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muniimyg · 2 days ago

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BAD HABIT // JJK

09 | stars in your eyes // series m.list

note: jealousy jealousy <3 mwah ;) ,, sorry this ch took forever ... i think u'll understand why lol

you’re proud of yourself.

over the past few weeks, you’ve adjusted well—faster than expected, even. part of it is because you belong here. the other part is because the people around you make you feel like you’re truly home. for a long time, you’ve craved that feeling. living outside the palace had never been easy... especially not when you spent your whole life keeping being a part of the divinity a secret.

although, you still keep the friends you made outside these walls close to your heart, but the ones you’re making here… they feel different.

they are different.

for the first time, it feels like you’re falling into place. like everything is falling into place.

even being soulmates with jungkook feels lighter these days.

it’s conflicting, really—this soulmateship with him. stranger than any situationship, more serious than any relationship. maybe that’s why you’ve been trying so hard to perfect your friendship with him. if you can make that work, maybe everything else will follow.

but you’re an idiot if you think you can ever just be friends with jungkook.

yes, friendship is the foundation of any partnership. but who are you kidding? you two are bonded. the string is tied, glowing, dusted in gold. there’s no undoing it. there’s no pretending you don’t feel the weight of it, the way it tugs—the way he tugs.

and, not to mention, you’d rather die than be his friend (that’s the bond talking).

being away for the past week has been rather... reflective on your end. aside from the silyl groupchat messages the guys initiated and the random check-in ones jungkook would send you; you haven't really seen them around.

but it's fine.

it's nice to get some space. since you've been here, you've spent every waking minute with them. during your rest days, your parents came up to see you too. it was fun catching up with them and spending time together.

but you're so ready to be back.

you miss them.

some more than others.

today, you arrive early, ditching jimin and yoongi. jungkook’s grey hoodie is bunched up in your hands as you step into the classroom, the fabric warm and worn. you hadn’t meant to keep it this long.

the plan was simple:

walk in. toss it onto his desk. say something casual like, “here.” pretend like it didn’t make a home in your closet for too many nights.

pretend like you weren't holding onto it for this long because it smells like him. like you didn’t sleep in it once…

twice, if you’re counting the nap you took in it yesterday. pretend like it wasn't the one thing that made you smile during your week off.

but the moment you step inside, all that excitement fizzles out.

something blooms in your chest. warm and haunting. unsettling. you struggle to understand it—until you see it.

then, you feel the string tug inside your chest.

you feel it before you even realize why... then, when you do; you don't know what to do say or feel. it happens too fast. your vision blurs and then it focuses on her.

her.

there’s a girl sitting in your seat.

your freaking seat.

with jungkook.

your jungkook.

jungkook isn’t half-asleep with his hood drawn over his eyes. for once, he’s awake. engaged. talking to her. and worse—he’s smiling. that stupid boyish smile, the one that softens him in a way you’re sure he doesn’t even realize. he says something, and she laughs. bright. airy. the sound of it curls around your chest.

your heart races, a tight, erratic thump against your ribs. and maybe—just maybe—in a split second, you let your guard down. because jungkook’s breath hitches.

quickly, you tighten your grip on his jacket and shove it deep into your bag.

jungkook scans the room.

his eyes find you.

before he can do anything, you move past him. you don’t look. you don’t acknowledge him. you just walk.

he shifts, taken aback by the blatant rejection of his (attempt at a) greeting. the girl beside him notices. she follows your movements, then looks back at jungkook. then back at you.

“hey,” she says sweetly as you pass. "recover well?"

"yeah. thanks," you force a smile. short-lived. fleeting. half meant.

then she gives you a look.

not quite smug. not quite innocent. just knowing.

your stomach turns. your gaze drops, your mind suddenly heavy with overthinking thoughts.

from behind you, jungkook watches without watching. eyes half-lidded. head tilted against the back of his chair. fingers drumming against the desk in a slow, lazy rhythm. he doesn’t turn, doesn’t follow your movements outright—but he doesn’t need to.

he already knows exactly where you’re going.

you reach namjoon’s desk. it’s a placement he’s long past rolling his eyes at. he may not be able to manipulate you, but it’s honestly no problem when you’re this fucking predictable.

just as you reach for the chair—

it moves.

the wood scrapes against the floor, the legs dragging in one long, grating noise before it stops. a loud thud makes it known what just happened. the chair is set... well...

beside him.

the sound cuts through the low hum of the classroom and heads turn. at the door, jimin, yoongi, jin, and hobi watch, poorly concealing their amusement. namjoon huffs, lips parting, already prepared to scold jungkook for using his aura.

you freeze. your fingers twitch at your side.

god.

what do you even do in times like these?

when jungkook makes it excruciatingly obvious that he does whatever he wants, whenever he wants? when everyone just…

lets him?

from the corner of your eye, jungkook shifts.

his arms uncross. one hand rises slightly. and with the subtlest motion—two fingers flicking out, then curling in—he gestures at the chair.

his aura hums faintly. a ripple in the air.

you feel it.

your jaw clenches. slowly, you turn, eyes narrowing.

"jungkook," you seethe, voice low, controlled. "you can’t just—"

"you were gonna sit here, right?"

his tone is bored.

like he didn’t just drag a whole piece of furniture across the room with his aura. like it’s not a big deal. like he hasn’t been watching your every move since you walked in.

more snickers echo around you. and he enjoys it, doesn’t he? the attention? the fact that he’s just so fucking sly?

he knows perfectly well that he shouldn’t be using his aura for stupid things like this.

you don’t get it.

is he trying to boast? is he trying to prove something? the gesture is too sudden. too early. yet, it earns looks and murmurs.

jungkook doesn’t acknowledge it.

instead, his gaze flickers—just briefly—to your bag. the fabric of his jacket peeks from the unzipped opening, barely visible. but he catches it.

he notices it. then, slow and deliberate, his gaze returns to yours.

"sit here, princess."

the air shifts when the guys crowd around your desk.

hobi’s already perched on top of it, swinging his legs like a kid while namjoon leans against jungkook’s, arms crossed, lips pressed in thought. jimin and taehyung pull up chairs, dragging them across the floor with a grating screech that earns a sharp look from the professor at the front—but neither of them care.

"glad you aren't limping anymore," yoongi says.

you smile and nod. "yeah. my parents sent a nurse in once a day to check up on me. it felt a little... overprotective but it's whatever."

nam joon huffs. "you're telling me."

"why? what did they do?" you ask curiously. honestly, a part of you answers frantic. you know how your parents can be... "i can talk to them—"

"it's fine," he assures you. "i just got a speech from the council about safety and making sure that i'm not only encouraging divine quality behaviour, but also monitoring it."

you're eyes widen at his words. was he serious? how could he possibly have that much responsibility? besides, jumping into the lake was your idea.

"nam joon," you start. "i'm so sorry. my parents are—"

"it's fine," he repeats. "you're the princess. they're your parents. we’re the divinity. this shit has to be taken seriously whether we like it or not. just... try not to get hurt again, okay? really pissed your parents off and jungkook."

your eyes shake.

jungkook doesn't flinch. he doesn't even breathe. he's just... still.

then, the focus shifts.

“so... the game’s tonight.” jin says, earning a few groans from the guys. then, he rubs his temples like he’s dealing with a personal crisis. “i need to see it in high quality. i will not accept buffering.”

namjoon sighs, tipping his head back. “problem is, we have, what? one couch and a ten-inch laptop?”

“it’s embarrassing,” hobi groans. there’s a growing frustration in his face that makes you a little curious. was the game really this important?

jimin frowns, eyes darting to taehyung. “can’t you get us into the lounge?”

taehyung scoffs. “not after last time.”

“which wasn’t my fault, by the way,” jin mutters, but no one acknowledges it.

a pause.

jungkook, who’s been silent the entire time, exhales sharply through his nose. his knee bounces under the desk, fingers tapping against the wooden surface in a steady rhythm. truth be told, he’s fighting the urge to touch you right now. in any and every way… he wants to put his hand on top of your bare knee so bad. he wants to touch your skin and feel your warmth.

is it the bond?

he doesn’t know and he doesn’t care. sitting beside you, controlling himself—this is fucking torture. yet, he pushes through the distraction.

“i mean, if it comes down to it, we can just—”

but before he can finish, you shift forward, resting an elbow on the desk.

“you guys can just sleep over at mine.”

silence.

then—

“wait, what?” taehyung blinks.

“i have the highest view in the palace,” you say easily, tilting your head. “i mean… as someone previously mentioned… it’s perfect view of the city, and the biggest room. jin can project the live game with his aura. i can put a few paintings down to make the walls bare. i have a kitchen so we can cook some things up. it’s basically a studio—w-what? why are you guys looking at me like that?”

a beat.

then—without a word, jungkook shrugs off his uniform jacket. the fabric crinkles as he bunches it up and drops it onto your lap, as if it’s second nature. no glance, no explanation. just a quiet, instinctive action. you glance down at the skirt you’re wearing. before your focus shifts, the guys chaos keeps you in place.

"are we allowed?" taehyung blinks. "because if we are... then i'm really fucking upset you're not my soulmate."

"that’s actually genius."

"yo, what about your guards?"

“again, are we even allowed?”

you just laugh, shrugging. “who said i was gonna ask for permission?”

namjoon shakes his head, but there’s amusement in his eyes. “___, you’re insane. i don’t want to get disciplined for this—”

“then i’ll take responsibility,” you urge him. “please, nam joon? come on... is it that horrible that i want to spend time with my friends? i think my grandparents have bigger things to worry about. and my parents? i'll just tell them the truth. i missed my friends. oh! how about we invite others too so it's a bigger gathering and we can all chill?”

again, silences follows.

then—

“uh, she’s kinda the coolest person ever?” hobi throws an arm around your shoulders, grinning. “we should’ve been best friends sooner.”

“you’re just saying that cos she solved your problem,” jin points out.

“and i’m grateful!”

the energy crackles between everyone—everyone except jungkook.

he stays quiet, but not in a way that goes unnoticed by you.

jimin nudges jungkook’s arm. “you’re in, right?”

jungkook leans back in his chair, stretching slow.

“dunno.”

for some reason, he answer upsets you.

clearing your throat, you pretend not to hear what he said and push the conversation forward. jungkook stays leaned back, arms crossed, gaze unreadable.

clumsily, everyone sneaks inside the west wing.

laughter fills the hall as steps hurriedly make it to your door. before you know it, taehyung appears in front of your door with a wide grin and drinks.

“you sent the guards away?” taehyung practically giggles, as he looks over his shoulders. “this is so fucking thrilling. i can’t lie… i feel like i’m meant to be a spy or something.”

you laugh at his words and open your door wider.

“i scattered them around with errands,” you reply. “they’ll be held off for at least three hours… and then, i’ll be known as the picky princess for at least three months.”

popping his head in, nam joon lets out an impressed hum. quickly, the guys all make it to your door. you step aside, gesturing for them to come in. as they do so, pure adoration fills the room.

for a moment, their laughter dies down.

“fuck,” yoongi breathes. “this is truly ‘eat the rich ’ kind of shit.”

your dorm has to be one of the most unreal places in this palace. the ceilings are high with golden accents threading through the marble walls. it’s a studio-like layout that unfolds so elegantly. the kitchen is to the side, there’s a huge living space near a fireplace, and your bed—is massive, draped in sheer silks. there’s a canopy above, completing the perfect princess flow of the tower.

yet, what really takes the boys breath away is the window.

it takes up nearly an entire wall and gives access to a balcony. the window stretches from floor to ceiling, revealing the glowing city below. the garden view is utterly romantic too. one thing is for sure—their dorms do not look like this.

“holy shit.”

“ohhh, this is nice… girl,” taehyung sings. ��this all you do right here? okay…. it don’t smell like roaches in here or nothing!”

you burst into laughter and gesture for everyone to make themselves feel at home. to which, jimin mumbles; “unlikely, but if you insist...”

just then, jungkook walks in.

his hair is freshly washed and he’s wearing this oversized black t-shirt that hugs his chest nicely. he’s scanning your dorm before his eyes fall to you. just as you’re about to take a step towards him with some teasing remark already forming on your tongue—

“jungkook!”

a presence. a laugh. a shift in the air.

then, she appears.

the same girl from this morning. except, now she’s even more pretty? it’s strange. you’ve never really felt much for comparison but it’s hard when she… looks like what could be jungkook’s type. in a swift way, she breezes in front of you.

“oh!” she breathes, brushing shoulders with you in the process. she doesn’t seem to notice. “sorry—just wanted to give this back. thanks for inviting us here by the way, ___! your place is great. wish all our dorms looked like this.”

your stomach dips.

suddenly you hate the fact that you brought this unto yourself. what were you thinking? wanting to invite more people aside from the seven of them?

fuck.

this is all your fault.

jungkook blinks, visibly caught off guard, but reaches out, his fingers brushing the material.

“oh—uh, thanks.”

she lingers, arms crossing over her chest. “also, didn’t think you’d actually be that bad at giving directions. thanks for that.”

she laughs. light, teasing.

and then it hits you.

it’s an inside joke.

and worse—jungkook chuckles back.

it’s brief, casual, a mere breath of amusement. but it’s enough to make something cold settle in your chest. enough to have your fingers curling into the hem of your sleeves, nails pressing faintly into your skin.

she glances at you then, finally acknowledging your presence in full. her smile is polite, and unassuming—nothing malicious in her gaze.

it's annoying really... how she's so easygoing.

so... opposite of you? because in times like this, she's the kind of girl that can push through and smile. you? not so much. though you know you should smile back, you don't. rather, you can't.

so, instead, you nod.

with that, she lets out a small laugh and excuses herself, the warmth of her presence fading as quickly as it came.

but the damage is done.

your thoughts race, irrational and loud, clawing at the inside of your head. jungkook barely gets the chance to turn before he notices—the way you’ve gone still, the shift in your expression, the way your shoulders have tensed ever so slightly.

“she’s into jimin,” he murmurs, voice low. like it's barely above a whisper. like it's just for you.

you blink.

then, a wave of relief crashed over.

jungkook lifts the jacket in his hands, his fingers pressing into the fabric as he exhales. “this isn’t mine. it’s jimin’s.”

your brows furrow, processing.

“ai and jimin have this… thing.” he grimaces. “on and off again situationship, i guess… he never likes to talk about it so ai does this thing where she makes it everyones problem but jimin’s. i don’t know. i just keep getting caught in the middle.”

oh.

something in your chest eases—just a fraction.

but not entirely.

it’s stupid.

completely, utterly stupid… because why should it matter? it’s not like you—

you shift on your feet, suddenly hyperaware of the way jungkook is watching you. the way his gaze lingers, studying, picking up on details you wish he wouldn’t.

“you okay, princess?” he asks.

you clear your throat. “y-yeah—i just…” you glance toward the girl, now chatting with someone else across the room. “i didn’t know that about jimin.”

jungkook hums, tilting his head slightly.

“you sure that’s all it is?”

you scoff at him. “what else would it be?”

he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he just watches you… like he’s waiting for something... the way he waits, makes you fidget.

you hate that it makes you fidget.

that it makes you feel seen in a way you don’t want to be.

“i’m gonna go greet the others,” you mutter, turning on your heel, and moving toward the others. "catch you later—"

"___—"

as you step away, annoyance still lingers beneath your skin. your chest feels so tight still… meanwhile, jungkook places his hand on his chest and clenches it.

something is wrong.

and you can’t hide it from him.

it starts off slow. subtle.

almost like a silent war.

at first, you ignore him. at least, you try to.

for the past half-hour, you’ve kept yourself busy, drifting from one conversation to the next, laughing at half-hearted jokes, nodding at stories you aren’t fully listening to—all while avoiding his gaze.

but jungkook is relentless.

he stares, unwavering, dark eyes burning through the space between you. it makes the people you talk to uneasy, shifting under the weight of his presence. he doesn’t care. doesn’t even blink. he just watches, jaw clenched, frustration simmering under his skin.

weren’t you two fine before?

what changed?

it’s not fair. you’re being unfair.

by the hour mark, he’s done waiting. his patience—thin and fraying—snaps. he moves, weaving through the crowd with a single-minded focus, no longer shooting daggers at anyone in your orbit. now, his attention is solely on you. people try talking to him, but he brushes them off with a distracted nod, a quiet hum. jungkook has never been the most social, but tonight? he’s something else.

steady. controlled. purposeful.

and everyone can see it.

everyone except for you.

he wants something.

he wants you.

so, he decides he’s getting you. one way or another.

this distance? this coldness? he hates it.

it’s not like you. not with him.

his feet move before he can stop them, a sharp exhale leaving his lips as he finally closes the space—

but just as he reaches you, you stand.

his steps falter.

you’re heading towards the kitchen, slipping past taehyung, ready to lose yourself in the crowd there.

his jaw tenses.

then—

“the guards!”

your voice cuts through the room, loud and urgent. “everyone hide!”

chaos erupts.

yoongi flicks his wrist and darkness swallows the space. shadows stretch across the walls, flickering like ghosts. your breath catches, adjusting to the sudden shift. silhouettes blur, people scrambling into hiding—under the bed, behind curtains, pressed against the ceiling with their auras. you move toward the door, but—

then you see it.

or, more accurately, you feel it first.

a sharp pang, like a fist tightening around your stomach.

jungkook brushes past you, fast, purposeful. he heads for the closet, but then—

his hand reaches out.

not for you.

for ai.

he pulls her close, murmuring something low in her ear as he guides her across the room. she laughs, light and breathy, before slipping inside the closet with him.

the sight is gut-wrenching.

sickening.

heat rises to your face, burning at the back of your throat. you don’t know if you want to yell or walk away. your fists clench at your sides, nails digging into your palms.

you shouldn’t care.

but you do.

knock.

“princess?”

another knock.

“we’ve returned from the errands you sent us on. you'll be pleased to know everything went well... princess, is everything alright? we heard some noise... do you have company?”

your heart pounds and your hands shake as you answer the door. yet, regardless of how you feel; you smile.

“yes,” you breathe, voice smooth despite the chaos in your chest. “everything is fine. t-thank you for running those errnads... i’m having a self-care night and streaming a game with friends. excuse the noise. please, take your posts at the guard house. i'll be fine for tonight. it's late anyway and your shifts are ending soon. take the extra hour off."

the guard hesitates, then nods. “as you wish.”

you wait until their footsteps fade before closing the door and locking it. the second the latch clicks, the tension collapses.

everyone exhales, heavy and relieved.

laughter spills into the space, nerves unraveling. yoongi flicks the lights back on, dimmer than before. jin groans. taehyung lets out a breathless chuckle.

but you barely hear it.

because the closet door creaks open.

jungkook steps out, ai right behind him. she grins at something he murmurs under his breath.

and just like that, the feeling returns.

tight and suffocating. curling deep in your gut.

he didn’t hesitate.

not even for a second.

it presses against something inside you, something sharp and unwelcoming.

so you turn away.

“you good?” taehyung side-eyes you from the couch.

“yeah. i'm fine.” you answer him rather too quickly. too sharp.

taehyung's mouth twitches, unconvinced. but he doesn’t press. you sink down beside him, trying to ground yourself, but the moment you do—the couch jerks backward.

your body stumbles.

the guys groan. you look up and see jimin glaring at jungkook.

