#i still have the photo across the room from me

[nanenna]

Warning: Implied bodily mutilation.

Okay, so remember how this prompt started and why Danny's dissociating hard enough he's in the next universe over? Kon gets a sudden, visceral reminder. UwU (Nothing graphic, all implied. This time)

-----

It was nice having all of Just Us together again, even if it was only for a pre-mission information gathering meeting. After contacting Wonder Woman about it this was now official League business, specifically JLD business. So here he, Tim, Cassie, and Bart were, sitting in one of the meeting rooms on the Watchtower across the table from Wonder Woman and John Constantine. Tim had a presentation all ready to go, including Danny’s drawings and one blurry photo he somehow managed to get of the boy, as he explained everything they knew so far.

“It does seem this boy is from an alternate universe,” Diana agreed as she looked at the star chart Danny had drawn compared to their own. It seemed about half the stars Danny had drawn were a match.

“And even if not, I can’t help search for him with this,” Tim said.

Diana looked over to Constantine.

“I would need to get a read on him, preferably after I get some supplies and get everything set up.”

Kon sighed, “I’ll talk to Ma and Pa. Promise you won’t do any damage to the house.”

Constantine held his hands up, “I’ll clean up after myself.”

“I’ll put together a rescue team,” Diana said.

Kon and his friends all frowned, “We’re already a team.”

“Kon will need to go since Danny already knows him,” Cassie pointed out. “And since we’re already a team we work best with each other.”

Diana nodded, “Alright, I and John will come with you as back up and to make sure we can make it home. We’ll make arrangements to get his supplies, in the mean time I think it’s best you start introducing Danny to others. Ma and Pa at the least.”

Kon nodded, “Sure, I can do that.” He stood up, since it sounded like the meeting was over.

“Before you lot go running off,” Constantine interrupted, “just wanna say not everything from Earth is human.”

Kon sat back down.

“You mean like us?” Cassie asked with a confused frown.

“Yes and no. There’s Amazons and Atlanteans, sure. But there’s also the Tuatha Dé Danann, Hulder, Vila, Kami, whatever you wanna call them.”

Kon had no idea what Constantine was talking about, he looked over to Tim. “The fair folk, or fairies. Like Morgaine le Fey.”

Kon nodded, he had some idea what Constantine meant now.

“Dream walking isn’t something many humans can do.”

Kon remembered something he hadn’t paid much attention to earlier. “Danny called me Nocturn, the Ancient of dreams. He thinks this is all a dream, I don’t think he even knows he’s astral projecting.”

“Right, so he could be fae and knows it, he could be fae and not know it, or he could be a human who managed to make friends with something that sounds like a fae lord. And depending on what it is it changes the rules of hospitality, so be careful about that.”

Tim sighed, “I’ll give them all the fae crash course.”

“The Bat is surprisingly correct and thorough on that.” Constantine sighed, then looked towards Kon. “Look, mate, I know you won’t like this but it might be best to let him think he’s still dreaming for now, just until we get him out of whatever situation is so bad it has him dissociating into the next universe.”

He was right, Kon didn’t like it.

✧✦✧

It had only been a day, Kon wasn’t expecting to see Danny again so soon. At first there had been a whole week between the first and second sighting, but they had been getting closer and closer together over the last couple weeks. Kon wasn’t sure if that meant he just didn’t always run into Danny or if he was actually astral projecting more often. But he hadn’t seen Danny two days in a row yet.

Except now he had.

Kon had finished explaining the whole situation to Ma and Pa, had helped them pick out which room in the big old farmhouse they would let Constantine borrow, and promised to introduce them to Danny the next he saw him. He’d previously told them about him so they could keep an eye out for him, but it seemed they hadn’t seen him yet. Kon was just heading out to the barn for evening chores when he saw a misty figure out in one of the fields. Kon had almost missed them, due to how misty the fields were with rain coming down, but he stopped and squinted and yeah, that was Danny.

“Hello,” Kon greeted as he approached.

Danny didn’t look over, keeping his face turned up and eyes closed. “I can almost feel it.” The rain was going right through him, leaving misty trails in his translucent body.

“At least you don’t have to worry about getting wet.”

“I miss it.”

That’s it, just miss it, not even a comment about how he wants to go stand in the rain when he’s awake.

“Would you like to come inside? Meet my Ma and Pa? I’ve told them about you.”

Danny did blink, looking over at Kon owlishly with his haunting green eyes. “I suppose I have been too lonely.” Danny lifted off the ground and drifted towards Kon, who also lifted into the air and started leading Danny towards the farmhouse.

“I’m not Nocturn.”

Danny looked over with one of his indulgent smiles.

“I mean it,” Kon said quickly. “I don’t want you to think I lied and said I was him when I’m not.” He may need to let Danny think he’s still dreaming, which technically he’s not wrong about, but Kon wasn’t going to try to pretend to be someone he’s never even heard of.

“If you say so.”

Kon sighed, he’d tried. They arrived at the house then, Kon carefully wiped off his shoes before going in. Danny didn’t have a lower half to bother with. “Ma, Pa, I have a guest.”

“Oh, is it one of your friends or did Diana and John finish their shopping trip already?” Ma asked as she walked into the room. When she spotted Danny she stopped and looked at him for a moment before smiling brightly. “You must be Danny, Conner’s been telling us about you.”

Danny looked up at Kon, “Conner?”

Kon shrugged, “Earth name.”

Danny just nodded, then turned back to Ma. “I am Danny, it’s nice to meet you.” He held a hand out, the arm attaching it to his body barely there.

Pa came in just as Danny introduced himself, then he gave the boy a hearty handshake.

“Well, can you eat?” Ma asked.

Danny shrugged and looked to Kon, who also shrugged. Danny turned back to Ma, “I can smell.”

Her mouth rolled into a thin line, “Well how about I make you a cup of hot cider and we can see how that goes.”

“Sure.” Danny followed Ma into the kitchen. He managed to pull out the chair himself to sit in it, legs still missing and hands barely a suggestion as they were folded in front of him on the table.

Ma set about pouring some of the cider they had into a pot to heat up. While that was going, she bustled around the kitchen gathering enough mugs for everyone.

Pa sat across from Danny at the table while Kon stood to the side, just watching her until she poured the steaming cider into the mugs. Kon picked up two of them and handed one off to Danny, while Ma gave Pa his.

“Thank you,” Danny said to both Kon and Ma when the mug was placed in front of him.

Interesting, according to Tim fairies were allergic to saying thank you. So either Danny was raised human and didn’t know he was a fairy, or he was a human and this was all Nocturn.

Danny closed his eyes and seemed to savor the long sniff he took of the mug he’d pulled closer to himself. “It smells so good.”

“Thank you,” Ma said proudly, taking a sip for herself.

Danny leaned forward and carefully picked up the mug, tipping it to take a sip. Cider splattered on the table. Danny frowned down at it.

Kon quickly picked up one of the kitchen towels and wiped the spill up. “That’s a bummer.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I can make myself solid enough. It’s so weird, normally I have to try to not be solid.”

“Well I’m sorry you can’t eat,” Ma said with a sigh.

“It still smells really good.” Danny settled the mug in his hands to be cradled just under his nose.

No one seemed sure what to say to that. It was Pa that tried to change the subject. “Why don’t you tell us about yourself, Danny?”

“I’d rather not.”

Kon couldn’t help wincing, even said in Danny’s soft, dreamy voice that was a bit harsh.

Pa recovered, “Alright then, how about we tell you about the farm? It’s been a real nice year so far. The animals and crops are doing well.”

“It’s been easier since Conner’s been actually staying instead of just visiting,” Ma added.

“What?” Kon asked.

Ma tittered, “Since Danny showed up you’ve been staying the whole time instead of just visiting.”

“I visit every day!”

“You do,” Ma agreed with a wide smile. “Don’t change that it’s been lonely since Clark and Lois moved back to Metropolis, took little Jon with them.”

“They visit a lot too!”

“That they do,” Pa agreed. He gave Danny an exaggerated wink, “We’re real lucky our boys can make the time to come visit us so often.”

Danny smiled gently at Pa, “It does sound-”

Danny’s mug clattered to the table, spilling cider across it and splashing some on the floor. Kon moved to start cleaning it up when he realized why Danny’s mug had fallen.

Danny’s right arm was missing.

Danny looked down at it with his usual passive expression, “Oh, so that’s what that feeling was.”

“What?” Kon asked blankly.

“They’re gonna run outta limbs eventually.”

Kon looked over to Ma, who had her hands pressed over her mouth, and Pa, who was frozen half standing. Then he looked back to Danny, who was still frowning at his shoulder. “W-what?”

Danny looked passively up at Kon. “You already know what’s going on, it’s why you made this waking dream for me after all.”

Kon stared at the arm that wasn’t there, not even a misty hint.

Danny sighed and closed his eyes, a nearly invisible arm and hand reappeared and quickly became as solid (half at best) as the other hand. He picked up his fallen mug.

Kon thought about how Danny’s arms only seemed to be there half the time. He thought about how Danny’s legs almost never seemed to be there. Kon thought about how he wasn’t entirely sure what Danny’s face looked like besides his brightly glowing eyes.

Ma was already sopping up the cider with a kitchen towel, Pa was at the linen closet grabbing bigger towel. Kon was outside, crouched over in a squat with his fingers laced and pressing against the back of his neck. He heard Ma distantly shout for Clark, but he was too busy trying to get his breathing back under control to notice.

DP x DC Prompt/Plotbunny #6

After days? weeks? months? years? in this mercy-forsaken lab, Danny finds himself slipping; his core straining under the weight of what he's been subjected to. In a last ditch effort to save his fracturing soul, his brain simply stops processing the pain and allows his mind to escape into a waking dream.

Danny knows it's a dream. If he thinks about it; he can still hear, see, feel the scientists at work. He doesn't think about it; instead embraces whatever false world his mind decides to concoct for him.

.

Several states away, a young boy opens his eyes to the inside of a strange pod in an abandoned lab. Though he cannot see it yet, a strange metal tag dangles from his ear, stamped on one side with the word 'CADMUS' and on the other with 'R-13'.

[jungwnies]

tamed - max verstappen (3/4)

୨ৎ : pairing : max verstappen x fem!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : a viral pr blunder transforms your tense relationship with max verstappen into unexpected camaraderie and playful banter

୨ৎ : genre : romance, angst, humor ୨ৎ : tws : workplace stress, social media anxiety, mentions of conflict, light teasing ୨ৎ : wc : 990

part one | part two | part three | part four | epilogue

a/n: a rare wednesday post ...

You burst into Max's office, a whirlwind of apologies and self-recrimination ready to tumble out of your mouth. You'd planned for a tough conversation, a verbal lashing, maybe even a resignation letter slapped on his desk. But the scene that greets you is far from the anticipated storm.

Max isn't a raging bull, red-faced and furious. Instead, he's leaning back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips, and the sound of his laughter echoes through the room. It's a rich, genuine sound that you haven't heard from him before, and it throws you completely off balance.

"I can't believe you actually did it," he manages to say between chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. "You actually posted that photo."

You stand frozen, your carefully rehearsed apologies dissolving on your tongue. "You're not… mad?" you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugs, still fighting back a grin. "At first, I was. But then…" He trails off, tapping his phone screen and turning it towards you.

Your stomach clenches as you see the offending photo – the one of him mid-sneeze, looking like he'd just been startled by a ghost – plastered across his Instagram feed. But then you notice the caption: "Thanks to my amazing PR team for capturing my best side. 😂 #SneezyMax #Blessed."

Below the photo, a torrent of comments has erupted. You scroll through them, your initial horror giving way to surprised laughter. The internet has, as it often does, taken your epic PR fail and turned it into a meme-worthy masterpiece.

Daniel Ricciardo: "Mate, you look like you just smelled a dirty diaper! 😂"

Charles Leclerc: "This is my new phone wallpaper. Merci, Y/n!"

Lando Norris: "Sneezy Max is my new favorite superhero. 🤧💪"

George Russell: "I'm framing this and putting it in my living room."

Lewis Hamilton: "This is the best thing I've seen all week. 😂"

Pierre Gasly: "I knew I should have taken that photo when I had the chance!"

Even your own colleagues have joined in on the fun.

Sergio Perez: "Hey Max, next time you sneeze, try to aim it at Hamilton! 😉"

Christian Horner: "Y/n, you're a legend. 😂 (But please don't do it again.)"

You're laughing so hard tears prick your eyes. You can't believe that this PR disaster has turned into a viral sensation.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised," Max says, his grin widening. "You always did have a terrible sense of humor."

You manage a sheepish smile. "I thought it was funny."

"It was," he admits, his eyes twinkling. "But I'm still going to get you back for this. Just so you know, this isn't over."

The playful threat hangs in the air, a silent agreement that this is far from the end of your unexpected feud.

The following weeks see a noticeable shift in your dynamic with Max. The icy glares melt into amused smirks, the sarcastic jabs morph into playful banter. You find yourself looking forward to your meetings, even the ones where he inevitably grumbles about the "stupid PR stuff" you make him do. You start noticing things you hadn't before – the way his eyes crinkle when he genuinely smiles, the surprisingly deep dimples that appear when he laughs, the way his voice softens when he talks about his family.

One afternoon, he surprises you by inviting you to join him in the paddock during a practice session.

"Come on," he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I'll introduce you to the guys. They're dying to meet the person who turned me into a meme."

You hesitate, a flicker of nervousness in your chest. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

He shrugs, a playful smirk on his lips. "Why not? It'll be fun. Besides," he adds, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "they won't stop asking about you."

Intrigued, you follow him into the bustling heart of the Formula 1 world. The paddock is a sensory overload – the roar of engines, the smell of burnt rubber, the sight of mechanics swarming around cars like worker bees.

Max leads you through the maze of garages, introducing you to the other drivers with a casual ease that surprises you. Daniel Ricciardo greets you with a bone-crushing hug and a booming "G'day, mate!" Charles Leclerc, with his charming accent and impeccable manners, compliments your "excellent taste in humor." Lando Norris, ever the prankster, tries to take a selfie with you and Max, only to have Max swat his phone away with a playful scowl.

"Don't you have a simulator to be messing around with?" Max grumbles, earning a chorus of laughter from the other drivers.

As you navigate the paddock, you notice the curious glances and whispered comments. You can't help but feel a sense of pride. You've not only tamed the beast, but you've also earned the respect of his peers.

Later that evening, as you're reviewing some social media analytics, Max walks into your office.

"Hey," he says, leaning against the doorframe. "I just wanted to say thanks."

You look up, surprised. "For what?"

"For everything," he says, a rare sincerity in his voice. "For putting up with me, for making me look good, for… well, for being you."

He hesitates, then adds, "You know, you're not so bad for a PR person."

You laugh, a genuine warmth spreading through you. "And you're not so bad for a driver."

He smirks. "I know."

He turns to leave, then pauses. "Oh, and one more thing," he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I'm still going to get you back for that photo."

