, harder into me, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in our joined bodies.

The scratches on his back send a burst of pain through his body, but that pain only fuels his desire. “Shit,” he moans, his fingers digging into my hips as he draws me closer, his thrusts becoming rougher and more desperate.

The sound of our bodies coming together is loud and obscene, the scent of sex heavy in the air. Chris buries his face in my neck, his moans growing louder and more frantic as he feels himself on the edge. “Oh god, oh fuck, I'm gonna cum...”

He grits his teeth, fighting against the overwhelming pleasure that's threatening to consume him. “Fuck, baby, I can't...” Chris pants, his cock throbbing inside me as he prepares for his release.

And then the dam breaks. With a loud moan, I tighten around him, my walls spasming as my orgasm crashes over me. “Oh fuck, Chris!” I cry out, my fingers tangling in his hair as I ride out the waves of pleasure coursing through my body.

Chris gasps, his hips stuttering as the sensation of my quivering walls sparks a fresh surge of pleasure. “Fuck, Y/N... fuck,” he moans. He reaches down, his fingers brushing against my sensitive flesh, and I cry out, my grip on his forearm tightening as I'm overwhelmed by another surge of pleasure.

I'm so close to the edge, my entire body tensing up as I feel a third orgasm building inside me. I can feel myself getting closer and closer, my gasps turning into loud cries as my pleasure skyrockets. “Chris! Oh god, Chris!”

“Fuck, don't stop, Chris!” I beg him, my grip on his wrist tightening as I'm overtaken by another burst of pleasure that has me seeing stars. “Oh god...” I moan helplessly. “I... I can't…”

And then it hits, a third climax crashing over me like a tidal wave. I throw my head back, a long, keening cry escaping my lips as my body shudders and convulses beneath Chris. My inner walls clench down around him, milking him for all he's worth.

Chris tenderly presses small kisses along my jawline and neck, his lips brushing against my sensitive skin as we both try to catch our breath. He moves down, dropping soft pecks onto my collarbones and the tops of my breasts, his hair tickling me as he moves.

I reach up, my fingers gently tangling in his hair as I tilt my head back, my eyes shut. I can still feel him moving, kissing along my collarbones, my chest, and it's like my entire body is tingling from the contact.

Chris's kisses continue, soft and tender, as if he's worshipping every inch of my skin. His hands roam over my body, tracing the curves of my hips, the swell of my breasts, the dip of my waist, before settling on my stomach.

Chris gently pulls out of me, our combined juices glistening on my thighs as they slide down the sheets. He gazes at me with a look of adoration, his eyes soft and vulnerable in the aftermath of our intense lovemaking.

Slowly, my legs falling to the side, he moves down between my thighs. This time, his touch is gentle. His lips press against the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, the softest press of flesh on flesh, causing me to bite my lip and squirm beneath him.

He takes his time, peppering kisses up my inner thighs until he reaches the apex of my legs, where he presses a gentle kiss against my heated center. It sends shivers down my spine and I moan softly, feeling so sensitive after our previous coupling.

Chris's warm, wet tongue traces a path between my thighs, collecting the evidence of our lovemaking while his hands roam over my body in a soothing touch. Soft breaths hit my sensitive skin as he indulges in cleaning me up, making my back arch with renewed pleasure.

When he reaches the top of my thighs, Chris presses a tender kiss to my core, his lips a feather-light caress against my skin. He slowly works his way back up, trailing kisses along my inner thighs, my hip bones, until his lips meet mine in a sweet, loving kiss.

“Are you relaxed now?” I ask softly, my voice shaky and still laced with desire. Chris nods, his eyes warm as he gazes into mine. “Yes, thank you,” he replies quietly before pressing another gentle kiss to my lips.

After our passionate exchange of desire, I find myself giggling softly, my fingers gently caressing his face as we share another soft kiss. Our lips move together in a leisurely, soothing rhythm, the connection between us still strong and palpable.

Finally, as we pull away, Chris speaks up, his voice low and raspy from the heat between us. “We should probably head back to the festival now,” he murmurs, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

I hum in agreement, reluctantly disconnecting myself from him and moving to get dressed. Despite the desire to stay in bed and enjoy the intimate moment further, we have obligations to return to.

I run my fingers through his hair one more time before sitting up, gathering my clothes from the floor and beginning to dress.

I redress quickly, fixing my clothing and hair as best I can. Chris does the same, his gaze lingering on me for several seconds before he too is fully dressed.

Chris reaches for his fresh love hoodie, the white material soft and familiar in his hands. He pulls it over his head, the hood casting a subtle shadow over his neck, hiding the small, red marks I had left. He reaches for his black shades and hat as well, slipping them on with a practiced ease.

Now that we're both dressed and presentable, Chris smiles at me, a hint of mischief in his eyes. He glances down, adjusting his hoodie before looking back up at me.

“Now that we've come for what I had said we'd come for,” he says with a grin, referring to the hoodie he had forgotten. “Let's get going.”

I roll my eyes playfully, but I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips. “You're something else, you know that?” I step towards him, smoothing out the fabric of his hoodie, ensuring it covers the marks I'd left earlier.

“Oh, I know,” he replies, his smile widening. He wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. “But you love it.”

He bends down, his lips meeting mine in a quick but affectionate kiss. He grins as he pulls back, his arm still around my waist. “Alright, let's go,” he says, giving my hip a squeeze as he begins to lead me towards the door.

As we leave the hotel room, Chris pulls out his phone, unlocking it and starting to scroll through the Uber app. I stand beside him quietly, watching as he selects our destination and requests a ride.

When the app confirms that we’ll have a ride in a few minutes, he shoves his phone back into his pocket and we head towards the elevator.

We wait for the elevator to arrive, the air between us comfortable and companiable. When the doors open, we step inside, Chris pushing the button for the lobby.

The elevator doors slide shut, enclosing us in the small space. Chris puts his arm around me again as the elevator begins its descent.

The elevator moves quietly, the only sound the low hum of the machinery. Chris leans against one wall, his arm around me, his fingers tracing absentmindedly over my shoulder.

I rest my head against his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breath and the beat of his heart soothing. I can feel the tension from the earlier performance and our passionate escape slowly fading away.

“You doing okay?” Chris's voice breaks the silence, his words soft and concerned.

I lift my head to look up at him, meeting his gaze. A small smile curves my lips. “I'm doing just fine,” I reassure him, my voice equally soft. “Are you?”

“Never been better,” he replies, his signature smile in place. His fingers find their way to my hair, gently tucking a strand behind my ear. “Just making sure I didn’t wear you out too much earlier.”

A blush spreads across my cheeks at his words, the memory of our passionate encounter fresh in my mind. I nudge him lightly in the ribs with my elbow, my eyes sparkling with teasing. “I can handle you, Chris. Don't you know that by now?”

He chuckles, his arm tightening around my waist. “Oh, I know you can,” he replies, his voice laced with a hint of mischief. “I just wanted to make sure I didn’t give you too much to handle at once.”

The elevator reaches the lobby, the doors opening with a soft ‘ding’. Chris leads me out, his hand on the small of my back as we walk towards the exit.

“Besides,” he continues, a sly grin spreading across his face, “I have to leave you with enough energy for later tonight.” I shake my head at his words, a mix of amusement and arousal stirring within me. “You're impossible,” I mutter, a smile playing on my lips.

“You know we can't do that when Matt is in the room with us,” I remind him, referring to the fact that we share a room with Matt. Chris chuckles, looking unperturbed by this news. “Oh, come on, ma,” he teases. “Can't you keep quiet?”

I roll my eyes at his audacity, shaking my head in disbelief. “Keep quiet? You know that's not exactly my strong suit when it comes to you,” I reply, my tone half-exasperated, half-fond. “I’m sure I can find ways to keep your mouth occupied.”

His words take me by surprise, my eyes widening slightly as my cheeks flush once more. “Christopher!” I exclaim, my tone a mix of shock and mock-offense, but there's no denying the hint of excitement and anticipation within me.

Chris merely chuckles at my reaction, a cocky smile on his face. He steps aside to open the door to the awaiting Uber car, gesturing for me to get in first.

Once I'm settled in the backseat of the Uber, Chris gets in next to me, closing the door behind him. The driver nods a greeting, and before long, we're off to the festival.

The ride back to the venue is silent, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I glance over at Chris occasionally, taking in his profile, the way the street lights play over his features.

The Uber comes to a stop, and Chris steps out, holding the door open for me. He thanks the driver before reaching out to take my hand. “C'mon,” he says, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and anticipation. “Skies will be on soon.”

Chris leads me through the crowds towards the backstage area, his grip on my hand firm and sure. He manoeuvres us through the throngs of people, his taller stature and confident, decisive movements helping to clear a path for us.

He keeps me close, his body almost blocking me from the worst of the press of the crowd. I follow closely behind him, my hand clinging to his tightly.

We pass the barriers, drawing the attention of some fans who are eager to catch a glimpse of us. They start hollering and waving their hands, calling out to Chris.

Chris hesitates for a moment, turning to greet the fans with a smile. He stops briefly, taking a few pictures. All the while, he keeps my hand firmly in his own, as if he’s reluctant to let go.

After a few minutes, he waves his final goodbye, and we continue making our way backstage, where Matt, Skies, and a few others are waiting.

As we step into the backstage area, Matt is waiting, a teasing smile on his face. “You made it,” he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Cutting it a little close, aren't we?”

Chris glares at Matt, rolling his eyes. “Oh, come on, man,” he grumbles. “Cut us a little slack, will ya? We got held up.” Matt pretends to consider this, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “Held up, huh? And what, pray tell, were you two doing that was so important?”

Chris shrugs, a slight sheepish expression on his face. “I couldn't find where I put my hoodie and my shades,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ended up wasting some time looking for them. Matt's face clearly looked annoyed. “You couldn't find your hoodie and glasses? Seriously?”

Skies, who had been speaking to a member of his team, notices Chris and I coming backstage. He glances at his watch, then gives a relieved smile. “Cutting it close, huh?” Chris looks over at Skies, raising a hand in a slight greeting. “Hey, we made it, didn't we?”

Skies laughs, a glint in his eye. “Barely, brother. Another minute later and you'd be sitting in the audience instead of backstage.” Chris just grins, unapologetic. “Hey, it's all part of the adrenaline rush”

Matt shakes his head, a smirk on his face. “You're unbelievable, you know that?” he says, looking at Chris. “You cut it so close every time.” Chris shrugs again, unfazed. “Oh, come on, where's the fun in arriving early?”

Skies goes onstage, the crowd cheering and applauding as he begins his set. He performs several songs, his stage presence and vocals impressive, and the audience responds enthusiastically.

Chris watches from the wings of the stage, his arms crossed over his chest. He looks focused, his eyes flicking between Skies and the crowd. Every now and then, he glances over at me, a hint of anticipation in his gaze.

Skies continues to perform, his energy and charisma on full display. In between songs, one of his management team members approaches Chris, gesturing for him to come closer.

“You're good to go out there whenever you're ready,” he says, his voice just loud enough to carry over the music.

Chris nods his acknowledgement, a glint of excitement in his eyes as he looks out at the stage. He waits for a moment, then steps out onto the stage, dancing and singing along with Skies.

Chris moves to the music, his own energy and style completely different from Skies but equally engaging to the audience. He dances and sings along, clearly comfortable in front of the crowd.

Skies glances over at him with a grin, playing into the routine and feeding off Chris’ energy. The two of them complement each other well, their different vibes meshing together perfectly.

The crowd responds enthusiastically, some even recognizing Chris and shouting out his name.

As I watch Chris up onstage, singing and dancing alongside his idol, I can't help but feel a surge of admiration mixed with disbelief. It's not the first time I've seen him with Skies, but the sight never fails to amaze me.

Matt appears next to me, a knowing smile on his face. He leans in, speaking just loud enough for me to hear over the music.

“You didn't really need to get that hoodie, did you guys?” he teases.

“He was actually looking for his hoodie,” I say, my voice slightly defensive. Matt just raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Mhmm, sure,” he replies, clearly not believing me. “Then explain this.”

Matt holds up his phone, displaying a picture he’s found on instagram from earlier at the barricades. It was a picture with Chris and a Fan. The photograph caught a clear angle of Chris's neck, revealing the marks I'd left earlier— marks that Chris clearly hadn't taken the effort to cover up.

I flush slightly in embarrassment. Matt grins at my reaction, his gaze shifting between me and Chris on the stage. “Looks like he was a little preoccupied with something else besides the hoodie.”

I roll my eyes playfully, pushing Matt's shoulder lightly. “Oh shut up” I mutter, knowing full well that Chris's marked neck is going to draw attention to us throughout the week. I can already imagine the headlines and rumors that'll circulate because of it. Matt just chuckles, clearly enjoying this whole situation.

Once Skies finishes his performance, Chris walks off the stage, making his way back to where I’m standing.

He reaches me, quickly planting a brief but affectionate peck on my lips. He gives me a sideways glance, a smirk playing on his lips. Then, he turns to say goodbye to Skies, exchanging a few quick words with him before turning back to us.

“Ready to go?” he asks, looking between me and Matt.

As we leave backstage, passing by the barricades where fans are gathered, some of the fans take notice of the marks on Chris's neck. They start yelling out questions and making comments, obviously intrigued by the obvious signs of our earlier dalliance.

Chris just keeps his head down, his hand firmly around mine, not engaging in any of the questions or speculation. He quickens his pace a little, clearly eager to get to the hotel and away from the attention.

Matt follows closely behind us, looking slightly amused as he overhears the fans' comments. He doesn't say anything, but his smirk widens a little, clearly enjoying the situation.

We finally walk out from the venue, the night air crisp and refreshing. Chris keeps walking, not slowing down until we’ve put some distance between us and the fans.

Matt uses his phone to book an Uber, and we all climb in, settling into our seats.

The Uber ride is silent, the air around us a mix of tiredness, satisfaction, and a hint of residual adrenaline. Chris keeps his hand in mine, his thumb tracing small circles on my skin. Every now and then, I can feel his gaze on me. It's not a look of desire or need, not this time. It's something softer, almost tender.

We finally arrive back at the hotel, the familiar lobby and elevator greeting us. We make our way up to our room, exhausted from the long day's events.

As we enter the room, the faint scent of new, clean bedsheets greets us. The housekeepers have freshened up the room while we were out.

I immediately flop down onto the bed, a sigh of exhaustion escaping my lips. The soft, cool sheets feel like a piece of heaven after the day we’ve had.

Chris follows after me, crawling onto the bed and settling on top of me. One of his legs slots between mine, and he props himself up on his forearms, his face close to mine.

Matt, meanwhile, plops down on the edge of his bed, right next to us. As always, he's completely unphased by the scene we present, not letting the fact that we're practically spooning get to him.

Chris cranes his head a little to give me a quick kiss on the lips. Then, without preamble, he moves, shifting his head so he can bury his face in the crook of my neck. His eyelashes tickles the sensitive skin as he nuzzles into me, his breath warm against my skin.

As the hours tick by, the weariness from the day starts to catch up with us. Matt's still on his phone, scrolling through social media or whatever it is he does on his phone, but Chris and I have both drifted off to sleep.

Chris is still half laying on me, his head buried in my neck. His breath is slow and steady as he rests against me, his body relaxed and heavy in sleep.

The room falls into a soft, peaceful quiet. Matt's still tapping away on his phone next to us, but apart from the occasional sound, everything is still and silent.

Chris and I remain asleep, our bodies intertwined. His head is still on my shoulder, his soft breaths warm against my skin. My own eyes are closed, a small content smile on my lips. This moment is peaceful, cozy, and perfect, a reprieve from the chaos of our lives.

For now, everything is as it should be.

[foreverisntenough]

‘Act II’

Summary: Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise.

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.

P.S. Thank you so much for completing this series. 'Act II' has been a massive labor of love and so much fun to write. I hope you have enjoyed all 25 chapters! ... The End.

The Final Chapter | Chapter 25- 'Fiancé' | ‘Act II’

word count - 11.9k

The next morning, the trip carried on, and you were headed back to Spain. Jude surprised you with a visit to a museum that had captured your heart since he had first taken you there. The moment you stepped inside, the familiar scent of polished wood and aged paper enveloped you, instantly transporting you to a place where art and history intertwined in a beautiful dance. He’d set up another private evening there. It was different though. This wasn’t a big show, this was calm, this was you, this was you and Jude. The viewing felt intimate, just the two of you wandering through the expansive halls, surrounded by masterpieces that had sparked countless conversations between you. You didn’t know why things were so good lately between you two but you weren’t complaining about these moments. As you strolled together, Jude glanced around in awe. 

“I can’t believe I’ve gotten to a place in my life where this is what I want to do in my spare time,” he said, a hint of disbelief in his voice. “I used to think I’d want to be at home playing video games with Toby, but now…” He trailed off, his gaze shifting back to you, warmth in his eyes. “I genuinely…” He sighed. “I just want to be in these halls with you, angel.” His words wrapped around your heart like a warm embrace, filling you with a sense of joy. You paused to admire a vibrant painting, the colors almost pulsating under the soft lighting. 

“I love that you want to share this with me,” you replied, turning to meet his gaze. “Art has a way of connecting people, don’t you think?” You asked sweetly, trying to reassure him it was okay to have that change of preference. 

“Yeah, think so. Didn’t know that before though,” he agreed, stepping closer. “Can you talk to me angel… I know it sounds stupid but I want to hear you talk about it all—about color theory, the way you see things. I know I talk a lot,” he said, a teasing smile creeping onto his face, “and ironically, I’m doing a lot of talking right now, aren’t I?” He asked you with that signature Jude smile that always got him out of any trouble. You chuckled, shaking your head as you stepped in front of a piece that caught your eye. 

“You’re not wrong, you talk a fucking lot…but it’s okay. I love hearing your thoughts, too. I like when you talk to me too. Just… maybe let me get a word in if you want to hear about something” You teased. He laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. 

“Okay, okay! I’ll try to give you a chance to share your brilliance with me. This one…” He pointed to abstract painting littered in colors. “What’s all this about?” He asked. You couldn’t help but grin at his playful banter, the way he made light of his own chatter. 