“jungkook!” jimin whines. “don’t use your fucking aura right now. stop messing with us.”

“jungkook,” namjoon warns. “don’t move furniture for attention.”

but it works.

he has yours.

your head snaps toward him. he tilts his head, slow and assessing, as if you’re the problem.

frustration bubbles under your skin. you take a deep breath, standing to head to the kitchen. you need space. you need something to do.

you reach for a piece of bread. but suddenly, it's taken out of your hand.

jungkook then takes a slow, deliberate bite.

“did you want this?”

you stay silent.

his eyes glint. “use your words like a big girl.” he’s teasing. but it’s different. charged and edged with something unreadable.

you reach for another piece—

his aura glows.

suddenly, all the bread lifts into the air, floating just out of reach.

your patience snaps.

“jungkook—”

“not so fun, is it?” he murmurs. “having something right in front of you, but never being able to reach it.”

it’s a loaded statement.

the bread drops.

his mood shifts. his aura flickers between you, pulsing hot and heavy. before you can react, his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you to the side.

eyes snap to you both.

“don’t make a scene—”

he chuckles. “this isn’t a scene.” his voice drops lower. “do you want me to make a scene?”

you grab his hand, gripping it tight. “stop.”

“you stop,” he hisses. everyone begins to whisper around you two. then, louder, to the room—“holy shit. watch the fucking game.”

the command in his voice—his aura—shifts the air. he lifts his hand in the air and waves it towards the projection. suddenly, everyone turns to the screen, despite the protests, despite the groans. they don’t have a choice. they're under his control.

jungkook leans in.

“what’s wrong, princess?” he asks, eyes dark and searching. “why are you mad at me?”

you hesitate.

“i’m…”

“you’re?”

you swallow, looking around. everyone's eyes are fixed on the screen and you can tell they're all uncomfortable. you are too.

then, you take a deep breath in. you turn to everyone and notice how his aura still radiates through them. with pleading eyes, you ask him; “can you… not do this? let them watch if they want to watch. let them talk if they want to talk. let them stare—”

“only if you talk to me. like, really talk to me.”

you nod, accepting the exchange.

jungkook shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. as he exhales, so does the room. everyone’s posture goes back to normal and they continue on with whatever they were doing before. once you see that everyone is comfortable again, you look at jungkook and tilt your head at him.

“you can’t always use your aura to get what you want.”

jungkook shrugs. “using it or not, there’s not much difference.”

“what do you mean?”

“you don’t like me regardless,” he assumes. “right? you hate that i have this aura.”

you shake your head.

“i hate the way you use it.”

then, he snaps.

“i hate the way you make me use it.”

silence.

and then, the weight of it crashes down.

“i don’t hate you.”

… is all you manage to say.

jungkook’s lips twitch.

just like that, ease takes over his eyes. he can’t help but feel a sense of hope. like every negative thought he made up about himself throughout this entire night ceases to exist because of your four words… but it still stings. how you treated him tonight… how much of a fucking pull you have on him that he acts like a manchild. how badly he wants your attention… and how suffocating it is to be without it.

“you don’t?”

“no.”

the air stills between you two.

jungkook doesn’t know how to explain it… but there’s a warmth that blooms in his chest. like a relief takes over. it’s so.. special to him. he’s never felt better so fast. he has never… believed anyone so fast. your words cut deep into him, carving themselves into his heart. then, the familiar feeling of wanting to touch you kicks in. he knows it’s not the time, so he fights the urge.

but it’s difficult.

so, just as he reaches—

“did you find it?” you ask.

he tilts his head, confused. “find what?”

“your hoodie.”

“my hoodie?”

you nod. “yeah. it was in the closet.”

slowly and then all at once, jungkook’s face falls.

the warmth in his eyes dim like the sunset swallowed by night. i’s slow, almost imperceptible—the slight twitch of his brows, the way his lips part as the realization sinks in. but then, it’s unmistakable. his expression shifts, unraveling from confusion into something softer, something edged with regret. you swallow, but it does nothing to ease the ache blooming in your chest, jealousy and hurt tangling like thorns in your throat.

you shouldn’t care.

you shouldn’t.

but the weight of it sits heavy in your lungs, pressing against every breath. and jungkook sees it—sees the way your fingers curl in your sleeves, the way your gaze flickers away like you can’t bear to hold his. the air between you turns fragile, laced with something unspoken, something that trembles on the verge of breaking.

“you…” he pieces it together and sees the picture whole. “you can’t be serious? are you upset that i hid her? ___, we were going to get caught—”

“but did you have to hold her waist?” you hush him. “why couldn’t she just hide on her own? why was that your responsibility—”

“okay, fuck. do you want me to hold your waist so you two can be even or something?”

“what?” you raise your voice. “are you insane? no. a-and… we’re not even. she and i are—”

“you’re what?”

you pause.

“well… she’s not your soulmate. she’s not supposed to be even with me.” you choke out, almost cringing at your own words. "i... i'm your soulmate."

jungkook huffs. then, a small chuckle comes out. soon enough, a laugh.

“sorry,” he attempts to stop himself. “this is kind of ridiculous. i mean, i told you she’s into jimin, didn’t i? why can’t you trust me—”

“because i don’t know you!” you cry. “god, i don’t know you enough to trust you. and it’s confusing because my heart—or rather, the bond—tells me i do. but my mind… spins every time you do something that i don’t expect. like… why didn’t you just let jimin bring her to the closet? why was it your responsibility? do you know how i felt during those two minutes? what you could’ve done in two minutes?”

“two minutes?" jungkook's eyes widen. "___, are you seriously jealous about me spending two minutes with ai in a closet—”

“yes!” you breathe. “because… w-why did you just leave me—”

“what did you want from me?” jungkook asks rather sincerely. “to stand by you and get caught? they would’ve thrown my ass out. soulmate or not, they would have thrown me out and everyone would have been caught.”

you swallow.

then, you mumble, “you just… you didn’t have to go in the closet with her.”

to your surprise, jungkook nods.

there’s no defensiveness in his expression, no sharp retort on the tip of his tongue. just quiet acceptance, like he’s already replayed it in his head and realized there’s nothing to argue.

his shoulders drop, the fight leaving him all at once. a slow exhale pushes past his lips, and when he speaks, his voice is softer—lower, like an admission he doesn’t want to make.

“okay.” his gaze flickers to yours, holding it. “i didn’t have to go inside the closet with her.” a pause, then the slightest huff of a breath, something like regret tugging at the corners of his mouth. “you’re right. my bad.”

he says it so simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world to agree with you. and maybe that’s what surprises you the most—not the words themselves, but the way he says them, like he means them.

“do you forgive me now?” his voice is quiet, careful, like he already knows the answer.

you exhale, pressing your lips together. “jungkook, you didn’t even say sorry—”

before you can finish, the room is swallowed in darkness.

a sharp inhale.

the shuffle of feet. jimin’s voice cuts through the quiet.

“someone’s coming.”

you freeze.

jungkook does too.

the air weighs down on you two. thick, unmoving. somewhere in the dark, a faint rustle of fabric, the soft creak of wood settling under shifting weight. muffled whispers. hurried footsteps. you hear everyone scrambling into hiding, bodies pressing into corners, behind furniture.

but jungkook doesn’t move.

he stays beside you.

then, a gentle nudge against your arm. deliberate. teasing.

"hey, p?"

his voice is low, quiet, but the way he says your name—it curls at the edges, soft and familiar.

"hmm?"

you feel him shift closer. not much, just enough. enough that the warmth of him bleeds into your skin, enough that the air between you turns thinner, charged.

"do you think we have two minutes?"

his voice is impossibly close now, warm against the shell of your ear. and even though it’s dark, even though you shouldn’t be able to see him—somehow, you do.

you feel him.

the slight tilt of his head. the barely-there curve of his lips, smug and knowing. the way his lashes dip, his gaze dropping to your mouth before flicking back up, unhurried, unreadable.

your breath catches.

"for what?"

you don’t know why you ask. maybe you do. maybe you just want to hear him say it.

but he doesn’t.

he just lingers—close enough that you can feel the heat rolling off him, the faint scent of something warm and clean, something undeniably him.

his silence stretches, heavy, expectant.

and you think he’s waiting but—

instead, he tugs you forward, slow and certain, hands skimming down your arms before settling at your waist. his grip is light—tentative.

now.

now he’s waiting. it’s like he’s giving you the chance to step away.

but you don’t.

and the moment you don’t, something changes. in fact, you feel it in your heart. something glows.

his hands tighten, just barely. his head dips, his breath warm against your cheek, and then his lips brush yours—once, then again, like he’s memorizing the feeling, like he’s giving you another chance to stop him.

but you don’t.

the world suddenly stops as jungkook’s lips meet yours. he kisses you. your soulmate kisses you for the first time.

slow and deep, careful and desperate all at once. his fingers press into your waist like he’s trying to tell you something without words… and maybe he is. maybe you are, too, because your hands find his shirt, fisting the fabric, pulling him closer, letting him steal another second, another breath.

then—

a flicker. a buzz.

light floods the room, washing over you both like a wave crashing against shore.

you break apart instantly, breathless, dazed.

jimin blinks at you both, unimpressed.

“sorry everyone! false alarm.”

just like that, the room shifts back to life. conversations pick up, laughter hums through the air, the moment folding neatly into the chaos like it never existed at all.

except it did.

you can still feel it—still feel him. the heat of his hands, the ghost of his lips, the unspoken words lingering between you.

you stand side by side, staring ahead, breathing uneven.

your fingertips still linger, barely brushing.

your heart still races, pounding against your ribs, aching for a moment that belonged only to the two of you.

jungkook turns to you, searching, chasing your gaze as if the answer is there—written in the spaces between your lashes, in the soft parting of your lips. and maybe it is. because when he looks at you now, really looks at you, he sees something he hasn’t noticed until now.

something familiar. something timeless. something extraordinary.

a glint.

a sparkle.

your breath hitches when you realize how close he is, how his eyes trace over you like he’s trying to commit you to memory. and for a second, just a second, it feels like the universe quiets—like nothing exists outside of this moment, outside of you.

then, he sees it.

and when he does, a breath slips past his lips, soft, relieved. because there’s no need to split the sky or rearrange the cosmos. this entire time, he hadn’t realized it before—hadn’t seen it, the same way people forget that the stars don’t disappear in the daylight. they’re always there, quiet and constant, just waiting for the right moment to be seen. and this? this is his time to see—to know it.

yes, he’s right.

there are stars in your eyes.

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook x yn #jungkook x reader #jungkook fantasy au #bts fantasy au #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook slow burn

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ariahmichelle · 3 days ago

Text

Fake It Till You Feel It- Part 6

Rafe Cameron x Reader Series

Previous Parts Here

Summary: You see your ex with a new girl wrapped around him after he told you “wasn’t ready for a relationship” after you had slowly started to fall for him. The betrayal stings. Rafe Cameron is dealing with his own issue—Amelia, a girl who refuses to take the hint that he’s not interested. One night you impulsively pretend to be Rafe’s girlfriend to get her to back off. To your surprise, it works. You also notice Alex looking pissed. This starts to become an unspoken routine between you when either Alex or Amelia are around. Simple right? However, longer this goes on, the more the lines blur between what’s real and what’s not.

Part 6- Mixed Signals and Missed Chances

•••••••••••••••••••••• ••••••••••••••••••••••

The next morning, you woke up with a sinking feeling in your chest.

The living room was quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the air conditioning and the soft breathing of your still-sleeping friends. Morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the room, but it did little to ease the tightness in your chest.

You sat up slowly, your body stiff from sleeping on the couch. The blanket that had been draped over you pooled in your lap, and you immediately knew it wasn’t yours.

It was Rafe’s.

Your stomach twisted.

The events of last night came rushing back—Rafe in the kitchen, the almost-kiss, the way you had pulled away. The way he had looked at you before walking off, frustrated, disappointed.

And now, he was nowhere to be seen.

You glanced around the room, taking in the mess of empty bottles and discarded jackets. Brooke was curled up in an armchair, Paige was on the other end of the couch, and Topper was stretched out on the floor with a pillow covering his face.

But no Rafe.

You let out a slow breath, your pulse hammering in your ears. You needed to leave before anyone woke up, before you had to deal with the awkward aftermath of last night.

Carefully, you slid the blanket off and got to your feet, grabbing your bag. Your shoes dangled from your fingers as you tiptoed toward the door, wincing at every creaky floorboard.

You hesitated for just a second—just long enough to wonder if you should say something, leave a note, anything.

But you didn’t.

You slipped out of the house without looking back.

It wasn’t even an hour later when your phone buzzed with messages from the girls.

BROOKE: where did you go??

MIA: ummmm excuse me??? Did you just vanish???

PAIGE: she’s avoiding us. Criminal.

Your phone buzzed nonstop as you walked home, but you ignored it until you were back in your room, tucked under the covers, pretending last night hadn’t happened.

YOU: sorry, woke up early and just decided to leave, wasn’t feeling great

You stared at the message for half a second before pressing send. It wasn’t exactly a lie.

Brooke was the first to reply.

BROOKE: uh huh. sureee

MIA: well, hope you feel better bc we’re all going out tonight!!! live band at the club, it’s supposed to be really good

PAIGE: and by ‘really good’ she means full of hot, rich guys willing to buy us drinks

You hesitated. The last thing you wanted to do was go out and pretend everything was fine, especially if Rafe was going to be there.

But if you said no, they would definitely know something was up.

YOU: sounds fun. I’m in.

————

Later that night, you found yourself in Paige’s bedroom, surrounded by dresses, makeup palettes, and the sweet scent of vanilla perfume.

You sat on the bed with a wine glass in hand, watching as Mia curled her lashes in the mirror. Brooke was fixing Paige’s hair, both of them deep in conversation about something you weren’t really listening to.

“Okay, but what are we manifesting tonight?” Paige asked, tossing her hair over one shoulder.

“I’m manifesting someone hot, rich, and slightly emotionally unavailable,” Mia said.

Brooke snorted. “So… Rafe?”

Mia burst into laughter, but you stiffened, fingers tightening around your glass.

The conversation kept moving, but Brooke’s eyes flickered to you in the mirror. She didn’t say anything, but you could tell she noticed.

“Are we gonna talk about the fact that our girl has been acting weird lately?” Paige asked, raising an eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes, forcing a smile. “I’m not acting weird.”

Brooke hummed. “Right. And the fact that you look like you want to throw yourself out the window every time Rafe is mentioned is just a coincidence?”

You exhaled sharply, turning back to your glass.

Paige smirked. “Wait… did something happen?”

Mia’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, did you guys hook up?!”

“What? No.”

Brooke eyed you carefully. “But something did happen.”

You hesitated. “It’s not… it’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

Mia and Paige exchanged a look, clearly unconvinced.

Brooke, however, didn’t push it.

“Okay,” she said simply, turning back to the mirror. “But just so you know, whatever’s going on with you two? I can see it matters to both of you.”

Your stomach twisted, but you keep your face neutral, “Enough of the serious talk. We have drinks to drink and guys to charm.”

Mia grinned. “Amen.”

And just like that, the conversation shifted.

————

By the time you arrived at the country club, the place was already packed. The band played from the corner of the room, their music weaving through the hum of conversation and clinking glasses. The warm glow of the chandeliers cast a golden light over the space, giving everything an almost dreamlike quality.

You tried to focus on the excitement, on the promise of a fun night.

But your eyes had a mind of their own.

They found Rafe almost instantly.

He was near the bar, his back turned to you, his posture relaxed. He looked good—too good—in a fitted dark button-up, his blond hair slightly tousled, like he’d run his fingers through it one too many times.

And he wasn’t alone.

A girl you didn’t recognize stood close beside him, a little too close. She was tall, blonde, effortlessly pretty, the kind of girl who fit perfectly into Rafe Cameron’s world.

You told yourself it didn’t matter.

But when she laughed—too loud, too flirty—at something he said, irritation burned in your chest.

Brooke, ever observant, followed your gaze.

“You’re gripping your drink like it personally offended you,” Brooke murmured beside you, her voice low.

You let out a breath. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Brooke just hummed knowingly, taking a sip of her cocktail. “Right. And I suppose the daggers you’re staring into that girl’s back are just for fun?”

You clenched your jaw, avoiding her gaze. “He can do whatever he wants.”

Brooke scoffed. “Sure. And that’s why you look like you’re about to storm over there and ruin her night.”

You hesitated, then finally sighed. “We… we almost kissed last night.”

Brooke’s eyes widened slightly. “Almost?”

You nodded. “I pulled away.”

Brooke frowned. “Why?”

You swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably. “Because I panicked. Because I—” You stopped, exhaling. “Because I realized I actually like him, and that wasn’t part of the plan. This started as a stupid way to make Alex jealous and get Amelia off his back, I don’t want him kissing me just because it’s convenient or easy.”

Brooke stared at you like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You seriously think that’s why he was going to kiss you?”

Brooke blinked, like she hadn’t expected you to admit it outright.

“Okay,” she said slowly, setting her drink down. “First of all, you need to talk to him. Running away isn’t solving anything.”

You swallowed. “And what if it’s just about Amelia for him? What if I’m just convenient?”

Brooke shook her head. “Then you ask him. Because from where I’m standing? That’s not the way a guy looks at someone who’s just convenient.”

“Well it seems like he got over it quick enough.” Gesturing to him and the girls he’s been flirting with all night.

Brooke sighed, shaking her head. “You’re an idiot.”

You shot her a glare. “Thanks.”

She gave you a pointed look. “No, seriously. He likes you, you know. And if you don’t stop running away, you’re gonna lose him before you even figure out what you want.”

You hesitated, your eyes flickering back to Rafe.

He wasn’t looking at the blonde anymore.

He was looking at you.

And for the first time all night, you weren’t sure who was hurting more. You—or him.

—————————

What do we think will happen next? Will they clear the air ?

Taglist:

@rafecameronsbaeee @Drewwhor

@wtfisastiles @emmafitzzz

@yourmomdotcom42069 @yasmin-oviedo

@pogueprincesa @maybankslover

@rrosiitas @my-name-is-baby

@rafecameronsslut1234 @ggraycelynn

@wtfdudesblog @hugheswife

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mashtatosworld · 1 day ago

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love and let go

summary: first day of nursery brings tears... and they're not from your baby

The morning is tense.

Not for you. For Jiyong.

You find him sulking - protesting, in bed, still buried under the blankets while you’re in the bathroom, getting ready. His phone is abandoned on the nightstand - strange, considering he practically breathes through it. His arms are folded, one leg slightly sticking out of the covers like a child throwing a silent tantrum.

"Are you really going to mope all morning?" you ask, brushing your hair.

"Yes," he mumbles into the pillow.

You roll your eyes, walking over to yank the blanket down. He tuts but doesn’t fight it, his messy bedhead sticking up in every direction. His eyes are still puffy from sleep, but his frown is deep.

"Jiyong, you agreed to this."

"I agreed because you forced me to," he huffs, rubbing his face. "I still don’t like it."

You sigh, kneeling on the bed beside him. "It’s just a few hours, Ji."

"It’s a few hours too long," he mutters. "She doesn’t need this. She has everything she could ever want at home. She has us."

