#her luck is a bit weird like

[creakysocks]

Bleach oc bc i fell back into the fucking hole. send help. Her name is Sachie, shes a visored,, Ive been trying to figure out a zanpakto name but so far what i got is it turns into a rake wherein it can manipulate good n bad luck.

[im-kinno-hello]

and if i made a comic about them making a blog for the weird demon dog they found in the woods just because they are being brainwashed by it and it told them they need to spread the word of what word they don’t even fucking know?

[willyhoos]

this is how he fake-flirts ... it doesn't. work [🇺🇸 x 🇧🇾]

i think their relationship is based on mutual attraction, revulsion, and self-deceit. america is convincing himself that "winning" belarus' affections will be easy and that he's just in it to spite russia, meanwhile she's playing pseudo-flirtatious passive aggressive mind games with him on a level beyond comprehension.

it gets really uncomfortable for both of them really fast and so he kicks her out. ^^

[e-adlirez]

HAPPY CHINESE NEW YEAR STILTON FANDOM WOOOOO

I dunno how I finished all of these in a single day but now I got ten minutes to send them before CNY ends in my timezone LMAOOOOO

We got Nicky and Pam doing lion dance together, and Vi, Colette and Paulina in some snazzy qipaos to celebrate CNY :D

Hope this appeases you, Stilton fandom, now I shall disappear again for a month /j

[july-19th-club]

daleks in manhattan such a funny fucking set of episodes. hot girlie with the world's silliest new yawk accent (she's played by a british woman) refuses to leave her devoted boyfriend after he gets turned into a manpig. dalek attempts to create dalek-human hybrids and is immediately done in by his own newfound humanity and also his buddies like. anticipating that he'll go human and assassinating him and stuff. andrew garfield was there fresh out of tenth grade or something doing his absolute damndest to sound like he might be from tennessee . hi andrew garfield you're doing so great good job

[depressedzelda]

u know when u overthink shit and ur convinced something is destined to spiral into a fuckshow but you have no control over it or leaving said situation. Feeling that with this job

[urmum-lovesme]

Dad!Rafe coming home to an unexpected visitor...

Y/n sat on the couch, her baby gently cradled in her arms as she swayed back and forth, humming softly to soothe her. It was the end of a long day, and despite the overwhelming joy of motherhood, she was hoping that Rafe would come back home soon so she could have five minutes of ‘mommy time’. He had to leave today, much to his complaints, to go and check up on the Cameron Development office. She had encouraged him, why wouldn’t she? She knew how hard he had worked to get where he is, but it felt weird being alone with their daughter, the absence of his everyday presence for the past month was going to take a while to adapt to. Suddenly, there was a knock on the front door- a loud, insistent knock that echoed through the house. The voice that followed was unmistakable,

“C’mon, country club I ain’t got all day.”

Y/n’s lips curved into a small smile, recognising the familiar tone of Barry’s voice. She shifted the baby gently in her arms and rose to answer the door. When Y/n had first met Barry, she had been skeptical. After all, the guy was a drug dealer, and she knew well enough that people in that line of work weren’t exactly known for their warm personalities or moral compass. At first, she had kept her distance, unsure of how to navigate the relationship between Rafe's closest friend and herself. But over time, Y/n realised that Barry was a little different from what she had expected. He had never once treated her like an outsider, and while his exterior remained tough, he always showed her respect. Barry wasn’t as bad as people said. 

In fact, they actually got along quite well.

As she opened the door, Barry stood on the other side, leaning casually against the frame. His eyes immediately flicked to the baby in her arms, but his expression remained unreadable.

“Hey Barry,” Y/n greeted, her voice soft and calm, “Rafe’s not back yet.”

Barry blinked, clearly surprised for a moment, then let out a low laugh. “Shi, my bad, princess,” he said, adjusting the weight of the bag he had slung over his shoulder. 

“Wasn’t expectin' a welcome party.”

Y/n chuckled lightly and stepped aside to let him in. “You wanna come in? Rafe’ll be back in a bit- well I think...” Barry hesitated for a brief second, looking past her into the house before nodding. 