“You know, there’s so much more to this,” you said, gesturing to the painting. “Every brushstroke has a purpose, and the colors evoke emotions that can be incredibly powerful. It’s like they’re speaking a language of their own.” Jude leaned in closer, his attention fully on you. “Sorry…” You started to giggle hiding in your hands embarrassed by your own pompousness. 

“Nah, baby, keep going, I want to hear everything you have to say. Your opinions, what you love and what you hate about the art… about the world. It’s all so much more interesting than anything I could come up with,” he admitted, sincerity shining through his playful demeanor. You felt a rush of warmth at his words, knowing how much it meant to you that he truly valued your insights, whether or not he knew what the fuck you were talking about was besides the point. He was listening. He cared.

“I just think art like this is such a reflection of life,” you began, your voice steady as you delved into your thoughts. “It can tell stories, evoke feelings, and even challenge perceptions. The way colors interact with one another can create a mood, a feeling that resonates with people on different levels. Like what you think when you see a color versus what I feel when I see one.” Jude listened intently, his eyes never leaving your face as you spoke. You could see how much he cherished these moments, how he wanted to understand the world through your lens. This wasn’t his world but you were. 

“That’s beautiful,” he said softly, his admiration evident. “I love how passionate you are about this… I like that you like something like this. I know we’ve talked about this before but it’s how I feel about footie, like the history and why things happened matter. But this…” He gestured to the art. “This I don’t understand but I like learning from you.” Jude explained and you nodded in agreement.  As you moved through the galleries, you pointed out various pieces that sparked your interest, each one igniting a spark of excitement in your chest. Jude’s questions were thoughtful, encouraging you to dive deeper into your analyses. The two of you debated the meaning behind a particularly abstract piece, your voices mingling with the silence. The more you talked, the more you felt the connection between you deepening. It was as if the walls of the museum weren’t just housing art; they were enveloping your relationship, wrapping it in layers of shared experience and understanding. Each new exhibit was an opportunity to explore not only the art but also each other’s minds.

“Honest, I know I said it before but I never imagined I’d be having conversations like this,” Jude said, a hint of wonder in his voice. “This is what I want to do—explore, learn, grow. With you.” He spoke like this with you often but… it just felt different. You felt a flutter in your chest, a sense of belonging that only seemed to strengthen as you continued your tour. 

“I want that too, Jude. This—sharing something I’m care about with you—it makes everything feel more complete.” He smiled, and you could see the appreciation in his eyes. 

“You give me a reason to want more, to see things differently. It’s inspiring.” As you stepped into the next gallery, you knew this was just one of the countless adventures you would have together, discovering new art and each other in the process. And with Jude by your side, every moment felt significant, filled with the promise of what was yet to come.The museum’s grandeur surrounded you like a quiet hum, the towering ceilings and pristine walls filled with centuries of creativity and stories. Your footsteps echoed softly as you and Jude strolled through the vast, quiet space, but the world outside felt far away. It was just the two of you, wandering through an endless gallery of masterpieces, each more breathtaking than the last, though none more captivating than the feeling of his hand wrapped securely around yours. Jude had gone unusually quiet, his gaze flickering between the art and you, as though trying to absorb everything at once. You stole a glance at him, catching the light frown of concentration on his face before he turned to you, his eyes soft. 

“Do you ever think about having one of your pieces in a place like this?” he asked, his voice casual but tinged with sincerity. You laughed softly, shaking your head. 

“It doesn’t work like that, Jude,” you replied, your voice warm with amusement. “It’s not really the goal. You don’t just…get your art in a museum.” He stopped walking and turned fully toward you, his eyes narrowing playfully. 

“I don’t know,” he said, feigning contemplation. “I think I could pull a few strings.” Rolling your eyes, you nudged him lightly with your shoulder. 

“Please. You’re not that big of a deal.” He grinned but didn’t let go of the thought. 

“Nah, not yet, but for you angel. I’d sort it…” he teased, pulling you closer as the cold air from the tall windows brushed past. His arm wrapped snugly around your waist, anchoring you to his side. You continued walking, but his words lingered between you, and you knew there was something deeper behind them. “It’s just that…” Jude’s voice softened, his gaze returning to the paintings around you. “I think there’s something beautiful about the idea of being remembered like this. I wish footie could be cemented like this. That the art, the artist, all of it becomes part of history. It’s admired, preserved—kept safe. ” He turned to you again, his eyes searching your face, a new intensity there. You felt your breath catch, and suddenly, you weren’t talking about art anymore. You felt that way. That might have been your favorite part of museums. It felt like a dormitory for artists with infinite leases on life.  Jude’s words held more weight than the fleeting conversation about museums or paintings. They were about something bigger—something that made your chest tighten in the best way.

“I agree, baby. Are you just saying that… or…” you asked hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper. You asked nervously, curious and hoping that this wasn’t just a blip that someone might have finally understood why the juxtaposition of the impermanence and permanence in art was so amazing and yet he was throwing you in with it all.  Jude smiled softly, stepping in closer, his hand finding its way to the small of your back. 

“What I’m saying is that you’re like my piece of art,” he said, his voice tender. “I want to keep you safe, to admire you every day, to learn every little detail about you—like the way people do with paintings. They don’t just glance at them. They study them. They see something new every time… they love them… forever” His fingers lightly traced a line along your arm, his touch gentle, reverent, as though you were the most fragile and precious thing in the room. “And at the end of it all,” he continued, his eyes locking with yours, “I want to make sure the signature at the bottom is mine.” His hand lifted, mimicking the motion of signing his name across your skin, his touch so light that it sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel the signature you’d seen thousands of times drag across your skin. It felt like a vow, a promise that extended far beyond words, deeper than any conversation you’d ever had. Your throat tightened, emotion welling up inside you. You swallowed hard, blinking back the sudden sting in your eyes. 

“I like that,” you whispered, your voice catching. “Maybe just being yours is the only goal that matters to me.” Jude’s expression softened even more, a flicker of something vulnerable passing through his eyes before he leaned down, pressing his lips gently to your forehead. The kiss was soft, lingering, a silent affirmation that said more than any words could.

“Not theirs,” he murmured, confirming, his breath warm against your skin. You knew he meant the world—the prying eyes, the public, the constant scrutiny that came with your lives. “Just mine.” He double downed. You nodded, resting your head against his chest as you stood there in the center of the gallery. The art around you seemed to fade into the background, as though the masterpieces on the walls were mere echoes of the feeling that coursed through you in that moment. You weren’t just two people standing in a museum; you were something more—something eternal, like the art itself. After a while, you pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a small, almost bashful smile. 

“I never thought I’d find someone who made me feel this way,” you said quietly. “Like I’m something worth protecting.” Jude’s eyes softened further, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across your skin. 

“You are,” he whispered. “You’re the most precious thing in my life.” The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell, and you felt that familiar warmth spreading through you, the kind that only Jude could give you. It wasn’t just love—it was deeper than that. It was the feeling of being cherished, of being seen, of being held as something irreplaceable. And for the first time, truly, standing there in that gallery, you felt truly at peace. It didn’t matter what the world outside thought, or how chaotic life could be. Jude was your safe place, your home. You realized that wherever you went, whatever happened, as long as you had him, you had everything you needed.

“Jude… I think I need this forever… you forever,” you whispered, glancing around the museum. “Here and everywhere.” You clarified for him. Jude’s lips curled into a small smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he pulled you close again. 

“I promise, angel. I am going to give you forever.” Jude whispered gently. Your heart felt like it momentarily stopped beating. “You will never have to need it, because I will give you this every day of my life,” he said, pressing another kiss to your temple, “every day of your life you will have me in every place.” And in that moment, surrounded by centuries of art, you realized that no matter where life took you, Jude would always be yours and you’d be his. And the world—its eyes, its noise—didn’t matter. What mattered was this. Him. You. The quiet spaces in between where love lived, where you both flourished.

The exhaustion from all the traveling had finally caught up with you as you made your way to the next place. Your body ached, and the thought of another country, another stop on Jude’s whirlwind schedule, seemed unbearable. As the plane touched down in Greece, you leaned back into your seat with a sigh, feeling the weight of it all press down on you.

“Jude, I’m so tired,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “Why are we here?” You complained. Jude glanced at you with a soft smile but didn’t offer much in response. You frowned, slightly annoyed. “No, seriously, baby,” you pushed, adjusting your seat belt as the plane rolled down the runway. “Do you actually have work here? Like you in Greece? Is this another shoot or meeting or whatever? Because I still have my bags from New York. This is getting out of hand.” You whined. You were half-joking, but the weariness in your voice gave you away. You momentarily stopped in Madrid but not long enough for you to even unpack your toiletries. Jude reached over, squeezing your hand in that way he did when he wanted to calm you, but the mystery of it all was starting to wear thin. The car ride from the airport didn’t help either. You were too tired to really take in the scenery, the familiar landscapes of Greece passing by like a blur. You stared out the window, trying to piece together why Jude had dragged you here of all places. You couldn’t place how he could possibly have work here. It didn’t make sense. But then, the car slowed, pulling up to a secluded villa perched on a cliff overlooking the sea. Your brow furrowed as you glanced at Jude, still not fully understanding what was happening. But as soon as you stepped out of the car, things began to click. The moment the villa came into view, the memories hit you like a wave, flooding your mind with nostalgia. This was the villa — the place where you and Jude had first met. “Oh my god…” you gasped, the sight of the villa hitting you like a tidal wave of nostalgia. “Wait—this is where we stayed, baby!” You yelped, tiredness leaving your body. Memories rushed back, vivid and overwhelming. You could see it all—Whitney, Trent, the laughter, the late nights, the conversations that stretched until dawn. This was where it had all started, where you and Jude had first properly met. You grabbed Jude’s arm, pulling him closer as you took it all in, your heart racing with a strange mix of disbelief and excitement. “I can’t believe this. Do you remember this? This is where we stayed, where everything started. This is wild. Is this actually a coincidence or did you know?” Jude hummed in response, feigning surprise, but you caught the subtle smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. 

“So fucking crazy, what are the odds” he murmured, pretending to be as shocked as you were, but it was clear he’d planned this all along. You turned to him, eyes wide, still processing it all. You could sense his tone was a bit facetious. 

“Jude…seriously…did you plan this?” You asked. He shrugged, that smirk now fully visible.

 “Maybe.” He cooed with a glint in his eyes and you felt a bit of nausea washing over you. The exhaustion from the flight still hitting you hard now laced with fear. You were still processing all the travel and back-to-back commitments, so when you realized where you were, confusion quickly had settled in. Confusion, wondering if your traveling had even been for his work at all. You stood frozen, your brain struggling to connect the dots, unable to fully comprehend why you were back here after all this time. Jude watched as the realization slowly escaped you, the shock plain on your face. He couldn’t help but laugh softly at your speechlessness. He approached you with that same boyish charm that had first drawn you to him, his smile growing wider as he gently pulled you into his arms. “Come on, angel,” he whispered into your ear, swaying you gently as his arms wrapped around your waist. “Will you come with me?” He asked gently and patiently. You shook your head, still too stunned to move, your emotions all over the place. 

“I… I can’t,” you stammered, still in disbelief. You had a hard time understanding what the fuck was happening. You were stunned, like a deer in headlights. Jude laughed again, pressing soft kisses against your neck in that playful way that always made you melt. He swayed with you, his warmth so familiar, so grounding. His lips grazed your skin once more, and you could feel him smile against your neck as he teased.

“Please?” His voice lilted into a sing-song, pressing another kiss to your neck, each one softer and more coaxing than the last. You giggled despite yourself, the sound breaking the tension. 

“Jude…” you whispered, your voice shaky with a mix of nerves and affection. You could feel yourself softening, your body relaxing into his. He kissed you once more, a bit more cheekily this time. 

“Please, angel?” he asked again, his lips lingering just long enough to make you giggle through the overwhelming emotion. Finally, with a soft sniffle, you nodded, resting your forehead against his chest for a moment. 

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice still thick with emotion. You weren’t sure what was about to happen but in that moment, you felt safe in his arms, ready to follow him anywhere. You had an inkling  but you couldn’t disillude yourself. Jude grinned, pulling back just enough to look at you, his hand gently wiping away the small tear that had escaped down your cheek. 

“Let’s go, angel,” he said softly, taking your hand as he led you toward the back garden of the villa, the sun casting a golden glow over the shoreline, setting the perfect scene for what was to come. He walked you down the grand staircase.  The beach was calm. Empty so although it was clear that this wasn’t some sort of photo shoot for Jude’s work, you weren’t sure what was going on, you couldn’t believe it. Jude’s hand was wrapped tightly around yours as he guided you down the stairs, carved into the cliffside. Each step brought you closer to the beach, where the calm waves lapped gently against the shore. There was a soft glow over everything, the pinks and oranges of the sky blending into the horizon like a painting. You hadn’t questioned it at first but now, the villa, the quietness of the beach, and the absence of a crew—all of it seemed terrifyingly anticipatory. In fact, you had thought this was going to be just another thing Jude’s had to do for work. You assumed maybe he took it because it could overlay as a moment for the two of you to steal away together. But there was something about the air that felt different right now, something almost charged, though you couldn’t quite place it. Something much bigger than a moment away. But you needed to act normal, if it was nothing, like it had been for days you didn’t want to feel disappointed… and if it wasn’t, you didn’t want to ruin Jude’s plan. As you reached the bottom of the staircase, you let go of Jude’s hand walking a bit further before you plopped down in the sand with a sigh, smoothing out the fabric of your dress. The remnants of the day’s heat lingered in the sand beneath you, warming your legs. You looked up at Jude and smiled, extending your hand to help him sit beside you.

“Baby,” you teased, “you’re not going to make me sit here alone, are you?” Jude smiled nervously, his gaze flickering between you and the horizon as he sank down beside you.  The sand shifted under his weight, but he seemed restless, like something was bubbling beneath the surface. Both of you awkwardly expectant of something. He was trying to act natural, but his efforts were making him act entirely not. But putting nerves aside, you leaned into him, letting your head rest on his shoulder, oblivious to the storm of thoughts running through his mind, focused on your own. For a moment, you sat in a comfortable silence, the sound of the waves lulling you into a trance. But then, faintly carried on the breeze, you heard music. Not just any music—your favorite song, but played by a small orchestra. You frowned, sitting up slightly. “Is that…?” you began, turning your head to listen more closely. Jude’s smile grew, though there was something tight about it, like he was holding his breath. “Whoever is listening to that,” you murmured, “they’re lucky.” You had let yourself fall into ignorance, you couldn’t think straight. There was no way this was happening so the only option you had was to focus on the present moment, and the present moment was pretty perfect, one you didn’t want to leave. 

“Yeah,” he said, his voice a little unsteady. “They are.” Jude chuckled softly, his hand finding yours again, squeezing it gently.  You didn’t notice the way he inhaled deeply, as if bracing himself, or how his thumb brushed nervously over your knuckles. You were too distracted by your thoughts blurring with the music, the soft notes floating through the air, the beauty of the moment. He let you sit there, hoping you thought it was all a coincidence, just a beautiful, serendipitous afternoon on the beach. Maybe in retrospect you should’ve put it together but you couldn’t wrap your head around the possibility. It was too scary. Jude’s heart was racing, pounding against his chest like it might burst. This wasn’t just any moment—this was the moment. The orchestra’s music swelled in the background, perfectly timed with the setting sun, casting the scene in a golden glow. Jude shifted beside you, his grip on your hand tightening slightly, and you finally glanced over at him, noticing the tension in his posture.

“Jude?” you asked softly, your brow furrowing as you caught the nerves in his eyes. “What’s going on?” He opened his mouth to respond but seemed to catch himself, exhaling slowly instead. He looked away for a moment, out toward the water, gathering the words he’d rehearsed a hundred times in his mind. But now, sitting here with you, in this moment that felt impossibly perfect, every practiced line seemed to slip away.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time,” Jude began, his voice barely above a whisper. You felt a shiver run down your spine, not from the afternoon breeze, but from the tone in his voice. Something was happening. It was happening. 

“What do you mean?” you asked, your heart starting to race as you sat up straighter. Jude smiled softly, his eyes full of something you hadn’t seen before, something deeper. 

“This place, this villa, this beach—it’s where everything started for me. And I’ve been thinking… maybe it’s the perfect place for something new to begin.” He reached into his pocket, and your breath caught in your throat. The realization hit you all at once, like a wave crashing over you, and suddenly, the music, the sunset, the villa—it all made perfect blissful sense.

“Jude…” you whispered, your voice trembling, almost cautioning him. 

“Angel, c’mere.” He grabbed your hands and pulled you up. Your breath hitched as Jude asked you to stand. Your legs felt shaky beneath you, and your heart pounded in your chest as things slowly began to click in your mind. Everything—the whirlwind of travel, the quiet dinners, the significant places, the sudden romantic gestures—it wasn’t work. It was you. It was your relationship, played out place by place, word by word. Jude’s hand was warm around yours, grounding you as you watched him slowly descend to his knees in front of you. The world around you seemed to blur, your vision narrowing to the boy in front of you—tall, tan, and brighter than the sun itself. The golden light of the setting sun washed over him, illuminating his features, making him look almost ethereal. You felt like you were going to black out. Your mind raced, each realization hitting you like a wave—this was what all of this had been about. “You’re my world,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve changed everything for me, and I can’t imagine my life without you. I don’t want to.” He cooed softly. Tears welled in your eyes as you watched him reach into his pocket, his gaze soft and steady, you shook. Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill as the magnitude of the moment fully sank in.  “All the places…” he kept speaking, his voice barely a whisper, cracking under the weight of his emotions. “Every stop, every country…” Jude smiled softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “It’s you and me, forever, Angel,” he said quietly, his voice full of love, as steady as the waves in the background. Your tears slipped down your cheeks, and a choked laugh escaped your lips as you tried to process everything. 

“I just thought you really liked me and wanted me there for work,” you interrupted him unable to help yourself, your words broken by the overwhelming emotion swelling inside you. Jude shook his head, his smirk filled with affection, with knowing. 