You smooth a hand through his hair, watching as his eyes flutter closed under your touch. "She needs friends. And independence. You don’t want her to struggle in social situations when she’s older, do you?"

Jiyong cracks an eye open. "She has me. I’m her best friend."

You scoff. "She doesn’t like other kids, Ji. She turns her nose up at them."

Jiyong nods. "She has standards."

You deadpan. “Jiyong, if you ever want her to change her mind about a sibling - ”

“I am working on that,” he huffs. "We talk about it when we go shopping."

You arch a brow. “You can't bribe her."

“...it works for a while." Until he gets home and she remembers how many toys and dresses she already has.

You press your fingers against your temples. “We are not debating this again.”

Jiyong sighs dramatically. “Fine.”

You kiss his cheek. "Thank you."

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Diva sits on the floor beside you as you pack her bunny backpack. The moment you drop a juice box inside, her eyes light up.

"Juice?" she asks in awe, like you’ve given her a hidden treasure.

Jiyong groans from the doorway, arms crossed. "Look at her. She thinks we’re going on a picnic. She doesn’t even know she’s being abandoned."

You shoot him a warning look.

Diva eyes are still glued to where you'd just deposited the juice box. "More?"

You laugh. "You only need one, baby."

She frowns but doesn’t argue, pushing to her feet. "Go now?" she asks as you place the small bag on her back.

Jiyong joins you, crouching to adjust the backpack straps properly. "We don’t have to, you know... There's a perfectly good park down the road."

You smack his shoulder.

Diva, blissfully unaware of her father’s internal suffering, claps her hands. "Go now!"

Jiyong sighs in defeat.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

After convincing your husband to finally unlock the car doors, you all made your way to the charming brick building.

The nursery is bright and welcoming, but none of that matters to Jiyong.

Diva clings to his hand as the teacher greets her warmly.

She looks around, eyeing the toys and the kids playing - but she doesn’t move away from her father.

"You’re going to have so much fun, sweetheart," you say gently, smoothing her hair. "Remember what we talked about? You’re going to make friends."

Diva looks up at you. "Eomma stay?"

You crouch to her level. "No, baby. You stay here and play."

Her tiny brows furrow. Then, she turns to the real weak link - Appa.

She tugs on his hand. "Appa stay?"

Jiyong makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat.

You immediately glare at him. Don’t you dare.

His jaw clenches. He kneels, cupping Diva’s little cheeks. "Baby, Appa and Eomma will come back, okay?"

Diva frowns. "Promise?"

Jiyong physically struggles. You see it - his whole body tenses, his fingers twitching like he wants to just grab her and take her home. But instead, he takes her pinky in his own, pressing a soft kiss to the tip.

"Promise," he whispers.

You drag him out before he can change his mind.

But when the car door shuts and the music begins playing through the speakers, you feel it.

The back seat is empty.

No Diva.

No little voice demanding a song.

No tiny giggles.

Your throat tightens.

Jiyong sighs. “You too, huh?”

You exhale sharply, clicking your seatbelt into place. “Let’s just go home.”

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The house is too quiet.

Jiyong is miserable.

He's paced the entire length of the penthouse. He's cleaned your room and Diva's. And even reorganised the wardrobes. Twice. You were pretty sure you heard sniffling as he colour-coordinated Diva's dresses.

His red eyes when he finally emerged from its glittery, pink depths gave him away...

But for the moment, he lies on the couch, arm thrown over his face, phone in hand. His gallery is open to pictures of Diva.

You, not much better, sat at the kitchen counter, trying to focus on writing - but every few minutes, you find yourself checking the time.

Jiyong suddenly groans. "It’s been two hours."

You sigh, rubbing your temples. "Ji -"

"Let’s go early," he blurts out, sitting up.

You blink. "What?"

"She might need us," he insists. "We should check."

You exhale, setting your notebook aside. "You mean you need her."

Jiyong doesn’t even try to deny it.

But you don't protest as he races to grab his car keys. She was your little baby too, and completed your family. It wasn't home without her.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

You both rush to the nursery, expecting to find Diva crying, desperate for her parents.

Instead -

She’s thriving.

She’s at a tiny table, surrounded by other kids, sculpting something out of Play-Doh. She looks… content.

Jiyong freezes.

"She’s not crying," he whispers.

You smile, proud. "She’s fine."

The teacher walks over, waving. "She did great today! She was hesitant at first, but she made some friends."

You and Jiyong share a look.

Diva finally notices you both and smiles a gummy smile. "Eomma! Hi, Appa!"

Jiyong looks betrayed.

"Come here, baby," you say, waving her over.

She hops off her chair, running over. Jiyong immediately picks her up, cradling her to his chest. "Appa missed you so much," he mumbles dramatically, kissing her cheek.

Diva giggles, and reveals something clutched in her tiny hand. "For Appa."

She holds out a red, lumpy clay blob. It held some resemblance to a heart.

Jiyong laughs. "For me?"

Diva nods seriously.

Jiyong clutches it to his chest like it’s a priceless heirloom.

It was going straight on the mantlepiece. Front and centre.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The bedtime routine that night is soothing. The house feels normal again now that Diva is back in it.

Jiyong sits on the edge of her bed, stroking her hair as she blinks up at him sleepily. You tuck her dragon plush into her arms, smoothing down her blanket.

"Baby," Jiyong whispers, voice gentle, "you don’t want to go again, right?"

You glare at him. "Jiyong."

He huffs, looking down at Diva. "I mean… do you want to go again?"

Diva yawns, rubbing her eyes. "More juice."

You blink. "Huh?"

She sighs, deeply, as if you should already know what she means. "More juice, Eomma." Then, with zero warning, she closes her eyes and is out.

Jiyong stares. "She's your double."

"Shut up." you whisper, holding back a laugh.

Jiyong shakes his head, tucking the blanket under her chin. "At least she has her priorities straight."

You raise the crib bars and both step out, leaving her to settle. Just as you sink onto the couch, Ji carries over an already half-drunk glass of wine when your phone buzzes.

It was from the nursery.

[teacher] Hello, Mrs Kwon! We usually send photo updates to parents throughout their little ones day. It seems these got lost until now, apologies!

You click on the link and you immediately melt.

Diva at the tiny play kitchen, stirring an imaginary pot. Diva laughing with another child over snack time. Diva grinning - grinning - while painting at a tiny easel.

You nudge Jiyong, showing him the screen. His brows pull together as he scrolls, eyes lingering on each picture. His baby girl looks so happy.

His jaw tightens. "Once a week," he mutters, taking a long swig of wine. "For now."

You nod. "For now." You’re not quite ready either.

Jiyong sighs, setting your phone aside. Then he stretches, swirling his glass with a lazy smirk. "So… how about another baby?"

You snort. He always asks that after the slightest drop of alcohol.

He leans closer. "Think about it jagi..."

You grin, already clearly picturing it. "Mm, let’s see how you feel in the morning when our baby is screaming for you to come get her."

Jiyong groans, already feeling the pain of his hangover.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

double dropping in honour of Übermensch!!!!

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev

#kpop #bigbang #gdragon #kwon jiyong #mashtatosworld #kwon jiyong x reader #gdragon x reader #gdad

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clockwayswrites · 9 hours ago

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Danny In Metropolis, ch3 p4

(Wow this still needs a real title.) Masterpost This isn't read over, I'm just... so very fatigued, but hopefully you enjoy.

Lois turned and pushed Clark to head towards the kitchen with the pie. “So Danny, what part of the Midwest are you from?”

Danny rubbed at the back of his neck as he followed. “That obvious?”

“Well, I did marry a Midwesterner,” Lois said. “I may know what to look for.”

“Oh, yeah. I never really thought of us being that unique but moving here has sure been an experience. And Illinois, Miss Lois.”

“Chicago or…?”

“Oh, no. A place called Amity Park. It’s not known for much other than being the most haunted city in America.”

“Most haunted city in America?” Clark repeated. He set down the pie and turned back to Danny and Kon.

Not for the first time, Kon was struck by how big Clark looked in the tiny kitchen. It always bothered Kon for a reason he could never place.

“Yep, that’s what they claim at least. It’s actually a bit of a tourist draw these days, especially around summer and Halloween. They have a summer scare fest and everything these days.”

“Did growing up there make you a skeptic or do you believe in ghosts all the more?” Lois asked.

“Well, I don't think it's so much about Amity. We live in a world with heroes, with aliens and gods and lab experiments. I guess I don't see a reason the be a skeptic with all of that,” Danny said. Then he ducked his head as if his nerves hit him all at once. “Just, um, how I see it. Plus Amity is pretty convincing.”

“You’ve got a point, kid,” Lois agreed.

Clark sighed. “No, honey.”

“What?”

“I know that look, you’re thinking of a story,” Clark said, ��or how to steal a slice of the pie before dinner. Either way, no.”

Lois crossed her arms with a petulant little pout.

Clark had a little smile as he pressed a kiss to Lois’ temple. “Danny is a guest and brought the pie as a gift.

“Let’s grab some sodas and escape while we can,” Kon said.

“I’ll remember this when you’re in love and ridiculous,” Lois said, “just you wait.”

Kon paused in handing Danny a drink. “Okay, coming from you that is slightly terrifying.”

Lois smiled. “I know. Take some snacks if you want, but don’t spoil your dinner.”

Kon rolled his eyes. “There’s pie, of course I’m not going to spoil my dinner.”

“Says the teenage boy,” Clark said with a chuckle. He did pass Kon a bag of chips though. “Are you going to work in the living room or yours?”

“Mine. My notes are in there,” Kon said. He snagged the wasabi peas and jellybean also.

“I’ll call you two down a bit before dinner and I’ll look over what you have.”

“Thank you, Miss Lois,” Danny said as he tried to juggle the things that Kon was handing him.

“You’re welcome, Danny,” Lois said with that smile that Kon didn’t trust.

Kon snagged Danny’s hand and pulled him out of the kitchen.

“Have fun!” Clark called after them. “Leave your—ow! What?”

“Let them…” whatever else Lois said Kon worked very hard not to hear as he led them up two sets of stairs and into his room.

#dp x dc #danny/kon #danny in metropolis

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cutielando · 2 days ago

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strip poker | lando norris

synopsis: in which a simple flight from Africa turns into something fun and endearing

a/n: based on this request!

pairing: lando norris x girlfriend!reader

my masterlist

Flying with Lando was always a fun endeavor.

Why?

Mainly because you never knew which side of him you were going to get.

He would either get very quiet and sleep and cuddle with you the entire flight, ignoring everybody around him; or, he would go wild, demand that everybody entertain him because he was bored and he wanted to play something with everyone.

And this time, as you were on the flight back to Monaco with Lando, Oscar and a couple other people from the team, it was the latter side of Lando that made an appearance.

Which is precisely the reason how they ended up playing strip poker, while you opted to sit it out and read your book on your Kindle device.

Even though Lando had begged you to play with them (mainly because he wanted to see you in less clothes than you were wearing, of course).

"Please? Just one game and then you can rest" he had whined, his lips jutted out into a cute pout which almost made you change your mind.

Key word: almost.

You shook your head, giggling at Lando's antics.

“I’m no good at poker, and I really don’t feel like having you explain everything to me a thousand times because we both know I won’t get it” you said, smiling fondly at him.

It was true, unfortunately.

Lando had always loved a good game of poker, especially with Max and his close friends.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t understand the game for the life of you. Yes, you would get the basics, but everything beyond that was just too much for you.

Not to mention that your poker face sucked ass.

“Are you sure? I’m sure Oscar wouldn’t mind” he said, giving it one last try.

Oscar, having been setting up the game next to you, turned his head towards you and nodded with a friendly smile.

Oh, he was too innocent for Lando’s version of poker.

“I’m sure. I have a really good book here, I’ll be fine. I’ll take a peek from time to time to see how you’re doing” you said, patting his cheek before pecking his lips and pushing him towards Oscar.

He huffed but agreed, eager to finally show Oscar how the Norris men played poker.

♡♡♡♡♡

"NO! You're cheating, I refuse to believe this, Oscar!" Lando's loud voice boomed through the small cabin of the plane.

For the past hour, there was only soft chatter and laughter gravitating your way from where the boys were playing poker.

Then, slowly and gradually, the laughter started to cease, only to be replaced by Lando's shrieks and accusations of cheating thrown at Oscar and other members of the McLaren team that were flying with you guys.

Giggling to yourself, you looked up from your Kindle and saw that Lando was taking off his sweatshirt, leaving him topless and furiously red in the face.

"What's going on?" you asked, biting your lip as you looked at the group.

Lando didn’t say anything, but his face was doing all the speaking for him.

He was fuming, staring daggers at Oscar while the Aussie couldn’t stop laughing at his antics.

“Lando is just a sore loser” Oscar said after he finally let his laughter die down.

“That’s not true! YOU’RE CHEATING” Lando shouted back, making both you and Oscar laugh even louder than before.

You threw your head back and kept laughing at how your boyfriend was adamant that Oscar was somehow cheating, all the while he was pouting as he stared back at you with a defeated look.

“It’s not funny, you know” he said as he got up to stretch, making his way over to your little reading corner you had set up for yourself.

You smiled, reaching up to hold his cheek in your hand.

“We both know it’s hilarious, baby” you cooed, scrunching your your nose as Lando glared at you.

He hated it when you babied him in front of other people, but you knew he secretly enjoyed it, but just didn’t want to admit it.

“Can you come play now? I’m bored and I’m losing because you aren’t playing with me” Lando said, pouting.

You cocked your head, prepared to argue with him because you weren’t feeling it.

But when you saw the desperate look in Lando’s eyes, you couldn’t bring yourself to say no to him.

And so you found yourself sitting next to Lando, losing impeccably at the game of poker against Oscar and the other team members.

Article after article of clothing was flying off of you, but Lando suddenly became aware of the fact that if you lost another game, you would have to take off your hoodie and show your bra to the other guys, which is when he put a stop to the game.

“Okay, that’s enough for today” he had suddenly said, after you had lost yet another round of poker and was starting to take off your hoodie.

“What’s going on?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowed, your hoodie already half-way off, just under your bra.

Lando huffed, taking your hand and pulling you up with him back to your little corner on the plane.

He guided you to sit down in your seat, got you settled and then sat down next to you, shuffling until he was resting his head on your chest.

You brought your hand up to twiddle with the strands of his curls, enjoying the soft hair beneath your fingers and scratching Lando’s scalp, something he loved beyond words.

“Why did you stop the game so suddenly? I thought you had wanted me to play with you guys” you asked, your tone quiet so nobody else would hear you.

Lando huffed, burying his head further into the fabric of your hoodie.

He mumbled something into your chest, but the fabric in the way blocked everything out, preventing you from understanding what he was saying.

"I can't hear you, Lan" you said softly, craning your neck to look at him better.

He sighed and lifted his head slightly, still pouting.

"I said, I didn't want the others to see you without your clothes on" he murmured, and understanding suddenly washed over you.

If you were being honest, you hadn't even thought about that.

McLaren was just as much your second family as it was Lando's, and you'd never shied away from any of them, being very comfortable with every member of his team.

But you realized that while you loved them all equally like your brothers, the thought of any of them seeing you naked wasn't particularly comfortable to you.

Especially Oscar, who was shy enough and introverted as it is.

"Oh, I completely forgot about that part when I said I'd play. I'm sorry, I should've said no" you said, softly running your hands through his hair and caressing his cheek.

Lando sighed and got up, instead wrapping an arm around your shoulders and helping you settle in his side.

"I should've thought about that before I asked you to play with us. Stupid me" he murmured, his lips now pressed against your forehead.

You giggled, not bothering to contradict him because you knew he was partially correct.

And that's how, instead of continuing the game of strip poker, the two of you spent the remaining of the flight cuddled into each other, snoozing softly.

With Lando still topless and mad he had lost.

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luvst4rc0r3 · 2 days ago

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CAN YOU WRITE A JINX X F!READER WHERE READER HAS A KID AND JINX DOESNT KNOW IT YET??

TY IF YOU DO

Yess I love this request

“Unexpected Visit”

It’s a Saturday morning, the sunlight spilling lazily through your kitchen window as you scramble around trying to keep things in order. Your little one is still sleeping, curled up on the couch with a blanket tangled around them like a cocoon. You’ve got a coffee in hand, a mountain of laundry to fold, and the last thing on your mind is anything chaotic—until the doorbell rings.

You freeze.

Jinx.

You glance at the clock. It’s just past noon. No one ever visits unannounced, except… her. You didn’t expect her to pop by today, especially after the week you’ve had. You wipe your hands on your apron and head for the door.

When you open it, she’s standing there, her hair a mess, an eager grin stretched across her face. Her eyes are wide with excitement.

“Surprise!” she says, bouncing on her heels like a kid on Christmas morning. “You ready for some fun?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Jinx, uh… what are you—?”

But then you hear the soft snoring from the living room, and her gaze flickers behind you. Her eyes narrow with curiosity.

“What was that? Was that…?” she trails off, tilting her head.

“Shh,” you hiss, quickly stepping back from the door. “Keep your voice down. My kid is asleep.”

Jinx blinks, the words hanging in the air for a moment. Her expression shifts from playful confusion to something… more cautious. “Kid?”

You wince, realizing you didn’t exactly mean to spill that detail yet. It’s been a while since you thought about your situation as anything more than normal. You didn’t think Jinx would show up today, much less find out about your life outside of work or your occasional hangouts.

“Yeah, a kid,” you say, trying to keep it light. “I’m a single parent, Jinx. Didn’t think I’d need to mention it yet.” You let out a small laugh, but she’s staring at you, completely silent.

She steps into the doorway without waiting for an invitation, glancing around at the cozy, somewhat cluttered home. A few toys are scattered on the floor, and the smell of pancakes still lingers in the air.

“So, uh,” she begins, sounding awkward for the first time in your memory. “Is this like, uh… what, a big secret or something?”

You shake your head, letting out a soft sigh. “It’s not a secret. It’s just… complicated. And, I wasn’t really planning on telling anyone about my kid yet.”

Jinx’s eyes soften, and she rubs the back of her neck, looking around the room in an almost shy way. “Well, you’re, like, a lot cooler than I thought if you can handle that all on your own,” she mutters.

You blink at her. “What do you mean?”

She looks at you with those familiar, mischievous eyes. “You’re doing everything. The mom thing, the work thing… and you still let me come over and drag you into my chaos every now and then. That’s cool.”

Your heart flutters a little, a mix of amusement and warmth spreading through you. Jinx wasn’t always the best at expressing her feelings, but you could tell when she meant something.

“Well, someone has to,” you reply, grinning. “And I guess I’m the lucky one.”

She bites her lip, eyes darting toward the couch where your child is still snoozing, peaceful and unaware of the chaos outside.

“Can I… meet them?”

You pause. You weren’t sure how she would act in this kind of situation, but something about the way she asked makes you want to say yes. You nod, feeling your nerves settle a little.

“Okay, but you have to be quiet,” you whisper as you lead her toward the living room.

When she sees your child, her whole demeanor shifts. Her usual manic energy quiets, her eyes softening as she looks at the little one. Jinx crouches down, her fingers hovering just above their sleeping form, unsure of what to do.