You smile, a playful challenge in your voice. "I'd expect nothing less."

As he walks away, you can't help but feel a flutter in your stomach. You're not sure what the future holds for you and Max, but you know one thing for sure: this is just the beginning of a very interesting ride.

taglist: @residentdemonhunter , @nctislifue , @kqliie , @loveitwhenhelies , @edgyficuselastica , @chirasama , comment to be added

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[clxja16]

Not Actually Together

Charles Leclerc X Reader

Genre: faking dating au!

Warnings: none atm

Word Count: 1.4K

Author's Note: I have not written a part two for this, so idk when or if a part two will ever come out. other than that enjoy ;) <3 I also feel like this really stupid, please give any feedback

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

“Hey, can I speak to you?” Charles questioned from across the room as he made his way towards you through the motorhome, “privately please.” 

“Of course,” you answered, following after Charles, going to his private suite.  After the two of you entered the room, shutting the door on the rest of the world, “what would you like to talk about?”  You smile sweetly as you ask Charles.  

Charles forgets for a moment what he wanted to ask, you smiled and he forgot how to breathe, let alone speak.  “What do you think of her?” Charles asked, still looking at you but, pushing his phone forward.  Showing you a picture of some girl, “her name is Alexandra.” 

“She’s pretty,” you answered, still smiling so sweetly at Charles, “Did she make a move on you?” 

 Charles looks back at the photo on his phone.  “Yeah she did,” Charles spoke hesitantly, cautiously looking back at you.  Looking for any sign of  ire.  

“Are you asking for my permission to go after her?” You question with a small chuckle, Charles was quite cute when he was nervous.   

“I…” Charles sighed, “I just wanted to know what your thoughts were.”  Charles looks at the picture of Alexandra on his phone in front of him.  She was certainly quite beautiful, she was most definitely his type.  Why does he have such an uneasy feeling though? 

“Charles, this is only for the public.  We’re not actually together, if you wanna go date her, then go, do it.  I’m not holding you to this fake relationship.” You said, with a bit of a laugh, trying to mask the tiny bit of heartbreak you were feeling.  Charles was never yours to begin with, there is no reason to pretend he is. 

“Are you sure?” Charles wanted you to stop him.  He wanted you to hold him to this relationship.  He wanted you to disapprove.  He wanted you to tell him no.  But he knew you wouldn’t do that to him.  You’re only going to do what you think makes him happy.  

“Charles, we’re only in this predicament because you don’t have the best track record when picking girls.  So the team picked me for you, that way your fans will actually like your girlfriend.  This is simply because the team wants it. This isn’t real, go ask Alex out.” You say it so casually, Charles loathes the way you push him towards Alexandra.  He wants you to fight, he wants you to be jealous, he wants you to want him.  

“Thank you…” Charles says looking back at the photo displayed on his phone.  He looks at Alexandra, and he thinks maybe it’s time to move on.  “For your permission, thank you,” Charles says grateful, he pulls you into a hug, kissing you on the temple.  

When you finally pull away from his embrace you say, “just don’t make me look like a fool.”  

Charles chuckles at the request, “what do you mean?” 

“Don’t be flaunting Alex all around,” you say, in a very serious tone.  You look at Charles squarely this time, you want him to understand you completely.   “I don’t mean to be cocky or egotistical, but I play a fucking good girlfriend to you for the public.  So don’t be flaunting Alex all around, making me look like the stupid little naive girl that everyone knows is getting cheated on.” 

Charles nods along, “I wouldn’t do that to you.”  He can’t imagine anyone wanting to cheat if they were with you, “I promise I won’t do that to you.” 

“Thank you,” you say earnestly.  Even if the intimate relationship wasn’t real, the respect and the friendship you and Charles have built, is authentic.  

“Why don’t you go out with someone too?” Charles asks, curious as to why in these past six months of faking a relationship you never brought up anyone.  

“Well there is this guy that I have a thing for,” you say honestly. 

“Why don’t we go on a double date, that way fans won’t get suspicious?” 

“No no,” you laugh at the request, “this guy has no feelings for me whatsoever.” 

“And how do you know that?” 

“We talked about it before,” you half-lie, you weren’t exactly fully truthful when you ‘talked about it.’ 

“Well, let’s look for someone, for you,” Charles says, completely serious about the notion.  Maybe if you’re with someone too, it would be easier to let you go. 

“No,” you laugh more, you don’t think you’ve ever heard such a ridiculous idea, “no way.” 

Charles laughs at your dismissiveness of the situation, “what about Pierre?” 

“I’m sure Pierre is very serious about Kika,” you say, with a bit of a chuckle at how serious Charles is acting about finding someone to set you up with.  

“Well I’m gonna find you someone, I can assure you,” Charles declares, almost like it was an official notion.  “I have to go down for a briefing, then I'll be back and we can go out to dinner tonight.” 

“Put on a show for the fans tonight?” you question, watching Charles. 

“Of course, my dear,” Charles says overdramatically with a wink, before walking out.  

After Charles leaves, you feel your smile fall.  You want to laugh at yourself for thinking Charles could have wanted you.  The tears start to brim your eyes and you can’t help but thinking you did this to yourself.  You allowed yourself to be in this predicament, so now you must live with it. Just until the season ends, that’s what you tell yourself.  Six more months, give or take.  

-

“Hey,” Carlos said, trying to get his teammates' attention, “why so…” Carlos makes an over exaggerated frowny face at Charles.  

“I don’t know,” Charles said, still replaying his earlier conversation with you.  He tries to find any sign of anything from you.  He dissects every word you utter, he questions every thought spoken, he searches for any inclination that you might’ve lied. 

“Did you speak to y/n about Alex?” 

“I did,” Charles answers, not expounding on his response.  

“She said no?” 

“No,” Charles says with a certain level of surprise, “She said okay.” 

“Great, that’s what you wanted,” Carlos says, “right?  That is what you wanted?”  Carlos has a feeling that this isn’t what Charles wanted, but it’s really not his place to say. 

“It is,” Charles sighs, “but I don’t know something about y/n being so okay with it, it bothers me.” Charles got up and started to pace, while Carlos decided to take a seat, watching his teammate work through this.  “Did you know there’s someone that she's interested in?”

“Y/n?” Carlos questions just to be sure, “don’t tell me that’s bothering you.” 

“No, it’s not,” Charles says, half trying to convince Carlos, the other half trying to convince himself.  “It’s just, y/n said that he’s not interested in her.  I mean how can someone not be interested in y/n, she's crazy smart.  She’s so kind. Did you know at this past Monaco grand prix, she helped collect gifts from the fans to give to me?  She knows how to cook, and not to mention she’s bloody beautiful.” Charles says with a full grin, as he thinks about you.  He can picture you clearly, he has memorized every little detail of your face, down to the way you scrunch your nose when you don’t want to laugh at his horrible jokes.  

Carlos laughs at his blind teammate, “clearly, you’re not really interested in Alex.” 

Charles sighs again, “I thought if I had brought up Alex to y/n, she would give me some type of sign that she was into me, like i’m into her,” he confesses to Carlos.  “I thought maybe, I could get a reaction or something,” Charles shakes his head at himself, he can hear how stupid he sounds without Carlos pointing it out for him.  

Carlos has never wanted to slap someone, as much as he wants to slap Charles.  Carlos runs his hands across his face, “that is the most singularly stupidest idea I have ever heard, and I have heard our race strategies before.  Why didn’t you just outright ask y/n if she liked you?” 

“I didn’t want to be so obvious about it,” Charles shrugs, “Plus it's better this way, she already said she’s interested in someone else.  Not to mention I have tried for the past six months to turn this into a real relationship, this is just me finally moving on.  I deserve to move on don’t I?” 

“Of course you deserve to move on Charles,” Carlos sighs, “but do you even want to move on, or do you think you have to?” 

Charles doesn’t respond, he doesn’t know how to respond even if he wanted to.

[lostintransist]

Fallen Angel | Birthday Present

Part 1 | AO3 | *This is a story told in scenes and can be read in any order though is listed in chronological order on the masterlist.

Gary’s birthday present had been in the works for at least six months at this point. It had started with a blushing question.

Even snuggled under your blanket only your face peeking out of your cocoon you were still cold. The tip of your nose had a decidedly different temperature to the rest of you. This left you with a dilemma. If you covered up your face your nose would warm up but then you would be breathing your own air and that wouldn’t last long.

Finding no good solution for this you glanced over at Gary who sat up against the headboard under his own blanket. He watched something on his phone. From the lack of sound, you knew he had to have a headphone in.

“Hey, Gary?” You pitched your voice a bit louder than it really needed to be to get his attention over his video.

The man reacted like he had found a nun behind him as he watched porn. A hand slammed his phone to his stomach, his head jerked to you so fast you worried he had pulled something, and his knees pulled in tight to his body.

He stared at you with wide eyes, waiting for you to speak.

“You alright there?”

If you had started counting right as he opened and closed his mouth you would have reached twenty before he was able to force words out, give up, and move to signing.

Question for you and know I will never ask again if you say no. And please, feel free to say no.

“What’s the question?” You can’t decide if you should feel nervous or trepidation.

Can I masturbate to you? Well, thoughts of you specifically.

“Uh..yeah? I don’t think I care. Why?”

Gary collapses into the mattress like an inflatable balloon man who lost air pressure.

“I-i-i-i don-n-n’t l-l-ike hid-d-d-ing-ing-ing from you-u-u.”

“And you thought that using me as masturbation material without permission would be hiding things from me?” You put the thoughts together as the words fall out of your mouth.

He nods, face flaming as he stares at his toes.

Snaking a hand across the mattress between your bodies you tap him lightly on the arm. When Gary finally looks, you offer him a small smile and pull back to open your blanket in a clear invitation. He wiggles down, nestling in next to you as you drape your arm over his waist.

“I’ll let you know if the idea makes me uncomfortable later but I can’t see why it would bother me. Maybe just don’t tell me when you use me in your thoughts, okay?”

He nodded aggressively, hugging you tight.

When your chilled face touches his neck you can’t help but giggle at the cry of ‘nose’ from him.

What had started as an innocuous question had spiraled into something more for you. Calling in a few favors to borrow a soundproof booth, a quick editing lesson, and a boudoir session you had a gift for Gary.

None of your partners made a big deal of their birthdays so when you passed the large square box to Gary as everyone sat around the dinner table no one thought much of it. The dark lid pulls away with little effort and is passed off to John. Atop a large book with a ribbon tie on one side is a slim thumb drive with a piece of masking tape on it. In your neatest handwriting is the phrase ‘use headphones’. He sets it to one side.

Gary, John, and Kyle who sat on Gary’s other side all glance up at you. You can do no more but fight down the smile.

Glancing between you and the book cautiously Gary lifts it gently from the box. John takes the bottom half of the box and sets it to the side with the lid. Holding the book upright Gary opens the knot of the ribbon and cracks the book open somewhere in the middle. John’s brows shoot up, Kyle’s mouth drops open, and Gary? Well, Gary snaps the photo book shut and stands, staring at you.

“Happy birthday Gary,” you blow him a kiss.

It seems the kiss was the step too far as he leaves the room, John and Kyle hot on his trail.

“The hell did you give him that caused a reaction like that?” Johnny glances between you and the hallway where the three of them had disappeared.

“A photo shoot,” you reply succinctly resting your elbow on the table and your temple against your fist.

Johnny narrows his eyes at you before taking off after them.

That left you and Simon. Sending a smile his way you stand and start to clear the table.

“What’s this then, if they have your photos?” Simon wiggled the flash drive at you.

Rolling your lips between your teeth you think of the best way to explain.

“Let’s say, I don’t mind helping someone have a good time, even if I don’t want to be a part of it,” you stack the plates and haul them all to the sink.

Simon comes up behind you, thick arms trapping you facing the counter.

“And did you only make one copy of these…good time tools?” He is nearly growling in your ear.

“Of course not! You can have yours on your birthday.” You know you look like the cat that ate the canary.

Simon bites the apple of your cheek.

“Brat. It’s May 17th.”

“See how hard that was? Now you can get your own recordings and books. I gave each of you a few different photos.” Sneaking a glance up at him you point to your cheek. “Now kiss it better.”

He does; then helps you clear the table and load the dishwasher.

Masterlist | Fallen Angel Masterlist

@lilynotdilly

[crescenthistory]

Cariiiiina, love!

Congratulations on this amazing milestone, I am so so so proud of you! It’s a well deserved achievement and I really love your celebration event. (So sweet like you!)

I love your writing, your ideas, your thoughts! Just as I love the warmth of your blog and how sweet the insights about you and your wife are! Truly lovely people here! And that’s why so many lovely people gathered here!

A toast to you, and for the next deserved milestones on the way!

I wanted to ask if I could request a domestic Argue? With 49 family photos + 74 vhs tapes? With precious Remus Moony Lupin?

I thought of f!reader, and something along the lines of „as happy as the photos make it seem, the times weren’t happy. It was sad / hard and hurtful“ (could be applied to both/ one of them, whatever you think suits best!)

Thanks for considering! Lots of love, and congratulations!

- Lel

hi lel!! thank you so immensely much<33 you are just such an angel, i appreciate your enthusiasm and kind words so much 😭🤍 i'm glad my blog comes across the way i hope, big hugs to you xx loved this prompt:,)

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

i will ARGUE for prompt 49 "family photos" and prompt 74 "vhs tapes" with remus lupin

carina's 2k celebration

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

cw: established relationship, references to the war but not canon-compliant, melancholic, sweet fluffy hurt/comfort, referenced fertility struggles (hope&lyall) remus' self-loathing, lycanthropy

wc: exactly 1.6k

The Lupin Cottage was quiet in a way you had never experienced before.

Sitting cross-legged in a plush armchair in the reading room on the second floor, you stared out the window. You could see how harshly the wind was treating the trees and you knew the walls of the narrow home were not thick, yet you couldn't hear a thing. You wondered if Lyall had set up a spell of some kind.

Despite the silence, the house was talkative, always alerting you to the other inhabitants' movements. The creaking by the doorway made you turn your head over the shoulder to see Remus leaning against the doorframe with a wistful smile.

"Hi, cariad," you greeted cheekily, smiling around the nickname his mother calls him. "You found me."

Remus huffed a laugh as he looked down, pushing off the doorframe and leaning on his indoor cane as he moved to sit in the chair across from yours. "Was wondering where ya ran off to. My mother hasn't scared you off already, has she?"

You shook your head with a small smile even before you could think of what to say.

This was your first time meeting Remus' parents properly – you had seen them in the passing on the platform or in doorways over your years at Hogwarts, but with the way the war immediately picked up after graduation, you were unable to spend an extended period of time with them. To be with them for the month of January now felt like a blessing; one you didn't take lightly.

"Hope is lovely, she could never scare me off," you assured Remus, holding his gaze to ensure he knew you meant it. "I just wanted to look through the house and found this room. It's sweet, I really like it."