“No, angel” he whispered, still kneeling before you. Every breath seemed too shallow, and your hands trembled as he finally pulled out a small, velvet box, his hands shaking ever so slightly as he held it out in front of you. “It’s you and me, anyplace, anywhere. That’s all it’s ever been. That’s all it’s ever going to be.” His words wrapped around you like a blanket, warm and comforting, the moment became surreal as he opened the box. Inside was the fattest diamond you’d ever seen, sparkling brilliantly in the fading light of the day, reflecting the hues of the setting sun. It was breathtaking, but not as much as the man in front of you, kneeling there with his heart laid bare. “Will you marry me, mon ange?” he asked softly, his voice steady despite the gravity of the moment.  And you didn’t even notice the mispronunciation anymore because it was his pronunciation. His eyes were full of hope, of love, of everything you’d built together. Your whole body trembled as you looked down at him, this boy who had turned your world upside down in the most beautiful way. Tears blurred your vision, and all you could do was nod at first. 

“Yeah… Yes, of course, I’ll marry you, baby.”  You managed choking out the words. Jude grinned, wide and relieved, his eyes sparkling brighter than the diamond in his hand. Jude slid the ring onto your finger, his hands steady despite everything. Then, without hesitation, he pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in the warmth of his embrace, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was full of promise, full of love, full of forever. You were speechless, your heart swelling with so many emotions that you didn’t know where to start. You could feel the tears slipping down your cheeks as you held him, this man who had brought so much love and light into your life. The orchestra’s music swelled, the sky painted in vibrant hues of pink and gold, and the world around you seemed to disappear. All that mattered was this moment, this place, and the man in your arms. You kissed him deeply, his lips warm against yours as the waves gently lapped at the shore. You were dizzy with love, with happiness, with the overwhelming realization that your life was about to change forever. Everything felt like it was meant to be. And as you stood there, wrapped in Jude’s arms, you knew this was the beginning of something even more beautiful than you could have ever imagined. The beach, the villa, the setting sun—it all seemed to disappear, leaving just the two of you standing there, in love, in awe, in the beginning of something new.

At first, you couldn’t stop sobbing, the weight of it all too much to hold back. Jude kept you close, arms wrapped around you as you stood on the Grecian shoreline for what felt like an eternity, just swaying together in the golden light of the setting sun. Sometimes you just didn’t need words. The sea’s gentle rhythm mirrored your own breathing as you tried to catch your breath between the tears, but the emotions kept coming and going, like waves crashing and retreating. Jude’s grip on you never faltered though, it hadn’t the whole time you knew him, his cheek pressed against the top of your head. You could feel his chest rising and falling steadily, though you knew he was feeling it too—the tears quietly slipping from his eyes, the magnitude of this moment as real to him as it was to you. 

“Can I tell everyone you’re my fiancée now?” Eventually, he leaned down and whispered into your ear, his voice soft but filled with so much joy. You let out a small, shaky giggle, though still confused as you pulled back slightly to look up at him. His hands moved instinctively to wipe away the lingering tears from your cheeks, his thumbs brushing over your skin with such tenderness that it made your heart swell all over again. As you took a deep breath, your eyes widened as he turned, his arm still around you. You followed his gaze, your breath catching once more. The staircase you’d descended earlier—the one leading back up to the villa—was now adorned with an elaborate floral arrangement. Beautiful blooms in soft, romantic shades of, white and green lined the steps, twining around the railing, draping down like something out of a dream.

“Oh my God…” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you stared in awe. Jude just smiled, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze before tugging you gently toward the stairs. You took a few hesitant steps, but when you reached the first floral-draped step, your heart fluttered again, realizing that this was not just about the two of you anymore. Back up at the villa, you could hear the faint sound of chatter and laughter, and as you made your way up, it became clear—Jude had planned everything. The grand party awaiting you, the surprise of it all. As you climbed higher, you caught glimpses of familiar faces—your family, his family, your closest friends, all gathered in celebration. The moment you reached the top, a wave of applause erupted. You looked at Jude in astonishment, overwhelmed again, but this time by the sheer love surrounding you. Everyone was there—your parents, Louis, Jobe, Whitney—waiting to congratulate you both. Jude squeezed your hand once more, beaming as he raised your entwined fingers for everyone to see, announcing to the world what you both already knew: you were his, and he was yours, forever. You giggled but tears welled up again, this time they were happy tears. You were embraced by your family, laughter and congratulations filling the air, the joy shared by everyone around you as you and Jude stood there, soaking in the moment, now engaged and surrounded by love. As soon as you caught sight of Whitney, her eyes welled up, tears streaming down her face as she pushed through the crowd to reach you. The moment you embraced her, both of you melted into each other’s arms, the years of friendship and every shared secret rushing back in an instant. You both clung tight, feeling like the younger versions of yourselves had finally taken a deep sigh of relief, knowing you’d both found partners who were right for you.

“I’m so happy for you you gorgeous gorgeous girl” Whitney sobbed into your shoulder, her voice breaking with emotion. You pulled back slightly, giggling through your own tears, seeing her eyes bright with pride and happiness for you.

“You’re crying more than I am!” you teased, wiping at your face with a sniffle. The two of you laughed, the sound muddied with sobs of joy. Whitney wiped her tears with a shaky hand and beamed at you. 

“I found out the other week,” she gushed, “and oh my God, I had to turn my location off just to keep it a secret! I’ve been dying to tell you.” She smiled. You giggled harder, the emotions bubbling over, feeling like it was all too perfect.

“You’ve fucking known this whole time?” you asked, incredulous. "You liar!" You yelped. She shook her head, laughing through her tears. 

“No! No, I found out after Paris I swear! I’m just glad I didn’t slip since! You don’t know how hard it was. But how good did he dooo” The two of you shared another tight embrace, and in that moment, it wasn’t just about you and Jude or Whitney and Trent—it was about the bond you and Whitney had, one built over years of friendship, now seeing each other finally finding the happiness and love you both deserved. It was like a sigh of relief for your younger selves, a moment of pure joy, knowing you had come so far together.

As the laughter of the party swirled around you, you found yourself in the middle of a group of women you loved, each one beaming with happiness for you. Whitney was dabbing her eyes, trying not to ruin her makeup from crying tears of joy. Winnie was playfully teasing you about how Jude had managed to surprise you despite all your ‘sharp instincts.’ Your mum, still slightly in shock, kept looking at the ring on your hand, shaking her head with a smile. Her eyes gleamed with pride, but you could also see a trace of emotion, the weight of the moment not lost on her. The ring, a symbol of so much more than a simple proposal, gleamed as the women continued to gush over how perfectly it suited you. Whitney’s mum chimed in, joking that she wished she had a Jude to pick out jewelry for her. The conversation was light and airy, filled with the kind of shared happiness only women who have known each other for years could have. Everyone was buzzing, their energy as golden as the light from the setting sun. And then, a tiny, familiar giggle cut through the conversation. You glanced over to see Teddy, breaking free from Trent’s grasp, her chubby little legs carrying her swiftly across the lawn toward you.

“Mama!” Teddy squealed, clinging to Whitney’s leg, hugging her. Whitney, still emotional from the evening, smiled warmly and beant down to kiss her hair but Teddy’s attention was quickly diverted when she spotted you. Her wide eyes, full of innocent curiosity, locked onto you, and you could see the wheels turning in her little head. She slipped from Whitney’s arms and made a beeline for you, determination in every tiny step. 

“I sorry,” she said, her voice a soft babble, tugging at the hem of your dress. You bent down to her level, confused but charmed by her earnestness. Teddy’s eyes were so big, her tiny face serious as she seemed to be weighing something in her mind.

“Sorry? What for, sweet girl?” you asked, your voice soft as you brushed a curl from her face. You crouched down to her level, letting her know she had your full attention. Teddy shifted on her feet, biting her lip slightly before finally spilling the beans. 

“Judey told was gonna marry you,” she confessed in a rush, the words stumbling over each other in her eagerness. “Daddy and Judey and me had pinky promise. So they told I can’t tell auntie … I sorry.” She frowned feeling guilty. Your heart melted instantly. You felt an overwhelming warmth at her sincerity, the way her tiny shoulders dropped slightly as if she’d been carrying the weight of this secret. You chuckled softly, tilting your head and raising an eyebrow. 

“A pinky promise, huh? Well, that is very serious.” You cooed. Teddy’s giggle was like a bell, her face lighting up at your playful tone. 

“Yeah huh,” she nodded, her small fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your dress. “Serus.”  She emphasized the word as if she were letting you in on a great universal truth. You grinned, scooping her up into your arms and hugging her close.

“I understand Ted. Pinky promises are important,” you said, brushing your nose against hers. She burst into another fit of giggles, squirming with joy in your embrace. It was a small moment, but it was filled with so much love and innocence. And as you held her, her little arms wrapping tightly around your neck, you felt something incredibly precious about this child’s naive understanding of love and promises. After a few moments, Teddy leaned back, her eyes still wide with wonder. 

“You most lucky, tay?” She looked at you with the seriousness only a child could muster. You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity in her voice. 

“Why’s that, Teddy girl?” You asked. Her little voice dropped to a whisper, as if she was sharing a secret meant only for you. 

“Judey the nicest.” Her words hit you squarely in the chest, and your heart swelled so much it almost hurt. You swallowed a lump in your throat, holding back more tears that threatened to spill over. You smiled, hugging her a little closer. 

“Yeah, Ted,” you whispered, your voice soft with emotion. “I’m really, really lucky. Judey is the nicest.” You concurred kissing her cheek. Your eyes flicking to find Jude amongst your friends and family. She nodded firmly, clearly satisfied with her conclusion. The simplicity of her words, spoken with such conviction, left a profound mark on you. It was a reminder of all the reasons you’d fallen in love with Jude in the first place. In her innocence, Teddy had perfectly summed up what mattered most: that Jude was good, that he was kind, and that you were lucky to have found him. You stood, still holding her close, as you turned back to the group of women who had been watching the entire exchange with knowing smiles on their faces. Whitney reached over and adjusted Teddy’s dress, tears in her eyes once again. 

“She’s not wrong,” Whitney said softly, glancing at you. “You are lucky, Y/N. But so is Jude.” You laughed through the tears that were finally spilling over, your heart full to the brim with love—for your family, for this life you were building, and for the man who was waiting for you just across the garden, probably grinning like an idiot, already planning the next moment to make you feel even luckier. That evening, the villa came alive with the glow of celebration. The Grecian coast hummed with the sounds of your family and closest friends gathering for a dinner that felt like something out of a dream. Long tables were set beneath the open sky, draped in fine white linens and adorned with candlesticks. Soft candlelight flickered against the rich blooms of flowers spilling across the table in blush tones—roses, peonies, and wild greenery interwoven with the delicate coastal breeze. The air smelled of salt and sea, a cool breeze rolling off the water and mingling with the scents of grilled seafood, freshly baked bread, and olive oil. The sky shifted from deep orange to lavender as the sun dipped lower toward the horizon, casting a golden glow over the scene. The waves lapped gently against the shore, the rhythm of the ocean setting a peaceful backdrop to the lively conversations and laughter bubbling from the guests.

As you sat next to Jude at the head of the table, you felt like the luckiest person in the world. You were surrounded by your family—your mum, who hadn’t stopped smiling since you arrived; your brother Louis, who kept clinking his glass to toast your engagement; Whitney and Trent, who were beaming with joy at their seats across from you, with Teddy in their lap. Winnie was there too, making jokes and keeping the mood light with her witty banter. Aurelien, your dad, Jobe, Denise and Mark, the list goes on. Everyone you loved was gathered in this perfect moment, toasting to you and Jude, the two of you at the heart of it all. Jude sat close, his hand never leaving yours. He was glowing with happiness, his smile wide as he toasted along with everyone, his fingers laced through yours beneath the table. Every now and then, he would lean in to kiss your temple or whisper something sweet in your ear, making you blush and giggle. You couldn’t help but marvel at how perfect everything felt. The conversations, the laughter, the music—it was like a symphony of love playing out under the stars. As the night deepened, the candles grew shorter, their flames flickering in the soft breeze, but the warmth around the table only grew stronger. Your family shared stories of love and laughter, of memories they held dear about you and Jude, of all the adventures yet to come. The stars above seemed to mirror the sparkle in your eyes as you glanced over at Jude, who looked more handsome than ever in the dim glow of the candles. As dessert was served—sweet honey-drenched baklava and rich chocolate torte—you and Jude shared a quiet moment amidst the revelry. He squeezed your hand, his thumb gently brushing over your engagement ring, and gave you a look that made your heart skip a beat.

“How’s it feel being the most beautiful girl in the world?” he asked, his voice low and full of affection. You blushed, leaning into him, the warmth of his words wrapping around you. 

“It feels pretty surreal,” you whispered. “How’s it feel being engaged to her?” You cheekily replied. 

“Pretty surreal.” He echoed you with a smirk. 

“No, seriously, it feels like I’m living in a dream right now.” You cut in with a warm smile. He kissed your temple with a hum.

“It’s not a dream, angel. This is our life. You and me, forever.” He smiled, his eyes softening.

Later, as the party continued into the night, you and Jude quietly slipped away from the table, leaving the laughter and love to continue around the table without you. He led you back to the villa, up the winding staircase to your private bedroom suite. The door clicked softly behind you as you stepped into the room, leaving the glow of the celebration behind for something more intimate, more personal. The bedroom was softly lit by a few candles flickering in the corners, the scent of jasmine and sea air filling the space. Large glass doors were open to the balcony, letting in the breeze from the ocean and the sound of the waves crashing gently against the shore. The bed was draped in soft, luxurious linens, and there was an air of quiet serenity, a stark contrast to the lively party outside. Jude pulled you close, his arms wrapping around your waist as he buried his face in your neck, kissing the soft skin there. 

“You’re mine now,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Forever.” You smiled, your heart swelling with love as you ran your fingers over his hair. 

“I’ve always been yours.” The intimacy between you both deepened as the night unfolded in the privacy of your suite. His kisses grew more passionate, his hands more eager as he undressed you slowly, savoring every moment as if it were sacred. You slipped out of your dress, you let it pool at your feet, revealing your naked body for him. You admired your reflection in the mirror, running your hands over your soft skin, your fingers lingering on your nipples, making them harden. Jude’s eyes raked over your body, taking in the sight of your bare tits. He stood behind you, his eyes never leaving you, as he slowly began to undress himself.

"There’s no way you’re real, Y/N," he says, his voice hoarse with desire and a shake of the head.

“You going to let me taste every inch of you?"  You cooed as you bit your lip, feeling a surge of power as you watched him reveal his muscular body through the mirror. You turned around to face him. His hands went to the button of his pants,  but couldn’t help but stare at the impressive bulge you knew well in his boxers.

"Come here," he says, his voice low and commanding. The candles flickered, casting soft shadows across your skin as you made love, the connection between you two more intense than ever before. Every touch, every whispered word felt like a promise—of love, of forever. Afterward, you lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms, your bodies warm and content under the soft sheets. The sound of the ocean lulled you into a peaceful quiet, your heart still racing from the emotion of the evening. Jude brushed his fingers across your cheek, his eyes never leaving yours, full of a love so deep it felt infinite.

“Tonight was perfect,” you whispered, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“Yeah, it was,” he agreed softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “But it’s only the beginning, angel. There’s so much more ahead of us.” And as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, the distant sound of laughter and the sea breeze filling the room, you knew he was right. This was just the start of a lifetime of perfect moments with him.

The morning Jude left for his away game as your fiancé felt heavier than usual. The air between you two was thick with the weight of separation. For days, you had been wrapped up in each other—barely giving one another an inch of space since the proposal in Greece, basking in the joy of your new future together. But now, it was time for him to leave, and neither of you was ready to part. You stood in the doorway of your Madrid home, watching as Jude packed his bag into the back of the car service waiting to take him to the airport. He moved slower than usual, as if stalling for time, and you couldn’t help the way your heart tugged painfully. You wanted so badly to go with him, but with your gallery opening in just a day time, it wasn’t possible.

“I hate this,” you mumbled, fidgeting with the engagement ring on your finger, a pout forming on your lips. You felt a little childish for it, but it didn’t matter. The thought of him being away even for a short time felt wrong now. Jude zipped his bag and turned, walking back over to you with a soft smile. His hand cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing away the worry that was etched into your expression. 

“Angel,” he said, his voice soft but reassuring, “don’t worry. I’ll be back before you know it. And soon I’ll be coming back home to you, as my wife, for the rest of my life.” Hearing Jude say that made your heart leap. ‘My wife.’ It sounded so surreal, so blissfully permanent. You felt a giddiness bubble up inside of you, like you were still that girl who had fallen for him—lucky that he had chosen you, out of everyone, to spend his life with.

“I know,” you whispered, pressing your hand over his on your cheek, leaning into his warmth. “But I’ll still miss you.” You cooed softly. He chuckled softly, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your lips. 

“I’ll miss you too. More than you know.” He replied gently. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of trying to delay the inevitable, Jude sighed and pulled back. His hand slipped from your cheek, fingers brushing over your arm until they finally let go. He looked at you one last time, his eyes filled with love and the faintest trace of reluctance, before heading down the steps to the waiting car. You stood in the doorway, arms wrapped around yourself, watching as he got into the backseat. Your heart twisted painfully, and the urge to call him back rushed over you. But you knew he had to go, and now when he came back, it would be like he said—he’d be coming back to you, always, for the rest of his life. As the car began to pull away, Jude looked back at you through the window, his eyes locked on yours. You raised your hand, waving softly, your lips curved into a small pout. He smiled back, his eyes crinkling at the edges, and blew you a kiss from the window. You caught it playfully, pressing it to your lips before kissing your engagement ring, feeling the cool metal and diamonds against your skin like a reminder of the promise he made. As the car disappeared out the drive and around the corner, the world felt a little quieter, a little emptier. But in your heart, there was nothing but warmth. You knew that no matter where he went, he’d always come back to you.