“I don’t… I’ve never really been around kids,” she admits, voice barely above a whisper.

You smile, a little surprised at how gentle her tone is. “It’s okay. You don’t have to do anything.”

Jinx nods, standing back up, her eyes lingering on your kid a little longer. For once, the wildness that usually marks her movements is replaced with something more reserved.

“Your kid’s cute,” she says quietly.

You laugh softly. “Yeah, they are.”

Jinx’s eyes flicker back to you, an almost awkward pause settling in the air. “I didn’t mean to, you know… show up uninvited or anything. I just… wanted to see you. Didn’t realize you had all this going on.”

You smile, your heart swelling just a bit. “I didn’t expect you to be so… calm about it.”

“I’m not that bad, right?” Jinx pouts, then grins. “Just… got a lot of energy. But if you need help with anything… I’m pretty good at keeping busy, y’know?”

The offer hangs in the air, and for a moment, you just stand there, watching her. There’s a sincerity in her words that catches you off guard, and you realize she’s not just offering to be part of your world for the fun of it. She genuinely wants to be involved, even if it’s in her own chaotic way.

“Thanks, Jinx,” you say softly, smiling at her. “That means a lot.”

She grins back, her usual playful spark returning. “No problem. Just, uh… don’t expect me to start doing kid stuff. I’m good with fun stuff.” She winks.

The little one stirs on the couch and yawns, rubbing their eyes. Jinx freezes mid-wink, watching them. You turn your head to see your kid slowly sitting up, eyes blinking in confusion. They take in Jinx’s appearance with curious eyes before looking at you.

“Mommy?” they ask softly, still half-asleep.

You bend down and smile, your heart melting. “Yes, sweetie?”

“This is…?” They gesture to Jinx, clearly confused but eager to know more.

Jinx crouches down to their level, her usual mischievous grin back in full force. “I’m… mommy’s special friend!” she says, her tone dramatically exaggerated as she holds out a hand. “Jinx”

Your kid blinks at her, then looks back at you, as if making sure it’s all okay. You give them an encouraging smile.

“Mommy’s special friend,” you confirm gently. “Jinx is a bit… crazy, but she’s a good person.”

Jinx’s eyes widen at your words, a small blush coloring her cheeks. She looks at your little one again, her expression softening. “I promise, I’m more fun than I look,” she says with a playful wink.

Your kid tilts their head, then gives a shy smile, stretching their arms. “Okay, Jinx! Can you make pancakes like mommy?”

Jinx’s eyes sparkle at the challenge. “Oh, pancakes? I definitely can do that.”

And just like that, she’s included—welcomed into your little family’s world in her own chaotic, Jinx-y way. As the morning slips into afternoon, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, having someone like Jinx around isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened.

This was a cute request

I want food

#arcane x reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #x reader #x you #jinx #x y/n #jinx arcane #jinx league of legends #jinx lol #arcame #jinx x y/n #jinx x reader

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munsonsmixtapes · 2 days ago

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Can y’all please send me some rockstar!Eddie requests??

Rock star eddie, you're his drummer. One of his songs requires moans in the background. He wants it live. Wear special panties during show, boom live moans or if that's too much maybe just has you in the sound booth since he doesn't want some random chick's moans

ugh I love this idea

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) masturbation anal, slight degradation, use of the word whore

The recording booth is getting warm as you finish up your contribution to the new single. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever done before and Eddie is producing the entire thing, telling you exactly what he wants you to do and you hate that you’re finding it so hot.

He’s your bandmate and looking back, bandmates dating each other rarely ever works out. So you’ve been keeping your attraction to yourself even though everyone but Eddie knows exactly how you feel. And you don’t think he’s ignoring you but more that he’s oblivious, not seeing what’s right in front of him.

And it apparently goes both ways since you have no idea that he’s been crushing on you since you joined the band, temporarily filling in for Gareth while his broken arm heals. He’d never tell anyone this, but for very selfish reasons, he doesn’t want Gareth to get better. He wants you to stay in the band forever so he can’t get closer to you.

He wants to be able to get a glimpse of your short shorts and skirts when you sit on the stool in front of the drum kit. He wonders how you would feel if he let his hand slide up your thigh, dipping into the waistband of you panties to feel your sopping wet-

“That was really good,” Eddie tells you through the speaker with a wide smile.

“Great,” you smile back. “Am I good to go?” You jerk your thumb towards the door and Eddie shakes his head. He kind of feels like a perv for what he’s about to ask, but he doesn’t exactly want to ask this of a stranger.

“Actually,” he starts. “I have something else I want you to record if you’re up for it.”

You don’t understand what could possibly be left. You already did your vocals and the drum beats he wanted. What else could Eddie be asking for? And why is he asking it from you?

“I was wondering…” he pauses for a beat then waits for Jack, the producer who was helping him out with everything, to leave. And once he does, Eddie leans in close and it feels so intimate, like he’s right there, just inches away from you. “Since this song is supposed to be sexy, I was wondering if you’d like to record some moans for me so I can put them in the background of the track.”

Your face is now on fire. You don’t know what you thought he was going to ask you to do, but it definitely wasn’t that. You should feel disgusted but for whatever reason, you actually feel honored. You’re the one he wants to do this, no one else. And it makes you feel even more attracted to him then you already are.

“Okay,” you nod, letting what you’re about to agree to actually sink in before you say the words. “Sounds fun, I’m in.”

Eddie’s honestly shocked that you’re into it, that you’re so eager to do this for him. He really thought it was a big ask but you agreed so quickly, almost as if he asked you to buy him a coffee. (and he never even has to ask for that, you’ll just show up with his usual order with that pretty smile on your face) God, he’s getting hard just thinking about what you’re going to do and wishes that he could be the one to make you make those surely delicious sounds, but he’s going to keep his distance.

You move around the drums and stand in front of the main mic, putting your headphones back on, wondering what it’s going to sound like on the track. Eddie has always had a good ear so you’re sure that whatever he’s going to come up with will sound great.

“So how do you want this? Do want something loud or breathy or-“

“Breathy,” he replies, cutting you off. “Needy, desperate.”

“Do you mind if I-” you cut yourself off, referring to your pants. Eddie’s eyes widen at what you’re insinuating, but he’s not going to say no. He knows that it’s hard for some people to do that kind of thing on demand and he also kinda wants to see you get yourself off.

“Oh, no,” he shakes his head. “Go ahead. We’re recording.”

“Okay,” you nod as you pull your shorts down just a bit before sticking your hand down your panties, on the hunt for your pussy. Your fingers get inside you pretty easily and you begin to pump, slowly at first and Eddie’s watching every move, eating up the way you throw your head back in pleasure. It’s almost like you’re putting on a show for him and he’s eating up every second.

When you let out your first moan, Eddie’s cock twitches at the pretty sound and gets progressively harder the more you moan, deciding that it’s even better than he imagined it would be. This is going to sound so hot on the record and he’s nodding to himself at how good of a decision it was to have you be the one to do it.

“Fuck,” you whine and he’s bricked up now, wondering if it would be weird if he jacked off to you masturbating. He supposed it doesn’t matter because he’s already pulling down his sweatpants before spitting into his hands and giving it a jerk.

“Just like that,” he encourages into the speaker. “Maybe a little more whiny.”

Your hand is moving faster now, his name falling from your lips in a breathy whine and he’s so close to coming right there. In a flash, he’s on his feet, pulling his pants up as he stops the recording, making a beeline for the booth. He’s gotta join in now that he’s heard your moan his name, wanting you to moan it because of how he’s touching you.

Your eyes open when the door to the booth shuts and he charges towards you. You slowly pull your hand from your shorts then grab onto his shoulder with your free hand, motioning for him to open his mouth. He does so and your fingers slide into his mouth as his tongue swirls around it, sucking your slick from it, savoring the taste even as you pull them from his mouth with a loud pop.

“How’s it taste?” You ask and he puts on a devilish smirk, grabbing hold of your waist, your body now flush to his.

“You tell me,” he whispers as his lips find yours, his tongue licking into your mouth, letting it meet yours so you can decide for yourself. “Good?” He asks when you don’t answer, but how can you when the whole thing makes you dizzy, unable to string together a proper sentence.

“Mmm,” you moan against his lips, your arms wrapping around his neck as his hands slide into your back pocket. He’s kissing you like this is something he’s been waiting for forever and he has dreamt about something like this happening but he was convinced that it was only going to end up being just a dream.

He gives your ass a squeeze before hurrying to unbutton your shorts, pulling them down just a bit so he can get his hand down in there, his fingers finding your cunt pretty easily. His eyes darken as he pumps his fingers in and out, not even trying to warm you up, shoving his entire fingers in there. He puts on a devilish smile as he watches you come undone underneath his touch. He knows exactly what he’s doing and you know it’s from years of playing guitar that he can move his fingers in such ways.

You hold onto him as best you can but you feel your knees buckle, having a hard time staying on your feet. Eddie’s quick to pull your back to his chest , his fingers somehow sinking deeper and you’re now putty in his hands as you reach your orgasm, his name falling from your lips once again and he’s got on a cocky smirk as he helps you sink to the floor.

“All fours,” he commands and you’re quick to listen, letting him pull your shorts and panties down. He stares down at your bare ass, nodding to himself because he just knew that you had a good one with the tight shorts you always wear when performing. It was torture not being able to touch you but now that he’s here, he’s going to do so much, everything he’s ways wanted to as long as you’re okay with it.

Eddie removes his jeans and boxers and discards them into the pile of your clothing before getting down on his knees. This might be the hottest he’s ever seen you, hearing you beg for him, fuck, he thinks he’s going to come.

His shirt is off in a flash and you turn around to get a glimpse of the size of him but he quickly grabs onto your cheeks and forces you to turn back and face forward. You do as he says and stay there as you feel his presence behind you. He’s lathering something onto his cock, you can hear the noises and before you can ask as him what’s going on, he’s pounding into you as his hands rest on your waist, his fingers digging into your hips as he goes to town. You’re moaning so loud and he almost wishes that he was still recording as perverted as that sounds.

“Look at you, taking me so well,” he says as he somehow goes even harder, wishing he had a mirror so that he could see just how hot you look from the front. “I think you deserve a treat for that. That is, if you can be a good girl.”

“I-I can be,” you reply through heavy breaths. You just knew that Eddie liked it rough, but not this rough. But you’re enjoying yourself, deciding that you can do this for hours. Your arms are getting a little tired but it’s worth it to be receiving something this good.

“I bet you’re a whore too, aren’t you, sweetheart?” He’s right, you are, and you’re wondering how he’s able to read you like a book in this way. He’s making you wet beyond belief and you didn’t realize that you liked being spoken to like this until this very moment.

“Mmm,” you reply, your brain going fuzzy as you feel another orgasm approaching, your arms threatening to give out on you. Just you hit your peak, Eddie pulls out and pushes you onto your back, not even giving you a second before he’s pounding into your sopping wet cunt, no sounds being heard except the squelching and slapping as he moves quickly.

He wants to see you now, thinking that you’ve more than earned your treat because of how well you responded to him. You’re so pretty like this, submitting to him, letting him do whatever he wants to you. You’ve always been sweet and quiet, he never knew you had this side to you.

“So pretty,” he whispers as he leans down for a kiss, this one soft, completely juxtaposing the way he’s fucking you. He then pulls your hoodie off to reveal your bare tits. You weren’t even wearing a bra? Fuck, he acutally might cum this time.

And he’s feeling close this time, his vision getting hazy as he continues to pound into you. And it gets more intense as he thinks about the fact that you could potentially get caught and now he’s hurrying to finish to make sure that doesn’t, coming pretty much right after you as you’re bucking your hips against his to try your best to finish him off.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whines as he finally gets there, the two of you staying like that until you both come down. You’re already missing the feeling of him inside you as he attempts to clean the two of you up, helping you get dress afterwards before your legs still feel like jelly.

He then helps you to your feet with a promise that he’ll make you feel even better in his apartment later. He then lets you sit in his lap as he finishes editing the song, still somehow able to get the job done even when you’re kissing his neck, grinding your ass against his cock. Yeah, he’s definitely teaching you a lesson later.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie x you #rockstar!eddie x fem!reader #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie smut

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gracie-eilish · 3 days ago

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Hello! I loved your mom!Billie stories, and I kind of have an idea for that. Billie and her wife have to deal with their first temper tantrum from their daughter, and both of them are a mess of emotions after the situation is handled.

terrible twos2️⃣

It started as a great day. The kind of morning where your daughter was nothing but giggles, her little hands clapping as she wobbled around on her tiny legs. She had been a ray of sunshine—babbling to you and Billie, playing with her stuffed animals, and even giving you both sloppy kisses between bites of her breakfast.

And then, somewhere between lunch and nap time, everything changed.

It started with a tiny pout when you told her she couldn’t have more juice. Then an upset little whine when Billie gently stopped her from trying to climb onto the coffee table. A frustrated huff when her blocks wouldn’t stack the way she wanted.

You and Billie had exchanged a look.

It was coming.

The first real tantrum.

And sure enough, when you told her it was time to wind down for her nap, your sweet little girl erupted.

“No!” she shrieked, flopping onto the floor, dodging your arms, like a tiny, furious starfish.

Billie blinked. “Oh.”

You crouched down, keeping your voice calm. “Baby, I know you don’t want to, but your body needs rest.”

Another loud “NOOOO!” accompanied by kicking feet and balled-up fists.

Billie glanced at you. “Uh, should we, like… reason with her?”

You shot her a look. “She’s a toddler, Billie.”

Billie huffed. “Well, yeah, but—”

Your daughter’s wail rose in volume, her little body trembling with sheer, unfiltered rage.

Billie winced. “Okay. Wow. That’s, um—she’s really committing to this.”

You took a breath and tried again. “Lovebug, I know you’re upset, but—”

Your daughter dramatically threw herself onto her back, wailing, “Nooo nap!”

Billie ran a hand through her hair. “Jeez, baby, you act like we told you Santa isn’t real.”

The screaming continued.

Billie sighed, getting down onto the floor next to her. “Okay, what if we make nap time fun, huh? We can read a book first—maybe that one with the little duck you love?”

Your daughter let out a gasping, hiccupy sob, then screamed, “NO DUCKY!”

Billie put a hand over her heart, looking personally attacked. “Okay, ouch. You love Ducky.”

Another hiccupping wail.

Billie turned to you, looking panicked. “Babe. She just rejected Ducky.”

You sighed. “She’s gone rogue.”

Your daughter, still mid-meltdown, let out a high-pitched screech and rolled onto her stomach, kicking her little feet against the floor in sheer defiance of all things nap-related.

Billie pressed a hand to her forehead. “Okay, what if we—uh—ooh! What if we do a little dance first? Get the energy out?”

She started wiggling in place, snapping her fingers.

Your daughter shrieked, red-faced, “NO DANCE!”

Billie froze mid-wiggle. “Damn.”

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “We just have to let her ride it out.”

Billie groaned. “But it’s so loud.”

Your daughter, as if proving Billie’s point, let out another dramatic sob and threw her arms out like she was making a tantrum angel on the floor.

Billie gave you a look. “You sure she’s not auditioning for an Oscar?”

You bit back a laugh. “Let her have her moment, she’ll tire herself out.”

After a few more minutes of earth-shattering crying, her little body started slowing down, her sobs turning into exhausted sniffles.

You crouched down again, rubbing gentle circles on her back. “I know, love. It’s so hard being this little, huh?”

She sniffled, hiccuping.

Billie, now much softer, reached out and brushed damp curls away from her forehead. “We love you, baby girl.”

Your daughter let out a tired little whimper and reached for you with grabby hands.

Your heart melted instantly. You lifted her into your arms without hesitation, pressing a kiss to her damp, flushed cheek. Billie immediately wrapped her arms around both of you, pressing a soft kiss to your daughter’s forehead.

The tantrum was over.

She clung to you, her tiny body exhausted, her warm cheek pressing against your shoulder.

Billie let out a deep breath. “Holy shit.”

You exhaled. “Yeah.”

Billie pulled back slightly, wide-eyed. “Are we okay?”

You huffed a laugh. “I think so?”

Billie groaned, running a hand through her hair. “Dude. I am emotionally wrecked.”

You chuckled, shifting your daughter against your chest. “Tell me about it.”

Billie sighed, resting her forehead against yours. “I was not ready for that.”

You shook your head. “Me neither.”

Your daughter made a tiny, sleepy noise, her little hand curling into Billie’s hoodie.

You and Billie both melted on the spot.

Billie pressed another kiss to her temple, whispering, “You’re lucky you’re so cute, little miss drama queen.”

Your daughter’s tiny fingers clutched Billie’s hoodie tighter, her exhausted little face nuzzling further into your chest.

You and Billie both let out a long sigh.

“I love you guys,” Billie murmured.

You turned your head, pressing a kiss to her lips. “We love you too, superstar.”

Billie smiled against your mouth, then pulled back with wide eyes. “Babe.”

You hummed.

Billie whispered, “What if she does this again tomorrow?”

You groaned. “Don’t even say that.”

Billie chuckled, her arms wrapping around the both of you. “We’ll survive, babe.”

You smiled, squeezing her hand. “Yeah. Together.”

And as your daughter let out one last tiny sigh between you, you knew that no matter how many tantrums were in your future, you and Billie would always get through them the same way—together.

#billie eilish #wlw #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish x reader #fanfiction #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x female reader #billie eilish fic #billie eilish x you #billie eilish fanfiction #billie x you #billie x reader #billie x fem reader #gracie eilish #🧡🧡

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delilahsturniolo · 12 hours ago

Text

— ୨୧ better than me, huh? . . . c.s

in which . . . chris makes you admit and shows you that he’s the only one who can make you feel good.

warnings . . . smutttt, fwb!chris, use of pet names, fingering, oral, (fem!recieving) kissing, degradation, teasing, dom!chris.

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

★ chris’s lips crashed against yours abruptly, with desperation, with need. he hovered over you as you laid on your back, the two of you passionately making out on his own bed. chris’s lips muffled your soft whines and moans. “tell me bout’ them other guys, mama.” chris murmured against your lips, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip. his grip on your waist tightened, almost painfully. the kiss was anything but gentle, it was as if he was trying to claim you again.

“tell me, what did they do to you? what did they do that i can’t, hm?” chris teased, his hands roaming your body as his lips began trailing down your body. you just wanted to piss him off for fun. “they were better than you.” you spoke, your voice defiant but also a tiny bit shaky. you saw a flash of jealousy, and even anger in chris’s blue eyes. “oh yeah? better than me, huh? what was so good about hookin’ up with other guys? what’d they do?” chris’s hand palmed your drenched panties, making you squirm with need.

you and chris didn’t have an established relationship, you were just friends who…fucked on the side, and kept everything on the low. you went out to parties, getting with other guys to help you try and forget about chris, to help you get over him and move on. but nothing fucking worked, of course. no one made you feel the way chris did. he knew all your sensitive parts, where and how to touch you, what really turned you on. no one else could do that but chris. and right now, he needed to prove that to you.