You looked over the room, the shelves on shelves filled with worn out books, seemingly passed down over generations. There was a small fireplace and an even smaller television, beyond outdated but with a few VHS tapes and movies stacked beneath it that indicated it still worked. It was cozy, the exact thing you would have imagined the Lupins having.

When you looked back at Remus he was still looking at you, a deep look in his eyes. A bit haunted, but no less loving. Loving. You counted your lucky stars that you got to keep the man you loved.

"I'm glad you like it," he all but whispered. "It was my favourite growing up. It was actually supposed to be a bedroom for any potential younger siblings, but, well, that didn't work out, did it?"

There was more guilt than grief in his voice and you furrowed your brows, reaching out across the small space to give him your hand. He took it with a small smile, intertwining your fingers and squeezing.

You already knew why he didn't have any younger siblings; his parents struggled with even conceiving him and kept trying after he was born. They gave up the day he was bit.

"I can tell it's been well-loved. That's a good thing."

Another squeeze of your hand. "It is."

A look came over Remus' face, as if he remembered something. "Mum wanted us to keep our sentimentals in here, to make sure it remained a room of love. If you want, there should be a box over by the television. You can bring it over.”

Anyone else might not have been able to read the vulnerability in Remus’ voice, but you knew him better than that by now. “I would love to,” you said reassuringly, letting his hand go in favour of placing it on his shoulder as you passed.

The wide TV stood on top of a small shelf filled with DVDs and VHS tapes – some of which had handwriting on them, you could barely make out words like WEDDING and REMUS BIRTHDAY. Beside them were compartments with boxes of various contents, but you understood which one he meant by the look of it. There were tracks in the dust on top of it, showing that it was taken out semi-frequently, and you could see some pictures through the holes near the top.

Sliding it out of the shelf was no problem, but it was much heavier than anticipated, causing you to laugh at yourself as you carried it over. Remus was looking at you bemusedly and you just flashed him a bright smile and climbed up onto his chair, sitting on the armrest and placing the box in his lap by your feet.

“Show me. Please.” Your voice was quiet and earnest, laden in love and smiles as you looked at him.

You could swear you saw the tips of his freckled ears grow red at the attention, turning his head down towards the box abashedly. 

He brought up a thick photo album with dark brown and gold details on its outside. If the books on the shelves were worn, then this album was well-loved, with fraying edges and some pictures almost falling out. Your fingers itched to cast a preservation spell over it, but that was far from your place. For now, you just wanted him to show you every little detail of who he was and who he became. 

“This one is from when I was quite young – think toddler,” he narrated as he began to flip it open.

Any further explanation he might have had was cut off by the massive coo that escaped you at the sight of the front page. Remus John Lupin, aged 2, wearing a paper crown with his name on it and grinning at a  piece of cake, chocolate frosting on his nose and chin. 

You leaned forward, almost burying your face in the book to see, fighting back tears at the absolute sweetness that was baby Remus. “You were such an adorable baby,” you cooed, tracing the air just above the picture, scared to damage it. “I can’t believe I’ve never seen baby pictures of you before.”

“I was just a normal babe,” he tried to brush it off, redness now creeping from his ears and into his cheeks.

When you turned your face towards his, you were much closer than anticipated, only furthering your grin as you regarded his flustered expression. “No, love. You were adorable.” A quick peck. “Still are.”

You laughed and leaned your head on top of his, encouraging him to continue flipping through the album and showing you. If he was bothered by your teasing, he didn’t show it – on the contrary, one of his hands came to rest around your hip, steadying you, and his thumb traced loving, absentminded circles there. 

As he whispered commentary about the various pictures – Remus in his rain boots, Remus with sheep that wandered into the garden, Remus playing in the sand – and you kept gushing over how adorable he was, you felt gratitude settling comfortably within you. 

He stopped short when he flipped a page; no comments, no reactions, just regarded what he saw. It was an image of Remus, now around the age of 7, back to the camera as he decked the table in a new living room. It was dark, but you could just barely see Lyall in the background, working in the kitchen.

Eventually, he cleared his voice and spoke. “This was when they started taking pictures again.” 

Your grip on him tightened, giving him time and space to feel. You knew what he referred to. Humming in approval, you began pressing kisses to his tawny hair, making sure not to shy away from his touch, but instead lean into him. Show him you were there.

Remus began flipping through again, though his comments were much more sporadic now. You didn’t hold back on your cooing, commenting on his beautiful dimples and his cute I-got-dressed-by-myself-today outfits. His thumb kept going at your hip.

At the sight of an up-close picture of 8 year old Remus smiling awkwardly, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to smile with teeth yet, he stopped once more to trace the line of the scar on his nose. “You know,” he whispered. “Seeing pictures like these is so odd. It was such a painful time, but it didn’t really translate to camera. Sans the scars, I almost seem like a normal kid.”

You drew out the kiss to his hairline so you had time to think of what to say. “You were a normal kid, though. Even with everything, you were always just a sweet boy. Still are.”

He breathed through his nose in a half-laugh, tilting his head up to look at you. “Of course you would think that, you’re in love with me.”

You hummed happily and leaned down to press a sweet kiss to his awaiting, soft lips. “I’m glad you’ve got that right at least,” you murmured before you pulled away, caressing his cheek as you watched him. “I like seeing pictures from then; both before and after. It’s a part of you and I do love every part of you.”

His smile was melancholic but no less genuine. “I will never understand that, I think.”

“You don’t need to, my love. You just need to let me.”

Remus huffed through a smile once more, dragging you closer to him by the arm around your hip and breathing you in. “I’ve never been one to deny you anything, have I?”

“Are you good for looking at more pictures or is it time to go help Hope with dinner?”

Remus regarded you for a second, smile growing. “Look through a few more, my love.”

[yassbishimvintage]

Is it Me? (Studio pt 5)

Warnings: Angst

One day Amari was scrolling down Instagram when she got an unusual dm. It was someone she didn’t follow or followed her. The preview of the message read ‘I have something to say about your little boyfriend.’

Amari raised an eyebrow as she stared at the DM preview. Her initial instinct was to ignore it—she wasn’t one to feed into drama, especially from strangers. But curiosity got the better of her. After a moment's hesitation, she tapped on the message.

It opened to reveal a single sentence followed by an attached screenshot: "I think you should know what your boyfriend's been up to when you're not around."

Amari's heart skipped a beat as she clicked on the screenshot. It showed Brendan in what looked like a dimly lit lounge. He was sitting at a table, leaning in close to a woman who was smiling at him.

Her stomach churned. She stared at the image, trying to make sense of it. The angle was cropped, and the lighting was questionable, but the implication was clear enough to unsettle her.

Before she could overthink, another message from the same user popped up: "Check the blogs. This isn't the first time, girl."

Amari sat back, her mind racing. She hated jumping to conclusions, but the nagging doubt crept in. Instead of replying, she decided to take a deep breath and handle this the way she always did—with composure and clarity.

She texted Brendan: "Hey, can we talk when you get home? Something weird came up."

Whatever the truth was, she was determined to hear it directly from him.

Amari hesitated before opening the blog, already dreading what she might see. Her pulse quickened as the page loaded. The headline read:

"Mid Sized Sedan Spotted Cozying Up to Mystery Woman in Downtown Lounge—Trouble in Paradise?"

Her stomach sank as she scrolled through the article. The blog had posted multiple photos, all taken at different angles, showing Brendan sitting at a table with the same woman from the DM screenshot. In some, they were laughing; in others, the woman leaned closer to him, her hand resting lightly on his arm.

The captions only made it worse: "Is Mid Sized Sedan  stepping out on Amari? Fans speculate as new photos surface.""The rapper seen enjoying another woman’s company—Amari nowhere in sight."

Amari closed the page, feeling a mixture of anger, hurt, and confusion. She knew the media loved to twist stories, but the images were undeniable. Her trust in Brendan told her there had to be a reasonable explanation, but her emotions were harder to silence.

She sat back on the couch, her phone still in her hand. Another DM popped up from the same stranger: "See what I mean? Be careful who you trust."

She didn’t reply. Instead, she saved the photos and waited for Brendan to come home. This was something she needed to address head-on.

-

When Brendan stepped through the door, he immediately scanned the room, his eyes landing on Amari sitting on the couch. She was quiet, her posture tense, and the usual warmth in her gaze was replaced with a guarded expression. He knew something was wrong.

"Hey, babe," he said cautiously, setting his keys and phone on the table. "You good?"

Amari didn’t respond right away. Instead, she turned her phone around, showing him the blog post with the photos. "Care to explain this?" she asked, her voice steady but edged with hurt.

Brendan’s eyes flicked to the screen, and his jaw clenched as he saw the images. He let out a deep sigh, sitting down across from her. "It’s not what it looks like, Amari," he started, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "That’s one of Malik’s friends. She’s working on a project we’re helping with—nothing more."

Amari raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "So she just casually rests her hand on your arm during business meetings now?"

"I get how it looks," Brendan said quickly. "But I swear, I didn’t even realize she did that until I saw these pictures. It wasn’t like that, babe. I wasn’t flirting, I wasn’t being shady. You can even ask Malik."

She studied his face, searching for any sign of dishonesty. "And the DM I got? Someone sent me a message saying, 'I have something to say about your little boyfriend.' What am I supposed to think when all of this shows up at once?"

Brendan ran a hand over his face, frustration evident. "That DM? It’s just someone trying to stir up drama. You know how people are, especially when they see us happy. I don’t care about rumors, Amari. I care about you. And I’d never do anything to mess this up."

Amari’s expression softened slightly, but she still wasn’t completely convinced. "Why didn’t you just tell me about the meeting? Or about her? You know how the media loves to twist things."

"I should have told you," he admitted. "That’s on me. I didn’t think it was a big deal because it really wasn’t. But I see now how it looks from your side. I’m sorry for not keeping you in the loop."

“Why don’t I believe you B?” she asks him. 

Brendan's jaw tightened as he felt the weight of her words. He looked at her, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and pain. "Amari, I don’t know what else to say to make you believe me. I’ve told you the truth."

She pulled her hands away from his, crossing her arms defensively. "You’re saying all the right things, but something doesn’t sit right with me, B. I see these pictures, the blogs, and then that DM... It’s hard to just brush it off."

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. "I get it, okay? I get why this looks bad, but Amari, I’m not that guy. I’m not out here sneaking around or disrespecting you. You know me better than that."

"Do I?" she asked softly, her voice laced with uncertainty. "Because right now, I feel like I don’t. You didn’t even think to mention this girl or the meeting. It’s not about you cheating—it’s about you not being upfront."

Brendan leaned closer, his voice firm but calm. "I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t important. She’s nobody to me, babe. I wasn’t hiding anything; it just didn’t cross my mind because it meant nothing."

Amari shook her head, her gaze fixed on the floor. "You say that now, but how am I supposed to feel when I’m blindsided like this? You know how much I hate being left in the dark, especially with how public our lives are."

"I know," Brendan said, his voice dropping to a softer tone. "And I messed up by not thinking about how this would look or how it’d make you feel. That’s on me, and I’m sorry. But please, Amari, don’t doubt me like this. You’re the only one I care about."

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his for any trace of deception. "Words are easy, Brendan. I need actions. I need you to show me that I’m the only one."

He reached out, gently cupping her face in his hands. "Then let me prove it to you. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it. Just don’t shut me out, Amari. We’re better than this."

Her expression softened slightly, but the tension lingered. "You’ve got a lot of work to do, B. And I’m not going to just sweep this under the rug."

"I don’t want you to," he said firmly. "I’ll earn your trust back, Amari. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it."

She nodded slowly, leaning back into the couch. "Alright, Brendan. But this is your last chance. No more slip-ups."

He kissed her forehead, his voice steady with determination. "You’ve got my word, babe. No more."

She sighs and walks around him. “You’re sleeping on the couch B.” 

Brendan closed his eyes and sighed deeply, clearly frustrated but knowing better than to argue. “Alright,” he said quietly. “If that’s what you want.”

Amari didn’t look back as she made her way toward their bedroom, her body language tense. She stopped in the doorway, her voice softer but still firm. “I just need time to think, Brendan. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

He nodded, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Take all the time you need. But I’m not giving up on us, Amari. I’ll fix this.”

She didn’t respond, just closed the door behind her. Brendan ran a hand over his face and grabbed a blanket from the hall closet, settling onto the couch. As he stared up at the ceiling, the silence in the room was deafening, the weight of the situation pressing down on him.

In the bedroom, Amari sat on the edge of the bed, her phone still in her hand. She stared at the screen, the messages and posts replaying in her mind. A part of her wanted to believe him, to trust that he wasn’t hiding anything. But another part couldn’t shake the doubt creeping in.

As much as she hated the idea of going to bed without him, she needed space. She needed clarity. And for now, distance felt like the only way to get it.

-

The next morning, Amari found herself at her favorite coffee shop, the aroma of fresh brews mingling with the early morning chatter of customers. She sat by the window, a hot latte in hand, her nails drumming absentmindedly on the small table. She hadn’t slept well, her mind replaying the events of the previous night.

Her phone buzzed on the table, pulling her out of her thoughts. It was a text from Jasmine.

Jasmine: You good? Saw the blogs... You need me to pull up?

Amari sighed, typing back quickly.

Amari: I’m fine. Just needed to clear my head. I’ll call you later.

She placed her phone face down and took another sip of her drink, her eyes drifting to the bustling street outside. The city seemed alive, unaware of her internal turmoil.

The bell above the door jingled as someone walked in, but she didn’t bother looking up until she heard a familiar voice.

“Figured I’d find you here.”

She turned and saw Brendan standing a few feet away, looking tired but determined. He was dressed in sweats, his hair slightly messy, and he held a paper bag in one hand.

Amari raised an eyebrow, unsure of what to say.

“I brought your favorite croissants,” he said softly, stepping closer. “Can I sit?”

She hesitated but eventually nodded. “Fine.”

Brendan sat across from her, setting the bag down and meeting her eyes. “I know you’re upset, and I’m not here to make excuses. I just want to talk. To clear the air.”

Amari crossed her arms, her expression guarded. “Go on, then. I’m listening.”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t know who’s trying to stir things up, but I swear to you, Amari, I haven’t done anything to betray you. That girl in the photos? She approached me at the lounge, but there’s nothing between us. You know how people can twist things for clout.”

Amari studied his face, searching for any hint of dishonesty. “Do you have proof, Brendan? Because I’m tired of feeling like I have to guess if you’re telling me the truth.”

He nodded and pulled his phone out, showing her texts and photos from that night. There was a clear gap between him and the woman in every picture, just as the second angle she’d seen had shown.

“I don’t want to lose you over something I didn’t do,” he said quietly. “You’re my world, Amari. Tell me what I need to do to fix this.”

Her gaze softened slightly, but she wasn’t ready to let him off the hook completely. “You need to do better, Brendan. Be more aware of how things look. I’m not just some girl to you—I’m your girlfriend. Act like it.”

He reached across the table, his hand resting over hers. “I will. I promise.”