The next day, you were sitting on the couch alone, you hugged your knees to your chest, the tension in the room mirroring the tight scoreline on the screen. It was the Champions League, and Madrid was locked in a 0-0 stalemate as the game ticked away, every passing second making you more nervous. Your chin rested on your knees, your eyes flicking between the screen and the clock, before you gave in and buried your forehead against your legs, too anxious to watch the final moments unfold. The commentators’ voices boomed through the speakers, heightening your sense of dread. Time was running out, and you couldn’t help but feel the nerves crawling through your skin. Then suddenly, you heard it—Bellingham, goal in the 92nd minute! Your head snapped up, eyes wide with disbelief. You blinked, and there he was, Jude, sprinting towards the corner flag, arms outstretched, his face lit up with a smile so wide it made your heart soar. The entire stadium erupted around him, but all you could focus on was the way he slowed down, kissed his ring finger, and pointed directly at the camera mouthing ‘for you angel.’ The same ring finger you had kissed when he left for the game. A celebration just for you.  A laugh bubbled up from your chest, a mixture of relief and joy. You felt the weight of the distance between you lift, just for a moment, as if he was there with you. The feeling of being apart, of missing him so deeply, faded in the glow of that moment. It was these little things—these private gestures in public spaces—that made everything feel so special. Your heart swelled with pride and love, knowing that even though you were miles apart, he was thinking of you, playing for you, celebrating for you. You smiled, biting your lip to stop yourself from tearing up, and wrapped your arms tighter around yourself, feeling that connection bridge the gap between you. Being apart was awful, but moments like this were everything.

You stood in the dimly lit bathroom of your gallery, staring at your reflection, your fingers lightly tracing the line of your lips. You were obsessing over the lip liner, not because it wasn’t perfect but because your nerves had nowhere else to go. The voices from the event, the clinking of glasses, and the hum of conversations drifted in from outside the door. Tonight was supposed to be about the art, about the work you had spent months curating. Yet, your mind felt scattered, your thoughts circling the fear that this night was about more than that now. You placed your hands on the sink, taking a deep breath, your mind trying to recall the details of every conversation you’d had in Spanish. Your fluency had improved, but with each person you greeted, each question about the pieces, you wondered if you were truly coming across as the confident curator you needed to be. The stakes were higher now—not just because it was your gallery’s opening but because of who was linked to it. The whispers about Jude, even without the public knowledge of the engagement, were loud enough. The gallery was packed, largely because of the buzz surrounding him, and you couldn’t ignore the quiet unease that settled in your stomach. How long before anyone noticed the ring? You stepped away from the mirror and made your way back into the gallery, scanning the room filled with guests mingling, admiring the artwork, sipping on wine. Your eyes darted to the pieces hanging on the walls, your heart swelling with pride for the artists you had chosen, their work beautifully capturing the space. But then, the inevitable—someone brought up Jude. They asked, with a sly smile, if he was attending. You smiled, deflecting, giving an answer you hoped would move the conversation back to the art. But your smile faltered as you felt a wave of loneliness. You loved this gallery. You loved what you had built. Yet tonight, you were walking a tightrope, balancing between your identity as an art curator and the person the public increasingly linked to Jude. It was a surreal feeling—exhilarating, yes, but also heavy, like the weight of his shadow sometimes loomed larger than your own.

You stood in the middle of it all, watching the conversations swirl around you, trying to take it all in, when you felt a pair of familiar hands slide around your waist. A shiver of warmth ran down your spine, and you leaned back instinctively into Jude’s chest, closing your eyes. He pulled you into him, his chin brushing your shoulder as his presence melted away the tension you hadn’t realized you were holding. He had flown back for this moment, for you. You tilted your head to look up at him, his face soft with affection, the stress and anxiety of the evening easing with just that one glance. Jude whispered something against your ear, his breath warm, and you could feel his smile as he squeezed your waist. It was like he knew exactly when you needed him most, and the relief that surged through you made your eyes sting. You blinked back the tears, not wanting anyone to see the mix of emotions flooding through you.

“You came,” you whispered, as if it were still hard to believe.

“Of course I did, angel” Jude said softly, his voice warm with sincerity. “I wasn’t going to miss this for the world. So proud of you.” His hands rested protectively on your waist, and as you turned to face him, your hand instinctively touched his cheek. The noise of the gallery dimmed, everything else faded as you stared into his eyes. There was an unspoken understanding between you, a shared knowledge that this moment, this life you were building together, meant more than what anyone else could see. Jude tilted his head, his lips brushing your forehead in a kiss, and suddenly, all the chatter about him, the weight of the public eye, felt distant. People might be buzzing about him, but you hoped they would notice your work, the art you had worked so hard to display. Yet, even with that thought, there was something undeniably comforting about his presence here. He wasn’t just a celebrity to you—he was Jude, the person who grounded you, who made you feel like you could conquer anything, whether in this gallery or in the quieter moments of your life. As he held you, you could feel the eyes of a few guests shifting toward you, perhaps wondering when you two would make your rounds together, but neither of you moved. You were content to stay wrapped up in his arms, soaking in the comfort of knowing that no matter how much attention the two of you garnered, this—his support, his love—was yours, and yours alone.

“Do you think anyone’s noticed, baby?” you asked, your voice low, as your fingers traced the outline of the engagement ring hidden beneath your sleeve. Jude chuckled softly, his lips grazing your ear. 

“Don’t know… Probably were too busy wondering if I was even going to show up.” You rolled your eyes but you grinned. "Nah, angel, they're here for the gallery... for your work, the artist. I think we're in the clear." He cooed gently reassuring you. You felt a flicker of pride at the secret still safe between you two. 

“Okay, good,” you said, glancing around the room. “Let’s keep it that way… at least for now.” You sheepishly told him

“For as long as you want.” Jude whispered as he kissed the top of your head. He squeezed your waist, and you felt the world slow down just a little. You were no longer standing in the gallery filled with eyes and whispers—you were standing in a quiet space with the person who mattered most, the person who had flown back just for you, and for this, your dream. The rest could wait.

The night of the Ballon d’Or ceremony had an electric charge to it, the kind of energy that makes your skin hum. You felt it from the moment you stepped out of the car with Jude, flashes from the cameras lighting up the Parisian evening like fireworks. You had dressed carefully, elegantly, and Jude couldn’t take his eyes off you from the second you stepped into the light. You were in an Attico dress they Jude almost ripped off you before you even left for the event. His gaze was all-consuming, making you feel simultaneously adored and exposed under the intense scrutiny of the media. The rumors had been swirling all over the internet for days—speculation about your engagement sparked by every subtle clue, from Jobe’s playful 'sister' comment in an interview to photos of Jude’s kissing hid ring finger after his goals. The fans were running wild with theories, and tonight, standing next to Jude on the red carpet, you knew it would only intensify. You could feel Jude’s arm wrapped tightly around your waist, guiding you through the sea of cameras and lights. He hadn’t stopped telling you how beautiful you were, how perfect you looked, but somehow, under the intensity of the moment, those words felt distant, like echoes. You tensed, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. The world was watching, and it wasn’t just about the football anymore; it was about you and Jude—your relationship, your life together, and possibly the engagement. 

“You look so beautiful, Angel. I’ve got you, don’t worry.” Jude whispered, sensing your nerves, he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. The warmth of his words melted some of the tension, and you exhaled, relaxing slightly into the protective embrace of his arm. Jude always had this way of making you feel safe, even when you were standing in front of hundreds of cameras. He’d told you the same thing countless times tonight, but in that moment, it was exactly what you needed to hear. You let yourself settle into his hold, leaning into him as the flashes continued, grounding yourself in his presence. You both knew the engagement might come up tonight. You’d talked about it beforehand—how if it came up, you wouldn’t deny it but you wouldn’t necessarily make a big announcement either. Yet as the interviews began and Jude stayed glued to your side, you felt the nerves rise again. His clinginess tonight felt different, more deliberate, like he was trying to shield you from the chaos of the evening while still being his charming, professional self. As you approached the press, the interviews, and the swarm of photographers, the anxiety crept back in. You could feel the weight of the rumors hanging in the air, just waiting to be confirmed or denied. The ring on your finger, though visible, the news of it still hidden from the public, suddenly felt heavy, like a secret barely kept. Jude, as always, seemed completely at ease. His confidence, the way he stood so tall next to you, hand protectively on your waist, made it seem like he was untouchable. But you knew him better than that. You could sense the nerves hiding behind the way his thumb absentmindedly rubbed small circles into your side. He was trying to comfort you, but it was clear he was anticipating something too. The interviews began, and you smiled politely, staying close to Jude, letting him go on.  Jude answered them with the ease of someone who had done this a hundred times before. But the interviewer, a sharp woman with a knowing smile, turned to you next. 

“Do you think Jude will win tonight?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. You smiled, shyly glancing at Jude, and replied, 

“I’m a little biased but no matter I'm really proud of the year he's had,” your voice light, leaning into him as he grinned down at you. Then, without missing a beat, the moment you didn’t expect—Jude’s voice, soft and casual, but with a confidence that made your heart stop.

“My fiancée is the best thing I’ve won this year,” he said with a smirk, his voice crackling in your ear, as the cameras around you captured every second. “But I’m honored to be nominated.” You froze for a split second, your heart racing as the words settled in. Your breath caught in your throat. The word “fiancée” echoed in your ears, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t even have time to react before he pressed a kiss to your temple, holding you even closer as the realization set in—not just for you, but for everyone around you. It felt like the air around you thickened, the weight of the moment sinking in with every flash of the cameras. Jude pressed a gentle kiss to your temple again, humming contentedly, completely unbothered by the reaction he’d just set off. And just like that, it was out. You could hear murmurs, see the widened eyes of the reporters, and feel the collective buzz from everyone around you. The rumors were no longer rumors. Jude had just confirmed it—effortlessly, casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world. You were his fiancée. You blinked, turning slightly to meet his eyes, feeling a rush of emotion that made your knees a little weak. He squeezed your waist, that same reassuring smile on his face, as if to say, We’re in this together. The world might be watching, but all that mattered was the two of you, standing here, side by side.

The interviewer, visibly stunned, tried to recover, asking Jude a follow-up question, but the moment had already shifted. The attention wasn’t on his chances of winning anymore. It was on the two of you, standing there, side by side, no longer hiding the truth. Jude answered a few more questions, all while keeping you close, but the rest of the interview felt like a blur. You couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d just said—how natural it had been, how confident. He had called you his fiancée like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and suddenly, it was. The world knew now, and the weight of that realization settled over you in the best way possible. As the interview wrapped up and you moved through the rest of the evening, Jude never let go of you. Even when you sat down for dinner, surrounded by football royalty and celebrities, his hand remained intertwined with yours under the table. You glanced at him from time to time, still a little dazed by the enormity of the moment, but every time you did, he smiled at you, that same knowing smile that said, This is just the beginning.

And it was. The night continued, the awards were handed out, and even though Jude didn’t win the Ballon d’Or, it didn’t matter. He’d already won, and so had you. As you walked out of the ceremony, hand in hand, the buzz of the evening still swirling around you, you realized that the world had changed a little. You were no longer just Jude’s girlfriend—you were his fiancée, and the whole world knew it now. The rest of the night blurred after that moment, but you didn’t care. Jude had said it, and the truth was out there now. You were engaged. You were his. The joy you felt outweighed any nerves, and with Jude’s arm around you, you knew you could handle whatever came next.

The Ballon d’Or ceremony had already been a whirlwind, but nothing compared to the heart-pounding moment Jude declared to the world that you were his fiancée. You were still processing it, standing beside him on the red carpet, your hand resting on his chest as you leaned into his side. The heat of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat were the only things grounding you amid the chaos of camera flashes, reporters’ questions, and the weight of his revelation.  Your hand instinctively tightened around his, your fingers brushing over the ring. You turned to look at him, your eyes wide, still processing what had just happened earlier. Jude looked down at you, his smile soft but full of certainty. His gaze was unwavering, as if he’d been waiting for this moment for longer than you even realized.

The news of your engagement to Jude had ignited the internet, and while you tried to go about your normal routine, the world was already buzzing with excitement about your upcoming wedding. After the Ballon d’Or ceremony, life felt like it had been put under a magnifying glass. Every time you and Jude stepped out, people stared, speculating, photographing. And yet, despite all the attention, the little moments you shared in between—those felt like lifelines. You found yourself walking hand-in-hand with Jude through the heart of Madrid, the early afternoon sun casting a golden hue over the city. The two of you tried to stay low-key, just blending in with the crowd, but it was hard when the man beside you was Real Madrid’s biggest star. Still, Jude managed to make you feel like it was just the two of you, no cameras, no fanfare—just two people in love. As you passed by a Real Madrid FC store, Jude slowed to a stop, mischief in his eyes. 

“Angel, remember when I made you buy your first Madrid jersey?” he asked, grinning down at you. You laughed, nodding. It felt like a lifetime ago—back when you first arrived in Madrid. You’d gone into that same store, just entertaining Jude’s annoying teasing, but he had insisted. He wanted you to wear his name on your back, almost like a silent promise of what was to come.

“How could I forget? Those are fucking expensive especially considering you could’ve just given me one…” You rolled your eyes with a smile. He smirk, pulling you closer. 

“Well, I think it’s time for you to buy another.” He told you seriously.

“Huh? Why, baby?” You raised an eyebrow. You had plenty of Madrid jerseys now. Jude leaned down, his lips close to your ear, voice low. 

“Because I’m not just your favorite player anymore,” he whispered. “Now, I’m your favorite fiancée.” You couldn’t help but shake your head, though a smile tugged at your lips. The logic made no sense. You understood the sentiment but at this point you felt like that’s all you wore was a Bellingham jersey.

“You’re my only fiancée, Jude.” You corrected him with a kiss to his cheek. 

“That’s right,” he said, his hands on your waist, squeezing lightly. “And since Act II of our story has officially started, you need the right jersey to go with it. Not my girlfriend, need a fiance jersey... hmm?” His tone was playful, but there was something possessive in his gaze, something that made your heart race. You sighed dramatically but nodded, stepping out of his hold to walk into the store alone because you knew he couldn’t go with you. The inside was just as you remembered, bustling with fans excitedly grabbing their Bellingham #5 jerseys off the racks. It was surreal, watching people walk out with his name on their backs, and yet it still felt like he belonged to you in a way that no jersey or crowd could claim. You found the one you wanted and made your way back to him, holding it up with a playful smirk.

“Happy?” you asked, lifting the bag. “Act II can officially begin. My Bellingham jersey, just for you. My favorite player and my favorite fiance.” Jude’s laugh was warm, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he pulled you into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

“More than happy,” he murmured, his voice low and full of affection. “You’re not just my biggest fan, you know,” he said, pulling back slightly to meet your eyes. “You’re my best fan. My only fan.” There was a quiet intensity in his voice laced with playfulness and a possessiveness that made your heart skip a beat. His hands held you tighter, and you could feel the love radiating from him in waves. “Mine,” he added, and the word hung between you, carrying a weight that felt deeper than anything you’d ever experienced. You blushed, leaning into him, feeling like you’d burst with happiness. The bustling store, the busy Madrid streets, the noise of the world—it all faded into the background as you stood there in Jude’s arms, knowing that this was just the beginning of something even bigger, something that would always be yours and his.

“So once we share the last name I won't have to spend money on these anymore right?” You asked with a teasing glint in your eye. 

“What’s mine is yours.” He cooed with his arm around your shoulders, you couldn’t help but feel proud. Proud of him, proud of your relationship, and most of all, proud of the fact that the next chapter of your life would be written together.

🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞🍒 The End 🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶🪩

Thank you for reading!

The series has officially come to a close. I really can't express how much I loved talking about this with anyone that has messaged. From. 'You're Mine' to Act II and all the one shots in between I feel like I've created a little world that I really hope readers enjoyed. <3

Please like, comment, or message what you think of the final chapter or the entire series!

[onlinesuzie]

♡ more than just playing minecraft with hamzah ♡

words: 3k

genre: fluff

summary: You and Hamzah had been playing Minecraft together for a while but when you finally video call you start to realise that the flirty conversations could lead to something more.

notes: i love this idea so much, and wanted to write about a nervous little gamer hamzah for a while!!

☆

The sun had just begun to set, casting a warm glow over your room as you settled into your gaming chair, the familiar setup glowing softly in front of you. The headphones fit snugly over your ears, and the familiar “ping” of a message from Hamzah brought a smile to your face.

hamzahthefantastic: are you ready to play?

You chuckled, fingers dancing over the keyboard as you replied.

You: i always am!!

You had met Hamzah months ago on a random Minecraft server, and what started as a simple gaming night to distract yourself had now turned into a close friendship. Countless hours had been spent building, exploring, and mining on your own little SMP. Hamzah had a way of making even all the boring stuff so entertaining, his humor and stupid way of describing the game had meant that you had been playing every night.

The best times with Hamzah were the late-night talks when the rest of the world was asleep, and the game was forgotten. Hamzah opened up about his life, his goals for his channel, and his struggles in a way that felt so genuine. You found yourself looking forward to these conversations more than anything else, your heart racing whenever Hamzah’s name lit up your screen.

Recently, though, something had shifted. It was subtle, but undeniable. The easy conversation had begun to carry a weight of something more. You had caught yourself thinking about Hamzah more often, wondering what he looked like, imagining the expression behind the voice you had come to know so well.

As you were about to load the game, another message from Hamzah popped up, catching you off guard.

hamzahthefantastic: okay so i’ve got an idea, its okay if you don’t want to do it

You: oh no, should i be worried

hamzahthefantastic: no no! how about we like call tonight but with our cameras on?

hamzahthefantastic: i don’t know like we’ve been talking for so long, i feel like we should finally see each other

Your heart skipped a beat. You had thought about suggesting it yourself more than once, but nerves always got the better of you. Now, with Hamzah being the one to bring it up, the nervous feeling you’d been suppressing came rushing back.

You: i’d love to hamzah!!

hamzahthefantastic: thank god, i’m just curious to put a face to the voice, you know

The idea of finally seeing Hamzah’s face both excited and terrified you. What if he didn’t like what he saw? What if this changed things between you?

You hesitated for a moment, then pushed the doubts aside. You can’t back down now.

You: when do you want to

hamzahthefantastic: i’ll call you in a few

With the Minecraft world loaded and ready in the background, you couldn’t help the nervous energy buzzing through you as you prepared for the call. Your mind raced with what-ifs and half-formed thoughts.

Shaking off the doubts, you took a deep breath as your computer began playing the familiar tune of the incoming call appearing on your monitor. The screen flickered as it connected, and then there he was—Hamzah, the voice you had known so well, now accompanied by a face.

The first thing you noticed was his hair—thick, brown, and curly, disheveled around his face somehow so perfectly. His skin was a warm olive tone, and as he smiled shyly at the camera, your heart pounded in his chest. Those brown eyes, so full of life and warmth, met yours, and for a moment, you forgot how to speak.