“they—mmmh—“ you couldn’t even answer because of how much he was absolutely teasing you, it was tearing you apart. but fuck, he felt so good. you needed him so badly, you just refused to admit that to him. “mm..you ain’t answerin’ me mama.” chris whispered darkly, slowly peeling your laced panties off of you. chris’s thumb pressed against your aroused clit, rubbing tight circles. you moaned in response, a gasp escaping your parted lips. “did they touch you like this, hm?” chris teased, sliding a finger between your folds, his finger playing with your wetness.

“look at you.” chris scoffed. “already so worked up? it’s embarrassing, really.” chris rolled his eyes, sliding another finger into you and beginning to pump both of them in and out of you, his hand immediately went over to your mouth as your moans became louder, more desperate. “y’gonna stop lyin’ to me yet? or am i gonna have to shut you up myself, hm?” chris pulled his fingers out of you, sucking them clean with a loud pop in his mouth. he parted your legs again as you attempted to close them. “fuck…i’m not lying!” you said as chris removed his hand from your mouth.

“yeah? bet you were thinkin’ bout me when those other stupid guys fucked ya, bet you almost moaned my name, didn’t you mama?” chris’s eyes were filled with desire, and his voice was soft with mockery. you couldn’t even admit it, because you knew he was right, you were thinking about him the entire time, it was hard to forget about him. “p—please..” you moaned in desperation. suddenly, chris leaned down, his head in between your legs as his tongue flicked on your clit. you gasped, hearing chris’s muffled voice in between your thighs.

“please what ma? you gonna admit this pussy is mine? that i’m the only one that can make you feel this good? I ain’t givin’ you what you want until you admit it. i got ways to make you talk.” chris kissed your inner thighs, still teasing you. he really wasn’t gonna let you behavior slide. “tell me, cmon…who’s pussy is this?” chris taunted, kissing your swollen clit, making your breath hitch. “y—yours..all yours..” you spoke shakily, chris smirking with satisfaction as you confessed this.

chris flipped you over in one effortless motion, your ass was facing toward him, your head burying in the pillow as he fiddled with his belt, removing his boxers to expose his hard length. his hand went onto your lower back, causing you to arch as he lined his cock up with your entrance. with absolutely no warning, chris slammed into you mercilessly, his hand coming up to the back of your head, pushing it down into the pillos, but not too hard, just to muffle your screams of pleasure.

“mmm, you like that huh? naughty fuckin’ girl…thinkin’ you can go around…messin’ with other guys to try and forget about me? it’s jus’ not possible.” chris thrusted into you, each time going deeper and deeper. “shit—oh my god… chris..” you moaned, turning your head to the side so your face wasn’t directly in the pillow. “yeah? close?” chris asked, knowing damn well you were falling apart. “mhmm..” you whined in response. chris groaned, your pussy felt so fucking good around him, he could do this forever.

“chris…gonna cum…” your mouth remained slightly ajar, chris continued pounding into you, feeling himself getting close as well. “cum f’me love.” chris whispered, leaning down to kiss your lower back. you immediately released upon those words, triggering chris’s release as well. chris pulled out of you, grabbing your waist and turning you over on your back again, looking down at your fucked out expression as he kneeled in between your legs.

“s’pretty like this..” chris mumbled, his hands going on either sides of your head on the sheets trapping you in as his lips delicately pressed against yours once more, silencing your soft whines. his tongue slid into your mouth as your hand tangled up into his hair, trying to taste every bit of him, chris’s hips slightly grinded against you as the both of you made out. chris had to make sure you knew that he was all yours, and you were all his

and chris was absolutely right, no one could make you fall apart the way he did.

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mvrlqni · 2 days ago

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꩜ — ❝ 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄 ❞

pairing — lee byung hun x co-star ! reader

synopsis — taking a flight home from touring, thinking you had spent your birthday just flying, you come home to find a lovely surprise.

warnings — a lot of fluff, kissing, swearing, age gap, lee byung hun is 54, reader is in her late 20’s or early 30’s, proofread but might have mistakes, i don’t really know lol

wc — 1.7k

AN — it’s my birthday so I thought i’d just write a little smth ! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

a tired sigh left you as you escaped the crowd of fans and was rushed into your car by you security. after making sure your bags were in the trunk, the security signalled for your chauffeur to drive off as they entered their own car, following after.

“nice plane ride, ms l/n?” your chauffeur, mr alfred, a nice elderly man spoke as you shrugged in reply.

“tiring…such a shame i wasted my birthday by doing nothing…”

mr alfred chuckled and glanced at you through the rearview mirror. “im sure everything will settle down once we arrive home.”

you hummed, not paying attention to his words as you rested your head against the window and closed your eyes.

the drive was silent after that, mr alfred leaving you to rest as you were understandably tired, flying place to place and always on the move.

the gates to your house swung open, and the cars followed in after yours. the gravel in the driveway made the entrance a bit bumpy, causing you to bump your head against the window and wake you up.

a muttered curse escaped your lips as you rubbed your head before taking a look around your home. you had to admit, during the multiple plane rides you felt somewhat homesick and so you were grateful to be back home again.

“welcome home, ms l/n.” mr alfred smiled as he parked the car and got out, opening your door to help you out.

you stretched and yawned before moving to the trunk to get your luggage. you were definitely going to sleep after a nice, hot shower. mr alfred stopped you when the trunk opened, gently pushing you aside.

“no, no, it’s fine, ms l/n, i can handle the luggage.” you were about to speak up before his insistence became too much and you begrudgingly moved aside to let the old man take your luggage. “go inside, ms l/n, i’ll handle it.”

you sighed but nodded and made your way to the front door. the door creaked as you pushed it open and stepped inside. it was eerily quiet and none of your cats were around.

making your way further into the home and turning on the lights, you entered the living room. reaching for the light switch, you flicked it on as party poppers went off and a large group of people suddenly jumped out and yelled—

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

“AHH FUCK!”

a chorus of giggles and laughter erupted as your heart pounded before settling down as you made out the different people in your home. byung-hun, jung-jae, yu-ri, ho-yeon, ha-joon, and even the director, dong-hyuk was all in your living room.

“holy shit, nearly gave me a heart attack.”

a knee buckling chuckle could be heard from the crowd before byung-hun wrapped his arms around you, that sweet smile of his stuck on his face.

“happy birthday, sweetheart.” you blushed and stammered over yourself like a fool whilst dong-hyuk, curse that sweet man, clapped and took a photo.

“i—thank you— how did you all get in here??” you questioned and jung-jae grinned.

“your driver let us in, very nice man he is.”

byung-hun, meanwhile, was completely focused on you, pressing a kiss to your cheek before finally removing his arms around you.

yu-ri went for a hug when byung-hun pulled away. you giggled at how tightly she hugged you. “how were the interviews??”

“fun, you know how they are, but it was different without you guys.” you admitted.

“i haven’t been to one of your interviews!” ho-yeon exclaimed while you pull her into a hug.

“maybe someone shouldn’t have died.”

“hey, blame it on the man himself over there!”

laughter erupted again as ho-yeon pointed to the director, a mischievous grin on his face.

you took the time to realise how your living room was filled with balloons, the floor covered in littering from the party poppers.

“why are you all dressed so fancy?” you scoffed and smiled, glancing at byung-hun in his suit. he smirked and gently wiped off some of the littering from the party poppers off your hair.

“we plan on taking you to a restaurant which—” he paused, looking at his watch. “is nearly time for the reservation we have. you have twenty minutes to get ready.

guess plan of falling asleep after your shower was down the drain.

surprisingly, you managed to get ready in time, wearing white silk dress with your hair in a half up, half down hairdo and a matching bow. As you came into view, byung-hun’s cheeks flushed red, flustered at how gorgeous you looked in that dress.

“you look beautiful.” he murmured, flashing you his smile before kissing your cheeks.

you were all then separated into different cars, it had turn out that their cars were parked behind your home so you wouldn’t see them when you had arrived. you of course went with byung-hun. the car ride was eventful—you felt as if you never wanted it to end with how often byung-hun smiled at you, his laughter every time you made a joke, he was perfect.

the restaurant they had made a reservation at was a fancy one of course, byung-hun took your hand as he lead you out the car, the others seemingly inside already.

“what took you guys so long?” ha-joon asked, raising a brow when you both found the private table.

“i saw byung-hun turn the other way at the stop…which means he purposefully took the long way.” yu-ri explained with a cheeky smile, meanwhile, byung-hun faltered and blushed.

“i did not, i went the correct way.”

“nuh-uh, that way takes longer than the one we were supposed to take.”

byung-hun merely grumbled and took his seat beside you, his features softening when you giggled once again. “was that funny, darling?”

“maybe.”

he rolled his eyes and held back a smile, watching as jung-jae and ho-yeon suddenly started bickering on what they wanted to order on the menu, meanwhile you and byung-hun had taken another menu, looking at it together.

everyone was stuffed after eating, jung-jae was a tad bit drunk from the amount of soju he drank so now dong-hyuk was watching him. you were all still at the restaurant, joking around and having a good time. byung-hun was also making sure you weren’t drinking too much, keeping a close eye on you as he did.

despite the group claiming how full they were, there was still the cake to come out. ho-yeon and yu-ri had gotten the cake commissioned and picked it up earlier that day before you arrived. when they had gotten to the restaurant, the staff kept the cake in their fridge before bringing it out.

ha-joon had called a waitress over, murmuring to her before the waitress left. when the waitress came back, she, followed by other waiters and waitresses, held a cake in her hands. the cake being a sponge cake with strawberry on top.

included on the cake was also a picture of byung-hun attached to a stick that stabbed the cake. he immediately groaned and glared at the two girls, his phone (that he had taken out to record) subtly put down.

“i never mentioned anything about putting my face on the cake.” he stated, sending the two girls a stern look before you interrupted him with a chuckle.

“why not? i’d love to eat a cake with your face on it…”

he froze and blushed before grumbling under his breath and smiling at you.

the cake was set down onto the table and the candles were lit up. you watched, tears welling in your eyes before you laughed it off as everyone sang to you.

when they were done singing, byung-hun, smiled at you once again. “don’t forget to make a wish.” he whispered.

you laughed but did make a wish, blowing out the candles afterwards with jung-jae clapping loudly. “thank you, everyone, for doing this— i am eternally grateful to have you all by my side, i really love you all so much.” you claimed, tears welling up in your eyes again before byung-hun wrapped his arm around your waist, his other hand coming up to wipe the tears away, before placing a kiss on your cheek.

“byung-hun has a gift for you!!!” jung-jae nearly yelled, his words slurring a bit. dong-hyuk sighed, quickly shushing him.

“i was just getting to that, jung-jae.” byung-hun grumbled before ha-joon passed him something. byung-hun placed a teddy bear in your lap. you raised a brow and laughed a bit, glancing at the teddy bear.

“how cute.”

“oh hush, darling, this is only the beginning of my many gifts.”

somehow, you all managed to finish the cake despite the amount of food you all ordered and now, the group decided to go for a walk. byung-hun stayed close to you, his heart melting as you held the teddy bear close.

his eyes were practically on you the whole time and as it got colder, he eventually took off his jacket, offering it to you. you smiled and accepted it of course, allowing him to place his jacket over your shoulders.

dong-hyuk began reminiscing when they had first started shooting squid game—back in 2021. he rambled on and eventually bought up a haunting memory you have tried forgetting. the first time you had met byung-hun, you were a fan, a huge fan. you gushed over him to jung-jae on set when byung-hun was standing right behind you, hearing everything.

you groaned and blushed in embarrassment as everyone started to talk about your embarrassing moments. byung-hun contributed which caused you to jump at him, an attempt to shut him up.

after the walk, everyone parted ways, bidding each other goodnight. byung-hun drove you back home, a hand resting on your thigh as he did.

when you had arrived back at your place he walked you to the front door.

“thank you…for everything, byung-hun.” you spoke, your tone soft and your smile so sweet he felt like melting. “i really appreciate you…”

something inside of him took control and he pulled you into his arms, his lips smashing against yours.

your eyes widened but you quickly closed them, kissing him back. he groaned against your mouth and shoved his tongue inside.

you two made out for a few good minutes or so before pulling away, the both of you panting heavily. your lips were swollen and more reddish than usual from his assault on your lips. you bit your lip and glanced up at him with that innocent look in your eyes when really you were no where close to innocent.

“spend the night…”

he held his breath back as you asked him to stay the night. he groaned and rested his forehead against yours before nodding.

“anything for you…”

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yourusername forever grateful to have such amazing people in my life, I love you all so much <3

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byunghun0712 happy birthday sweet girl ❤️

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yourusername @/byunghun0712 thank you handsome 🙂‍↕️🤍

y/nandbyunghunwhen @/yourusername SHE CALLED HIM HANDSOME.

y/nsoneandonly HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY FAVOURITE ACTRESS!! 🎂

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y/nsoneandonly @/y/nsoneandonly OH MY GOSH SHE LIKED

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from_jjlee happy birthday y/n 🥳!!

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yourusername @/from_jjlee thank you!! <3

byunghun0712

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byunghun0712 beautiful view 😉 @/yourusername

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yourusername lets kith 🫡

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byunghun0712 @/yourusername ??

yourusername @/byunghun0712 😞

lesbianszz y/n looks so fine even from the back 😭🙏

randomuser @/lesbianszz RIGHT LIKE THATS ABSOLUTELY CRIMINAL

frontmanswifey THAT SHOULD BE ME 💔

from_jjlee

liked by hoooooyeony, zo_glasss and 1.1m others

from_jjlee cuties ☺️ @/yourusername @/byunghun0712

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yourusername WHEN DID YOU TAKE THIS PICTURE WHAT

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from_jjlee @/yourusername 🤗🤗

frontmanswifey IS Y/N WEARING BYUNG-HUN’S JACKET???

byunghunsfan ik byung-hun’s jacket when i see one…

y/nandbyunghunwhen BOOM SHAKALAKA YES GOD ‼️‼️

#lee byung hun #lee byung hun x reader #hwang in ho #hwang in ho x reader #squid game #squid game season 2 #front man #player 001 #in ho #squid game x reader

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moonlight-alexia · 23 hours ago

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Starfish and Caitlin comforting Katie after the lose to Slovenia on Facetime.

not really posting/writing atm but i couldn't not do this one <3 so pls enjoy i really hope you do

any and all feedback, comments, reblogs etc are very appreciated and welcome <3

gentle connection ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

‘Mammy!’ You exclaimed when you saw your mammy’s face through the screen of your mummy’s phone. You were on camp with your mummy and you tried to talk to your mammy whenever you got the chance. But mostly you were out like a light from running around with Harper and the other Australia girls all day.

‘Starfish, inside voice remember,’ Your mummy reminded you, you hadn’t had a big day like the last few so you were excited that you were able to talk to your mammy.

Caitlin had called Katie a bit earlier while Alanna and Kyra were distracting you so your mummy could comfort your mammy a little. They were both lucky, you understood emotions and what other people needed often but sometimes they still need those moments just the two of them.

‘Hi mammy,’ You whispered, giving a little wave to Katie who was on the other side of the phone.

‘Hi my little Starfish,’ Katie smiled softly, giving you a little wave back. Seeing you, even if it was through a screen, made Katie’s day a lot better. Your mammy, not that she would really admit it, had been missing you a bit more this camp. A lot for her to adjust to and if it wasn’t for Australia’s kit debut, you would’ve been there with her instead. Something that Caitlin now felt a little guilty about now after seeing how deflated Katie was.

You sat in your mummy’s lap, her arms wrapped around your waist while you happily talked your mammy’s ear off. It wasn’t often Katie was this quiet, but she was more than happy to listen to everything you’d been up to right now. The first time you’d been away from your mammy where you’d barely been able to talk to her, and listening to you talk, the familiarity helped your mammy.

‘I’m having lots of fun mammy, but I miss you and counting down the days til ‘m home with you,’ Your voice trailed off, you were observant, your mums knew that but they often forgot just how observant and in tune with others you were, that it might become a problem for you later on.

But now, you gave your mammy a small smile while she told you how much she misses you and can’t wait til you’re all home again, ‘Mummy,’ Your voice cut through the little silence that had floated between the three of you, you turned your head looking at Caitlin. Your mummy hummed a little in acknowledgment, ‘Can I talk to mammy, just me and mammy please,’

Caitlin smiled and placed you down in the middle of the bed, making sure you were all comfy against the pillows. There used to be times Caitlin would feel a tinge of insecurity if you’d want to just talk to your mammy. Perfectly normal, not feeling like she was integrating well into yours and Katie’s dynamic, but she was long over that and enjoyed seeing that bond you had with your mammy, ‘I’ll be right across with Kenzie if you need me,’

Your mummy placed a kiss against your forehead before leaving you and your mammy alone. You yawned a little, Katie almost jumping in to suggest you having a little sleep while she stayed on the phone with you, but your voice stopped her before she could say anything, ‘Mummy said you might be a bit sad, you’re more quiet,’

Katie gave you a small smile, they tried to be as open with their feelings with you in hopes that when you’d feel safe enough to talk to them about your feelings, ‘It’s been a hard day Starfish. A big loss but seeing you now makes it all better,’

Your little eyebrows furrowed while you were thinking, ‘Y’know mammy, mummy lost big too. Yous are the same!’ Katie smiled, a little laugh at the way your eyes lit up when you’d made the connection. Your mummy’s games hadn’t been going all that well either.

‘I guess we are, aren’t we,’ You were happy that you could get a little laugh from your mammy, your efforts to comfort her you believed to have succeeded. You tried to not think too much so you wouldn’t accidentally frown and worry your mammy, but you were starting to realise how hard it was when you were away from either of your mums when they were upset. Wishing they could be happy all the time and never sad.

‘Gonna give you a hug mammy,’ You held the phone against your chest. Katie smiled and, even though you couldn’t see, she held her phone against her chest. To anyone else it might seem strange but to Katie it was really comforting, even though the slight ache in her chest wishing that it was real.

‘I love you Starfish, you give the best hugs,’ Soon enough you’d be home and able to give your mammy a real hug.

#woso x reader #katie mccabe x reader #caitlin foord x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso fanfics #woso community #katie mccabe imagine #katie mccabe #caitlin foord imagine #caitlin foord #auswnt #auswnt x reader #irewnt #ireland wnt

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l0s3rd0wnt0wn · 2 days ago

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Batman!reader antics

Synopsis: Me having fun and doing little headcanons. I've been doing a lot of asks and really wanted to do something else. This is based mostly on the Justice League cartoon.

Batman!reader: Who isn't the best at making conversation when they first meet the Justice League, but the second you make a small, niche reference that Wally knows, he starts yapping your ear off, and you can't help but match his freakish energy with your own little references as the two of you giggle endlessly, speaking in a language you both only understand. Who knew the big, brooding bat was into Rush Hour and White Chicks?

Batman!reader: Who can't fly and will have others carry you places if the Batjet is out of fuel. Diana will be holding you bridal style as you try not to blush. Hal puts you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and you're literally yelling at him to put you down while blushing madly. Wally carries you on his back as he goes at high speeds, and Shayera will hold you with one arm like she's holding groceries. Clark will try to pick you up, but you get too flustered around him and refuse.