Amari sighed, squeezing his hand briefly before pulling away. “You’re not off the couch yet. But... I’ll think about it.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “That’s a start.”

"I'm still mad at you B." she says. Her facial expression not breaking. 

Brendan smirked, leaning his forehead against hers, his hands still gently cradling her face. “I know, baby,” he said, his voice soft but teasing. “But I’m working on that. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Amari rolled her eyes, her lips twitching as if fighting back a smile. “You better,” she said, her tone firm but laced with affection. “Because right now, you’re on thin ice.”

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Thin ice, huh? So you’re saying there’s still a chance?”

She couldn’t help but laugh, lightly shoving his chest. “Brendan, you’re impossible.”

“I’m impossible, but I’m your impossible,” he countered, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her flush against him. “And I’ll stay on this thin ice as long as it takes to win you back.”

Amari sighed dramatically, but her hands rested on his chest, betraying her resolve. “You’re lucky I love you.”

He tilted her chin up, planting a soft kiss on her lips. “Nah, I’m lucky you put up with me. But for real, Amari… I’m sorry. Whatever I gotta do to fix this, just say the word.”

She studied his face, searching for sincerity, and found it in the way his hazel eyes softened. “You can start by letting me win the next argument.”

Brendan chuckled. “Deal. But don’t push it, baby. I still have my pride.”

Amari laughed, finally letting the tension between them dissolve. “You’re lucky I like your pride, too.”

Over the next few days, Amari kept Brendan at arm's length. Her words were polite, but her tone lacked the warmth he was used to. She still let him hold her at night, but the lingering distance between them was undeniable. Brendan felt the sting of her withdrawal in every glance she avoided, in every moment she chose silence over conversation.

He knew he had to tread carefully, giving her space while showing he was serious about mending things.

On the third night, Brendan walked into their shared living room with a bouquet of her favorite flowers and a small, handwritten note tucked inside. He placed them on the coffee table, where she was curled up with her laptop, working on something for school.

Amari glanced up briefly, her eyes flicking to the flowers before returning to her screen. “What’s that for?”

“Just because,” Brendan said softly, taking a seat on the other end of the couch. “I know you’re still mad at me, and I’m not rushing you to forgive me. I just wanted you to know I’m thinking about you. Always.”

Amari’s lips twitched, but she didn’t say anything. She simply reached for the note and opened it.

Amari,

I know I messed up. I know I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. I’ll spend every day proving to you that you can trust me again. I don’t care how long it takes—I’m not going anywhere.

You mean everything to me. I love you more than anything, and I’m sorry for making you feel like that wasn’t true.

Yours always,B

Amari read the note twice, her fingers brushing the edge of the paper. When she finally looked up, Brendan was watching her, his expression hopeful but guarded.

“You’re making it really hard to stay mad at you,” she said quietly, setting the note down.

Brendan leaned forward, his voice equally soft. “That’s the idea. I’ll keep trying until you can’t be mad anymore.”

Amari sighed, her shoulders relaxing for the first time in days. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Brendan grinned. “I’ll take it. Does this mean I’m off the couch?”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t answer, hiding her smile behind the flowers as she leaned in to smell them. 

She glances up from the flowers and gives him a small nod. Brendan’s grin widened as soon as she nodded. He moved closer to her on the couch, his hand reaching out tentatively to rest on her knee. “Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice full of relief. “I promise I won’t take this second chance for granted.”

Amari let out a small laugh, her fingers playing with the petals of one of the flowers. “You’d better not. I’m still mad at you, you know.”

“I know,” he said, squeezing her knee gently. “And I’ll make it up to you, every single day.”

She leaned back into the cushions, finally meeting his gaze. “You better. Because if you mess up again, I’ll have you out on the curb with no warning.”

Brendan chuckled, the tension in the room easing. “Duly noted. No curb life for me.”

Amari shook her head with a small smile, unable to stay completely stoic under his charm. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re everything,” Brendan replied, leaning in and kissing her temple softly. He didn’t push for anything more, content just to be close to her again.

For the first time in days, Amari let herself relax against him, her head resting lightly on his shoulder. Brendan wrapped an arm around her, holding her close as the two of them sat quietly on the couch, the distance between them finally beginning to fade.

Tags 🏷️

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @avoidthings @nayesworld @haechvn @writingsbytee @grlsbstshot @ovohanna24 @skvrpion @megamindsecretlair @kimuzostar @kenshisluvrgirl @planetblaque @pocketsizedpanther @bimbosnbutterflies2026 @chewingmy3xtragum @easybrezzy @blowmymbackout @melaninpov @notpradagurl7

[skeletalheartattack]

do uyo think a monkys 🐒 and a sketin 💀 can be friends

a thought bubble appears above my head with the memory of having my picture taken with a monkey at the ripe old age of 6, and upon leaving the monkey would trip me and start dragging me by the ankle back to the photo chair, prompting the photographer to fucking book it for that monkey.

hm probably not i don't think.

[straykats]

.

[pseudowho]

"Itadori-kun. Good. You're on time."

Kento checked his watch, clearly distracted, as Yuuji approached with pocketed hands. The shopping centre was bustling, a hive of activity around them. Yuuji ruffled his own hair, unsure.

"Yeah, I just...wasn't sure why we're meeting here, is all."

Still distracted, Kento tapped off a message, before slipping his phone back into his inner pocket. He rarely offered smiles when there was business yet to be done, and today was no different.

"I was hoping for your assistance with a few errands before your school term ends. I'm sure you'll be busy with your friends after then, and I shouldn't like to take your vacation time. I'm sure you're looking forward to the break."

In truth, Yuuji deflated just at the thought of it; though he was an orphan amongst orphans, he didn't favour empty time in the way he used to, with memory and the devil as his constant companions. Still he smiled.

"Yeah! Can't wait. Got...got loads planned."

Kento read Yuuji, shrewd for a moment, before hyper-focusing on the task at hand.

"Quite. Come along, Yuuji."

Yuuji grew more and more flummoxed as Kento's list of errands tickered out before them. Too polite to question why, and with absolute faith that Kento had good reason to drag him along for the ride, Yuuji stomached it all with confused good grace.

Yuuji blinked, momentarily blinded by the flash of light in the photo booth. He grinned for the next photo, and Kento's cool deep voice rumbled past the curtain.

"No smiling, Yuuji."

"H-huh? How did you know?"

"Was I wrong?"

"Uh...sorry, Nanamin."

As a strip of tiny poe-faced photos clicked into the dispenser, Yuuji couldn't understand why Nanamin was so satisfied by such bland pictures. Yuuji was, however, touched; clearly Nanamin liked wallet photos as he liked his suits-- beige. Kento clipped across Yuuji's thoughts.

"Do you like the beach, Yuuji?"

Yuuji blinked. "The beach...?"

"Yes. The beach. Do you like it?"

"Uh...I guess. Why?"

Kento hummed, satisfied, not answering Yuuji's question. Instead, as he passed Yuuji his coffee, he stood and leaned around Yuuji, gently pulling at the back of Yuuji's collar. Yuuji twisted to look, baffled now, and Kento released him, sitting with another satisfied hum. He tapped on his phone again.

"Your identification documents are in your room at Jujutsu High?"

"Nanamin...what's this about?"

"It's important to take care of your documents, Yuuji."

"...so you're just...checking up on me?"

Kento smiled, polite. "Of course." A pause. "I assume you'd like to come back to ours for dinner?"

Yuuji brimmed with unasked questions. "I don't need to-- I'm not really that hungry-- honestly a coffee is great--"

"Mrs.Nanami has cooked extra."

"God, yes, please, I'm starving."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

The summer vacation approached Yuuji like a black cloud. He could not bring himself to be excited for enforced inactivity; his casual offers to assist staff on missions fell on deaf ears. Gojo laughed Yuuji off with a clap on the shoulder. Yuuji smiled away the gentle rejection; he did not have the stomach to beg to work.

Instead, Yuuji stewed, leaning on his rainy windowsill until cicada buzz replaced the pitter-patter of water on earth. Late July arrived, unwelcome, and Yuuji steeped in a pit of dread.

At 2am, on the first day of summer vacation, Yuuji's phone rang. Bleary-eyed, and flat, he looked away from his computer screen and lowered his headset. He looked at his screen with a lurching gut; he answered the phone.

"Nanamin?"

A voice, rusty with sleeplessness. "Ah, Yuuji. I apologise for waking you at this hour. I need help with a mission. Are you available?"

Yuuji perked up immediately, tail wagging. "Y-yeah! Yeah, totally! I can be ready...er...in ten? Yeah?"

Kento's voice smiled. "Good. I'll pick you up."

Yuuji danced from his desk chair, shaking off his joggers and wriggling into his uniform with a grin, ruffling his hair before the mirror. In barely two minutes, he was ready, a spring in his step as he headed to wait outside. He felt so light, so relieved, and he grabbed his keys, opening his door to--

"Oh, shi--...Nanamin?"

Kento stood at the door, comfortable in loose clothes, and...sandals? It was an odd contrast to the backdrop of night, and Kento's usual attire. Kento smiled again, polite.

"Yes. Are you ready?"

"Y-yeah, I'm...how did you get here so fast?"

"The roads are quiet at this time of night, Yuuji."

A pause. "...Nanamin."

"Yuuji."

"Are you fucking with me?"

"Language."

When Yuuji opened his mouth to argue back, his jaw dropped, as you bustled up the corridor behind Kento with a sleepy grin on your face. You slapped Kento's elbow, shooting him a chastising look.

"Morning, Yuuji! Excited?" You pressed a kiss to his cheek, whirling past to invade his bedroom. Yuuji was speechless, horribly confused.

Kento checked his watch as you bustled around. Tapped his foot as you bustled around. Tutted, and leaned pointedly round the corner to stare at you as you bustled around.

"Darling, we're going to be la--"

"--don't give me attitude, Kento, we are about 6 hours early, and you know it--"

"--it pays off to check-in ahead of schedule--"

"--hush. I'll have words with you later."

Kento bristled, pugnacious. You walked out of Yuuji's room with his rucksack in hand. You pinched his chin, gesturing him along with your hand.

"Come on, Yuuji. Before Mr.Organised has conniptions."

Yuuji felt himself swept along by Kento, who still scoffed, mulish. The night air smelled sweet, and Yuuji found himself gently bodied into the back seat of Kento's car.

"--Nanamin-- I don't understand--"

You shot Kento a pointed look from the passenger seat. At first frowning, then with dawning realisation, you scolded Kento in disbelief.

"...you haven't told him."

Kento almost smirked as he rolled the car away over gravel. "I don't know what you mean."

You looked from Kento, to Yuuji, and back again. You reached slowly into Kento's bag, rummaging. Yuuji felt a glossy little book pressed into his hands.

"...a...passport?"

"...Kento didn't tell you."

Never one for expecting a gift, Yuuji couldn't see one when placed before his eyes. "Tell me what? Nanamin?"

Kento chuckled to himself, his eyes glimmering at Yuuji in the rearview mirror.

"Our flight is at 10:30, Yuuji."

Yuuji peered into the seat beside him; a new suitcase, neatly labelled with a luggage tag in his name. He yanked it to the seat beside him, unzipping it, and finding it full of new swimsuits, t-shirts, shorts, sandals, everything he could possibly need. He opened the glossy new passport in his hands, and hiccupped, his breath catching in his chest.

Yuuji rammed into realisation with prickling eyes, and a quiet sniffle, his eyes hidden in the dark. His reply was thick, stilted.

"Our flight...to where?"

"Malaysia. Now give me back that passport. You'll only lose it."

[satoruan]

How their kid breaks their heart  — Jujutsu Kaisean

( cw ) f!reader, fluff, domestic, kinda hurt/comfort but not really hehe just butt hurt husbands, breastfeeding  

featuring. Gojo Satoru, Choso Kamo, Nanami Kento 

authors note. I haven’t written anything in so long I think I forgot how to. Anyway, I love dilfs ❤️ JJK dilfs are my favorite thing ever.

CHOSO KAMO 

Choso’s infant has been screaming for what felt like hours, he has a clean diaper, there aren’t any tags on his clothes that may be bothering him, he’s swaddled tightly, and he refuses to drink the lukewarm bottle Choso made him so that must mean he’s not hungry, right? Choso just wanted to be able to do this himself, take care of his baby, and not depend on you so much but when you step into your bedroom after returning home, he almost starts crying too. “I-I can’t-” He stutters, eyes wide as you make your way into your shade bed. “Hey, hey it’s okay baby.” You whisper as your hand moves to cup the side of his face. You lift his head and kiss him a few times before reaching for your baby. He continues to scream before you give him your breast. He settles down almost instantly. “He hates me.” Choso almost whimpers as he lays his head on your shoulder, the both of you looking down at the little boy. “No, he doesn’t, I promise you he doesn’t.” You say, reaching down to kiss his forehead. “I tried to feed him and he just turned his head and screamed, it felt like he was cursing me.” He grumbles, rubbing at the baby’s swaddled feet. “That’s because he it’s used to the bottle, he’d rather have a boob, rather suck the nipple than the bottle tip.” You explain to your husband. “Well, at least he takes at me in that regard.” “You’re disgusting.” 

GOJO SATORU 

“Daddy look, it’s Uncle ‘Guru!” Your daughter squeals as she grabs a photo from the pile on the floor between your little family. You guys were supposed to be making a scrapbook but Satoru and your daughter weren’t much of a help. “Yes, that is Suguru baby! That’s from when we were back in high school and look mommy’s there too” Satoru smiles at the photo. “Were you and Mommy married?” She asks with a smile on her face. “No, not yet—“ “I’m gonna marry Uncle ‘Guru!” She exclaims, looking at her father with a huge smile on her face as the thought infiltrates her mind. Satoru feels his heart sink into his stomach. This can’t be happening. “He’ll be the bestest husband in the whole world Daddy!” “What about me baby? Wouldn’t you rather marry someone like Daddy?”  He whines trying to take this picture out of her hands. “Nope! I wanna marry Uncle ‘Guru! You’re too stinky.” She side-eyes him before going to sit next to you, picture still in hand. Satoru just stares at her, mouth slightly agape as she smiles down at the old picture. You lean over the scrapbook and pat your husband’s knee. “Well, ‘Toru that’s another one of our daughters that would rather marry Suguru. Better luck next time.”   

NANAMI KENTO 

“Come to Daddy!” “No come to mommy!” You playfully shove at Nanami’s shoulder. Your baby stares at you two from a few feet away with curiosity. You guys were doing that trend that was circling social media, set your baby across the room and see who they crawl to. “Daddy lets you eat some of his solid foods, come to me, sweetheart.” Nanami pats the floor, motioning for your baby to come his way. Your baby starts to crawl slowly, looking at both of you, questioning who he wants to crawl to. “Mommy has an endless supply of food on her right now, Daddy doesn’t have any on him! Come to Mommy!” You tap at the hardwood floors. Your baby seems to make up his mind then and rushes to you. Nanami frowns as you jump up and celebrate. He was certain you he would crawl to him. “Ha! I win you lose! Mommy’s the best!” You laugh and soon enough your son starts to laugh too and even though Nanami is a little hurt he can’t help but smile and join his little family’s celebration. 