“Hey,” Hamzah greeted, his voice slightly softer than usual, a hint of nervousness creeping in.

“Hey,” you replied, trying to keep your own voice steady. “So.. this is what you look like.”

Hamzah laughed, the sound making your stomach flutter. “Yeah, this is me. You’re not too disappointed, are you?”

Your mouth went dry as you took him in, from his muscular build visible even through the screen to the way his teeth gleamed when he smiled. He was more than you had imagined—so much more.

“No No! Not at all,” you managed to say, your voice betraying just a hint of the awe you felt. “You’re… definitely not what I expected.”

“Good or bad?” Hamzah asked, tilting his head slightly, a teasing smile on his lips.

“Definitely good,” you replied, your cheeks heating up. “Way better than good, actually.”

Hamzah’s confident exterior seemed to waver at the compliment, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. He looked away from the camera for a moment, clearly flustered. “Thanks,” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed but trying to brush it off with a laugh. “I mean I could say the same about you, you are so...beautiful, is that weird to say?”

You smiled, feeling a warm glow across your face. You’d been curious about what Hamzah looked like, but now that you knew, it felt like you could never go back to just calling. The face on the screen wasn’t just a voice or a friend—he was someone you could see yourself really falling for.

And as the conversation flowed from that moment on, just as it always did, you couldn’t help but wonder if Hamzah was feeling the same way.

The first call with Hamzah had gone even better than you could have imagined. The initial nerves had quickly went away, replaced by the familiar conversation that you both had already perfected over countless hours of gaming. But now, there was something different—an extra layer of connection that made every smile, every laugh, every glance feel more meaningful.

After that call, it became a regular part of your routine. You still played Minecraft together, but now you did so while seeing each other’s faces. The game became a backdrop to your conversations, a way to stay connected while exploring topics far beyond the blocky world on your screens.

Hamzah was now more than just someone you played Minecraft with—he was becoming someone you could confide in. He had this way of asking questions that made you open up, sharing pieces of yourself that you hadn’t shown to many people. And he did the same, revealing parts of his life that you hadn’t known before.

You’d talk about everything—your families, your lives, your favorites of anything. But there were also the quieter moments, the ones where neither of you felt the need to fill the silence. Those moments spoke louder than words ever could, and in them, you felt a growing relationship that made you feel warm all over.

One evening, as the two of you wandered through your Minecraft world, Hamzah leaned closer to the camera, his brown eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Okay, so hear me out,” he began, “I’ve been thinking about building this massive castle. Like, with those secret rooms, underground tunnels, the whole thing. What do you think?”

You smiled at his enthusiasm, watching as his curls bounced slightly with each gesture. “That sounds amazing,” you said, feeling your heart flutter at how passionate he was. “But only if we make it an actual project. I want it to be cute so please no ugly dirt towers.”

Hamzah grinned, his lips looking so soft, something that you hadn’t noticed before. “Ugh fine. It’s going to be so cool.”

As you started planning the castle, discussing everything from the type of stone to use to where the hidden passages would lead, you couldn’t help but be distracted by him. The way his eyes lit up when he was excited, the sound of his laughter when you teased him about his ambitious plans—it all made you feel an excitement that had nothing to do with the game and everything to do with him.

The more time you spent on these calls, the harder it became to ignore the way you felt about Hamzah. He was kind, funny, and ridiculously attractive without even trying. And every time he smiled at you through the screen, you found yourself falling a little more.

You hadn’t told him how you felt—partly out of fear, partly because you were content with the way things were. But deep down, you couldn’t help but wonder if Hamzah might feel the same way.

Then it was that Friday.

It was the evening, and you and Hamzah had just finished a particularly intense gaming night. Your characters were resting in a makeshift spruce house, and you both were still catching your breath from a surprise mob ambush that had left you laughing and shouting at the screen.

“That was insane,” Hamzah said, his grin wide and infectious. “I thought we were done for when those creepers showed up.”

“Honestly, same,” you laughed, leaning back in your chair. “But we made it through, thanks to me and you I guess.”

Hamzah shrugged, trying to play it cool, but you could tell he was pleased with the compliment. “Thank you thank you”

“Right,” you agreed, feeling that familiar comfort spread through you.

Just then, there was a noise on Hamzah’s end— voices you didn’t recognize, speaking in the background. Hamzah glanced off-screen, his expression shifting from relaxed to slightly annoyed.

“Hang on,” he said, raising a finger as if to pause the conversation. “Martin and Mandy are here. Let me just…” He trailed off as he turned away from the camera, clearly intending to mute his mic, but the sound of his voice continued to come through.

You heard the voice again, now more clearly. “Girl, are you still on with her?”

“Yeah, just finishing up,” Hamzah replied, his tone casual.

“You’re so lucky, man,” Mandy said, and you felt your breath catch in your throat. “She’s beautiful, like seriously. How did you even pull this off?”

You froze, your heart pounding as you realized what you were hearing. Hamzah had forgotten to mute himself, and now you were hearing a conversation you were never meant to hear.

Hamzah let out a soft, almost embarrassed laugh. “I know, right? I can’t believe it either. I’m really lucky. She’s just… incredible.”

Your face felt hot, your thoughts a whirlwind. Hamzah thought you were beautiful? And incredible? You could hardly believe what you were hearing. Part of you wanted to jump in and let him know that you could hear every word, but another part of you didn’t want to break the moment. It was as if everything you’d been wondering about, all the doubts and questions, had just been answered in one accidental confession.

Martin’s voice cut through your thoughts. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

Hamzah sighed, a mix of frustration and uncertainty in the sound. “I don’t know, man. I want to say something, but I don’t want to mess it up. What if she doesn’t feel the same?”

You swallowed hard, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. Hamzah wasn’t just your friend—he was someone who cared about you, who was scared of losing what you had. And in that moment, you knew that whatever happened next, you didn’t want to lose him either.

Before you could decide whether to speak up, Hamzah’s attention snapped back to the camera. “Martin, get out of here, you too Mandy” he said, this time making sure to mute the call as he dealt with his friends.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you watched Hamzah return to the screen, his expression back to its usual playful self.

“Sorry about that,” he said, shaking his head. “They’re always showing up at the worst times.”

You smiled, the warmth in your chest now mixed with a newfound confidence. You knew now, without a doubt, that Hamzah saw you as more than just a friend. And even though he didn’t know you had overheard, you felt closer to him than ever.

But instead of revealing what you’d heard, you decided to let things unfold naturally. There was no rush—you had time, and you wanted to savor every moment of this friendship, letting it grow at its own pace.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, your voice soft but steady. “I’m just glad we survived that though.”

Hamzah grinned, clearly relieved that you hadn’t seemed to notice anything unusual. “Same here. So, what’s next? More building, or are we calling it a night?”

You leaned forward, your heart still racing but your mind clear. “Let’s keep going. I think our castle could use a little more work.”

The castle was finally taking shape, with its towering walls and hidden rooms, all meticulously planned and built. You and Hamzah had spent hours perfecting every detail, and now, as the virtual sun began to set over your Minecraft world, you both stepped back to admire your work.

“Look at that,” Hamzah said, his voice filled with pride. “We actually did it.”

“Yeah, we did,” you agreed, smiling at the screen. “It’s perfect.”

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, quietly appreciating what you’d created together. But as the virtual day faded to night, so did your energy. You stifled a yawn, the late hour finally catching up to you.

“Hey,” you said softly, “I think I’m going to log off for the night. It’s getting pretty late.”

Hamzah hesitated, and you noticed the slight shift in his expression—a reluctance, as if he wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye yet. “Yeah, me too,” he finally said, though his voice lacked its usual enthusiasm. “But… do you think we could still stay on the call for a bit? You know, just talk?”

His request took you by surprise, though it wasn’t completely unexpected. Over the past few days, you’d grown accustomed to your late-night conversations, the ones that stretched long after the game had ended. There was something comforting about those quiet moments when it was just the two of you, the world around you fading into the background.

But tonight, you were exhausted, and the idea of lying in bed while still on call was tempting. You bit your lip, considering how to phrase your response.

“I’d love to,” you said gently, “but I’m getting ready for bed, so I’ll have to turn off my camera. Is that okay?”

There was a brief pause on Hamzah’s end, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer, tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “Yeah, that’s okay. I just… I’ll miss your face, that’s all.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words, the unexpected vulnerability catching you off guard. Hamzah rarely let his guard down like this, and it was clear that he was nervous about admitting how he felt.

“Hamzah,” you said, smiling even though he couldn’t see you, “I’ll miss seeing you too. But I’m still here, even if you can’t see me.”

There was a soft, almost shy chuckle from his end. “I know, I know. It’s just… different, you know? Seeing you there, it just… makes me you know… happy.”

His words made your heart swell, and you couldn’t help but feel a rush of affection for him. “You make me happy too,” you replied, your voice warm and sincere.

Another pause, and then Hamzah spoke again, his tone a mix of relief and embarrassment. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make it weird. I just… I really like talking to you.”

“You didn’t make it weird,” you assured him, your heart aching at how sweet and genuine he was. “I like talking to you too. That’s why I’m still here.”

There was a moment of silence, but it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. Instead, it was filled with understanding.

Finally, Hamzah let out a deep breath, as if he’d been holding it in. “Okay, well… I’ll let you get ready for bed. But don’t log off just yet, okay? I want to hear your voice a little longer.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. “I’m not going anywhere,” you promised.

With that, you turned off your camera and set your phone down, the screen now dark but still connected to Hamzah. You moved about your room, getting ready for bed while Hamzah kept talking, his voice a comforting presence in the background. He told you about his day, about something funny that had happened with Martin, and about a new game he thought you might like.

As you climbed into bed, you found yourself listening more to the sound of his voice than to the actual words. There was something soothing about it, something that made you feel safe and content. You closed your eyes, imagining his face even though you couldn’t see it.

“Hey,” Hamzah said after a while, his voice quieter now. “You still there?”

“Yeah,” you murmured, already feeling yourself drifting off. “I’m here.”

He chuckled softly. “You sound tired. Maybe I should let you sleep.”

“Maybe,” you agreed, though you didn’t really want to end the call. “But I don’t mind. I like listening to you.”

There was a pause, and then Hamzah spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I like listening to you too. I could do this every night.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart flutter, and you smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. “Maybe we will,” you whispered back.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Maybe we will.”

And with that, you let the comforting sound of Hamzah’s voice carry you into sleep, knowing that when you woke up, he’d still be there—maybe not physically, but in the connection you shared, one that was growing stronger with every conversation.

As your breathing evened out, Hamzah listened to the silence on the other end of the call, a small smile playing on his lips. He didn’t say anything else, not wanting to wake you. Instead, he just stayed on the line for a little while longer, content to know that you were there, even if you weren’t awake to hear him.

And as he finally hung up the call, he couldn’t help but feel that something special was beginning to take shape, something that went beyond the game, beyond the screen—something lovely with Hamzah.

[hitomisuzuya]

Gamer!Scaramouche x fem!reader. Fluffy fluff fluff Humor. Scara laughing and being in love.

I do intend to write smut later, but this idea popped into my head. The image of this man bursting out into genuine laughter at something he thought was really funny is just 🥰😌 Inspired by a Tik Tok and directional confusion for the Seelie event.

As good as Scaramouche was at video games, he had his off days like everyone else (it made him pissy to admit it). He was missing shots that he normally made easily while he was live streaming a first person shooter game.

"Your aim sucks today, my love," You said, grinning as you came into view on the camera to kiss his cheek.

His cheeks turned a dark crimson. "Yeah, whatever. You think you can do better?" The blushed darkened more when a few messages popped up in the chat box saying things like, "Hey look, Scara's wife is here!"

"Get your eyes back in your heads, fools," He snarled a little at the screen.

"Hmph, I probably could do better," You said, crossing your arms and looking away from him. He knew your blustering was to cover up how shy you felt.

Scaramouche sat back and handed you the controller. "Okay, let's see it then," He looped an arm around your waist, pulling you into the spot he enjoyed having you the most when you played games on a live stream with him: his lap.

"Fine, you'll be putting your money where your mouth is," Settling onto his lap, a little bit of a nervous smile on your face, you took the controller. It always made you a little nervous to live on camera with him. His fingers rubbed at your hip soothingly.

Now, whenever you played a game with him on a stream, there were a lot of moments where it showed that Scaramouche is genuinely in love with you.

The way he beamed at you with pride when you made a perfect shot. If you looked unsure of when to shoot, he put his hands on yours and helped you aim. "That's my girl," He praised, running his fingers through your hair. Seeing the cute way your cheeks flushed from his praise made his heart flutter.

Now you were at a point in the game where you had to consult a map to see where to go. Except, something just wasn't clicking with you. You flip flopped between looking at the map in your inventory and the mini map, saying "That looks like where I need to go, but I am not sure.."

You did this a few times, going to different parts of the map and looking totally confused when you realized it was the wrong area. "I..I don't understand..I thought that's where I needed to go. Maybe I should go back the way I came.."

Suddenly, Scaramouche snorted and burst into laughter. "I can't help it. You just look so cute, and so stupid, I just can't," He could barely finish his sentence around the laughter.

You stopped playing and looked at him with a soft smile on your face. Scaramouche was genuinely laughing at something he thought he was funny. Not scoffing and making fun of it with a glare on his face, but genuine laughter with the most beautiful grin on his face.

It was a moment to live for.

You sighed and handed him the controller. "Wanna put me out of my misery?"

Scaramouche wipes some tears from his eyes. "Glady, by the way, you ran right by the area you were supposed to go to three times," He snickered as he marked the right place on the map.

"I..what?" You sputtered, "And you didn't say anything--" Scaramouche cut you off with a long, slow kiss on your lips.

[geeky-politics-46]

Kinktober 2023 - Day 6

Sex Tape with Doctor Stephen Strange

"A Picture Is Worth 1000 Words"

Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!

Summary: You are feeling self-concious & down on your appearance, but Stephen has an unconventional idea of how to make you realize how sexy & beautiful you really are.

Warnings: Smut (NSFW) - 18+ ONLY - body image issues, voyeurism & exhibitionism via photo & video, dirty talk, swearing, pet names, oral sex, creampie, vaginal sex, slight daddy kink, a bit of fluff & a little angst.

You weren't even sure what had triggered your self-image issues at the moment. Honest to God, you were just sitting in bed watching a YouTube video, pursuing the sidebar recommended videos when you started comparing yourself to other people.

It didn't matter if it was just a random ad or a promo for a TV show. You started sizing yourself up to all the actresses, models, and even some normal people. No matter who it was, you felt you couldn't compare.

Your stomach was too big. Your butt was too small. You were too short. Too plain looking. Hell, sometimes you weren't even sure how you compared to average. You didn't think you were hideous, but you forever felt like the ugly duckling. Like the potential to be beautiful was there. It just never blossomed. Or, like you sabotaged being pretty by not having enough restraint to eat better or lose weight. 

For once in your life, you wanted to be the bombshell. You were too weird to be the girl next door. You always fell into the quirky/cute and funny category. People fell for you once they got to know your personality, but you knew that never once had you stopped a guy dead in his tracks across the room. 

In an effort to make yourself feel smaller, you dug around for your massive old sweatshirt. The one you wore whenever you were feeling sad. The material had piled up in places, and it was starting to get holes in others, but the super stretchy material still felt just as big and cozy as if it was brand new. The dark eggplant purple color was also somehow soothing compared to the mostly blacks and grays of your daily wardrobe.

You had settled back in, deep in your own thoughts, when your partner entered the bedroom. You had been with Doctor Stephen Strange for a while now. Long enough that you had more or less informally moved into the Sanctum. You got to spend more time with Stephen and didn't have to pay rent. It was a win-win. The only downside was that you couldn't hide from him when your inner demons reared up. 

You didn't even realize he had been talking to you as he changed out of his sorcerer's robes and into his sweats for bed. It wasn't until he sat down in front of you and lifted your chin up to look directly at him that you realized you weren't paying any attention to a thing he was saying. 

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

You hated the genuine concern on his face. He spent his days literally saving the universe, and here you were trapped inside your own spiraling thoughts. 

"Nothing is wrong."

You said it while staring down at your hands. You were never good at hiding things from Stephen when you were face to face.

"Even if I wasn't a brilliant doctor, MD, and PhD, I know that's your 'I'm sad' sweatshirt. So something is definitely wrong." 

You closed your eyes and shook your head, trying to jiggle loose the thoughts that were waying you down. Not wanting to waste Stephen's time with your shallow worries. Yeah, he was your boyfriend, but he had plenty more vastly important things to do than talk you off a self-image cliff.

"It's stupid, Stephen."

"Don't care. You've listened to me say stupid stuff plenty of times. This just makes us one closer to even."

You rolled your eyes at him, and you knew he wasn't about to give up. Stephen was the most stubborn person you had ever met. In fact, his stubbornness was part of why he pursued you for so long before you finally agreed to go out with him. If he was set on finding out what was bothering you, nothing would stop him until you told him.

So after another moment of trying to get him off the topic, you finally relented and told him what had you feeling down. Shrinking down farther into your sweatshirt as you spoke, fumbling for the right words. Letting the cozy fabric serve as its own kind of armor.

"I don't even know what got me thinking it, but I'm just feeling down on myself. That there just isn't anything about me physically that is special. I don't think I'm ugly, I just don't get why you bothered to even give me a second glance. Let alone what keeps you interested. You are the great Doctor Strange. You are so hot, Stephen, and I'm just me. I'm just plain. I'm chubby with stretch marks. You are gorgeous. You could literally be with the most beautiful women in the world."

You could see him almost flinch when you called yourself plain and that you doubted how enamored he was with you. Even if he knew it was only a passing thought, he never wanted you to question his love for you. Ever.

When it took a few moments for him to say anything in response, you immediately started to take it all back. Not wanting to drag him down into your funk with you.

"See, I shouldn't have said anything, I'm just having a bad night and -" 

Stephen cut you off with a passionate kiss. The kind of kiss that could make you forget your own name. Cupping your face in both of his hands before pulling away from your lips to place several more small kisses on your forehead and in your hairline. Gradually adjusting so he could pull you closer and wrap his arms tighter around you.