Batman!reader: Whose little Robin begs you to take her to the watchtower so she can see her favorite heroes? She's bouncing all over the place with excitement and squealing when she meets Superman or Captain Atom. She's taking pictures with everyone she meets, getting real shy trying to talk to the Question or Martian Manhunter, so she makes you get the picture or autograph for her. You'll have the members tell you it's not "Bring Your Kid to Work Day," but Oliver gets to bring his little Arrow, plus she's your equal.

Batman!reader: who asks some of the heroes to take care of their Robin, like going to Clark's apartment with your Robin at your hip, playing on her DS. "Can you take care of her for me? I have an important meeting to go to. I'm sorry to bother you on your day off. I'll make sure to take your shift." Clark, completely whipped by you, agrees on the spot and is great with kids; she'll come back sleeping on his shoulder, and you're surprised how he got her to sleep. Booster offers to take care of your Robin, and she's quite the handful, almost blowing up his penthouse, but seeing you smile at him with a look of appreciation makes the $10,000 damage worth it.

Batman!reader: Who stays up all night finishing a case and now is all sleepy, using their cape as a blanket or using Hal's shoulder as a place to rest their head. He'll stay still for you and pretend like it never happened. You'll wake up dazed and confused and see him on the other side of the watchtower, acting all nonchalant. If Kyle is around, he'll sketch your face and give you the drawing you teased him about posing for. He got super excited—really excited.

Batman!reader: Who has different suits for different seasons and events? In winter, you have a suit with a fuzzy scarf and fur-lined cape to keep you warm. You nuzzle your face into the scarf, and the League thinks it's adorable how easily you get cold. Or you have a portable fan in your suit when it gets hot. During fall, you have a hoodie instead of a cowl—you've got to stay fashionable. Even when you're an undercover vigilante.

Batman!reader: Who has snacks in their utility belt for your little Robin and Wally? She'll come to you thirsty, and you'll pull out juice boxes for your little bird. And Wally doesn't have something to snack on? You have protein bars for him to eat and energy drinks ready. He literally owes you everything, and it's honestly insane because you keep your smoke bombs near your lollipops, which are next to your batarangs. You might accidentally give your Robin a smoke bomb or batarang when they ask for a snack.

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eobe · 3 days ago

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Commander Thorn at the GAR Goth Night in the 79s clone bar ⚡️🖤🪽✨ Mr. Viking Goth by Name is bathing in his gloriousness ultraviolet spotlight to show off everyone, who couldn’t believe it, that his heterochromia (headcanon for more lore about his name heritage) is an actual lightning bolt ⚡️✨

Have a closer look 😏 The uv light actually highlights it additionally:

Thorn constantly shoves the straps of his mesh top back, that fall over his shoulder, driving his vode and some heated minds 👀 a bit insane with that, but not really noticing it 🙈 I don't know why my brain comes up with things like that, but yeah, I hope you enjoy ☺️

Because of that fumbling he loses the Commander bet (a more fun chaos idea from the inspiring chat with @ladylucksrogue 🫶). The Commander with the worst thematic garment has to pay a round! 😎 The bet came up to make sure that the Commanders (who are always on duty, the majority of them sober and grumpy) don't show up in their regular civvies or even in armor!

More headcanon for fun and because I can: Poor Commander Thorn is an adorable slightly clumsy poser, a badass heavy gunner, favorite victim to Marshall Commander Fox' moods because mostly staying unnervingly positive and in his freetime he indulges a bit very Viking metal handcrafting (listening to Wardruna and Amon Amarth 🎶 ) and made himself cool bracers with his wing brand, a 'Hammer' pendant to honor his weapon and the belt to make a neat own gothic style ✨ Everything to show a bit off not have to pay the round!

As he thought he looks cooler when additionally cutting the mesh top straps, he went to far with his luck and so the Commanders were fast united that it's to Thorn to pay the round. He's not really mad 😊 Busy with collecting glances hihihi 🫠

@ghostymarni 🫶 Vod, still applauding for you hosting a GAR Goth Night, look what you did 🥰

@foxwithadarkside said that all we have needed to make a jump in our art skill was the excuse to draw hot clones in black leather – uhm, ahehe 😅 guilty? 😽 Thank you that my version of Thorn made his way – you know where 👀✨

@lonewolflupe ✨🐺 🦉✨ thank you for screaming, laughing, enjoying, hyping and ever ongoing support in our chat, love 😂 I won't miss it anymore! 🥰

@sunshinesdaydream, @moonlightwarriorqueen, @clonethirstingisreal and @last-of-cheese You sweetheart folks, thank you for playing guess with me and my WIP! 🥰🫶 Here's the full force result 😎

Chaos vode and GAR Goth Night friends 🖤✨ @wings-and-beskargam @eclec-tech @crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf @fiveminutetrash @feral-ferrule @nika6q @skellymom @vimse @gargothnightzine

Taglist, at the moment I‘m mostly GOTHed: @bixlasagna @returnofthepineapple @covert1ntrovert @general-ida-raven @vrycurious @dystopicjumpsuit @chaicilatte @groguandthebadbatch @spaceyjessa @morerandombullshit @freesia-writes

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starconstruction · 2 days ago

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Well, I wanted to post a few random pictures and ask for your thoughts on any of them, but I can’t add them in anon mode? App is no fun. Still like the multithousand-word posts for them! Loona has become a bore with no posts anywhere👎

heya again, its because photos censor if u dont follow the tumblr.

I didnt really know what you wanted and i didnt have thoughts for every image, but i did have for some!

been a huge fan of these non fic asks if anyone has any other ideas

A string of thoughts

Your co-worker Choerry was an absolute delinquent, you had no idea how she even kept this job. Frequently late and not following any ounce of dress code, especially today. Her entire stomach visible to the world, You wouldn't say that you didn't like Choerry. That would be unjust, especially considering what you two get up to at the office.

You and Choerry were on opposite ends of the spectrum, you'd finish all your work instantly and she wouldn't finish it at all. Instead finding anyone in order to do it for her, which typically ended up being you. There was no reason to complain, as she always made it worth it.

Take right now, in the private bathroom you had access to, her body laid naked as she blew you. She knew how to drive you wild, glasses fake as they held to her head. Sinful noises coming from her mouth as she gagged on your length, always taking your load like she would die without it.

"Don't I deserve a little bit more? I mean, it was a big project.." You asked, Choerry smiled "You are right, take me home!" and that you did, her arms laid encased in string, legs wide as you pleasured yourself with her body until the sun came up.

A very horrible day for both of you followed with no sleep.

You were going around the forest, exploring the verdant scenery as you went on your daily walk. You've ran into some oddities before, like the time you saw a can of sprite inside a branch. But nothing quite compared to what you were about to see.

A large burst of light came out from in between the trees, you ran over and there was a strange woman. Wearing a crop-top and a pair of wings, her body was simply divine. Her outfit hung to her body as she looked at you like a deer in headlights. "Erm... Hello. You weren't really supposed to see me like this." The strange woman said "But i guess you can be my test subject!" Her body appeared right besides you.

Turns out being her test-subject meant a lot of things, going on long walks to the beach. Climbing random mountains, people watching and trying all kinds of foods. She took notes on some celestial scroll, observing humanity for whoever sent her. Your time with her was the most enjoyable time you've had in years, doing things you'd never dream of.

You learned her name was Choerry, or atleast what she told you. You had a feeling she wasn't entirely honest with you.

Turns out however, whoever sent Choerry down to earth was interested in learning everything. You were suddenly happy to be her scapegoat as her hand stroked your cock up and down, making out with your dripping tip. She looked at you with doe eyes, her wings were retractable but in every night of intimacy she had them on full display. After a particularly soft kiss you painted her lips white with semen, adding even more paleness to her already pale complexion.

That was the first thing, but by no means the last. The next night Choerry was bent over the kitchen, graciously accepting your tongue as you massaged her folds with it. She tasted strongly of sweet vanilla, her supernatural body accepted every humble offering you gave it.

Choerry felt insane as your tip penetrated her asshole, near inescapable as you fucked her. Her moans a heavenly choir that filled the room, complemented by the soft slapping of skin. You always went soft on her, she felt too good to be rough with.

Eventually, after a few passion filled months you had completed her objective. She flew back up into the sky, you expected to never see her again. However that wasn't the case, Choerry would abduct you from your boring mundane life whenever she desired more intimacy.

cw: feet worship, ass eating

Being an idol is stressful work, hours of practices and hundred of schedules to attend to. All while having to do it with a smile on their face.

Jungeun and Choerry found a solution to that, you.

You three met at a fan-sign, they were eying up anyone they thought could be a good choice for some good old fashion stress-relief. You arent entirely sure what their criteria was, but when their number appeared in your album. You called frantically.

You three met up for the first time a few weeks later, Jungeun welcoming you in through the back door of the hidden door they rented.

They treated you roughly, pulling at your hair when they took turns grinding your tongue against their backdoor. Melting their stress away as you ate their ass. They alternated between riding your face and riding your cock, leaving you struggling for breath as they emptied you dry.

Anytime they were in the area they would seek you out, the most recent time came directly after a long public outing. Responding to press and fans, you were her favourite fan. Hands pulling off their heels as you kissed their feet, licking them clean as you soothed their sore muscles which walked too long.

They rewarded you the same way they always did, riding you till you launched into orbit.

#smut #male reader #imagines #kpop imagines #loona smut #kpop fanfic #girl group smut #kpop smut #kpop x reader #choerry smut #kim lip smut #thoughts

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ughgoaway · 2 days ago

Text

all those dreams where you're my wife

Word count; 10.8k (my longest fic ever??)

Content warnings; Swearing, being sick, excessive/unsafe drinking, fighting, many emotions, sex, unsafe sex (time is of the essence here), public sex, in this universe men wear engagement rings okay, jumping perspectives, mediocre writing, defo spelling errors however if I read this again I'll die, and hurt no comfort… (sorry not sorry).

Authors note; it's taken me fucking forever to write this monster of a fic, and it might be shit and all be wasted time, but at least I had a fun time doing it for the first time in a while. Hope you all enjoy <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

A cheesy pop song blasts in your ears as you watch your sister unwrap yet another thing with “bride to be” plastered across the front, and somehow she's still just as thrilled by it every time. She's wrapped up in the dressing gown you got her, once again with “bride” sprawled across the back, but you ensured her name was also embroidered on it, reminding her that she does still have an actual name that is unrelated to the man she’s marrying.

Matty sits next to her, faking excitement and feigning smiles with every unwrapping, cooing and beaming, putting up a pretty good act. But knowing him as you do, you can see in his eyes that all he wants is a cigarette and some peace and quiet. Still, it looks like he’s doing a pretty good job fooling the rest of the room judging by the swooning from the other bridesmaids. You hear the hushed whispers shared between your sister's so-called friends, trying not to roll your eyes as each word falls from their lips.

“Oh, isn't he just so sweet?”

“He can't keep his eyes off her!”

“Ugh, he’s so perfect. Does he have a brother? I need to find someone just like him”

The last comment cuts especially deep, and it takes everything in you not to mutter under your breath that she just needs to wait until her older sister gets a boyfriend and then simply steal him out from under her and marry him. But to make it authentic, she would need to make sure she told that sister throughout the entire relationship how awful and manipulative said boyfriend is. And finally, to really ensure accuracy, she would need to only wait 3 weeks after they break up to text him. That's how your sister found Matty, after all.

Not that you were bitter, or anything.

Despite seeing right through Matty’s devoted fiancee act, you can't deny that every smile that passes his lips is like a bullet to your chest. Each present is a new shot being loaded in the chamber, even tacky gifts like matching “his and hers” mugs and “Mr and Mrs Healy” engraved watches are agony.

You swear you could hear the click and spin of the bullets being slowly loaded in with every balled-up piece of wrapping paper. The shared coy grins hit you harder than anything, and if you looked down you were sure crimson would be spreading over your dress, distorting the dusty rose satin as the blood pools in your gut from the bullet holes left behind.

A shrill scream forces you to focus again, but every fibre of your being wishes you had left your head swirling in your nightmare. Matty's eyes are filled with something other than distaste for the first time in the evening, but not because they're meeting yours as you had hoped. Instead, he watches with a sly smile as his bride-to-be opens the present from him, a brand new Hermes Birkin bag. It’s a garish shade of bubblegum pink with silver hardware, the stiff leather detailed so carefully was almost taunting you, a perfect representation of your nauseatingly perfect sister.

The pure bliss on his face, matched with the tears pouring from your sister's eyes becomes too much, and suddenly you feel bile rising in your throat. You manage to slip away unnoticed, mainly due to the ear-piercing squeals coming from your sister's stuck-up housewife friends as they internally damn their husbands whilst acting happy for the future Mrs Healy.

You barely make it to the bathroom before the 6 glasses of champagne you downed unceremoniously come up again, gripping the cold ceramic basin as you vomit, tears streaming down your perfectly made-up face with each gag.

Slowly you stand again, head rushing as the blood pooling in your head trickled down your body. Too quickly you’re faced with your reflection, staring into the mirrored cabinet as you turn on the tap, letting the water wash away the contents of your stomach. You can't help but trace over your features as you stare, the bags under your eyes are decorated with smudges of black mascara and tears, making the deep purple they already were more obscured and sunken.

Snot drips from your nose, and you feel out of your own body when you see your hand go up to wipe it, but you swear you didn't move an inch. Your eyelashes are clumped together, sticky makeup gripping them harshly, and your once-freckled skin is caked in thick layers of foundation and concealer, hiding any sense of personality you have. Baby pink blush is delicately placed on the apples of your cheeks, faking laughter and smiles that you couldn't muster if you tried. Lastly, your eyes finally meet themselves, staring into your soul unwavering, it’s cruel and intrusive as you see your every emotion leak from them.

You bear your teeth at yourself, watching your cheeks wrinkle as they tug themselves into a grimace, fighting so hard to pull it harder into a smile, but your skin fights back. One day you'll learn how to hide how you feel, plaster on that grin in a way that doesn't look like a wince, but today is not that day. The wrinkles that decorate your face tell the story you can't, the story of agony and yearning, of missing someone you let go. Pink lipstick is pulled across your face, tugging your dull and lifeless skin as your hand smudges it on purpose, desperate to see colour back in your face.

The rose colour fills the smile lines on your face that were once deep and full of joy. Now, they're replaced by frown lines and crow's feet, sinking deeper and pulling any youth and joy left out of your face. Every day, more of each leak from your soul, replaced by envy and disgust, by the memories of the life you had, by watching the life you were meant to live being played out in front of you, with your sister in your starring role.

A harsh knock on the door pulls you away from dissecting each and every inch of yourself, a familiar voice ringing through the wood.

“You alright love? I saw you run off, guessed this would be the only place you'd be” Matty’s voice leaches through the barrier between you, and you can't decide whether you need nothing more than to see the pity in his eyes or if that would just be another bullet. Still, you unlock the door with a click, meeting his eyes with your practised smile, praying it's not the poorly guised scowl you did earlier.

His eyes flutter at the sight of you, fighting the cheap look of sympathy he wants to give. You watch his chest expand, his mouth opening and closing as his hand reaches out to yours. The warmth of his skin was so close to radiating on yours before it was snatched away, your sister swooping in and grabbing it, draping herself over his shoulder with a pouted lip and a look of pity covering her face.

“Oh god, what happened to you?” she asks brashly. Tact never was her strong suit, any thoughts she had always either decorated her face or simply fell straight from her lips.

Honesty tickles at your throat, and you feel the words clawing their way out, “I was so disgusted at the idea of you marrying the only man I've ever loved that I was fucking sick. And I'm so jealous and jaded that I can't even face myself one more day. Every time I see you both a part of me dies, and I don't know how much of me there is left to lose.”

But obviously, you push that honesty so deep down it once again becomes resentment, and you muster up a lie, “m’ so sorry. Someone at work has a bug and I think I've caught it. Had to run and make sure I didn't ruin your day.” your voice dripping with faux sorrow.

Matty's eyes narrow at you, his fingers fighting to loosen from the vice-like grip of your sisters, but she doesn't budge, cooing at you before speaking, “Oh dear! I hope you'll be okay by Saturday, you're doing the cake!”

For a second there you thought you were about to get actual sympathy from her, but no, just another selfish desire clouding any semblance of sisterly love left in her body. So you feel less bad when you answer her saying, “No no, I should be fine, but only if I miss your bachelorette tonight. I'm so sorry, but we can’t risk you getting sick too.”

Her full body cringes at the idea of getting sick before her big day, so she begrudgingly agrees to let you have the night off, but not before adding that you “owe her big time.” You have to fight the part of you that wants to say her stealing your boyfriend pretty much absolves you of any favours forever, but instead you nod and smile solemnly.

Sickly strong perfume swarms your senses as she wraps herself around your body, rocking you from side to side as if hushing a baby, “we’ll miss you so much! I'll have a drink in your memory, yeah?” she remarks as if you're dead already, gripping your shoulders so hard that her acrylic nails leave crescent-shaped marks in your skin. She pulls away a few seconds too quickly for most families, but honestly, any contact with her at this point makes your body practically break out in hives.

Before you can process it, a familiar aftershave overwhelms you, hands sliding behind your back just had they had done a thousand times before. Matty strokes your skin how he used to, 3 long drags across your back and a squeeze before locking his fingers in the hollow of your back, resting his chin on your head. Seconds drip like honey in his hold, and your eyes flutter shut as memories cascade over you.

But the cold unforgiving air rushes you soon enough, Matty’s hand once again caught in the stronghold of your sisters. Matty's eyes hold yours as he's dragged back into the garden, nodding at you three times to ask if you're really okay, the way he used to when it was just you two, the same caring look pooling in his eyes.

You don't nod back.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

The burn is familiar when another glug of tequila slides down your throat, the very last drops falling on your tongue as you shake the bottle dry, desperate to feel anything other than the pain caused by the shitstorm in your head. But whatever tequila you managed to force down your throat wasn't even enough to make you tipsy, let alone enough to start to forget. You're starting to think you won't ever forget, you know that physically he’s gone but he’ll never truly leave.

The cupboards in your kitchen rattle as you throw each and every one open, desperate to find another bottle of something. It could be half empty or full to the top, you just needed something to dull the everpresent ache. You’d never felt like this before, it's all so painfully new. But fuck, you wish it was somehow a familiar kind of new, maybe even the same new as it was when Matty first met you. A warm new rather than one so icy and cold you feel forever frozen. Empty cabinets taunt you, and eventually, you throw yourself on a chair in your kitchen, tapping the wood of the counter as exasperation fills your bones.

You try to stay where you are, alone in your empty house, your leg rattling the chair you're sitting on with every impatient bounce of your knee. But an empty house isn't ever really empty; it's simply sitting and waiting, just like you. Soon, the waiting becomes too much, and your inability to forget drags you from your house with your keys in hand, walking to the closest bar with the cheapest shots.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

The bell over the bar door jingles as you skulk in, moving straight to the corner, preparing to hole up there the rest of the night. But a familiar chortling laugh fills your ears whilst simultaneously filling you with dread. Slowly you turn your head, letting your hair obscure your vision in some delusional hope that you don’t know exactly who that laugh came from, and that when you turn your head your eyes aren't going to meet his.