[ivyues]

A Lap to Nap - Bang Chan

Bang Chan finds peace in your lap, but duty calls him back to the studio.

Chris pushed open the door to your apartment, his eyes heavy but brightened by the sight of you waiting on the couch.

"Hey," he said softly, dropping his bag by the door. He crossed the room in a few steps, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your lips. "Missed you."

You smiled, reaching out to brush his curls away from his forehead. “Missed you too,” you said, patting the cushion beside you. He sank down heavily, the weight of hours spent in the studio evident in his sluggish movements.

"You okay?" you asked, letting your fingers wander into his unstyled hair.

"Just tired," he murmured, eyes fluttering shut as his head found its way onto your lap. He exhaled deeply, his body melting into the couch. You continued stroking his hair, marveling at how peaceful he looked. The usual intensity and focus you associated with him were gone, replaced by serene exhaustion.

Minutes passed in comfortable silence, broken only by the hum of the TV. You glanced across the room when the soft buzz of a phone vibrating caught your attention – it was your boyfriend's phone, still in his bag at the door. For a moment, you considered getting up, but his head on your lap anchored you in place.

Your own phone buzzed on the coffee table instead, and you reached for it carefully.

Changbin: "Yo, is Chan with you? Can't reach him. Need to talk about re-recording something."

You smiled at the irony, glancing down at Chris. He was fast asleep, his lips slightly parted, utterly unaware of both phones vying for his attention. Gently, you took a quick photo – his head tucked against your thigh and your hand in his hair as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

You: "Does this answer your question?" You attached the photo and sent it.

Changbin’s reply came almost immediately.

Changbin: "😂 Sorry for disturbing. Tell him to call me when he wakes up. Hate to take him away, but we need him back for a bit. 😅"

You sighed softly and put your phone back down. Your gaze returned to Chris. You hated the thought of waking him, but you knew how important his work was. With soft fingers, you traced his cheek.

“Channie,” you called softly. “Baby, wake up.”

He stirred, his brows furrowing slightly before his eyes blinked open, glazed with sleep. He looked up at you with a faint, sleepy smile. “Didn’t… didn’t think I’d be out like that,” he mumbled, his voice warm and husky.

You chuckled, still massaging his head softly. “Changbin texted,” you said gently. “He says you need to go back to re-record something.”

Chris groaned softly, his eyes closing again for a moment, enjoying the tender sensation of your fingers against his scalp for a few moments longer. “Of course he did,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your leg.

You laughed, brushing his hair back. “He felt bad for disturbing. You were completely knocked out.”

“Was I?” he asked with a shy smile, looking up at you. “I’m sorry. I just… couldn’t help it. You’re too comfortable.”

Smiling, you leaned down to meet him, your lips brushing his in a soft, lingering kiss. When you pulled back, you whispered, “Go finish your work. You’ll have me – and my lap – all to yourself after.”

Chris grinned, sitting up reluctantly. “You better keep that promise,” he teased, stealing another quick kiss before standing and grabbing his phone.

-----

Later that night, as time in the studio slipped by, Changbin nudged Chris with a playful grin. “Hey, hope your girlfriend isn’t mad at me,” he teased. “I mean, I did kind of steal you away. I don’t want to end up on her bad side.”

Chris chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s not mad, Binnie. Trust me, Y/N’s way too chill for that.”

Han, who had been quietly listening, raised his head. "Whaaat? You called him when he was with Y/N?" he teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Really? What a move, man."

“Hey, it wasn’t my fault,” Changbin chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Still, you owe her a date night after this.”

Chris smiled softly. “Oh, don’t worry—I’ve got plans.”

-----

The next day you received a message from Chris. It was a screenshot of the Stray Kids group chat. Your eyes widened as you saw the very picture you’d sent Changbin the day before – Chris peacefully sleeping on your lap, his curls messy and his expression serene.  

Changbin: "Guys, look what I got yesterday 😂"  

Your cheeks instantly heated up. You looked through the messages that followed, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement.  

Han: "OMG, this is ADORABLE."  

Felix: "Can we all agree this is peak boyfriend goals? 🥺"  

Hyunjin: "That’s so cute... 🤢❤️”

Seungmin: "The old man needing his afternoon naps – I’m saving this for future blackmail."  

Jeongin: "Honestly, same. Imagine the chaos this will cause when we tease him about it."  

At the bottom of the conversation Chris’s reply stood: 

Chris: "Blackmail? Nah, y’all are just jealous. I’m living the dream." 

masterlist

[rafecameronssl4t]

73 Questions with Vogue || Drew Starkey x actress!reader

Summary: just you participating in 73 Questions with Vogue and it goes viral!!!

Warnings: fluff!!!

Word count: 1,935

A/n: It's been so long since I've written a Drew fic!!!!!!! Also I got inspired by my previous acc's fic so if it seems familiar to some of you who followed me from there, don't come at me, I loved the idea too much lol. CAN SOMEONE PLS SEND ME REQUESTS FOR DREW FICS???

MASTERLIST

divider by @h-aewo

"Hello!" You greet the interviewer with a bright smile, swinging open the door to reveal him and his camera. "Hi, Y/n! Mind if we come in and ask you 73 questions?" he asks, his tone friendly and warm. "Yeah, of course! Come on in," you say, stepping aside and holding the door wide open, gesturing for them to enter as the camera pans through the foyer of your house. The space is beautifully designed, with soft lighting that gives it a cozy, inviting atmosphere.

"Wow, what a gorgeous house you have," the interviewer remarks, his voice filled with genuine awe as his eyes take in the sophisticated yet comfortable décor. "Thank you!" you respond, the compliment warming you as you flash a radiant smile. "Is this your favourite house?" The interviewer asks, already settling into the rhythm of the questions as you lead them down the hallway and into the open-plan living area.

"Yes, it definitely is. It's in my home city, and Charleston means so much to me, just like this house does," you say, your eyes lighting up as you gesture around. The view of the beach through the large windows makes the space feel even more special. "I love the view," the interviewer comments, looking out at the sunset that bathes the room in warm golden light. "The sunset looks amazing from here."

"It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?" you say with a soft chuckle. "I love spending time in this room specifically. It feels like a little sanctuary." You both share a laugh, enjoying the peaceful moment. "What's your morning routine like?" The interviewer asks as the camera follows you through the coastal-themed living room toward the kitchen. You pause for a moment, thinking about your answer.

"I haven't had much of a routine the past few months because of work, but currently, I wake up to a strong cup of coffee and a walk through downtown," you share with a soft smile. "It’s become a little ritual to clear my mind before everything gets too busy." As you stroll through the warm, inviting spaces of your home, the camera captures the personal touches that reflect your personality—a mix of elegance and laid-back comfort.

A question about your career comes next, and you happily share some behind-the-scenes anecdotes from your latest film. "This," you begin, the affection in your tone unmistakable, "is a magnet Sydney gave me when we wrapped filming Immaculate earlier this year." You glance at the picture, a grin spreading across your face. "It’s a photo of the two of us in our nun costumes... let’s just say, not doing very nun-like things." You laugh, the absurdity of the memory still fresh, and hold the magnet up for the camera to focus.

The image shows the two of you mid-laughter, each holding a cigarette with exaggerated defiance, your habits slightly askew, as though caught mid-rebellion. "What's the best compliment you've received?" the interviewer asks, a hint of curiosity in their voice. You pause, your expression thoughtful. "Oh, that's a tough one," you say, your lips curling into a playful smile.

"I think the best compliment I’ve ever gotten was when someone said, 'You're like Meryl Streep… but, you know, with fewer Oscars.’" You chuckle, shaking your head in amusement. "It was the kind of backhanded compliment that made me laugh for days." The interviewer laughs along with you. "That’s a good one," he says, clearly entertained. As you make your way towards the outside deck, the interviewer continues with another question. "Texting, calling, or FaceTiming?"

You grin as you lean casually against the railing, looking out at the beach below. "Oh, definitely FaceTiming," you say with a mischievous glint in your eyes. "I’m terrible at replying to text messages. I’d much rather see people's live reactions, y’know?" A more personal question comes next, and you smile thoughtfully as the interviewer asks, “How do you handle the pressures of fame?”

You nod, taking a moment before responding. "I lean on my family and friends—they keep me grounded. And I remind myself that pressure is a privilege. It means people care about what I do, and that means a lot." Your voice softens as you speak, the sincerity of your words clear as you step into your home office, showcasing the awards and accolades lining the shelves. The conversation turns to your personal life, and a warm, affectionate smile spreads across your face.

"Congratulations on reaching your two-year anniversary with Drew!" The interviewer says with a grin, and you beam in response. "Thank you!" you reply, your eyes sparkling as you think of him. "Drew is incredible. He’s my biggest supporter, my partner in everything, and honestly, just my favourite person. It’s been such a special journey since starting my career, and I’m so grateful to have him by my side."

"What's the key to a successful relationship?" He asks. You pause as you walk through the hallway, your gaze softening as you think. "I think it’s communication and a lot of patience. No relationship is perfect, but being able to talk things through and genuinely listen to each other makes all the difference." You smile, adding, "Oh, and laughter—if you can laugh together, you can get through just about anything."

The sound of the front door creaking open interrupts the moment, and a familiar voice rings out, instantly making your face light up. "Oh, there’s Drew right now!" you say, smiling brightly as you move toward the foyer. The camera follows you, capturing the scene as Drew enters, with Nellie, your cocker spaniel, bounding beside him. "Hey, baby," He greets you as he slips off his sunglasses, pulling you close for a tender kiss

When he pulls back, his eyes widen slightly as he spots the camera. "Oh, 73 Questions with Vogue?" he asks, a playful grin tugging at his lips. You giggle, nodding your head. "I forgot you were doing that today," he chuckles. “Go ahead, continue your interview," he adds with a fond look before walking off with Nellie. As the camera returns to you, you make your way toward the stairs, glancing over your shoulder to find Drew already on the floor, happily playing with Nellie.

A soft giggle escapes your lips, captured by the camera momentarily fixated on the fleeting connection. "What's something people don’t know about you?" the interviewer asks, pulling you back into the conversation. You pause, thinking for a second. "I’m actually allergic to most flowers," you reveal with a sheepish laugh. "Really? I wouldn’t have known," the interviewer responds, clearly surprised. "Oh, absolutely! When we film Outer Banks, they have to shoot around the flowers, or I'd be a sneezing mess," you confess, casually walking backward while maintaining a steady gaze with the camera.

The tour continues through luxurious walk-in closet, filled with designer attire. “What’s your pet peeve?” You laugh, shaking your head in mock exasperation. "Oh, definitely when people chew loudly. It’s like nails on a chalkboard for me. Chase is notorious for doing it on purpose, so I avoid him during my lunch breaks," you add, giggling at the memory. "Where was the best vacation you’ve been taken to?" the interviewer inquires as you step into your shared bedroom with Drew, the ocean stretching out just outside the windows.

"I think I’d have to say Vienna with Drew for my birthday," you say, smiling over your shoulder as you look out at the view. “A song you replay often?” "Hm, I think Charlie, Last Name Wilson," you say with a grin, rifling through the records. "It never gets old, and it’s super catchy." You smile as you pick it out. "Most of you guys would know that this song is also Drew and Austin’s favourite, so we always play it on set," you chuckle. "Does the rest of the Outer Banks cast like it too?" the interviewer asks, laughing along. "They don’t have much choice," you joke with a grin.

"Is there anything from any set that you've taken home with you?" The interviewer asks eagerly. “Oh, I love this question!" you exclaim, opening a drawer to reveal a variety of souvenirs. "This is the bag my character 'Whiskey' from Glass Onion owned," you say, showing off the brown frill bag. "And here’s a pack of Italian cigarettes from Immaculate, they’re just props, by the way," you add with a wink.

You pull out a cowboy hat. "This one’s from Tom on the set of Billy the Kid," you explain. "And this," you say with a smile, holding up a ring on a necklace. "This is Rafe's ring, the one he gave my character." "What a beautiful photo of the two of you," the interviewer notes, pointing to the large black-and-white photo of you and Drew at a Vogue photoshoot above your bed.

"It is! That day was actually so special for us. We both got the call saying we’d been cast in our respective roles that we’d been auditioning for," you explain, your face lighting up with nostalgia. The interviewer then asks about Drew’s upcoming movie. "Speaking of which, Drew’s film Queer is coming out very soon. Are you excited to watch it on the big screen?" "Yes, of course!" you say, your voice full of pride.

"I was so incredibly proud of him when he got the role. He was definitely excited too, especially since it’s, you know, the Luca Guadagnino." You chuckle. "I got the privilege to actually be on set for a bit, and it was amazing. Plus, I got to catch up with Daniel," you mention. "It was really nice to see him again." You smile, the pride evident in your expression as you talk about Drew's accomplishments.

The conversation is interrupted by a gentle knock at the door, and both you and the interviewer turn your attention toward it. Drew’s head peeks around the corner, his grin lighting up the frame as the camera zooms in on him. "I made some iced teas—yours is half and half," he says casually, stepping into the room with a tray holding two glasses. You can’t help but beam as he hands you your drink. "Aww, thanks, babe," you say gratefully, your fingers brushing his for a brief moment as you take the glass.

Drew hands the other glass to the interviewer, who looks pleasantly surprised. "Wow, thank you, Drew!" he says with a wide smile. "Of course," Drew replies warmly before glancing at you. "Let me know if you need anything else," he says, shooting you a quick wink before stepping out of the room. The camera lingers on him for a beat as he walks away, capturing his effortless charm.

You take a sip of the iced tea, the cool, refreshing taste spreading through you as you let out a content sigh. "Is this something you drink often?" the interviewer asks, clearly curious. You nod enthusiastically. "Oh, absolutely. I like mine half and half, and I drink it like 24/7," you say with a chuckle, the glass still in your hand. The interviewer grins before asking a more personal question. "I can tell Drew is very thoughtful. What’s your favourite trait of his?"

You laugh softly, caught off guard by the difficult question. "You can’t make me choose—I love everything about him!" you say with a playful grin, your tone light but sincere. The interviewer chuckles along with you, clearly charmed by your response. "Okay, okay, fair enough. But if you had to pick just one thing that comes to mind?"

You pause for a moment, your expression softening as you think. "Hmmm," you hum, swirling your iced tea absentmindedly. "I love the little things he does," you begin, your voice warm with affection. "Like how he always remembers my coffee order or when he leaves me little notes when I’m on set. It’s those small, thoughtful moments that really mean the most to me."

The camera captures your tender smile, and the interviewer smiles himself, visibly touched by your response. "That’s so sweet," he says, his tone genuine. "It really is," you smile, a soft, almost bashful grin spreading across your face. "He’s the best boyfriend I could have ever asked for," you say, your tone filled with warmth and sincerity.