"First of all, I love you so much you don't even know. So don't think for one second I would rather be with anyone else. Second of all, I know that you don't necessarily see what I see when you look in the mirror, and you don't even have to believe me, but you are gorgeous. Do you not see that half the other guys practically trail you around like puppies? Rogers turns bright red when you smile at him, and it's a wonder Barnes and Wilson haven't followed you home like strays yet."

That made you laugh. You did know Steve had harbored a crush on you before you started dating Stephen. Tony had let that spill one night after a party. Both Sam and Bucky were such flirts all the time with everyone. Of course, they always acted sweet on you. You assumed it was just them or their way of being nice. You would have to pay better attention next time you saw them, though. Just to see. 

"If one of them does follow me home, can I keep him?" 

You squinted your eyes and pouted your lips at Stephen. You loved giving him a hard time, and he loved giving you one right back.

"Absolutely not. Even if they scratch and howl at the door all night long. I'm the only one who gets to keep strays, and that only applies to America. On a good day, maybe Parker."

You giggled and shook your head in agreement. America was definitely a great addition to your little family. It did lift your spirits a little thinking about all of that, but it still didn't leave you feeling better about yourself. 

Stephen could see the way you were picking at the skin on your hands. Like you were trying to pick away the self-consciousness or what you felt were imperfections. It was a habit he noticed you fell into when you were extra hard on yourself. So, in an effort to distract you and stop you from picking at your skin, he took one of your hands in both of his.

"Do you remember the day you held my hand the first time? Do you have any idea how terrified I was? I was terrified that you were suddenly going to realize how broken and ugly my hands are. How damaged I am, and realize just how below your own league you were dating. Still are, by the way, so maybe I shouldn't say anything. You are the sexiest most beautiful woman I have ever met, inside and out. Every inch of you is incredible and perfect to me. I thought that before you even said a word to me, and getting to know you, and falling in love with you has only made me more sure. There is no one in this universe I could ever find sexier or more special."

"Tell you what, I have an idea..." 

Stephen stood up from the bed, moving over to shut the bedroom door. Throwing the lock, too. Now that you had a teenager running about the Sanctum, it was better safe than sorry. Then, he pulled his phone from his pocket. Setting it on airplane mode as he walked back over to you.

"How about I show you what I see? Give you some actual physical proof of how beautiful you are? A picture is worth a thousand words. I imagine some more revealing, naughty photos would be worth even more."

You chuffed at him and raised a questioning brow at his suggestion. 

"Stephen, are you seriously suggesting that I let you take naked photos of me as a way of making me feel better about myself? Are you sure that isn't just gonna make you feel better?" 

His signature cheeky grin was plastered on his face, and his bright blue eyes were twinkling with mischief.

"Can't it do both? Besides, you know I've asked before for something I can enjoy when I can't have you with me, and I think you look perfect right now. Already in our bed. Already cozy and dressed for bed. Few layers to take off. This is the you I want to see when I'm not here with you."

He came over to where you were still sitting on the bed. An extra swagger in his step and a grin because of the blush you were now sporting. He started to pull teasingly at the hem of your sweatshirt with the hand he didn't have his phone in.

"Come on, take this off. I want you to see how sexy you are. I promise I will let you delete them if you want, although I certainly wouldn't mind keeping a couple for myself, but I want you to see how you look when it's just you and me. Right here, in this bed. The version of you that only I get to see, at least I do hope it's only me. A woman who puts all those supermodels and Playmates to shame. Even first thing in the morning. A goddess if one ever existed, even with bedhead and morning breath." 

Layer by layer, you let Stephen slowly strip off your clothes and arrange you on the bed. His fingers and lips adoring every new inch of skin that he exposed before proceeding to take picture after picture. Lovingly caressing every spot you deemed less than perfect. Letting him talk you through pose after pose. Some were simple and basic, normal poses. Some a bit more sultry with little left to imagine. The less clothing remained, the more bold he got with your poses. 

As your impromptu photoshoot went on, he also tried to distract you from feeling self-conscious about your body coming into view. Sometimes, by making you laugh. Sometimes, by getting a goofy look on his face as he just kind of stared at you. Almost awestruck. 

"You really have no idea how much I fantasize about you, do you? How much of my day I spend trying not to think about you? How when we first started dating, I felt like a teenager trying to control his raging hormones because all I could think of was this. What it would be like if I got the privilege to get this beautiful, incredible woman naked in my bed. That I swore if I got you here, I would never let you leave. I hate that someone ever made you feel like you are anything less than gorgeous, whether in your ratty sad sweatshirt or all dressed up. Although, this, no clothes at all, is definitely my personal favorite."

You tried not to tear up at his genuine sweetness. You could feel your cheeks blushing at his statement, too. You buried your face into the pillow you were holding before softly turning and peeking out at him from the side. Only to find him waiting for the moment you locked eyes with him to take a photo. 

In a sudden burst of confidence, you bit your bottom lip and rolled onto your back. Letting the entirety of your body be on display. Laying back and resting your head on the pillow and stretching your arms up overhead, your legs spreading on their own. You closed your eyes and arched your back as you inhaled deeply. Like you were a cat basking in the warmth of the sun. 

Your mind was completely clear of all thought until you heard a stuttered breath from your lover. It was a sound you had never heard Stephen make before. It sounded like he was looking at a priceless piece of art or one of the seven wonders. He sounded like he was in awe. Like he was in awe at the sight of your body and your beauty.

You were about to dismiss his, what you were sure had to be, over embellished praise, but then you opened your eyes. You were rendered speechless by the look of utter wonder on his face as he let his cerulean blue eyes wash over every inch of you. For possibly the first time, you saw him really seeing you, and it melted any remaining self-doubt you had in that moment.

You immediately reached out to pull Stephen to you. Wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him sweetly. Rubbing your nose against his and whispering loving thanks against his lips.

"Thank you, Stephen. I love you, and even though I don't necessarily see what you see, you always make me feel beautiful. Why don't we take a few pictures together, or maybe a video or two? Maybe I want something for when you aren't here too." 

Stephen's eyes darkened at the suggestion. You had your suspicion that Stephen had a bit of an exhibition kink. You had sent each other pics before, a short video clip or two, and sexted all the time. You knew the idea of filming the two of you fucking would intrigue him. A wicked smile found it's way to his face. 

"Oh sweetheart, you have no idea how many times I've thought of you asking that or that I've thought of asking. Are you really okay with filming us fucking? Of course it's just for the two of us. Sorcerer's honor. " 

Stephen started trying to fiddle with the phone, trying to figure out the best way to set it up to film the two of you. Finding it hard to concentrate after you started leaving kisses on his neck. Stopping to bite and suck at the spot just below his earlobe before continuing to whisper his darkest desires in his ear.

"Well, Stephen, actually the idea does get me a little hot. Maybe if the video turns out really good, a few seconds or minutes can get leaked to a naughty site or two. Anonymously, of course. I don't want to share you with any other woman, but I wouldn't mind showing off all the ways I worship you. Let everyone see how lucky I am. Maybe get some outside opinions of how we look together." 

Stephen's eyes practically rolled back in his head at the thought. He never would suggest it himself, but he kind of loved the sound of that. Of the world getting to see how good the two of you looked together. Of seeing how well you both fit together. How your bodies were made for each other.

He scrambled off the bed using the pile of books on the dresser to create a tripod to set up the phone. Hitting record and making sure the bed was centered in the frame before coming back to join you in the sheets again. He used his magic to strip himself of his clothes. If you two were going to make a sex tape, he was gonna put some extra showmanship in it.

You couldn't help but giggle as you reach your arms out towards him. Stepben didn't waste a minute before he started crawling up your body. Teasing and nipping at your bare skin and making sure to snuggle and rub his goatee against you. Your hands immediately grabbed in his dark brown hair, loving how soft and full it felt in your fingers. 

As your lips connected, you both groaned in pleasure. Your bodies grinding and rubbing. Letting your hands roam all over Stephen's body now that you had plenty of him to touch. You could feel Stephen's cock already erect between you. Truth be told, taking those photos of you had essentially acted as foreplay for him. He was ready to go by the time he was setting up the camera. 

You moaned when you felt his hard shaft slide against the crease of your hip, so close to your sex that was starting to ache for him. Your legs reflexively spread even more on the large bed, and your nails scraped down Stephen's sides. 

"Is there something you want, baby? Tell Daddy what you need."

A sly smile on his face as he spoke. Loud enough to make sure the camera heard. Descending back on you and starting to kiss your neck. Sucking a patch or skin into his mouth hard enough to ensure you would bear a mark the next day.

Your brain finally coming back into focus when he playfully bit the same sensitive spot. His bright blue eyes met yours, and he gave you a cheeky wink. 

"Come on, pretty baby. Don't get all shy on me now. Not after you let me take all those naughty pictures of you. Plus, this part was your idea, after all. So you better speak up."

A soft groan pulled from your throat as you arched your back and ran your hands up his strong arms. Letting your fingernails scrape along his shoulders. Leaving little red scratches marking him as yours. 

"Want you, Stephen. Want you to fuck me. Pretty please, Stephen. Fuck me like only you can, baby."

He rewarded you with a deep kiss, letting his teeth nip at your bottom lip before he started working his way down your neck. Stopping to whisper a "that's my good girl" in your ear before continuing down to your collarbones. Raising his voice once again so it would be audible on the video when he started speaking again.

"You know you are the only one I want to fuck right? This is the only body that gets me this fucking hard. Your's is the only pretty little pussy I dream about filling up every chance I get. Want you full of my cum all the time. Want everyone to know you're mine." 

You felt over the moon as Stephen started to kiss his way down your body. Stopping and spending a little bit of extra attention every time he hit a spot that elicited a gasp or moan. Making you arch your back to give him access to every inch of bare skin you could.

He momentarily popped back up to kiss your lips. Suddenly taking your hand in his and lowering it so you were cupping his hard length. Letting his hips rut forward as you started to eagerly massage his hard cock. Already moving to sit up, anticipating taking him in your mouth, only for him to push you back down on the bed.

"Nope, I'm not done with you, baby, lay back. Just wanted you to feel how hard you got me. Feel how much taking those naughty photos of you turned me on? And they are all mine to enjoy, just like my cock is all yours to enjoy."

With that, he promptly began working his way back down your body. Coming to rest between your thighs, pulling your legs up over his shoulders. Leaving small nips on the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh and rubbing his facial hair against your skin to tease you.

A soft "Stephen, please!" escaped from your lips as you impatiently waited for his lips and tongue to work their magic on you. Feeling your hips thrust on their own when you felt him blow against your wet cunt. Making your sex flutter and clench. One of his favorite sights. 

"Make sure you don't hold back any of those pretty noises darling, want to make sure everyone can hear. Look at the camera as I eat you out, baby." 

You followed his instructions and let your head turn to the side. Keeping your eyes open as you stared into the lens. Trying to fight the inkling of self-consciousness tugging at the back of your mind. 

Those thoughts vanished completely the moment you felt Stephen's warm tongue make its first pass through your folds. All you could focus on was the feeling of his mouth on you. The scratch of his goatee against your most sensitive spots. He was taking his time. Lavishing your cunt with long licks and sucking kisses.

Stephen was a perfectionist, and that translated into every aspect of his life. Including sex. His photographic memory helping to make sure he knew exactly what way to lick and suck at your pussy to bring you to climax in record time. Only using his fingers on occasion. He could get you there with his mouth alone. Tonight was clearly going to be one of those nights.

Your back arched as he suckled on your clit. Keeping your gaze locked on the camera lens. Making sure to give Stephen the sights and sounds he wanted for your video. A long moan falling when you felt his tongue thrusting in and out of you. Hitching your legs up higher and farther apart so he could go deeper while letting your hips start to rut against his face.

As soon as he could feel you getting close to orgasm, Stephen pulled away and pounced on you once again. Wasting no time before he started to slowly thrust his hard cock into you. His lips biting at your neck.

He growled when you whimpered at the feeling of his cock bottoming out inside you. Holding perfectly still and letting you start to squirm beneath him. Wanting you to beg him to move. 

"Tell me what you want. Want you to say it again. Say it to the camera, sweetheart. Tell them why you're whimpering."

Your face now contorted into a pout as you tried so hard to get any sort of friction. Stephen's hips pushed flush to yours, holding you firmly in place.

"Want you to fuck me, Stephen. Need you to fuck me hard. Make me feel good, daddy. Please make me cum. Please."

He smiled and kissed you deeply. Bringing his hands to cup your face and giving you another moment of sweet intimacy before he gave you what you wanted. Pulling away and pulling your legs up over his shoulders. Scooting you just a little so the camera would be able to see his cock stretching and filling you. Once he had you right where he wanted you he began thrusting. 

"You asked for it, sweetheart. You turn me on so fucking much. This is just gonna be the first time I make you cum tonight. I'm not gonna stop until you feel like a goddess. My goddess." 

You reached up to intertwine you fingers with his as he started fucking you harder. Leaning forward so your ass was slightly lifted up off of the bed and his tip was pummeling that sweet spongy spot on your front wall. Making you clench around him each time he hit it. Your voice coming out in little squeaks and the sound of skin slapping punctuating Stephen's movements. 

You could already feel your orgasm building when Stephen moved to bring one hand down to begin rubbing at your clit. Pulling his cock out long enough to smear some of your wetness on the swollen bundle of nerves. Your cunt immediately clenching around him as he started tracing small circles there with his thumb. 

"That's it, my love. Can feel you getting close. You better cum soon because I'm not gonna be able to hold on much longer. Wanna fill you up every day. Mark you as mine. Inside and out. Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum."

Stephen's own dirty talk getting the best of him. His head dropping down to watch his cock slamming in and out of your drenched cunt. Your pussy gripping tight around him sending him over the edge. His thrusts getting faster and his fingers on your clit mirroring his hips.

He let out a deep groan as he started cumming inside you. The feeling of his warm thick cum filling you triggering your own orgasm. Your cunt drenching his cock and his cum filling you completely. Your moans mingling in harmony with Stephen's. Your hands that were still clasped gripping each other tighter. 

Stephen's body falling onto yours and your lips meeting for slow, sweet kisses as your highs continued to ebb and flow. The sensations slowly fading as you came back down together. The feeling of Stephen's weight on top of you lulling you closer to sleep. All worries and neuroses disappearing and receding back into the depths of your mind. 

You were with Stephen, and Stephen loved you exactly as you were. He only had eyes for you, and he would love you no matter what. Even on days when you couldn't see your beauty, you knew he would help you to see it. Even when you didn't love yourself, he would give you enough love for both of you.

Eventually, Stephen rolled to the side and pulled you with him. Settling you under the covers and holding you close. Pressing kisses all over your face as you floated in the twilight space between waking and sleep. Not moving or pulling away until your breath settled into a steady rhythm that told him you were close to sleep.

Then Stephen stood up and went over to the phone. Stopping the recording and bringing the phone back over to the bed. Setting it down on his nightstand and purposely not setting his usual morning alarm. He wanted to sleep in with you tomorrow. He would deal with Wong later.

You were too exhausted to review the products of your photoshoot right now, but the next time you were feeling down or self-conscious, Stephen would be ready to show you just how beautiful you really were. If you still didn't believe him, maybe he would bring up the idea of an outside opinion like you suggested. You would have the world drooling over you, and he would get to gloat that you were all his.

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

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Stephen Strange Taglist: @starkiller-queen @glitterylokislut @verycollectivecreator @chatampr @maskmare931 @lovecleastrange @wheredafandomat @mkixx @evelynrosestuff @katefullerrr @littlepinknightmare @foofarny @stygianoir @moonroyalt @saturnsbabe69 @blaxdet @blackrose-92 @ironstrange1991 @ghxul-x @nancy-thompsons @wolfatheartandsoul @dangerouslittlefairy @n0obmaster-69 @oliveoilthoughts @onebatch--twobatch @yourmajesty13 @blondekel77 @lil-sweater-slut @gwephen @taramaria @sinceimetyou @slashersrus @coeurgrenaty @cc13723things @just--a-magpie @supervengerslock @strangelockd @dont-feel-so-good-peter @kingsmanperfecthartwin @ghost-lantern @inlovewithloki16 @thefalconandthewinterwidowshield @itssmaugtheterrible @katherinemaximoff @veryfancydoilies @cute-angi @mochacake2016 @prix19 @alexfanficnook @anotheroddfish @namor-is-the-way @xourownsidee @baes-x @dreamingsmile @negar77rd @imaginesfreetotake @ppatricia34me @rougepetale @tis-vereon @divinearchangel @sherlux @hiddlechive @ginnykate @thatesqcrush @friendofplenti @yuugenmomo @holdmyowos @the-royal-petals @lokislov3 @captaincarmel164 @lucimorningst4r @mydearalmira @petalcranberry @singhfae @emotionsareforuglypeople @trappedinlimbo15 @veryladyqueen @icytrickster17 @kentucky-criedfricken @briefhandsstudenttoad @calamityismyspecialty @sinisterstrange616 @patbrdac @trojanaurora @azu21 @massivehahaao3tree @strangesgirls @tobios-shawty @evelyn-kingsley @rmoonstoner

[i-luvsang]

do i get to know your name? — kim chaewon

pairing : idol!chaewon x fan!gn!reader ➖⟢ genres : fluff, idol!au ➖⟢ cw : nothing, i think!➖⟢ wc : 1K

chaewon falls a little bit in love with a lot of her fans. they’re all so pretty, so sweet as they grin and cheer her on. but god, the second she makes eye contact with you, with your eyes turned up and a smile so genuine and joyful that it lights your face up in a way she’s never seen before, it’s over for her. she sends you a wave and a wink, more than satisfied by your wild reaction as you scream in joy.

all night long, she pays special attention to you, always drifting back to you to point at you, pick up your phone and wave to it, even blow you kisses and send you hearts with her pretty hands. all while staring right at you, she talks into her mic about "how pretty our fearnots are." 

you think you must be going crazy. there's no way she'd pay all that close attention to you, right? you wonder if she always does this for other fans, but you can't help but deliver a happy reaction each time she does something that seems like it's just for you. she winks, and you wink back, making her grin even wider than before. she loves that she can make you shy in an instant, but that you’re willing to flirt back too.

she notices how kindly you act towards the other fans around you, and it hits her that she just needs to know you. chaewon can’t quite place it, but there’s something about you that has her thinking about you as she performs a song or the moment she walks in another direction to greet other fans.

after the concert, by some miracle, she manages to convince the staff to find you, and they actually do. you’re eternally confused when they invite you backstage, thinking it must be a joke or wondering if you did something horribly wrong to get in some sort of massive trouble.

they stick you in a random room and ask you to wait just a few minutes, brushing off your questions due to how busy they are. nervously, you pick at the hem of your shirt, the adrenaline from the concert still coursing through your veins, making it difficult for your brain to differentiate between the nervousness due to your unknown situation and the excitement of the rest of the night. to distract yourself, you pull out your phone, pulling up the video of chaewon grabbing it and posing for your camera. you giggle helplessly when she blows a kiss to the camera, then hands it back to you with a flirty smile that could have you melting right then and there.

you barely catch the sound of the door opening over the sounds of the screams coming from your phone. you quickly shut it off and set it down, hoping no one catches you in such a state. the device nearly tumbles straight to the floor when you look up to who opened the door.

you fumble for words, but she doesn’t let you flounder for too long before speaking.