But you turn anyway, pulling your hair away from your face and everything clicks just as you thought. A table covered in bottles and glasses, cheap crowns precariously placed on each head around. Raucous laughter poured from every drunk body sitting around the filled table, except for one. Matty’s ring finger traces around the lip of the half-empty beer he has been nursing all night, his eyes unfocused and staring off into the distance, his friends oblivious to him as they chant “Chug! Chug! Chug!” at George downing yet another cheap beer.

You want to move away from the vision before you, but you stay locked in, looking, staring, studying.

Waiting.

And then, he shifts his view, so subtle anyone would miss it, but you don't. Recognition gradually turns his downcast features, the light slowly filling them back up. You can't bear to see the relighting of whatever fire is still glowing inside him, so you rip your gaze away, spinning off the chair and ripping open the door to the smoking section, welcoming the harsh biting air.

The clatter of the door makes the few drunks outside scatter like cockroaches, avoiding your eyes as they filter back inside. Blood pounded in your ears, once obnoxiously loud music overshadowed by your heart's racing. Shaking hands make you drop the cigarette you had viciously ripped from the pack onto the cobblestones, soon trampled by your pacing feet.

Your vision begins to blur, the view of your body quickly unfocusing and focusing as if you're looking through a shattered camera lens. The familiar bile rises in your throat again, now replaced with the vague flavour of tequila compared to the cheap champagne of earlier.

Hunched over a plant you start to gag, fighting the urge to vomit with every fibre of your being, unwilling to lose the buzz you need to even think about going back in there. But a familiar hand on your back rips any tipsy feelings from you violently, sobering you up so quickly you're sure you could ace any drunk driving test thrown your way.

Your body rips itself away from his touch as if it set your skin ablaze. You’re sure if you looked at your back there would be a red and blistering burn in the shape of his hand, engagement ring brandished into your weeping skin, taunting you.

Silent staring is all you can manage, sucking in deep breaths of the smoky air, trying not to look like you're a deer in headlights, and failing miserably. Matty hides his shaking hands, forcing them into the pockets of his jeans, fiddling with the loose blunt in there and fighting the desire to pull it out and light it.

Someone has to talk eventually, but it physically can't be you, it feels like something is sitting on your chest forcing the air out of your prickly lungs. If you opened your mouth, it would be nothing but a discontented squeak, a measly attempt at trying to stop this before it happens, to undo this night and never see Matty again.

Is that what you really want? To never see him again? It hurts like hell whenever he's near, but you've come to find it a comforting sort of agony. The kind that makes you feel validated in your hurt, that you're not just making it up for attention. Seeing Matty feels like pressing on a bruise just to remind you the pain was always real. You can hear your therapist screaming at you in your head right now that this is not a “healthy attachment” but maybe it doesn't need to be healthy, maybe-

“Nothing to say, then?” Matty stops your internal monologue from spiralling any further, breaking the ice and plunging you both into the cold water below you. Fight or flight fills your body when you start to feel the metaphorical freezing water fill your lungs as you suck in desperate breaths.

But you choose to fight, Matty is blocking the doors, and scrambling over the bushes next to you whilst tempting, doesn't feel practical considering the state you’re in.

“Why are you here?” is the first sentence that rips itself from your chest. It's a stupid one, you know it is. You see the husband-to-be badge on his chest, you saw the gaggle of drunk mates that surrounded him at the table, all with the same half-askew crown that is sitting on his sea of curls.

He steps closer, sucking in a breath to speak, you can’t help but flinch helplessly, hot tears already brewing at your lash line. Fuck. You didn't want to be emotional, you wanted to be calculated, fierce, cutting. You wanted him to walk away with a hole in his chest no doctor or therapist could ever heal. They say you can't stare at your wounds forever, but you need him to be eternally marked by the memory of what was.

“Should be asking you that really. The smell of tequila coming off you doesn't scream “I'm deathly ill” so,” Matty shrugs, dying to inch closer but fighting the urge just enough so he doesn't have to see you flinch at the sight of him ever again.

You sigh heavily, looking down at your feet and tugging at your shirt, every feeling you'd had in the past 6 months rearing its ugly head all at once. He’s here. He's here and he feels real, his eye bags look more sunken than they had earlier, the harsh moonlight casting shadows on his faded skin. She isn't here attached to his hip or draping herself over him like an overattached mother at her son's wedding. Suddenly any chance of a simple goodbye flashes away, leaving only behind the horrible memories and questions of what was not even 6 months before.

“Do you ever think-” you stop yourself, word vomit scratching at your throat violently, but you swallow it down. Matty can't stop himself anymore, taking a single step closer, but you don't flinch, instead gazing up at him and letting whatever fills your chest pour from you.

“Do you ever think that I know you better than anyone will ever know you?” you say quietly, almost hoping he doesn't hear, but he does. You can tell from the way he shoves his hand in his pocket and pulls out a lighter to fiddle with, the same thing he always did when anxiety started burning his lungs.

“We can't have this conversation.” Matty sighs out, hovering his thumb over the flame and letting the black soot build up on his skin, the slight warmth of it reminding him what's real. Well, that reminds him, and the way the light of the fire gleams off his engagement ring.

“You really think we can just move on? Go to the wedding and play happy families for eternity? I lost my soulmate that day Matty. My best fucking friend, and the only person I wanted to tell that I lost you, was you. And every time I see you it all comes flooding back.” You whine helplessly. The blood is finally flowing, you had ripped open the wound you'd been carefully picking at for the past six months. Any healing was gone, the only way out was stitching it back up yourself or letting it pour.

“I'm engaged. You can't be my soulmate, it has to be her. Or at least we have to do an incredible fucking job of pretending she is.” defeated breaths come with everything he utters, accepting whatever fate he resigned himself to the second she messaged, the second he realised there was no going back.

“Please. You're just using her as fodder for your shitty music.” you huff like a teenager talking under their breath, kicking a loose pebble

Matty’s eyes harden, clenching his jaw before he speaks “Don’t do this. Start jabbing at me like it's going to solve anything. We aren't 18 anymore, no arguments are going to be solved by me strumming my guitar like a twat or your passive-aggressive comments that drag on.”

“Oh please, like you getting engaged wasn’t a “jab” to me.” You gesture wildly before crossing your arms and sighing heavily. Matty opens his jaw and starts pointing at you harshly, “No it-” but you speak over him without a second thought.

“You know, Sometimes I feel sorry for you.” you hiss, “I know how awful losing us was. But mostly, I’m just fucking angry. I went through exactly what you did, and I could never hurt you the way you did me.” shaking hands force you to shove them in your pockets, the anger making the very fibre of your being feel like an uncontrollable fire getting another log thrown on the blaze.

“I never did it to hurt you. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you, I can't.” Matty says softly as if he's trying to placate you. It doesn't work. He lost every right to be a source of comfort for you the second he replied to that message.

“You wanna know what I hate the most? The part that makes me so angry I can't think straight? I hate that everyone knows but no one ever says anything. They act like it never happened. Like we never happened. Does what we have suddenly vanish from existence just because you're playing dolls with my sister?”

“Had,” Matty says quietly.

“What” you huff, tensing your muscles and fighting the desperate breaths that claw at your lungs, scratching at your throat to try and force them down.

“What we HAD. not what we have. You made sure of that. You always seem to conveniently forget that YOU ended this, it's so easy to make me the villain but don't pretend you don't remember that night in your apartment. I got on my fucking knees and begged for you to stay. You don't get to stab me and act like you're the one bleeding. You did this.”

“What, so you'd think we'd still be together if I didn't end this? You're fucking delusional. Surely if you're so in love with her, it would've happened eventually.” you spit “her” like its ash on your tongue, burning your mouth to simply say it. Silence hangs for a few seconds too long, your eyes magnetised to each other, helplessly intertwined.

“I buy her your favourite perfume you know” Matty swaps topics so quickly it hurts your head, every ounce of air is huffed from your lungs as you ready yourself to interject, but he keeps talking, “She doesn't wear it all the time, practically never. But every once in a while when I close my eyes and night and pull her close, I recognise that smell can pretend it's you. And when the moonlight hits her engagement ring, I don't feel sick to my stomach.”

Fuck. the emotional whiplash suddenly feels all too real, every ounce of air is ripped from your chest and replaced with a crushing burst of realisation.

You caused this. Every crying session, every drunken night cursing his name, each hour spent stalking her social media. Every time he wished it was you in his arms at night, or even the times he pretended it was. It was all your fault. He wouldn't have let go, you left his life with claw marks left in your skin.

Before Matty can even process what he said, you sprint away slamming the doors behind you as the world spins in your vision. Everything wrong in your life is the cause of your own hand. Your feet feel unsteady, the wood below you shaking as if an earthquake is rocking only where you stand, following each step, rocking you so hard your nausea feels bone-deep.

The bones in your whole body feel wrong under your skin, tugging and poking, attacking you from the inside out as you slam the bathroom door behind you, shaking hands, fighting to lock the door but failing. Eventually, you drop your hands, giving up on the metal click of the lock so you can hover over the sink, staring at your wet cheeks and bloodshot eyes. It’s the image of someone whose very being has changed beneath them, someone you don't know if you'll ever recognise as yourself ever again.

Desperate, warm breaths fill your empty lungs. You’re drunk on oxygen, but still, you can’t catch your breath. Everything around you falls in and out of focus, the image of the stranger in the mirror distorts with each hungry inhale. Her face swirls and distorts, you feel like you’re trapped in a Picasso painting. Warped faces stare back at you, with some humanity trapped behind layers of paint and years of waiting.

Just as the focus pulls your eyes back, the door swings open, and you're met with Matty huffing as he stares at you hopelessly, wringing his hands nervously before slowly shutting the door, easily locking it with one hand.

He cautiously steps closer and closer, as if he’s trapped in a cage facing a lion, testing the waters and hoping he gets out of this alive. You stand motionless, fear and realisations wracking every nerve in your body, zapping you with taps of electricity, forcing your limbs to freeze in place and allow the pain to skittle through you.

Metres become inches that become centimetres; goosebumps begin rising on your skin, your heartbeat rushing and jumping to the same rhythm as how Matty used to laugh. Before your eyes can meet he envelopes you in a hug, his shaking arms wrapping around you. His familiar hands hurt your heart, sliding down your spine the same way they had one thousand times before.

“I wish I hated you,” you whisper, pressing your face into Matty’s neck and allowing your senses to be overwhelmed by him. The simple scent of patchouli, the familiar scratch of his shirt against your cheek, the warmth of his skin radiating onto yours. If you opened your eyes, you know what you’d see, what freckles dance across his skin where your gaze would meet it; you know every mark on his body forevermore.

Matty’s vocal cords feel frozen in place; all he can do is nod and pull you closer, letting tears flow down your cheek and drip onto his shoulder. Eventually, he tries to pull away, but your arms tighten. “I can't look at you,” forces itself from your lungs, the idea of facing the man you’ve spent the past five years loving so deeply it hurts your chest. They told you that kind of love for him would pass, that it always does.

It didn't pass.

Part of you regrets ever loving him, of ever letting him so deep into your soul that it has become hopelessly intertwined with his. Everyone who knows you knows him. And vice versa. The time passes, no matter if you’re together or apart, but you're never truly apart. There's no one without the other.

Your fingers loosen of their own accord, your mind unaware you're releasing the grip around the only body that feels as if it fits right with yours. Your gaze lingers on the room behind him, refusing to see whatever swims in his eyes. It feels exactly like it was, but somehow, it still feels so different, if you were standing in the same room with your arms around each other eight months ago, meeting his eyes would have been the greatest comfort you could imagine.

But everything changed, as it always does, and now the mere thought of looking into them makes the butterflies in your ribs that used to delicately flutter instead hammer against them as if they're trying to shatter you. Furiously trying to warm the heart you're now not even sure still resides there.

You hold his gaze. Just for one second, you tell yourself, but one quickly becomes two, which then becomes ten, even 15. They flitter away for a millisecond sometimes, but only to watch his lips that you could swear were inching closer and closer to you each time your gaze flicks down.

You only realise they had indeed been getting closer when they pressed against yours for the first time in months, slotting together as they had millions of times before, a heat you knew all too well. The voices in your head are berating you, screaming at you to take a step back, to shove him away with every ounce of your strength, but they all muffle at the very feeling of his body against yours, screaming as if they're trapped underwater and you're standing on the surface oblivious.

There’s no time for buildup, both of you terrified the other would soon realise what you're doing, as if there was some trance tricking you, forcing you to stand dead still against your will. A trepidatious press of lips soon becomes ravenous, hushed breaths and stolen moments finally rearing their head after being pushed down one too many times before.

Sharp fingernails dig into his scalp as you tug him closer, his moans reverberating against your lips as he walks you backwards, letting your back hit the sink behind you, pressing his whole body into you as far as he can, your limbs slotting together in familiarity. Wordlessly you jump on the hardwood, opening your legs and allowing him to come even closer. You have the realisation then that you’d let him inside your skin at this moment if it meant he could somehow just be closer.

Warm hands slip from your cheeks to the hem of your skirt, wrenching it up so quickly that you wouldn't be shocked if you heard the fabric tear in his vice-like grip. But you welcome him warmly, locking your heeled feet behind his back, somehow tugging him even more into your space.

Every tug of his hair forced his hips forward, groaning as the tent in his trousers brushes your panties, an involuntary move you remembered from evenings just like this one. Sneaking away from family dinners to find an empty store cupboard or stall to just feel each other, to try and stifle the ever-burning fires inside you both, it only got stoked with every shared glance and slide of your heel up his calf under the table.

Matty’s belt clinks as he wrenches it open, the soft leather tugging at his palms as he rips it off. The only reason he’d ever remove his hands would be fighting to get endlessly closer to you, every other second they’re blindly memorising every curve and dip of your skin. You follow suit, tugging down your panties as far as you could with your legs still locked in the hollow of his spine, tempted to just rip them so you don't have to disentangle yourself from him. Matty doesn't let you contemplate it for another second, ruthlessly tearing at the lace until that familiar ripping sound stops and you feel the fabric drop to the floor below.

He yanks down his boxers as best he can with his lips attached to yours, “Fuck, I need to be inside you, I need it” Matty huffs pulling away as if it pains him not to be connected to you, a magnetic force dragging you together. Messy top-lip kisses make you dizzy, his tongue pressing into your mouth and hypnotising you, but he has to tug himself away one more time, his eyes painful before they start roaming your skin as if he's studying fine art.

They dance across your figure, focusing on the small parts he never thought he’d see again. The familiar freckle on your inner thigh, the very place he kissed each time he ventured down between them, his self-professed favourite place in the world. Or the scar on your knee from childhood, he remembers you covering your reddening cheeks, telling him the story of how you got it. Falling whilst chasing a boy, desperate to kiss him despite his obvious non-interest, and all you gained from the experience was lifelong embarrassment and that very scar.

Suddenly, he needs to see everything; every memory of your body connected with his comes rushing back, and desperation fills his every vein. He wordlessly tugs up your shirt; his focus trained on the very spot he knew it would be, the rib tattoo he always warned you not to get exactly where you did. He was there when you got it, your carefully manicured nails digging into the flesh of his hand as you winced, leaving marks he wished had scarred so he didn't have to rely on his fleeting memories of you, instead, you could permanently initial his skin with those familiar crescent shapes.

He shakes his head, trying to focus on his words rather than the vision in front of him, “Shit, sorry,” he pants, “you deserve something more romantic, but all I can think is how badly I've missed you.” soft hands slide up your thighs, tracing a comfortable path over and over, thumbing those familiar marks.

“Y’know, I could have you forever and it still wouldn't be enough. You wouldn't be close enough,” he grunts, wrapping your legs tighter around him. It’s then he finally sinks in, your body welcoming him home, the familiar feeling giving you a comfort you thought you’d lost forever.

Your visions of a reunion never looked like this. They were soft and sweet, wrapped in white cotton sheets with hot sun flickering over your skin as it pierced through the trees. But this was fervent and desperate, hunger gripping your soul and tugging in his, no time for sweet words of adoration or full breaths. You simply gasp when you can, sharing his exhales in the few seconds Matty can bring himself to stop kissing you, only to lose your breath again with every thrust.

Whines and whimpers seem to travel through you into him, every cry you make is soon mirrored by an aching grunt from him, pressing himself as deep inside you as he can and sitting there, feeling your body contract and shake around him. His touch somehow coaxed you closer each time, his fingertips skittering down each bone of your back, swirling and pressing as he reminded himself of the feeling of you, the gentle warmth and softness of your very being.

Every unforgiving buck of his hips made your skin prickle, your whole body arching into his touch helplessly, magnetised to him. But his very presence was enough to lure you closer to that teetering edge. The rush of heat made your head swell, foggy with the heady and intoxicating feeling of the togetherness you’d been yearning for. Your heart thrummed under your skin, matching the pulses Matty felt around him, nerves igniting under your skin as you inch closer and closer.

Before you can feel that all-consuming rush Matty drags himself out of you, grunting as he watches himself disconnect, paining him so deeply he swears it's like a stab wound. But no complaints can slip from your lips before he's scooping you off the side and spinning you around, holding your body against his, your back pressed on his heaving chest, feeling each hungry breath he sucked in. He keeps you there for a few seconds, one hand on your hip the other splayed over your ribs. Your head falls to his shoulder, your closed eyes letting you fall into him.

Slowly his hand slides from your hip up to your shoulders, pressing you down until you're bent over in front of him, your overheated body pushed into his pulsing bulge, forcing a huff of air from his already empty lungs. Sluggishly, your eyes open, met with a reflection themselves, your blissed-out face, and your flushed glazed skin. They inch up, watching as you bite your ruby-woo-flushed lip when you finally see Matty staring back at you as a predator looks at its prey, hungry for something that's almost insatiable.

Almost.

Without warning he slowly starts inching himself inside you, so leisurely that if you didn't see the look on his face you would think he doesn't really care how quickly he can sink back into you. Your eyes flutter shut on their own as Matty brushes your walls, tugging at spots that would make anyone twitch and whimper. Harsh fingertips dig into your jaw, forcing your gaze back on him, his jaw ticking the second you refocus, a cheeky smirk tugging at his cheek.

That smile only growing when he watches your jaw shake, your eyes rolling so far back in your skull only the whites are visible, your hand clutching helplessly at nothingness as pleasure wracks through you. Eventually, his body melts into yours, filling you up so perfectly it feels as if his body was only made to fit with yours. Goosebumps rise in anticipation, dancing over your skin as Matty stays motionless, the seconds dripping like honey, dragging on so long it made your head fuzzy.

He groans heavily as he pulls out as slowly as he went in, teasing you mercilessly just so he can keep watching your jaw clench and your body tremble in his grip. But patience isn't his strong suit either, and when it's just the tip of him inside you, he can't help but drive himself into you, splitting you open with each vicious roll of his hips. Bending over to whisper in your ear, “Say thank you sweetheart” with a flash of that familiar cheeky grin.

“Thank y-” your first try ruined as a cry rips itself from your chest, Matty waiting until you open your mouth each time to bury himself to the hilt inside you, watching you stutter and fight the grunts leaving you. Eventually, you can force out a whisper, “Thank you fuck-” making Matty kiss the side of your head, groaning as he mercilessly fucks into you.