The interviewer watches you with an amused smile, clearly endeared by the dreamy, almost schoolgirl-like look on your face as you think about Drew.

~

The Vogue 73 Questions interview quickly becomes an internet sensation, captivating fans. It was everywhere. Clips of your candid answers and sweet, unscripted moments—especially the one where Drew casually walked in with iced tea—became the ultimate proof of why you were Hollywood’s darling. Within hours of its release, the hashtag #73QuestionsWithY/n trends worldwide.

The comments section was flooded with fans losing their minds over the glimpse into your life. "Can we talk about how Drew KNOWS her iced tea order by heart? If this isn’t relationship goals, I don’t know what is." "Y/n casually being gorgeous, funny, and real in her Charleston dream home? I’m in love." "The way Drew looked at her when he walked in… I CAN’T. He’s so whipped, and I’m here for it."

Memes circulate, celebrating your witty remarks and playful demeanor, while your thoughtful insights and open vulnerability spark heartfelt discussions. The part where Drew sneaks into the interview with iced tea becomes a fan-favourite, with many dubbing it "the cutest boyfriend moment of the year."

“I love how real she is,” one fan tweeted, accompanied by screenshots of your answer about Drew’s little notes and coffee orders. Another post with a screenshot of you laughing at Drew’s confused “Oh, Vogue’s here” reaction read, “You can just tell they’re best friends. I want a love like this.”

The media couldn’t get enough, either. Everyone from gossip sites to prestigious magazines weighed in on how you’d managed to blend the glamour of your career with the warmth of your personality. The buzz reignites interest in your past projects and elevates anticipation for your upcoming ones. Your social media following soars as fans, old and new, praise your ability to remain grounded despite your success.

Meanwhile, Drew’s small but sweet cameo sparks renewed admiration for your relationship, with countless threads and videos dedicated to celebrating your bond. “Y/n and Drew are proof that true love exists,” one viral tweet declares, garnering thousands of likes and retweets. Another fan edits together a montage of your cutest moments from the interview, set to a romantic song, which quickly racks up millions of views.

Drew couldn’t stop teasing you about how viral the iced tea moment had become. “You’re lucky I didn’t walk in shirtless,” he joked one night as you scrolled through TikTok, finding yet another edit of you two. “Please,” you said, giggling, your hand affectionately stroking Nellie, “half the internet would’ve fainted.” “Half?” He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I think you’re underestimating me, babe.”

[girlygguk]

NOT JUST ON CHRISTMAS ⋆ JJK

he's the first boy you've ever brought home for christmas. jungkook's nervous. you're horny.

🦌⋆⁺₊❅. christmas & chill: instalment 4 of 6

pairing nerdy!jk x gf!reader

genre established relo, college au, fluff, smut (18+ mdni)

content jk 21 | yn 21, spirited extro gf x soft angel bf, jk comes home w oc for the holidays, he’s so soft and shy, until he isn’t oop, i triedd w the context but this rlly is just oc getting the xmas dicking she deserves, kissing, cursing, switchy soft dom jk, giddy subby oc, they try to keep quiet, keyword try, dirty talk, cunnilingus, jk's a munch, condomless p in v sex, oc on pill, creampie, they're literal angels & i would die for them

word count 4.8k

banner by the gorgeously gifted @awrkive ⟡ ݁₊ .

“My mom loves you.”

“You think?” Jungkook’s lips tilt into a soft smile, his hand warm and steady as it glides over your thigh, draped comfortably across his waist. “She’s amazing. I see her in you a lot.”

Your nose scrunches as you smile softly into the curve of his arm, your fingers absently tracing along his chest. When your nails graze over his nipple, you feel it perk up under your touch, and you can’t resist pressing a light kiss to the skin beneath your lips.

“You’re so easy to love, baby,” you murmur, your voice muffled slightly against his arm. But you know he hears you from the way his chest rises and falls a little faster, betraying the quiet effect you always have on him. “Had me whipped from the first time I saw you.”

Jungkook’s brow furrows cutely, the same expression he always makes when you say this. He never quite believes it, even now. You can tell he’s picturing that day—how you noticed him tucked into the back of the freshman seminar, seated in a corner with his laptop angled slightly, like a shield in case someone dared to take the empty seat beside him.

That someone had been you.

Coming to Seoul for university had been a big deal—not just for you, but for your family and everyone back home in Namhae-gun who’d cheered you on. You weren’t naturally gifted in academics the way your boyfriend was, but you worked hard, just like he did. You’d taken every extra shift you could at your local little grocer, worked the after-school care program at Sannie’s elementary school, and with some help from your mom and stepdad, you pieced together what your scholarship didn’t cover.

With that, you packed your clothes and favorite trinkets from your childhood bedroom, said goodbye to your family and the friends you’d known your whole life, and set off for the big, bright Seoul city.

It was bittersweet. Namhae-gun had been your whole world, but Seoul was your dream. And now, as you looked at Jungkook beside you, his pretty face soft in the dim light of your room, you realized he was now your new both. Your world and your dream. Your present and your future.

You still talked to your best friends, Lila and Jimin, nearly every night over FaceTime, Jungkook joining most times. He’d been so adorably shy the first time they demanded to meet him, visibly nervous they wouldn’t like him. It still baffled you sometimes, how he could think that way. How he didn’t see himself the way you did.

Because, in your eyes, he was everything. The cutest, dorkiest, sexiest nerd you’d ever met—you’d kill for him. You knew Lila and Jimin would fall for him too. And they did.

Your extroverted best friends even begged him for his socials, which he shyly handed over, his cheeks pink as he spoke out his handles. He almost choked on his own saliva when Lila let out the loudest moan mid-call, suddenly thrusting her iPad at the screen to show his latest post. It was a photo of the two of you at the beach—you, in a little multicolored bikini holding the camera out, and Jungkook with his big, wet chest on full, bare display beside you.

You couldn’t help but giggle in agreement at her thirsting over your handsome boyfriend, cupping the side of his burning face as he ducked his head into your neck. His linked arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as you nestled in his lap.

“Angel?” he murmured quietly into your neck. “Why would she say t-that?”

The disappointment—and maybe even slight annoyance—in his pouty tone made you want to slam your laptop shut and take him as far down your throat as you could. Instead, you’d cooed softly, turning your head to kiss his warm cheek and whispering in his ear that she was, in fact, a raging lesbian.

“Oh,” he whispered back, tickling your skin. “Okay.” His pout relaxed, and you felt the softest, relieved little smile on his lips against your neck.

You had bitten back a moan of your own at how much that turned you on, turning to pepper his round cheek with a hundred kisses until his blush faded and the corners of his lips tugged into a cute little bunny grin. You smiled fondly at the memory of Jimin groaning dramatically while Lila yelled at you to go lower.

“Your stepdad asked me to join him for golf tomorrow.”

Jungkook’s soft, nervous voice pulls you from your thoughts. You hum in surprise and beam up at him, fingers brushing lightly along his tummy. “Really? Oh, baby, that’s so great. Are you going to go?”

“Y-yeah,” he says, swallowing hard. His throat bobs as he glances down at you, your cheek now pressed against his chest. His hand lingers at your waist, fingers curling gently into your soft skin. “Would you… would you like to come?”

You coo softly, nodding as your lips brush the curve of his collarbone. “If you want me to, honey,” you murmur, your mouth pressing a little kiss to his pebbled nipple. His chest stutters with a throaty breath, and you grin against his skin. “I’d love to.”

“Always want you to come with me, baby,” he breathes, his voice unsteady as you tilt your head, lips wrapping softly around the bud. Your gaze drifts up lazily to his beautiful face, his eyes already half-lidded. “E-everywhere I go. Wish I could take you.”

“Mmm.” The hum vibrates against his chest as your hand slides up to scratch lightly over his other nipple, your teeth grazing over the one caught between your lips. His hips shift beneath you, his breath catching as his pants pick up. “I’ll follow you wherever you go, my love."

Jungkook tries to stifle the whine rising in his throat, but it slips out anyway, soft and desperate, when your teeth scrape just a little harder over his nipple. His fingers flex at your waist, gripping you tighter.

“Ahh,” he heaves under his breath, his head lolling softly into the pillow. “Baby, we-we can’t.”

You hum, brow arching slightly in amused defiance. “And why is that, honey?” Your lips brush over both of his nipples, one flushed red and swollen from your mouth, the other stiff and sensitive from your nails.

“B-because,” he stammers, his eyes fluttering open just in time to catch you tossing the blanket off your waists and shifting to straddle his lap. His breath hitches as your thighs settle around him, your body hovering prettily above his. He swallows hard, his focus slipping as he tries to gather himself. “Your parents, angel. What if they—”

You cut him off with a soft kiss, your palms flattening against his chest as you lean in to steal his breath. His exhale trembles through his nose, and he lets out a desperate mewl when he tries to deepen the kiss, his tongue brushing your lips. You pull back just enough to keep him chasing you.

“Their room’s on the other side of the house, my darling,” you murmur against his lips, your voice low and sweet. “So is Sannie’s. Nobody’s gonna hear your cute little noises.”

Jungkook flushes a deep pink at that, his pout immediate and utterly adorable. You dissolve into giggles, your nose brushing his as he huffs. He doesn’t correct you, though. He knows better and so do you. You’re always the one who can’t stay quiet during sex, no matter how much he whispers please, baby, they’re gonna hear us against your skin.

The thought makes your heart race. Sometimes you still can’t believe he was a virgin before you. Not with the way he fucks. Sweet and shy as he is, Jeon Jungkook turns into something else entirely when he’s inside you.

Your first time together had been soft and clumsy and perfect. Tucked into the covers of his dorm bed while his roommate Taehyung spent the night at his girlfriend’s place. He’d asked if you were okay a hundred times, his hands shaking against your skin as he moved so carefully, so sweetly. You’d never felt more loved.

But the second time?

Once he stopped asking if you were alright every thirty seconds, once he started trusting you when you told him you fucking loved it and to keep going, he went.

Oh, how he fucking went.

That second night, your own roommate had come back early—earlier than she said she would—and screamed the moment she opened the door. She’d walked in to find your shy, soft-spoken, nerdy boyfriend fucking you raw from behind on your bed, his hands gripping your hips as he thrusted you back and forth on his cock, your makeup-smeared face buried in the pillow, your throat raw from begging.

“We’ll be quiet,” you lie softly against his mouth, your lips brushing his as you lean back down, rolling your hips over his stiffening cock. The thin fabric of your Christmas pajama shorts drags over his matching pants, the friction making him shudder beneath you. “Haven’t fucked me since yesterday morning, baby,” you pout, leaning up with a little huff, bouncing brattily in his lap. “You hate me.”

“D-don’t ever say that again, baby,” he husks, his voice so fucking low as you begin to grind your slickening core against him. “Love you more than life itself.”

“Yeah?” you whisper, your tone turning smug, satisfied. You drag yourself along the length of him again, slow and pointed, humming at the way he twitches beneath you. Leaning down, you hover just over his parted lips, so close your breaths mingle. “You love me that much, baby?”

He’s fighting it—you can see it. The way his jaw tightens, his brows knitting. His throat works around a sound he’s determined to swallow. His resolve is wavering. His control crumbling—or crumbled, he doesn't fucking know—as you roll your hips again, the wet heat of you seeping through the fabric between you.

“That mu-much, baby,” he chokes out, his voice strained. His long fingers dig gently into the soft flesh of your waist, guiding you as you move against him, his grip both a plea and a surrender all at once.

Your lips curl into a triumphant smile against his as you grind yourself back and forth with just a bit more pressure. You feel the way his breath hitches, the way his resistance falters. He knows he’s already lost.

And you know it too when his big hands slide under the hem of your little green singlet, patterned with tiny reindeers and snowflakes, gripping your hips firmly before flipping you both over.

Your big eyes blink up at him, maybe a little too giddy, as he hovers above you. He shakes his head softly, his bunny nose twitching, and then leans down to take the kind of kiss he’s been craving all day.

The kind of kiss he’s wanted since dinner, when your parents were fawning over him between bites of food, praising him for everything from his sweet nature to his thoughtful gift for San.

The one he hasn’t had a chance to steal since he was sitting nervously beside you on the living room couch, watching your baby brother open the limited-edition Iron Man figure Jungkook had picked out just for him. Sannie had sprinted up to your boyfriend, his tiny arms wrapping around him, hugging him so tight and calling him the best hyungie he’s ever had.

And, yeah, okay, maybe he cried a little.

It’s the first time all day he’s had you to himself, the first time since yesterday afternoon. The afternoon he’d spent with you in the communal kitchen at your college, baking the Christmas tree-shaped cookies you’d brought home for your family in a big container.

The same cookies he had snuck an extra one to Sannie, even when you told your little brother no more after two. He couldn't help it, folding instantly when the adorable kid tugged on his sleeve with those big, pleading eyes—the ones that reminded him a little too much of you.

Jungkook thought you hadn’t noticed, but of course you did. You’d stood quietly in the doorway, watching as your gentle giant boyfriend snuck two cookies from the container and handed one to San, his lips twitching with a soft laugh when your brother shoved the whole thing into his mouth like Jungkook might change his mind and take it back.

The feeling of your lips wrapping around his tongue pulls him back to the present, and he lets out a breathy groan into your mouth. You swallow it greedily, your legs wrapping tighter around his waist as you tug his warm, solid weight down into you, relishing in having him pressed so heavily against you.

“Needa be quiet, baby,” he says, his voice low and breathy, maybe even a little whiny as he pulls away reluctantly. “C-can’t have your dad hearing us. I won’t be able to play golf with him tomorrow if I can’t look him in the eye.”

You hum as your lips chase his, dazed and unbothered. “You hate golf,” you murmur absently, your hands sliding up to cradle the sides of his neck, your thumbs brushing soft, hot skin. Then your tongue slips past his lips again.

He lets out something between a grunt and a laugh, his resistance melting away as his big tongue laps against yours. You taste the faint trace of toothpaste as you kiss him deeper, chasing every last hint of it, your body tingling as you take his tongue further into your mouth.

It’s no surprise that he’s already fully hard, just like it’s no surprise that you’re already fucking drenched. His stiff cock presses down against your stomach, and your hips buck instinctively at the feeling, a mewly moan spilling from your lips without care.

His hand slides up from your waist to wrap gently around your throat, and your brows furrow in pleased anticipation through closed eyes, silently hoping he’ll squeeze harder. He does, in a way, his fingers pressing softly against the sides of your neck, enough to make your head spin. The kiss slows as he pulls back slightly, leaving you pouty and blinking up at him.

His cheeks are flushed, his soft lips slightly swollen, his big, gorgeous nose marked faintly on the bridge from where his glasses had rested earlier. He looks down at you before speaking, his voice reluctant, heavy with the words he feels he has to say.

“Quiet, please, angel.”

You lick your lips, trying to chase more of his taste. “Okay, cutie,” you say with a sweet smile, nodding softly as you gaze up at him. “I’ll be quiet.”