“hi,” she grins, “sorry to keep you waiting, i just had to make sure i caught you before you left.”

her words don’t help you make sense of things at all, because it’s chaewon herself standing right in front of you.

“well, i mean, i-it’s okay! no worries, i’m so you’re so busy and exhausted right now and– yeah. um. did you, uh– need something from me?” mentally, you’re slapping your palm to your forehead. could i sound any stupider, you berate yourself in your head, still infinitely confused.

she can’t help but laugh softly, sweet and good-natured, at your flustered stake given how endearing she finds it. she always thinks it’s cute when her fans get nervous around her, but again, god, you’re just something different. with you, she just feels all the adoration tenfold when she looks at you, and she realizes that maybe love at first sight is real.

the smile she gives you is so sweet you really think you’re in true danger of melting this time. “well, you really caught my eye, i guess.” suddenly she’s feeling a little shy, too, realizing she’s never done anything like this before. but she pushes through it, easily back to her flirty and cute self. “and i couldn’t just let you disappear on me. you’re too cute for that.”

your eyes widen. you feel as though you must be hallucinating. “i– really?” is all you manage to say.

“really,” she confirms. “i know this is unconventional, and you don’t have to say yes to anything if you just want to stay my fan, but i’d really like to get to know you. if you want, let’s start with your name.” she grins, eager to hear your name so she can let it fall off her own lips.

“i’m– i mean, i would love that, i just– are you sure? i mean– that’s great, i’m just– just a bit– i don’t know, confused, i guess? this just … kind of doesn’t feel real,” you let out a disbelieving laugh, mostly at this whole situation and partially at how little sense you probably just made. and despite your last few words about this feeling fake, an uncontrollable grin tugs at your lips.

“i’m definitely sure,” she smiles right back at you. “and like i said, i know this is out of the norm, i get it not feeling quite real, even i’m a little confused right now, but truly, i just couldn’t get you out of my head since the moment we met eyes and i know that sounds super strange, but i’d really like to know more about you.

you let out another flustered laugh, but her words and the sincerity of her tone finally begin to sink in. “i’d really like that, too.”

she looks at you expectantly, like you’ve forgotten something. you raise your eyebrows questioningly, wondering what she’s looking for.

“so, do i get to know your name?”

[judeyswife]

not what i’m looking for. — jude bellingham x reader. II

genre : angst

word count : 928

note : hii lovies, this is official part two of the series not what im looking for !!! (part one) please let me know of what yall think in the comments! there will be a part 3 guys so don't worry, but it'll probs be a wrap up for this mini series since i want to get started on some other fics too + made a few format changes and writing from author's pov this time -- but thats it! enjoyyy! requests box always open !!

‏‏‎ ‎ ———————————————————-‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎

"i'm sorry"

it's horrendous how fast people switch up. or i'd say men, in this case. it's been roughly about six months since that conversation had happened. it was honestly one of the worst days in your whole life. i mean, yeah you'll get through it. but why? every once in a while you think about what did she have that you didn't.

but this is a topic that hasn't been brought up in about a month. and a certain individual isn't mentioned anymore in your life thank the lord.

you have gone to a beach house near where you live with a few of your best friends, layla, jess, and liv. yall needed this vacation after months of torture. or studying.

they've been with you since day one. truthfully you'd say who needs a relationship when you have your homegirls?

"Y/N, come here right fucking now." -- layla screamed from our room in the house.

you could literally think she had been getting murdered with the way she was screaming honestly.

"oh my god what!"

"whats his name posted a fucking video of missing someone LOOK."

who? jude.

you sit next to her curiously taking her phone from her hands in order for you to take a look at the tiktok she was trying to show you.

( for the sake of the story, jude has tiktok xoxo )

you were shocked. who genuinely who would've though that he'd actually miss us? it didn't even sound right thinking about it.

"maybe it's about her layla" you shrugged getting up to grab your water bottle from her desk.

"are you stupid girl, he's obviously thinking about you, i mean look at his caption." - 'didn't think a situationship could hurt more than an actual relationship' don't be a fool y/n"

liv and jess had entered the room a few minutes ago listening to the conversation making liv enter the conversation.

"ain't no way he has the nerve to do that bullshit on social media"

you stood there listening to them diss jude for about 5 minutes straight. but your lost in your thoughts. i mean, why would he ever miss something he supposedly never had? it's genuinely so draining and confusing.

"guys just drop it, its whatever. lets just go hang out at the hot tub, i really fucking need it"

your friends just looked at one another not saying a single word. they knew better. not to make you sound like a maniac or anything, but they knew how you were with bottling up your feelings. jude was a sensitive topic for you. they didn't want to be the cause of ruining your vacation over some dumb tiktok captions. they simply agreed with you and started getting changed to go out the the hot tub.

•

it had been a few hours since you last seen your phone and you're now inside getting ready to have dinner with the girls and settling down. so you took these few moments, unlocked your phone and checked out what you had missed.

you furrowed your eyebrows trying to figure out who this number could possibly belong to. since you and layla are sharing a room for the trip, she was getting ready at her vanity and noticed your confused expression.

"y/n what's up?" -- asking you meanwhile putting a face mask on.

"i don't know, this random number just texted me with my name i'm just hella confused"

"that's weird. ask who it is obviously"

you nodded listening to what she had advised you to do.

you had this conversation silently without saying a word to layla about who this "mystery person" was. mainly because you wanted to fight your own battles. i mean you basically already had jess and liv involved. not that your mad at them or anything, you know they want what's best for you. clearly they're on team jude. those girls.

"who was it?" layla said getting up from her chair to grab her phone from the charger near her bed. "no one important, they got the wrong number and person" you honestly don't know how she believed you. you hate to admit but you were feeling jittery after having that conversation with jude after so long. even if it was barely a conversation.

you hated that you needed to lie to layla, but you truly believed it was honestly for the best. when you and jude were talking, they knew every single detail about the relationship you had with jude. and by they i mean your friends and his friends. always involved. one of the main issues why miscommunication was lacking horribly in your relationship. so that's why you want a new beginning. not just to "lie" to your friends but to feel the sense of control in your life. even if tomorrow was the last conversation you had with jude, you wanted to keep the moment to yourself.

•

without saying a word to anyone, you and jude had been chatting it up all night. just a catch up with each other. you guys went from telling every detail of your day to each other, to not saying a single word for months to each other. it felt nice being able to slowly regain that comfort you once had when you guys would text or facetime all night long.

you were honestly praying for the best in tomorrow's conversation, you had no idea what it could lead up to.

but the overthinking was done on your pillow all night long, plus his texts of course.

[hueseok]

( 01. ) GOOD GRACES.

kim seokjin doesn’t believe in luck. he’s someone who knows that in order to have good things coming your way, you have to work damn hard for it. however, that might not be the case when it comes to bad luck, because after a video of him goes viral wherein it looks like he’s screaming at someone’s grandma, he begins thinking maybe luck does exist—and it just so happens that he’s now being subjected to a lot of unluckiness.

he’s being cancelled. his career is getting destroyed. his manager is forcing him to take a hiatus. and on top of that, as if things could not get worse, the only hope he has on redeeming everything he worked hard on depends on you, the director’s daughter of the theater show that could propel him back to where he used to be.

that should have been a piece of cake. if only you weren’t his ex who he dumped via phone call and got threatened by to never show his face to ever again...

pairing: seokjin x reader

word count: 4.2k

rating: NC-17

content: fluff, light angst, humor, exes to enemies to friends to lovers au | ft. theater actor!seokjin + himbo energy!seokjin lmao, podcaster!reader + nepo baby!reader

warning/s: lots of swearing | lots of internal monologue by seokjin? lmao

[ chapter index. ]

EPISODE 01. there are worse things i could do !

seokjin never thought that the downfall of his career would happen because of a misconstrued video of him going viral where he was apparently yelling at a poor old lady in a grocery store.

but here he is, getting canceled on twitter and being informed by his manager that he was taken off the projects he was scheduled to do for the upcoming year, the brands who were once so keen on getting him on board suddenly backtracking and terminating the previously signed deals that were already discussed.

regardless of how he tried convincing yikyung, the said manager, that he wasn’t actually fighting the woman who was probably the same age as his grandmother on that short clip—and that all of this was just a stupid a misunderstanding, he’s told it’s too late. the public already made up their mind; they all hated him, and there were several gossip blogs publishing articles that had ‘receipts’ of his apparent bad and diva behavior over the span of his career.

“look, namjoon and I are working on it,” yikyung says, explaining that the PR and legal team are already in the midst of taking care of the whole problem. “but for the meantime, the best you can do is lay low for a while, buddy.”

“what?” seokjin exclaims. “are you saying—”

“you’ll be going on a hiatus.”

“hiatus,” he repeats, enunciating every syllable like he heard it wrong. he feels like he’s going to vomit, the whole room he’s in right now spinning before his eyes.

“yes. hiatus.”

god, seokjin hates that word. he’s been working his ass off since he knew how to act and sing and was the absolute fucking best at it. and now they’re putting him on a hiatus? it’s ridiculous. it’s unfair! he isn’t in some kind of boyband or anything, but he’s pretty sure that they use that term to sugarcoat the fact that the members are quitting the industry or going solo which doesn’t make sense for him so the former category is probably more applicable to his situation at the moment and—

“it’s temporary,” yikyung continues speaking, as if reading what’s going in his mind. “at most, it’ll be a year.”

that still doesn’t calm seokjin down. “you’re benching me for a year?”

“at most.”

“does it really have to be that long?”

“yeah, if we see that it’s necessary enough.”

“i don’t think a year is necessary.”

“we don’t know that yet.”

“but if you keep me away from the public that long… it's going to kill my career!”

yikyung gives him a pitiful look. “it's already dead, jin. let’s be real here.”

he gasps, genuinely offended that his manager would say such a thing. “take that back.”

“look, i’m not happy with this either,” yikyung says, “but the public needs to forget that video. It’s what everybody is talking about, it’s what every director or sponsor that’s asking us about too—nobody would want to associate themselves with your name anyway while the story’s fresh, so this hiatus won’t kill it. doing this hiatus will just induce your career into a coma. you’ll be like sleeping beauty.”

“then who’ll be the fucking prince?”

“a mindblowing project that’ll remind people that you’re the best leading man in the theater world.”

seokjin lets that sink in.

just days ago, he was being blasted with offers to do commercials and new productions due to the successful run of chicago where he portrayed billy flynn. A lot of columns praised his versatility, saying that despite reservations on how he was going to perform, he nailed the part and captured the audience’s hearts with how he made that character his own. it was the biggest ego boost he had in a while considering he was so passionate in bringing billy flynn to life and pulling off the long note he had in we both reached for the gun—now though? all the happiness that he felt before? all the acclaim he reckoned could last him a good few months to stay motivated in doing this? it’s being buried to the ground; he feels as if everything is crashing down and every good thing in his life is fading away.

guess it’s true that being too happy can cause too much sadness after.

“a year goes by so fast, you know,” yikyung tells him. “keep yourself busy. pursue other hobbies. the next time i’ll call you, i’ll make sure it’s about an offer that’ll jolt your career awake again.”

and so with no other choice, really… that’s what seokjin did.

he decides to follow yikyung’s advice and take a train back to his hometown with the plan to help his aunt run the small grocery business she had, residing there until circumstances appear better for him. he figures this break might be better than he thinks, taking into account the fact that he’s been working nonstop since he began landing solid roles years ago. maybe a restart is what he needs; maybe he can use this as an excuse to do other stuff and pursue other hobbies like he was suggested to do.

in the first month of his forced hiatus, he becomes some kind of apprentice at his aunt’s mentioned grocery store. he meets taehyung, a young man who looks way too handsome to be only arranging packed and canned goods in the aisles of the shop as another helper of his aunt; taehyung also apparently recognizes him, asking if he’s that “theater star harassing an old lady” he kept on seeing on tiktok which seokjin’s always quick to correct. taehyung never looks convinced though, regardless of how much seokjin explains, but he at least doesn’t treat him shit for some groundless scandal.

then in his second month, he begins to try pottery. there are classes for it in the same town, a 10-minute drive away and the instructor happens to be a family friend. however, after five sessions, he realizes that he’s horrible at the task and can’t produce anything that’s worth selling or admiring even. that doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy it though, ‘cause he does, and he still attends each class or goes on his own for the following months to use this activity as catharsis.

for the third month, he starts painting; on the fourth, he volunteers to walk the golden retriever that an elderly couple neighbor has; when the fifth month comes, he begins jogging around the area, continuing that until the sixth and seventh as he progresses to running—and then on the eight month, while he’s tending to the crops he’s growing at his aunt’s backyard, he finally gets the call from yikyung that he always pretends not to care about.

hurriedly taking off his gloves that are covered with mud, he picks up his phone from the table and answers his agent’s call. “please tell me you have something,” is what he says, not even concealing the desperation in his voice.

“i have something,” yikyung confirms, sounding excited.

“holy fuck,” he whispers to himself. he’s pacing around now, thrilled and anxious, praying to the gods of every religion that this will be a good offer. “what is it? tell me quickly.”

“they’re doing grease,” he says and seokjin does an impromptu super mario impression, just jumping all over the place because of the mention of the famous musical, the kind of musical that he knows would definitely benefit him if he wants to be within everybody’s radar again. “they already have a sandy young—it’s the producer’s niece—so now all they’re looking for is the rest of the cast. I already got you an audition for danny zuko and it’s two weeks from now.”

“god, i fucking love you, yikyung.”

“i’m amazing, aren’t I?”

“the best. you’re a goddamn gift from above.”

“and it hasn’t even been a year,” yikyung proudly points out. “you’ll be absolutely back on your feet after this project. your scandal has died down, anyway. not a lot are talking about it, and some of your fans are getting better at defending you, sharing encounter stories of their own to support the claim that you aren’t a dick who has a fetish in getting into a bickering war with an old woman.”

seokjin rolls his eyes. “never describe it that way to me again.”

yikyung chuckles. “i’ll hire a cleaning lady to clean your apartment here in the city maybe this weekend. when do you think you’ll arrive?”

“some time after the weekend. i’ll have to take care of a few things before i go.”

“like what?”

“well, believe it or not, i actually made some friends here.”

“damn. i told you this hiatus was going to be good for you.”

“yeah, you are right about that. i think it was healing for some reason. aside from the first weeks of me being depressed as fuck.”

“so, what does that mean? does this mean that you think you’ll nail the audition?”

seokjin grins. he isn’t cocky for nothing. even though it was advised to him before to lower it down a bit so that he wouldn’t come across as a complete ass, he knows he’s great at this pursuit of his. he’s charming, he has an amazing voice, and he can pull off any choreography instructed to him regardless of his initial lack of dancing abilities. being a hard worker makes you that way, and it’s what seokjin thinks will always help him in every endeavor he runs after.

“you bet, i will.”

“how’s your voice? your joints? do you need to warm up?”

“i’ve been singing for the community here every tuesday and thursday. i also haven’t been physically inactive like you think i am. i’ve been exercising regularly, improving my stamina and all that shit.”

yikyung doesn’t answer for a few seconds, a silence that seokjin translates into his manager being impressed that he hasn’t let go of himself despite the circumstances.

after a few more clarifications and reminders, the call ends and seokjin flops down on the wooden chair close to him, this goofy and giddy smile erupting on his face. it doesn’t occur to him until this moment that he’s been wishing for a miracle like this to come along because he’s been missing performing on stage like he used to do during shows and even when he’s in dance studios for the rehearsals. yeah, having a reason to take a break was nice too as he expressed, but nothing beats doing what he loves to do.

and playing danny zuko? wow, talk about a huge upgrade from being mandated by his management to disappear from the public to potentially being cast as one of john travolta’s famous roles. of course, the challenge with this is that he has to make sure that he actually gets the role, which he’s optimistic that he’ll be fine with.

his reputation may be questionable once he comes back, but there’s no denying that if there’s anyone who can emanate an arrogant greaser who cares too much about his image—it’s him.

****

seokjin’s aunt was devastated when she discovered that he’s leaving. she tried to persuade him to stay longer (if not for her, for the plants and the grocery store—and maybe the crowd of people he would sing for whenever there was an occasion in the neighborhood). however, regardless of her insistence, seokjin cannot be budged; he’s been waiting far too long for this to have second thoughts about it, to be swayed from this provincial life he has come to love and genuinely enjoy.