He planted kisses along your jawline, the sound of skin slapping skin almost overpowering the constant mumers and whines falling from your bitten lips. Pink flush danced across your skin, decorating your neck and chest and obscuring any marks on your body, the mirror in front of you was too steamed up from your needy breaths for you to see anything clearly, but your eyes were so far back in your head that you wouldn't be able to see your reflection anyway. “Fuck” you manage to whisper under your breath, using every ounce of energy in your body to form a word rather than incoherent pleads and begs.

Matty’s pace was erratic, not giving you a chance to breathe before jackhammering his hips and sinking back into you. You can't help but shudder each time he fills you up, your body shaking uncontrollably as pleasure skitters up your spine, pooling at the base as he pulls out, only to electrocute you as it shoots up with every merciless thrust. Death could come and get you here and now and you wouldn't mind. This is life and death, existence, non-existence, bliss, lust, love; it was everything wrapped up into a fuck in a bar bathroom.

Words were stuck in your throat, helplessly tugging at you but coming out as broken cries and whines, your hands gripping the cold porcelain basin as you felt the waves of bliss start growing. Matty always told you to tell him when you were cumming, you remember evenings spent with him trying to get you to utter that phrase as many times as he could in one night, with every forgetful moment punished with a deliciously painful slap to your thigh.

“Close” you force out with a grunt, biting the inside of your cheek so hard you’re sure you taste that familiar iron of your blood overwhelming your tongue. Your body writhes trying to hold it in, desperate to let the shockwaves of pleasure crash over your body. Hooded eyes eagerly force themselves open, your body needing to see that familiar nod, those three shakes of his head that meant you could let everything building up in you go.

Finally, after the clock seems to freeze and time ceases to exist, he nods, biting his lip and focusing on you, the very idea of looking away killing him.

You don’t try and hold back any noises, moans ripping out of your chest helplessly, your whole body writhing as the electricity you'd been forcing down finally starts shocking you, from the tip of your toes up to your scalp, unmissable and unmistakable. You savour each second of bliss, letting your hips stutter and your walls contract around him, pulsing and trying desperately to feel him fill you up.

“Fuck- I love you. Holy shit-” you mutter under your breath thoughtlessly, it falling from your lips as easy as it was to breathe.

Shit. Every part of you freezes at once, itching to know if he just heard what you said.

If he did, he's playing it off very well, not even faltering in his thrusts, keeping his laser focus on finally finishing with the woman he's spent months fantasising over. Visions of you swirl around his head almost constantly, even in moments he knows very well they shouldn't be, but it's impossible not to. When you're so effortlessly intertwined with his very being, how can he not spend each day affronted with the memories?

But none of that is in his head at this moment, he doesn't have to imagine you or think up what you'd be doing in this moment, you're here. Your body is in his grip and he's inside you, the very connection he had been yearning for.

You watch in the mirror as he finally empties himself inside you, one last thrust pressing every drop of cum into you, wanting the memories of this night to be stuck in his head forever. Huffs and groans fill the space around you, and it's then you know he definitely hadn't heard you, he's as oblivious as he always has been. The only emotion on his face is pure bliss as he pulls out, watching his cum drip from inside you, decorating that familiar freckle on the inside of your thigh.

Wordlessly he grabs a paper towel from beside him, wiping you delicately all whilst studying his cum painting your skin. You poorly stifle a laugh, and Matty finds himself smiling too, raising his eyebrows at you in the mirror as if to incredulously ask “What?”

You shrug, simply stating, “You're such a boy” with an eye roll. Matty pinches your hip teasingly, silently tugging your skirt from around your waist, trying hopelessly to make it look like he didn't just fuck you within an inch of your life in this random bar bathroom.

He tries to be sly as he bends down and pockets your destroyed panties, but Matty hasn't ever been known for his subtlety, and judging by the schoolboy grin on his face, he has them buried in his trouser pocket just as he wanted.

“C'mon, I'll call an Uber. Best we wait outside, I think someone banged on the door about 10 minutes ago, must want to fucking kill us,” he grips your hand, his effortlessly wrapping around yours as it had 100 times before, no baggage dragging you down.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

The Uber ride was quick, your apartment was realistically a walk away from this bar, but you were all too happy to spend the 8-minute ride with your tongue down Matty’s throat. He pulled away reluctantly only once, finally answering the slew of texts coming from his groomsmen back at the bar. You know you shouldn't, but every part of you needs to read the text over his shoulder.

You wish you hadn't.

Ross: where have you run off to? George is begging to down your beer, not sure how much longer I can fend him off.

Matty: sorry had to rush home, missus just missed me too much, see you on the big day x

Ross: Really? Can’t be apart for even one night? You two are sickening, see you then mate x

It made that familiar pit in your stomach start growing again, filling it with the knowledge that you’d just fucked your sister's fiance at his bachelor's party. And the worst part was, you didn't feel even slightly bad about it. In fact, you only feel bad about the fact you don't really feel bad, at all.

Just as you start to pick at the skin around your nails, Matty grabs your attention, his warm hand cupping your jaw and forcing your eyes to meet his. He flashes you a gentle smile before kissing you, starting slow but ending up with your hands tugging at his hair and his hand gripping any part of you he could hold.

You couldn't disconnect, keeping up your act all through your lobby, and in the elevator up to your place, ignoring the camera in the corner and the creepy man who was definitely currently watching the footage. But it was helpless, your bodies stuck together in perpetuity. So it continued throughout your apartment, clothes slowly appearing in rooms along the way, marked with the memories of tonight represented by a rogue shoe or shirt.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

Your vision unfocuses and refocuses as you blink heavily, trying to make sense of the darkness around you, moonlight pouring through your window, your curtains still pulled to the side. A smile creeps onto your cheeks when you remember why you're there, and why your bare skin is pressed against your blanket, your hand smoothly sliding to the other side of the bed, waiting to hit Matty's Body.

But they don't stop, instead, the only feeling under your fingertips is lukewarm cotton and wrinkles in the shape of his body. You have to hold in a sigh when you realise what this means, but you soon hear rustling, followed by a muted “fuck” when Matty stubs his toe on the foot of your bed whilst shrugging his shirt on. You close your eyes for a few seconds, deciding if this was really worth it, or if it would be wiser to just roll over and pretend you never noticed him leaving.

Is it better to have never spoken up and allowed him to slip through your fingers one more time, or should you speak up and risk the very thing you've spent the last months begging whatever god there might be to bring back?

Your voice breaks as you speak, cracking your eyes open just a few centimetres, staring at Matty’s shadowed figure in the doorway, “Please just stand there for a bit. Just- Please.” you see him falter for a second, his fingers stroking the handle of the door, slowly pressing it down.

More words pour from you before you can stop them, “Life feels long but it's not, it's so bitterly short. Just spend a few more seconds with me, even if it's so fucking uncomfortable and awkward, stay. I need it, you.” his fingers freeze at your hushed words, and slowly they slide off the shiny metal and his head turns. His features are shrouded in the 4 am darkness, but you know the look in his eyes. You always do.

He only stays for another minute, but those 60 seconds heal cracks in your soul that were so deep they felt irreparable. But soon enough, the doorway sits blankly and the figure once cloaked in darkness is replaced with the cherry wood door you know all too well. The pillows and sheets welcome you as they always had before, but this time the ghost of someone else lays next to you, the sheets still scrunched from the echos of his body.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

The light drips through the curtains, fingers of sun piercing through your room. Sleep was fruitless anyway, visions of the night before clouding your already muddled mind. If you slow your breathing and allow darkness to overtake you, you can still feel the warmth of Matty's body on yours. His hands gripping your headboard, sliding across your skin, marking you the way he always loved to. In the back of your mind, the mistakes made fade away with every breath you shared, each desperate kiss fixing things you thought were beyond repair.

Maybe this time would feel different, maybe this time it will just be different. Maybe there could be a this time.

The shrill ringing of your alarm reminds you of what today really is, and suddenly any chance of a this time starts to fade away. But you push that to the back of your mind, letting the familiar feeling of denial take over your brain.

It's just your sister's wedding, who she's getting married to is irrelevant. You just need to get ready, get to the venue and go. You can decide everything there, with him. It's finally time to stop letting things go.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

At the venue, people flutter all around you, talking on headsets furiously trying to figure out when the next flower delivery is set to arrive. You can't fathom where more flowers could fit, the whole place is already a sea of jasmine, roses, and lilacs.

Anger skitters up your spine when you see the delicately placed lilacs scattered around, the flower you’d held close as your favourite since childhood was now an accessory in the wedding of your nightmares. She knew it was your favourite, everyone did. The mural etched onto your ribs was reminder enough, your first and last tattoo.

Still, you sighed heavily, shaking the building tears on your lashline away and painting on a non-agonsing smile. You know your priority should be going to the bridal suite and gushing over your sister as she gets her hair and makeup done, but as you walk down the long winding corridor a different room is calling your name.

Matty had his own private room, you remember it was something he refused to compromise on in the planning stages of the wedding, making finding a venue almost impossible. You distinctly recall accidentally eavesdropping on an argument between the two of them early on in the planning.

Baby please, just stay with all your groomsmen like everyone does. You don't need your own room! I don't even get one and I'm the bride!” your sister winged like a child, tugging at Matty’s sleeve and pouting.

He sighed heavily before speaking, fighting the eye roll pulling at his eyes, “M’sorry love, but I can’t. You chose every other bit of this wedding, just let me have this one thing”

“Ugh. drama queen” she muttered under her breath, violently striking off another venue on her list, almost ripping the thin paper with her ballpoint pen.

Well, maybe not so accidentally eavesdropping. You took any chance to hear your sister to prove she was actually human, and not some perfect robot child here simply to make your parents resent you.

Your knuckles crack as you nervously pull your hand into a fist, all the breath in your body is wrenched out of you as you knock, nervousness tugging at every nerve. What would his face be when he answered? Would he even answer? If he knew it was you, would that change his decision? A million questions cascade through your head, repeatedly punching you in the gut, a vicious reminder this wouldn't be as simple as you'd deluded yourself into believing it would be.

But he does answer it, and it’s like you can breathe again when you see him, the dejected look on his face swaps for light filling his eyes when he realises it’s you on the other side of the hardwood, tugging you in wordlessly, and pressing the door closed with your body.

“Hi,” he smiles, bending down to peck your lips, the warmth sending you rushing back to last night.

“Hi,” you reply helplessly, your head too hazy to think of an original response, your brain would have parroted any words that came out of Matty’s mouth no matter what.

Neither of you can wipe the cheesy smiles covering your face, your features too lit up by the presence of one another. Matty’s hands slide a familiar path as he gazes down at you, sliding the silk of your dress over your skin, pausing them in all the places with the marks he remembered making the night before.

“How are you?” you say dumbly, staring up at Matty as if he hung the stars and the moon, as if he created every emotion you've ever felt, as if he made you as he knew you now.

“Better know you’re here,” he teases, bending down to capture your lips in a kiss, letting it drag on for too many seconds, your lungs desperate for another breath, but you can't drag yourself away from him, not even if you tried.

But biology gets in the way as it always does, forcing you just far enough apart for oxygen to fill your systems once again. But you stay gazing, admiring, memorising. Studying the way that singular curl drops on his forehead, or the way the bags that looked so heavy under his eyes yesterday have a certain new lightness today, the freckles that decorate them glowing through instead of being obscured by the darkness that was.

“Who would I be without you?” you say softly, watching as your hand cups his cheek, sliding that curl behind his ear and looking at it as it defiantly pops back out, springing as it falls back into place.

“Whoever you were meant to be” Matty answers, his smile faltering only slightly, quick enough that anyone else wouldn't have noticed, but you do. Before you can call him out on it, a harsh bang on the door makes you jump, Matty’s hand quickly sliding over your mouth to muffle the scream that came with it.

His finger goes to his lips in a shushing motion as he slides you behind the door before opening it, keeping one hand in yours behind the hardwood as he speaks to whoever is behind it.

You can’t hear whoever is speaking, but you can hear Matty’s replies, “Yup sounds good Adam.” Matty huffs, “What? No, I don't need to see it, Mate. Really I-” A heavy sigh leaves his lungs before agreeing.

“Ugh okay, let’s go then” he concedes dropping your hand quickly and closing the door behind him, trapping you in the suite of your nightmares, surrounded by reminders of why you were here, why you were both here.

You wait for the footsteps outside to stop before slithering out of his suite, your eyes shifting around making sure no one caught you. Luckily you got away unharmed. Or, mostly unharmed, your ego the only thing that took a bruise.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

You keep getting so close to grabbing Matty to talk all day, but every time you start someone drags one of you away. It starts with Adam grabbing him to confirm the seating, then another bridesmaid grabs you to calm down your sister, a task you'd rather die than do. A comedy of errors continued all day, the conversation broken up into one-word meetings before one of you got guided away for something totally unimportant.

But despite the conversation being broken up 100 times over, you both know what you're saying. Are we doing this? Is this wedding really going to stop before it's even started? You still don't have an answer, desperation to just know is clawing at your chest.

Finally, you catch him, miraculously alone in the entryway to the ceremony room, the flower-petaled aisle just starting at your feet. There’s no time for pondering and deep consideration, before you know it someone else would pop out of the woodwork and drag one of you away, so you go for it, no more room for subtlety left inside you.

“Well? Do you wanna leave? Go at the same time?” you almost whisper, playing with Matty’s fingers as his hand rests in yours, anxiety boiling over in your head. Your palms slowly grow clammy as your chest tightens, awaiting the response that would make or break this whole messed up situation. That would make or break you. Still, his eyes don't meet yours, laser-focused on your connected hands, his thumb brushing over your skin.

All it would take is a nod, half a nod, a movement so small it would be impervievable to almost every other person on this earth. This is the first time since you first met Matty’s eyes across a crowded room that you truly have no idea what he's thinking. His face is always decorated with his every emotion, clear as day. At least it always has been to you, feelings painted across his cheeks, swirling in his eyes, exposing themselves by how he licks his lips, or exactly how his eyelashes brush his cheek. Practically screaming at you.

But not now, something different is shrouding his features, some unreadable unknowable version of a man you thought you knew every facet of.

Finally, after what feels like hours, his tongue darts out and wets his lips, readying himself to give you the answer that decides if you’re just running, or if you’re running with him.

“I-”

“Matty!” a feminine voice behind him hisses, carefully manicured pink nails wrapping around his suited arm and gripping forcefully, tugging his hand from your gentle hold. It's then Denise slides into your vision, offering you a soft smile before returning to scowl at her son.

“I've been looking all over for you! We’re running late, let's get you where you need to go love, come on.” she gently tugs his arm, Matty following wordlessly, keeping his eyes trained on the floor below him as if it's the most interesting thing he's ever seen. “See you in there darling!!” Denise says cheerfully turning to you, winking with the biggest grin spreading across her features.

The oxygen in your lungs gets completely ripped out, and it suddenly feels like every limb in your body could collapse under you, he didn't answer. If it's not a yes, it's a pretty fucking clear resounding no. That means the past 12 hours were nothing but a slip backwards, something he regrets. You're something he regrets.

But before he reaches the top of the aisle, Matty calls your name lightly, wrenching his head as far back as he can, your eyes meeting his gaze immediately. It's then he nods, 3 times. Your sign. Whatever this is, is happening.

All of a sudden the anxiety comes rearing its ugly head, but now it’s nervous excitement fueling it rather than a gut-wrenching fear. A plan starts formulating in your mind of exactly what you need to grab, where you’re going, and how this is all going to unfold. Is this going to work? Will it actually be different? Has this experience changed you both enough to never let this go again?

Maybe you could go on their honeymoon? You're sure Matty paid every penny for it, so does that technically make it his? You could buy clothes when you get to Greece, the bridesmaid dress you're wearing now is comfy enough for a flight, plus you'll be too distracted to think anyway. The second he’s yours again none of this will matter, you can throw your phones in the ocean and forget it all. It can be fresh again.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

Anxiety-ridden feet tap against the stones as you wait by the back doors, fighting the urge to check your phone for the thousandth time since you snuck out of the venue. It takes a long time to ditch your wedding, it's not like the movies. Or that's what you tell yourself when it's been 15 minutes and there’s no sign of Matty, and no noises of commotion coming from inside.

You decide that if it gets to 20 minutes and Matty still hasn't come out, you'll intervene. That must be around the “does anyone object” bit right? Or maybe you can just cause a general drama, pretend to have a heart attack, just something long enough to let Matty slip out unnoticed. But if you're honest, you think that might be impossible when you’re the groom.

Tick, tick tick. 20 minutes pass, and still no sign, not even a buzz from inside. With a huff you decide to sneak in, tiptoeing through the kitchen readying yourself to peek your head through the door, maybe he just needs to see your face again, a reminder of what's waiting on the other side of the ruin.

“-sickness and in health” you hear Matty’s voice before you see him, the microphone shoved into his face by the priest, something your sister insisted on, makes him echo through the whole venue.

When you finally step out of the kitchen, your world suddenly collapses in front of you. There he is standing up hand in hand, with not a single sign he's about to run for his life. He feels you enter the room, the way he always has. It's what happens when you spend every waking second together, something in your brain becomes fine-tuned to knowing when the other is near, and the tug between you starts.

But he flicks his eyes for only a second, avoiding any chance of seeing the look on your face, even though he could see it every time he blinked. Suddenly his tie felt tighter, tugging at the skin of his neck rougher than it was before, strangling him. The air felt thinner like he was climbing Mount Everest without an oxygen tank, his body starved of air. But he had to keep pushing, he couldn't look.

“Matty?” the priest prompts, and it's then Matty realises in his panic he’s missed some kind of prompt, looking around helplessly as if it's going to be written on the officiant's forehead.

“Your personal bit, honey” your sister hisses at him, quickly swapping her face for a calm grin and a giggle as she turns to the crowd, performing for them as she always does. She doesn't spot you standing in the corner wishing the ground would open up and swallow you, drag you down to the depths of hell that you’re sure would feel better than standing here watching your universe crumble.

“Oh right, um” Matty coughs awkwardly, his head darting to the side rapidly, fighting the urge to stare at you as he speaks, desperate to ditch the vows and instead blurt out an apology.

“You are my closest friend, my warmest love, and I can’t imagine my life without you in it. You are part of me, and you know me better than anyone I've ever met. Thank you for knowing me the way you do, thank you for loving me,” his voice breaks as he speaks, a gentle cough coming up as he tries to fix the waver in his voice.

The crowd coo at his emotion, Isn't he so sweet getting choked up over how much he adores her? But that's not the emotion clawing at his throat. Its guilt. It’s regret. It’s knowing he is honestly confessing his devotion, but he’s confessing it to the wrong person. It's knowing if he turned your head, he'd be facing exactly who he wants to speak to. But he can't. His head is glued exactly where it is, and if he moved it even one degree, he wouldn't be able to live with himself because of the look on her face, on your face.

The rest of the ceremony sounds like you're underwater, dragged under by the cold waves and forced to listen to muffled voices and cheers. Watching helplessly as he nods three times after saying I do, and studying the way his mouth meets hers when they say “You may now kiss the bride!”

Well, sometimes time changes everything. Sometimes it changes nothing at all.

#matty healy angst #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 angst #wedding angst #or maybe non wedding... you'll have to see ig!!!#if you hate this dont tell me it will be my final straw #im so fragile #this has taken me like 5/6 months so

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