His tongue darts out to lick over his lips, as if he’s doing the same as you, before he smiles knowingly. “Liar.”

He’s back on your mouth, his fingers still brushing softly over your throat as his lips capture yours again. This time, he takes your tongue into his mouth, sucking in a way that’s both soft and firm, pulling wet, breathy pants from you chest. Your ankles tighten around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. There’s not even any fucking space between you, but you're not a quitter, grinding pathetically up into him, hips searching for the angle you need.

And then you find it.

“mmmM,” you whine as his hard, covered cock presses perfectly through your pussy lips.

Jungkook groans low into your mouth at the feeling, his lips and tongue moving with messily with yours. He’s devouring you, the wet, sticky sounds of your kissing filling the room as you grind yourself shamelessly against him. The friction is heavy, perfect as his cock is stiff and hot beneath the thin barrier of his pajama pants. Your hips move instinctively, searching for more, harder, faster, anything to ease the ache between your legs.

His hand tightens around your throat, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to keep your head swimming. His lips break from yours with a slick little pop, leaving your lips humming and eyes hazy as they meet his flushed face. His eyes are wide and wet as his grip on your neck loosens, trailing down to your waist.

“Needa taste it, baby,” he rasps, his voice wrecked as he slips lower, dragging his big frame down the bed. “Please baby? Need to taste you.”

The words make your head spin, and you breathing out a pleading god yes baby as his hands grip the waistband of your shorts, tugging them and your panties down in one motion. The cool air against your slick heat makes you gasp, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling of his big tongue licking a fat stripe right up your drippy folds.

“Baby—fuckk,” you breathe, your thighs trembling as his mouth works into you. He’s messy with it, always is, his tongue dipping inside your hole, then dragging back up to swivel around your clit. His big nose presses against you as he eats, throat humming and brows furrowing like they always do when he tastes a really good dish.

He pulls back just enough to breathe out, “S-so yummy, baby. I love it. Love it so fucking much.” His lips latch onto your clit, sucking it between his lips and humming dirtily, making your hips jerk up into his face.

“Hahhh,” you whimper, your voice high and dumb as your hands tangle in his hair, tugging hard when his tongue flicks even faster. “Shit, Jung- baby, uuh—”

Jungkook moans into your pussy, the sound high-pitched and needy, vibrating against your soppy heat. His jaw drops as he pushes in deeper, taking your whole pussy into his big mouth, completely forgetting the need for either of you to shut the fuck up. You’re dripping everywhere, your slick coating his lips and chin, and he laps it all up like an eager dog, his hands gripping your plushy thighs to keep you spread wide.

He lifts his head just long enough to suck in a breath before gathering a thick pool of spit in his mouth. He leans back down, face burying between your legs, and lets the saliva drool onto your folds before dragging his tongue through the mess, licking and lapping it all back up greedily.

Your body writhes under him, your head sinking back into the pillow as one hand fists tighter in his hair and the other grips the sheets desperately. Your mind reels, fragments of random thoughts flashing through it—the curve of the statue of liberty, the lucky quarter you found on your walk with him in the city, the moment you first kissed. Everything and nothing blurs together and you realize with a hum that your life is flashing right before your fucking eyes.

You’re trembling, vibrating against the bed, choking on the little noises slipping from your lips. Another uh. And another. And another.

“God, baby. That’s— uh, fuck. So fucking good. Eat your fucking pussy, baby.”

Jungkook whimpers into you, his voice muffled by your cunt as his head follows the desperate rut of your hips. You buck against his mouth, but his hands hold you down, his tongue relentless. “My pussy,” he breathes against your folds, the words so adorably possessive. “It’s my pussy, baby.”

“That's r-right,” you gasp, your head lifting weakly to meet the sight of him—his face filthy, drenched, his mouth and nose buried in your heat as he tongue fucks your cunt like it's his last day on earth. “Your fucking pussy, baby.”

Jungkook groans against you, wet and desperate, his hips shifting against the mattress as he thrusts into nothing, his cock throbbing painfully in his pants. He knows he’s close—so close that it’s embarrassing. He can feel himself leaking through the fabric, and it’s only a matter of seconds before he’s cumming right there in his pajama pants.

And you know it too. So you beg.

"Please, baby. Wanna cum with you, Kookie... Please."

His face morphs into a little pout as he slows, pulling away from his meal reluctantly, tongue flicking one last time at your puffy folds before his hands leave your thighs. He’s panting as he climbs back up your body, unable to deny you anything in the world, lips and chin glistening with your slick.

You smile at his wet face, your hands slipping up into his messy curls as you tug him down for a kiss. The taste of yourself on his tongue is heady, dizzying, and you let out a little moan as you suck every last bit of it from his mouth. Jungkook groans into it, the sound so low that it almost resembles a cute little growl.

When you pull back, giving his swollen, red pout one last kiss, your gaze flickers down to his hand rubbing over his painfully hard cock. You bite your lip, your eyes trailing back up to meet his as you blink, waiting patiently.

He licks his lips, leaning down for one more quick kiss as his fingers fumble at his waistband. There’s a soft shuffle, and then his cock is free, flushed and heavy in his hand as he slides it against your slick folds. Your breath catches as he lines himself up, his hooded gaze locked on yours, brows furrowed in concentration.

He doesn’t need to look. His cock presses into you with an ease that has you keening, the thick head stretching you open as he pushes in. You feel every inch of him as he sinks deeper, feeding you more and more until your nails dig into his shoulders. The burn makes your jaw fall open, your head tipping back against the pillow.

“Ah,” he groans, his voice breaking as he bottoms out. “It’s so warm, baby—”

You’re already trembling, your walls fluttering around him as he starts to move, pulling out all the way before sinking right back in. “So big, Jungkookie,” you whimper, your fingers gripping his shoulders. “F-fuck, I love your dick so much.”

“Yeah?”

There it fucking is.

“You love it, baby? Love this fucking cock, baby?” he rasps, his hips snapping harder now, the loud, wet sound of his balls slapping against your ass filling the room.

“It’s yours.” Slap. “Your fucking cock.” Slap. “Will always be your fucking cock.”

Your pussy clamps around him, eyes rolling back as choked fucks spill from your lips. You can’t answer, your voice lost to your moans, your body arching into his as he pounds into you, each thrust hitting that spot inside that makes your vision blur. You barely register the slam of the headboard against the wall, too cock-drunk to care as he presses a big hand to your belly.

“Feel that?” he growls, his palm firm against your abdomen. “Feel me, baby? Fucking up inside of you right here?”

“Y-yes,” you gasp, your hands scrambling for purchase against his back. “Oh my god, yes, yes—”

His other hand slides up your body, under your singlet to find your nipple and roll it between his fingers. The sensation makes you jerk against him, your cries spilling freely now. “So loud,” he mutters, though his lips quirk like he’s fucking proud of it. “God, you just can’t help it, can you, baby?”

He knows you love it when he talks to you like this. You’ve told him so more than once. He didn’t know how he felt about it at first, but when it had you cumming harder, whining more, it wasn’t really a choice anymore. He’d do anything to make you feel like that, give you anything you wanted.

You don’t have a chance to respond—not coherently, at least. His thumb drags from your hip, slipping down to your swollen, throbbing clit. He rubs big, messy, wet circles over the sensitive nub, and your vision shakes as you feel it coming.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans when you let out that shaky little noise and that trembling clench you always do when you’re about to cum. “Cum for me. Let me feel it. Cum on your cock, baby.”

Yes. Yes.

“Yes!” you scream, your body seizing up, waves of pleasure crashing through you as you cry out, your hands slipping from his hair, nails raking down his bare back as you orgasm. “Baby, uh—fuck!”

He doesn’t slow, his hips pounding into you as his own release builds. “G-gonna fill you up,” he chokes out, his thrusts erratic now. “Fuckkkk, baby, gonna cum so fucking deep inside you.”

“Yes,” you whimper the only word you seem to know. “Wannit so bad, Kookie.” You slur, voice breaking as he keeps fucking into you like a fleshlight. “Wanna feel your cum fill up my fucking pussy, baby, g-g-godddd.”

He shudders above you, his hips snapping hard with one long, deep thrust as he chokes out a cuumming, baby before spilling into you, his deep moan vibrating through your bedroom.

His thumb doesn’t stop.

He’s panting hard, hips fucking in and out of your leaking hole while you milk every last drop of sticky cum from his softening cock. “Come on, angel, gimmie one more, please. Please, angel.”

He’s pleading. You’re dying. Your body is convulsing, clenching and squeezing around his cock, somehow pulling even more of his load when he thought he had no more left to fucking give.

“One more, baby. That’s it. That’s it. There we go.”

Your eyes roll back, the dirtiest moan tearing from your throat as you squeal and shake around his cock. Your second orgasm hits you even harder than the first. He works you through it, rocks you through it, pushing his hips flush against yours so the head of his cock bulges and pulses against your g-spot, spelling his name on your clit with his thumb while you give him one fucking more.

Your chest heaves as your body trembles beneath him, your hands clutching weakly around his sides. Jungkook’s hips still, his cock twitching inside you as he breathes heavily, his forehead pressing softly against yours. He lifts his thumb from your clit, panting, and brings it to his lips without thinking, sucking your slick from his finger.

When he pulls it free, his eyes blink open, dazed and drunk. “I-I can’t believe we did that,” he chokes out. “We were so loud.”

You giggle softly, batting his hand away from his mouth to wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him down until his weight sinks against you. “Babyyy,” he groans in protest, squirming slightly. “I don’t wanna squish you.”

You grumble, your legs locking around his waist again, keeping him firmly in place. His softening cock shifts slightly inside you, and you hum contentedly. “You’re fine, my love. Perfect.”

He lets out a grumpy little whine before conceeding and resting his head in the crook of your neck. His chest rises and falls heavily against yours, his body still trembling faintly.

“It really is okay, though, baby,” you say, stroking his damp hair with one hand while your other rubs little circles over his back. “My mom and Sang-cheol are very sex positive.”

Jungkook’s body stiffens in your hold. “Angel, noo.”

You bite your lip to stifle a laugh, shrugging innocently. “What? They are.”

His face burns even redder as he rubs his nose into your neck. “It’s gonna be so awkward tomorrow,” he mumbles.

You snicker, drumming his bare bum with your feet. “It’s fine, baby. I didn’t pack any golf attire by the way, so we’ll needa go to the mall in the morning. You can help me pick out a slutty little sport skirt.”

His head lifts just slightly and you swear his ears perk up like a bunny. “Okay,” he says softly, cheeks still pink. “I’d like that.”

You giggle, the sound muffled as you press a kiss to his warm cheek. “God, you’re so cute, baby.”

His lips quirk into a shy grin, his doe eyes blinking down at you. “I love you,” he whispers. “This has been the best Christmas of my life.”

Your chest tightens, and your brows furrow as you whine softly at his sweetness. “I love you too, my sweetheart,” you murmur, cupping his face in your hands to press another kiss to his pout. “So much.”

His smile is soft, glowing, as he nestles back into your neck. His bare chest is warm against you, the two of you sinking into a quiet, content stillness. Your fingers brush through the damp hair at the base of his neck, his breathing evening out as your heartbeats sync.

“Angel?” His voice breaks the silence.

“Yes, my love?” you hum sleepily.

“I-I’m hard again.”

merry 23rd my darlings !! i hope you’re all having the best holidays so far, and thank u so much for all the overwhelming love and support on this silly willy journey of ours 💋 i’m sure you’ve already checked out december, but if you haven’t yet, PLEASEEE do — i swear to fuck u won’t regret it. the biggest thank u again from lovie and me, we appreciate you all endlessly 🩷🩷 see you on the 25th!! mwwwah -lyssa <3

[mywritersmind]

BREAK MY HEART AND I SWEAR IM MOVIN’ ON WITH YOUR FAVORITE ATHLETE - LN4

summary : You weren’t joking when you wrote the lyric ‘Break my heart and I swear I'm movin' on with your favorite athlete’. What a perfect opportunity when that same athlete falls right into the palm of your hands with your ex’s burning gaze directed straight at you.

listen up : reader wrote ‘good graces’ ! flustered lando! protective lando! sorry to anyone named nick.

words : 1519

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Need a shot of your strongest!” I slap my hand down on the bar, my friends around me and looking worried. I’m fine! I’m absolutely fine!

Is my ex currently across the room from me? Yes! But I'm cool, I'm calm, and I'm collected.

I down the bitter liquor, pushing back my hair and taking a breath. “Fuck him.” I mumble as my friend's hand goes to my arm. I’m completely over him, but every time my eyes land on that jerk I can’t help but remember how I caught him fucking his assistant.

Jackass wasn’t even talented enough to have an assistant, I should have known.

I start dancing, forgetting about my hatred and focusing on my friends. The true loves of my life! I throw my hands up, ‘Cupid's Chokehold’ playing as we all sing around and laugh.

I hear the mumbling and whispering instantly, a new ground walking into the exclusive club my friends pulled me into. My best friend squeals, grabbing my arm, “That’s Lando Norris!”

I raise a brow, still dancing and turning to see the man and his own group. I recognize a few from when my ex would get up at 4AM to see their races.

Formula 1 drivers have a reputation… most worse than any other soccer or hockey player. I watch Lando, a drink in his hand as his eyes scan the crowd.

The reputation makes sense, a face like that doesn’t just shrug off girls.

I turn before he can see me. He doesn’t know who I am, I doubt any F1 driver knows a borderline inappropriate pop star.

“You have to talk to him!” She screams, jumping up and down in her heels now.

“No!” I laugh and think she’s going to drop it until she gives me an annoyed look.

“That’s hypocritical!” I laugh, how the fuck is that hypocritical? I am forced to realize what she’s referring to as I turn and see my ex standing in front of the driver.

He’s smiling like the idiot he is, asking for a photo and clearly going on for too long. Lando is his absolute favorite driver, I couldn’t escape his face for the two years I was dating my ex.

My friend's smile grows, and she starts singing. “Break my heart and I swear I'm movin' on with your favorite athlete!” she’s off key and definitely drunk, pushing my arm she laughs, “This is your fucking time! It’s your own words! He broke your heart babe!”

At her last words I frown, making up some excuse to get another drink. I look back at Lando as I walk back to the bar, my ex is still there but I catch Lando’s eye, accidentally sending him a disgusting look.

I rip my eyes away and order another drink. I sip on it, my legs crossed on a bar stool and my back against the counter as I watch my ex go back to his friends.

I know he sees me, and I'm grateful he hasn’t said anything. He’s an asshole and I'm upset that he’s ruining my night by his proximity to my friends and I.

“Do I know you?” The unfamiliar accent catches me off guard, looking away from my ex and up at Lando Norris. Shit.

“Um… No?” I sip my drink again, trying to ignore his arm resting behind me and how delicious he smells.

“So why were you death glaring at me?” I can’t help but laugh at this, his brow quirks when I do.