“are you coming back?” taehyung asked him when the news of seokjin’s immediate departure got to him too. “because if you aren’t, can I have your bike?”

seokjin rolled his eyes. over the course of his stay, taehyung has become some sort of little brother he never had. “i’m coming back. just to visit though,” he said. “so you can have my bike.”

on the weekend before he left, he spent time with the people he befriended. he arranged a bingo session with the elderly; he ran laps with that golden retriever he took on walks every morning; he did his last piece of pottery with the instructor he also became friends with; then, on his very last night, he shared a few drinks with his aunt and taehyung, promising them that if he gets the part, they’ll have front row tickets to the show.

if not, he’ll jump off the bridge because he doesn’t think he has a face to show to anyone anymore. 

he earned a slap on the arm by his aunt with that one.

everything went smoothly when he came back to his old apartment the following morning, freshly cleaned like yikyung promised. nonetheless, seokjin felt it was necessary to check every nook and cranny of the place to verify that, even going as far as examining the decorations, memorabilia, and picture frames he had on display, his finger being swiped on the most random areas to make sure that every corner was polished. nobody lived here for eight months in his defense, and he really could catch a bad case of allergic rhinitis in the case yikyung was lying. he couldn’t have that. he had his voice to take care of; there shouldn’t be snot or phlegm getting in the way of the full prowess of his vocals.

for the next few days leading up to the audition, he did everything he can to assure that he’ll be in his best state when his time to shine comes. he practiced the song sandy, a solo piece sung by danny zuko, and rehearsed the lines for the scene where danny and sandy first meet again at rydell high.

in those hours he spent talking to himself, warming up his voice, making sure that he shaped his words right and exuded the energy of the greaser he’s aiming to play, he started thinking again that he seriously got a huge chance in landing this role. he’s superb at acting; he’s certain that he has the voice needed for this part; and not to mention that he’s got the looks for it, alright. his handsomeness is certainly one of the aspects that makes him so marketable as an actor.

plus, he manages to get a positive outlook regarding this because yikyung has been great in encouraging him, sending him inspirational quotes that sometimes were borderline annoying because it had nothing to do with his situation but still touching in a way.

like right now, as seokjin waits in the holding room of the theater for the audition, he receives a message from his manager with a GIF of a maneki-neko with an oversized arm and the quote by dr. seuss saying, “you have brains in your head. you have feet in your shoes. you can steer yourself any direction you choose. you're on your own. and you know what you know. and you are the guy who'll decide where to go”.

it is a little aligned to what he’s going through right now but seokjin can’t help but still grimace in distaste.

“kim seokjin?” the casting assistant calls, and he snaps his head up from the screen of his phone to peer at the person who called him.

he stands, gaining the attention of the casting assistant. “here.”

“great. follow me please.” she smiles and begins walking to where the stage is without checking whether seokjin followed her or not. 

he does, as quickly as possible, thankful because he can finally get away from that enclosed space with fellow auditionees who were either gaping at him or chatting him up, asking about the hiatus he did. he’s smart enough not to give any specific details, instead saying the standard “mental health break” or “sabbatical leave” that they seemed to buy.

walking across the stage, his eyes squint a bit at the spotlight directed to him. then, stopping at the center, he averts his gaze to the two people who are sitting on the front row seats. hyunbin park the director and seungjoon ahn the producer. they both appear serious, like they’re bored, or like they’ve been unimpressed by the roster of auditionees they’ve been having so far.

it creates a spark of hope for seokjin who’s confident that he might just be the person that’ll blow their minds for today. even though this is his first time performing in front of a professional again, he’s learned over the years to trust his skills more, and he knows that he’s definitely adept for the tryout happening at the moment.

“kim seokjin, isn’t it?” mr. Park says. he’s the more intimidating one out of the pair. he’s famous for having directed a lot of shows that got to win several trophies in every award giving body that catered to the theater industry. aside from this production being an anticipated project of his, he’s scheduled to direct a movie with a star-studded cast.

seokjin nods. “yes, that’s me.”

“wait a minute, i know you,” says mr. ahn, an index finger pointed towards him. this man doesn’t look that much older than seokjin. give or take about only five years his senior. “i’ve seen you somewhere. where have i seen you?”

seokjin swallows hard. fuck, fuck, fuck. kill me now. bury me in the ground. shit. i hope he doesn’t realize that i'm—

“ah! i remember.” mr. ahn laughs, turning to mr. park. “isn’t he the guy who played corny collins three years ago or something?”

a huge breath of relief escapes seokjin.

mr. park nods unsurely. “yeah, I think so. did you play corny collins, son?” he asks.

“i did.”

their faces significantly brightened.

“well, i’m looking forward to your audition, seokjin,” mr. ahn says. “i watched the media preview of hairspray back then. i was a great friend of jiyong.”

jiyong was the director of the said show.

“you may begin,” mr. park adds, gesturing for him to go ahead before readjusting the glasses he’s wearing. “break a leg.”

seokjin flashes a dazzling smile and begins.

****

yikyung: how was it? yikyung: the audition should be over by now. yikyung: tell me how you did! yikyung: i’ll be like this for the whole day until you reply. yikyung:

seokjin: do you think sending gifs is cool? seokjin: bc it’s not

yikyung: you didn’t answer my question?

seokjin can’t stop grinning. he’s had this grin since he finished the audition and walked out to the lobby, his mind replaying the events that took place during his performance and the reactions of the director and producer after he was done.

even though the two didn’t make their verdict apparent, seokjin had a feeling that he was going to get cast in this show for the reason that as soon as he finished belting the last line of the song sandy, mr. park and mr. ahn shared a look with one another, their eyebrows raising in what comes across like understanding.

now, quick disclaimer, seokjin doesn’t read minds, but he’s pretty sure that that’s a good sign. he’s done his fair share of auditions and seeing an interaction like that from people who are in charge of casting always raises the chances that he’ll end up in the project. it’s a really big tell from what he thinks—and it’s what’s prompting him to almost skip like a little girl while walking to the café nearby where he’s planning to treat himself with the mouthwatering strawberry cream croissant he saw on their display earlier, nothing in his mind other than fantasies of receiving a call as soon as he gets home confirming he got the part.

maybe i should start incorporating black leather jackets into my wardrobe more… it is what danny zuko wears half of the time in the film and since i’ll be danny zuko, it can be some kind of way i’ll be able to internalize the character and be fucking amazing in this…

clearly, doing an inner monologue isn’t advisable when you’re walking along a busy street filled with people who are obviously in a rush to get to where they’re going.

because as he continues marching forward, taking a quick turn to the café he’s aiming to go to, his thoughts everywhere aside from the path he’s strolling on—his arm bumps against someone’s shoulder, ceasing his daydreaming and causing him to glance back, about to utter a quick apology if it wasn’t for the sight that greets him when he does.

he wrinkles his forehead, gazing at you.

there’s no doubt in his mind that it really is you who he’s looking at, but due to the fact that it’s been approximately 9 years since you last saw each other, seokjin asks himself whether this is legit or is his imagination taking a sinister route and letting him imagine how it would be like to meet the person he doesn’t want to see on a perfect day.

“well, shit,” you say, staring at him with the same surprised yet puzzled expression. your features look more mature, your hair is styled in a different way, your choice of clothes is more sophisticated—yet despite the subtle changes, you’re still as attractive as you were when he last got to see you. he might even dare to think that your attractiveness leveled up as well. “i’ll be damned. it’s you.”

seokjin feels his throat closing up, reality sinking in that you’re really here in front of him. “____?”

“i’m flattered that you remember.” you chuckle. “or that you’re not pretending to have amnesia to escape this conversation at least.”

to be fair, if it registered to him a few seconds earlier on who you are, he might have done exactly that.

but of course he doesn’t admit it. his ears just turn red while he utters a lie. “that’d be silly. it’s not like you’d believe me if i said that.”

“touché. but i still reckon you’d do it. you are an actor.” a smirk makes its way to your lips. “how’s that going, by the way? last time i heard, you’re being murdered on twitter and being called a world class asshole.”

he winces slightly. “that’s an exaggeration.”

“i don’t think so. you are on hiatus because of it, aren’t you?”

“not anymore.”

“oh?”

“you seem disappointed,” he retorts. “then again, i wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve been praying for my downfall ever since you-know-what happened.”

“you-know-what? do you mean when you dumped me?” you explicitly say, not even missing a beat after he was done speaking.

yes, you’re an ex-girlfriend. sadly, an ex-girlfriend he knows he didn’t treat well because of what you just reminded him of.

he presses his lips together, gathering all the confidence he has left. “yes. i do mean that. and i am sorry about it. truly.”

“you dumped me over the phone.”

“i’m aware of that too.”

“you didn’t explain why you wanted to break up.”

a pause. “yes, i didn’t.”

“and just because we coincidentally met again after so many years, you finally apologize?”

“that’s about right.”

“it doesn’t sound very sincere to me.”

he widens his eyes, surprised that you’re not letting this go as easily as he thought you would. from what he remembers, you’re the type of person who doesn’t hold grudges; you’re the type of person that everybody would say was genuinely good. in fact, it’s what he was mad about years back when you were still together—how you often let other people take advantage of your kindness, often putting you in a position of being a doormat or an emotional punching bag.

but that’s almost a decade ago. he feels bad that he’s not sure whether to be proud of you or to be a bit frustrated that he’s on the receiving end of this.

“anyways,” you add after the excruciating awkward silence, “as much as i want to give you a piece of my mind, i have to go. i’d say it was nice seeing you and that we should catch up sometime, jin, but that would be a lie.”

seokjin’s supposed to let you go despite his conscience eating him up. he’s not entirely stupid, it’s apparent that it’s better not to reopen healed wounds, and judging from the manner you spoke to him, you don’t want to give him an opening to enter your life again.

but then your phone rings, which you’re holding on one hand while the other holds a paper bag from the coffeeshop. And then, seokjin sees it—sees mr. park’s face on the screen with a caller ID named ‘dad’, that he can’t prevent himself from staying still and allowing you to leave without explaining what he’s witnessing right now.

“wait,” he holds your elbow as you’re trying to walk past him, “your dad isn’t mr. park, is he? i know your dad. He’s not hyunbin park.”

you blink at him, confused at the random question, however a wave of understanding swiftly washes over you. he watches you grin all of the sudden, eyes twinkling in amusement. he’s familiar with that expression, and it’s scaring him to death because he now has a pretty good idea on what your answer is going to be.

“you’re here in the city because of an audition,” you state, tone so sure that it makes him sweat. “don’t tell me… You’re auditioning for grease?”

he doesn’t tell you he’s auditioning for grease.

your grin widens even further, your next sentence inducing a sensation that might be a heart attack.

“then you’ve met dad. he is hyunbin park, the director.”

fuckity fuck fUCK FUCK!

note. AHHH first chapter is out! i hope y’all like this because i’m happy with how this turned out hehe. this drabble series will only have 10 episodes and i’m gonna pray that i get to finish this before the year 2024 ends 😭

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

[prismatica-the-strange]

Graveyard Flowers | There's a Look in Your Eyes, I Know Just What that Means

Warnings: 18+, smut, fingering, oral (fem receiving), thigh riding, sex with very little plot, Beej SWEARS he's not 'in love' with Rosie.

Beetlejuice wants to play with his favorite breather, but she's too distracted by some stupid video game. He'll just have to do something to get her attention on him.

Starting spooky season off right with some nasty sex with the dear guy.

The truly scary part is the likes to reblogs ratio!

Whore by In This Moment

"You done yet?" BJ pesters and Rosie shoots a small glare at him.

"I'll be done when I'm done," She snaps, going back to her game.

He watches her click away, fingers pressing keys quickly, but the quiet doesn't last.

"How long you plan on making me wait?"

"Beetlejuice!" This has been going on for almost an hour now, and normally she'd indulge him, but she's really in the zone, "Can't you go annoy someone else for a while? I'm trying to unlock this new emote for Maul."

"Yeah? Like who? I can't get in Nik's room without his express permission, and Alice is out on a date!" He argues, leaning down next to her face, "You're the only one left."

He runs his tongue up her cheek, making her grimace as she pushes him away.

"Then find some other way to amuse yourself."

The mouse in her hand gets fuzzy and squeaks.

"You know that's not what I meant, change it back."

"Aw, cone on," He cradles the little brown mouse in his hands, "It's so much cuter this way!"

"Beetlejuice."

"Fine," It pops back where it was, same as it was before.

He huffs as he flops back on her bed, "Well what do you expect me to do? This house is fucking boring!"

"Figure it out!" She growls.

He watches her play for a little bit more, an idea forming in his head when she shifts in her chair.

The next thing she knows, she's on his lap, her back pressed against his chest. He's sitting in her computer chair with his arms around her stomach.

He doesn't move to annoy her further, so she lets it be, but then she feels one of his hands snake its way down between her legs. He snaps his fingers and her pajama pants disappear, leaving her in her loose tee and boyshorts.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"You told me to occupy myself," He shrugs, fingers quickly finding her clit through her underwear, "That's what I'm doing, entertaining myself with your pretty pussy."

"This isn't what I meant either," She feels herself flush, but she won't give him the satisfaction of distracting her, two can play this game, "Whatever, you're impossible."

He presses harder when she goes back to her game, tongue gliding up the side of her neck.

He grins when teases her hole through the, now, damp fabric and she jolts, "You like this, don't you?"

She grits her teeth, but continues ignoring him.

He hooks his finger in the front of her panties and tugs, the fabric rubbing roughly against her clit, making her whine.

"Can't ignore me if you're beggin' me to cum, dollface," He teases.

"Pervert," Her breath shallows, but she doesn't give in.

He scowls when she goes back to force-choking rebels as if nothing happened. Time to play dirty.

He snaps his fingers again and her panties slide themselves down her legs until they're hanging off one ankle. He pulls her back against him and tugs her legs apart, hooking them over the armrests of the chair.

"Beej, I can't reach the keyboard-"

He rolls his eyes and the keys to the controls pop off the board, floating within a comfortable reach with her mouse.

"There, now would you shut it?" He shakes his head when she starts typing away despite the compromising position he has her in.

He presses his fingers against her clit again, circling it a few times before teasing her hole again, "That's better, yeah? Got better access to play with your drippy cunt?"

Radio silence and he starts getting genuinely annoyed.

Her whole body tenses when the tips of his fingers vibrate against her clit for a moment.

"Yeah? You like that?" He does it again, making her jaw drop, "Of course you fucking do."

He pinches her clit with his buzzing fingers and she whimpers, her head falling back against his shoulder.

She's quick to catch herself though, taking a deep breath and trying to concentrate on her objective.

"What was that? You want 'em abusing your g-spot instead?" He chuckles, running his digits all over her slit, "I can do that, princess."

"F-fuck!" Her vision goes out of focus for a moment when he slides his fingers inside her, still vibrating as he scissors them before seeking out-

"There it is," He laughs when her hips buck, "Aw, but now you're little clitty looks so sad that she's bein' ignored. Here, lemme just..."

She feels his tongue stretch down beneath the collar of her shirt, teasing her nipples before sliding down to lap at her already sensitive clit.

"Beej..." She chokes out, trembling in his hold. She cries out louder when the tip of his tongue starts vibrating too, her back arching.

She barely registers what's happening before she cums.

"Fuck- Beetlejuice!"

His tongue works faster.

"Beetlejuice!" She screams again when he doesn't let up. Hell, he starts finger fucks her harder, just to hear it again, "Beetlejuice!"

There it is. The only good thing he gets out of this whole stupid arrangement, getting to hear her chant his name like a prayer when he forces another orgasm out of her without getting banished.

His tongue retracts into his mouth and he moans when the taste of her slick fills his mouth, "That's my nasty girl."

His fingers stop vibrating as he eases her through her high. She shudders when he pulls out, knees falling back together as he laps at his fingers.

Suddenly she's sat by herself and he's lounging on her bed.

"Consider me entertained," He says between sucking her cum off his fingers, "You can go back to your game now."

"Wh- Beej!"

"Yeeees, darlin'?" He smirks at her.

She forces herself out of the chair, wobbling dangerously when she realizes she can't really feel her legs, "Shit-"

"Careful!" He sneers, appearing beside her to keep her upright, "Don't need you dentin' that empty head'a yours."

She's been long since disconnected from her server, but she doesn't care. She's content being cum drunk and held up by him.

"Exactly," He chuckles, "Come on, let's lay you down before you hurt yourself.

She pulls him into bed with her, ignoring his grumbles of protest when she snuggles in against his chest.

"Yeah whatever," He mutters, knowing he'd be flushed red if he were alive, "Get comfy why don't'cha?"

"On it," She sighs sleepily.

He snaps his fingers and her game switches over to some shitty b horror film.

About an hour in he feels he slide one leg over his hips and nuzzle closer. Then her hips shift, and his face breaks into a wicked grin.

"Is that right?"

She whimpers at his teasing, softly grinding against his thigh.

"Just a lil' sex pest, huh?" He laughs, pressing himself against her cunt, "Can't get enough, can ya?"

She grips the striped lapel of his jacket, eyes squeezing shut. Her little sighs of pleasure make his chest swell. Damn, does he love his perverted little breather.

Well, not love per se, I mean, he loves Lydia, but... he's definitely extremely fond of her and her delightfully pervy ways.

"Don't stop, girlie," He places his hand encouragingly on the small of her back, his nails digging into her skin, "That's it..."

She gasps when she rocks her hips particularly hard, her whole body shaking.

She's warm in his hold, fuck he loves feeling her burning face on his chest.

He tugs her on top of him, pushing his thigh up between her legs. She moans at the feeling and he pulls her face up to meet his, licking into her open mouth.

"Babygirl, you're soakin' my pants," He grins, biting at her bottom lip, "Had my tongue all over that pussy earlier, you want it down your throat now?"

Her eyes light up at that, and he grips her cheeks, forcing her mouth open to slither an abnormally long tongue down her throat.

His free hand grinds her down on his thigh, chuckling when she shudders at the added stimulation.

She's so pretty when she lets him use her like this, even prettier when she uses him right back.

He's so lost in her fucked out expression he almost doesn't notice her tapping his chest for air.

"Heh, sorry 'bout that," He presses his forehead to hers as she sucks in deep breaths, "Must'a gotten caught up in the moment."

She just surges forward to press kiss him, her lips parting to delve her tongue in his mouth this time, one hand roughly gripping his hair to keep him close.

Okay, maybe... MAYBE he loves her... just a little bit! I mean, come on. How is he not supposed to fall for her when her response is to kiss him like that.

He doesn't taste good, and she hates that she's used to it.

She groans when he holds her close in turn, his grip tight on the back of her neck.

By the time she's humped herself out she's exhausted, and he has no problem letting her fall asleep on his chest. Even if it means he has to clean her up and redress her with his powers.

She's heavy on his chest and he can feel every breath, every little twitch. He runs his fingers through her hair and she nuzzles closer in her sleep.

"Think I'm getting in a bit too deep here," He mutters to himself, "... Shit."