“I wasn’t! Not at you at least…” I look back to my ex, nodding, “I was glaring at him.”

“Well he must have done something really bad to you because that look was damn scary.” I bring my lips to my glass again, locking eyes with his that are so green, even in the club lights.

“He’s my ex.”

Lando looks genuinely surprised at this, “Your… ex?” he points and nod, “Yours? As in dating ex?”

“Yes. What other type of ex is there?”

Lando shrugs, eyeing him and shaking his head, “Sorry. I genuinely just don’t believe it! He’s…” He stops himself, like he realizes he’s actually speaking out loud, “Well you’re way out of his league! You’re fucking gorgeous, and honestly on my to-do list of the night.”

I raise a brow at this as his eyes go wide, “I mean I wanted to talk to you! Not in a creepy way! In a genuine way.” I turn towards him more and clock the sincerity in his voice, “So, i’m assuming you broke up with the dick?”

“He cheated on me.” Lando’s jaw drops at this, “Okay shut up now you’re just boosting my ego.”

“It deserves to be boosted! Fucking hell, asshole. Shouldn’t have let him take a photo.” He smirks at me and it makes my smile return, “You do look familiar though…”

“I’m a singer, Y/n L/n.”

He laughs, tapping his fingers against the counter, “I know you! My teammate's girlfriend is obsessed! You're the one with the funny lyrics.” By ‘funny’ he means horny as fuck.

I nod, “And you’re my ex’s favorite athlete.” He cringes at this.

“Not yours?”

“I know nothing about Formula 1.” I shrug as his hands go to his curls, “But I do know you.”

His smile widens at this, his eyes soft, “I like that.”

Lando is nothing like I imagined. I thought he would be annoying and honestly a dick, but instead he’s just flirty and actually hilarious.

He’s cute too, buys me a drink, moves his hand to the outside of my leg to pull down my dress that’s riding up my thigh.

Fuck those lyrics, I want him.

He’s funny and ridiculously stunning, “You know- once I mentioned that you were cute, not even hot or anything, and Nick didn’t talk to me for two hours!”

Lando scoffs, “That’s just rude.” he motions to his face, “Anyone could see i’m adorable.”

“Fuck, now i’m boosting your ego!”

He smiles, “You’re doing that by just looking at me.” He's a flirt and I love him for it.

He’s looking at me like I hung the moon. We just met and he’s leaning down to hear what I'm saying over the loud music, his hand never leaving me.

I reach up and twirl a piece of his hair around my finger, “I like your curls.”

“Thanks love…” the nickname comes out smooth and easy. Far too dangerous for someone I barely know and someone I really like.

He tells me about his travel schedule and how he likes my dress. I tell him where I live and when I tour… “I wanna see you perform.”

I laugh, his hand still on my leg, “I barely know you.”

“Easy fix. Come home with me tonight.” It’s straightforward and risky, yet very tempting. “I’ll let you know everything about me.”

I bite my lip as his eyes stray from mine, “Norris.” I say sternly as he nods, slowly looking back at my eyes with a cheeky look on his face.

“Yes or no, love? Break my heart, it’s fine!” He says dramatically as I laugh and roll my eyes, leaning away from him before his hand finds my waist and pulls me closer, “You don’t have to. I’m just offering…”

“Get me a water, then we’ll see.” His smirk is back and his hand lingers on me before walking down to where the barista is flirting with a pretty girl and not paying any attention to us.

I smile as he leaves, waving to my friends as they motion to text them and blow me a kiss. I’m still smiling when someone slides next to me.

“Y/n!” I know the voice instantly and it makes me feel sick. He’s beaming as if he is privileged to see me, which he is, but he shouldn’t look so happy.

“Nick.” I say, my smile gone and my warm and fuzzy feeling disappeared.

“I didn’t know you were here!” Liar. “How’ve you been?”

“You mean how have I been since I caught a girl sucking your limp dick?” I say with my brows raised, “Oh just peachy.”

His smile falters. Dickhead.

My actual savior returns, a head turning smile on his face until he sees my ex. Lando walks past him, not even sparing a glance and handing me my ice water.

“Ready to go?” His hand is warm on my hip, his gaze cold when looking at the man who stares at the two of us.

“Sorry… what?” Nick is genuinely frozen in place as I pop out of my seat, Lando gripping me with both hands now. Shit his hands are big.

“Mate… she wrote it in a song.” He nods at him as I grin, a straw at my lips and giggle in my throat. Lando leans down close to my ear as we walk away. I can practically hear the smirk in his voice, “I’ll show you a real man.”

@//YOURUSERNAME

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yourusername i’m a woman of my word🤷🏻‍♀️

landonorris definitely lost a fan but gained the most important person in my life. i love you😘❤️

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[aakeysmash]

maybes and sunscreen

college!sukuna masterlist

after almost a year of living together, you and college!sukuna are so accustomed to one another that you naturally slip up in the other’s conversations. maybe it's because you're both homebodies, or maybe it's because you've reached the silent agreement to keep the activities you do with yuuji hidden to preserve his innocent childhood (you learned that rumors run a long way inside your campus), or maybe it's because you started to ask sukuna less private questions, since he now seems to want to answer them even before you formulate them.

either way, the two of you always mention the other in conversations, and you don't even seem to notice, but your friends do.

"how about your house, man?" suguru asks sukuna from across the table, sipping his soda. they're sitting outside with satoru for lunch break, slouching on white plastic chairs, waiting for practice to start in less than ten minutes. days are getting longer the more summer break gets nearer, and the breeze flowing through the newly green leaves of the trees is a nice change from the humid stench of the locker rooms.

"dunno. the woman of the house is gonna bake cookies today," he shrugs, scrolling through his phone. he finds himself on a blurry zoomed in photo of a kitten covered in milk, and he smirks, hitting send after having selected your contact. you're going to love it.

"and?" geto asks, confused.

"and i don't know if she wants me to help her or not," sukuna continues, not bothering to look up from his screen, acting like he's not going to pester you until you let him help. and steal some of your cookie batter, too.

"it's the finale, bro, we've been talking about it since december. are you really not going to watch it for some cookies?" his raven haired friend exclaims, baffled. satoru only lowers his glasses on his nose, crossing his arms on his chest.

"oh, i'm going to watch it. got her hooked up on it too," the pink haired man says, a certain tilt to his voice matching the tilt of his head, as if he's saying are you crazy? i'm not missing it. "i don't know if she'd want you there, though."

geto rolls his eyes and satoru snickers, shaking his head. "we just want to watch the game on your tv. are you afraid she's going to feel uncomfortable with us there, my lord captain?" he mocks, sighing. lazily, sukuna glances his way.

"it's not her i'm worried about," he says, raising one of his eyebrows, maroon eyes squinting on a spot behind his friend's back.

"what does that even mean?" mutters geto, even more confused. it’s not like they’ve never seen you or have never been inside your house when you were there, so what’s different this time?

suddenly, sukuna grins like a madman, uncrossing his legs from on top of the table and standing up with his helmet under his arm.

“where are you goi-“ his dark haired friend starts, but satoru puts one of his hands on the other’s shoulder, effectively stopping him, whispering just wait.

sukuna takes a couple of steps, getting out of the gentle shadows of the trees above the table, still grinning.

“hi, baby. did you miss me so much you had to come to see me at practice?” he asks your nearing figure. you’re wearing a dress, the breeze soothingly flowing through your hair, and he takes a second to admire how graceful you look in the middle of the green garden. are the flowers you picked with yuuji the other day still fresh? maybe he should get more. maybe you’d like that. maybe you’d smile. maybe you'd thank him.

“i’m here because i knew you were never going to bring sunscreen with you, dickhead,” you huff, blowing your hair out of your vision, frowning. his grin only grows before he forces it away. typical.

“i don’t need that shit,” he rolls his eyes, turning on his heels and going towards the stadium. he knows you’re going to follow him. and you do.

“put it on! i’m not joking, sukuna,” you whine, trying to fall in step with him. “it’s going to be so good for your skin, come on.”

“it’s sticky and i don’t like feeling like a pussy,” he growls, going faster toward the benches inside the stadium and plopping down on them.

“you like pussy, though,” you shrug, forcing yourself between his parted legs, rummaging through your bag.

“i like you too, baby, but that doesn’t mean you’ll let me stick it in your pussy, does it,” he asks you smugly. you punch him on the shoulder, bewildered.

“you’re so disgusting,” you scoff, opening the little spf tube you brought in your purse just for him. "and don't tell me you like me when you never listen to me in the first place," you playfully add, caressing his face to smooth it out, and he lets you get his unruly hair off of his forehead. maybe he likes how you don't take the things he says to heart. maybe he just says them because he knows he's getting a snarky comment back.

“you didn’t say no, though,” he chuckles, closing his eyes and letting himself bask in your presence. your touch on his features is relaxing. he honestly thinks he could fall asleep if you were in any other setting.

“i’m letting you talk just because i’m in a male dominated field and even if i don’t agree i don’t want to die,” you deadpan. you smear the white cream on his nose, on top of the horizontal tattoo, and massage it into his skin. then you do the same thing with his other markings, making sure they’re protected enough to shimmer in the blazing hot sun.

“i wouldn’t let you die on me anyway,” he mutters. he gets both of his hands on your exposed thighs, keeping you closer, softly rubbing his thumbs in your muscles. "are you fucking finished? i hate this," he bites, frowning. you hum, lazily smiling down at him, rubbing his frown away with your fingertips.

"you're going to be the prettiest girl on the field," you coo. you can feel his mean glare from beneath his eyelids, and you almost shiver. "you're so going to thank me in a couple of years," you add, resting your palms on his cheeks and turning his head up. he opens his eyes slowly, staring into yours intently. his thumb catches on the fluttering hem of you dress while he draws little circles on your legs. he hears his coach screaming for his team to start running, but in this moment, he doesn't care that much. maybe the heat is getting to his head. maybe the soft smile you're looking at him with is making him a little bit weak in the knees.

"wanna make cookies today? we can watch the match together, perhaps ask the brat if he wants to join too," he says, rough voice kept low, almost as if this was a you and him kind of thing. maybe he already planned to ask you to do something with him when he was talking to his friends just a couple of minutes ago. maybe he lied, telling them you were the one who chose to do something, when it's not true. maybe the way satoru is patting suguru on the back with an "i told you so" look on his face isn't casual. maybe the one he was worried about all along was himself.

"wouldn't you prefer to watch it with your friends?" you ask him, tilting your head, positioning your thumbs on the fake tattoos on his cheekbones. almost as if you could cover their pupils and make him see less.

"wouldn't you prefer to watch it with me?" he genuinely responds, a somber look on his features. you think it's the first time he doesn't have a mocking grin on his lips. you ruffle the pink hair just above his left ear.

"maybe."

[maxv331]

✮ What happened to hello | Lando Norris ✮

Summary: Quick little drabbled based on all the speculation of Lando getting a bad haircut because he wore his hat so much at the Mexican GP

word count: 848

a/n: I haven't wrote in a long time so I'm pretty rusty, go easy on me! I also wasn't entirely sure how I wanted to wrap up the ending, so yeah, sorry for that!

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“Take the hat off Lando” You playfully demand with a squint of your eyes as soon as Lando’s face appears on your laptop screen. 

You’re currently on day 14 of being apart since Lando left for the triple-header and it’s eating you both alive. You haven’t been apart for longer than seven days at a time, in almost a year. Everyone around you, even the fans, call you two codependent, but really, you were just in love and wanted to spend as much time together as possible. 

Between the time zone differences and you both working so much, you’ve found it difficult to spend much time together. You’ve found comfort in being able to keep up with Lando from all of the fan and official F1 content posted online. 

You’ve gotten a giggle out of all the speculation surrounding Lando’s hair. It started on the first media day in Mexico, when it appeared Lando had gotten a haircut, but his hat stayed on the entire day. 

The next day was when the rumors actually started, Lando hadn’t taken his hat off again and every fan you came across was freaking out and cracking jokes that Lando got a bad haircut and was embarrassed about it. 

Initially, aside from enjoying all the posts, you hadn’t given it much thought, assuming Lando was mostly wearing the hat because of the heat; but then you realized Lando hadn’t sent you any photos without the hat on, and the handful of late night facetimes you had, he was already in bed with his hoodie up and it was mostly dark. 

Whenever you and Lando are apart, you always made sure to keep each other still included in the day to day parts of your lives; you were always sending photos, videos and voice notes until you could facetime or be with each other again. 

Lando hadn’t changed your familiar routine, he just never had hair showing, which was a little odd, but nothing concerning. You admittingly missed the post shower selfies or the sweaty, messy haired, tired post race selfies. 

You’re instantly met with a giggle from Lando “What happened to hello baby.” Lando’s sat in his drivers room, he’d got a couple hours break between practice and qualifying and wanted to make the most of your shared free time to squeeze in a quick facetime with you.

“Hello baby” You grinned cheekily. “I’ve missed you so much, did you get a bad haircut?” You giggled 

Lando raised an eyebrow as another giggle slipped past his lips. “Did I get a bad haircut?” 

You nodded quickly “You haven’t taken your hat off the entire time you’ve been in Mexico, so show me”

“And how would you know that, hmm?” Lando asked with a smirk. Lando was initially confused, but now all he wanted was to play into the fun he was having. 

A bright rosy blush crept up your cheeks as you briefly glanced away from Lando on the screen. Lando’s now grinning mischievously, enjoying getting to tease you. “Do I need to talk to Osc or have you been creeping on me?” 

Before you even get a chance to answer, Lando starts giggling again and shaking his head. You pout and cross your arms. “A bad haircut is the only explanation for the hat and not getting my selfies”

“Your selfies?” Lando questions, once again raising an eyebrow. He knows exactly what selfies you’re talking about, but one thing about Lando Norris is that he loves to tease his girlfriend.

“I want my post race selfies back Lando” 

Lando smiles widely, taking a moment to take in all of your soft sweet features. Lando hadn’t intentionally been keeping anything from you, the few days he had been in Mexico had been busier than usual and it slipped his mind. “I’m sorry my love, I promise you’ll get one after quali”

“I better” You murmur, arms still crossed against your chest. You did miss the selfies, but you weren’t actually annoyed with him, in fact any feelings that even remotely resembled annoyance or hurt from the past few days all stem from a place of missing Lando. 

Lando knows you better than you know yourself, so he knows that if he doesn’t do something in the next few minutes, the call is going to take a sharp turn from playful and fun to somber and probably leave at least one of you in tears. Neither you or Lando were one to shy away from your emotions, but if Lando could hold off on it, until he could guarantee you his undivided love and attention, that's what he’s going to do. 

Lando winks at you, before taking off his hat and running his hand through his hair. “Is that better my love?”

A small gasp passes your lips, before you break out into the widest smile that Lando had seen in weeks. “Lando!” You squeal happily. “You look so handsome, why have you been hiding your hair?”

“I haven’t been hiding my hair, you doughnut,” Lando laughed. “It’s hot and I like my hat”