“Aight, why not.”

Barry’s heavy footsteps filtered through the halls of Tannyhill, as he plopped himself down onto the couch getting comfortable, bag once slung over his shoulder now shrugged to the floor. Y/n navigated over to the kitchen, pulling open the fridge door, the cool air brushed past her face as her eyes scanned the shelves. She reached for a chilled pitcher of lemonade, balancing it with one hand while adjusting the baby’s position with the other. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, she poured the liquid with practiced ease, the sound of it filling the quiet between Barry’s heavy sighs from the living room.

“Here” 

She said softly, making her way back to him. With the baby still cradled in her arm, she handed him the glass. Barry took it, raising an eyebrow as he looked at the lemonade. 

“No beer?” 

He teased, a playful grin tugging at his lips. Y/n’s eyes narrowed slightly as she side eyed him, her head tilting just enough to give Barry a look that was equal parts warning and amusement. 

“Don’t push your luck” 

She murmured, her voice light but firm. Barry chuckled, throwing his hands up in mock innocence. 

“Aight, aight, my bad mama” 

He said, leaning back into the couch, the grin still plastered on his face. She rolled her eyes, but a small smile betrayed her as it tugged at her lips. Y/n eased herself onto the large couch, careful not to jostle the baby, who had begun to settle against her chest. Barry glanced over, taking a sip of the lemonade. 

“You make this?” he asked, she gave him a glance, as she nodded, “mhmm.”

“S’good,”

He admitted, leaning forward to set the empty glass on the coffee table. As he looked to her his gaze softened slightly, he glanced at the baby in her arms, though he quickly masked it with his usual neutral expression. 

“Man, Country Club got lucky with you," he muttered, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, "ain’t no clue how he did that.”

Y/n chuckled softly, her hand gently patting the baby’s back as her little hand fisted her mother’s top. “He’s lucky, all right,” she agreed, looking down at her little girl, “but I think it’s the other way around most days.”

Barry raised an eyebrow at her, his expression changing a little as he took in the sight of her with the baby, a quiet respect in his eyes that he didn't often show. He cleared his throat, leaning back slightly in his seat as he tried to keep his usual tough-guy persona intact. His voice was quieter than usual, and Y/n caught the subtle shift, the care hidden beneath his typically gruff tone,

“How she doin'? Been a lotta noise in here tonight.” 

“She’s good. Just a little fussy,” Y/n replied, smiling softly at the baby, “She’s usually like this around bedtime, but I also think she just misses her daddy…”

Barry grunted, nodding as he looked down at the baby in her arms again, the similarity between the little girl and Rafe was uncanny. The baby had inherited Rafe's striking blue eyes and even her furrowed brow mirrored Rafe's intense expressions, a trait that often unsettled those around him. It was as if a smaller, innocent version of Rafe was cradled in Y/n's arms. Suddenly, a wave of urgency hit Y/n. She gnawed at her lip as she bounced the baby in her arms slightly before she sat up on the couch moving towards Barry, speaking out,

 “Hey, uh, do you mind holding her for a second? I really need to use the bathroom-”

Barry blinked, eyebrows furrowing in hesitation as she now stood in front of him, still gently rocking the baby in her arms.

“Listen, princess, I ain’t ever held no baby 'fore” 

He said, his voice slightly tight, clearly uncomfortable at the thought. Y/n laughed softly before shaking her head, “It’s just for a minute. I’ll be right back. Please?” She shifted the baby in her arms, her gaze imploring. After a beat, Barry sighed heavily, hand rubbing over his face, though there was no real anger in his tone. 

“Shi, alright, I’ll hold her.”

With some reluctance from him, Y/n carefully passed the baby to Barry, watching closely as he took her into his arms. He held her awkwardly at first, unsure of how to manage such a fragile little thing, but Y/n gave him a reassuring smile before quickly heading toward the bathroom.

As she disappeared into the other room, Barry shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a more natural hold on the baby. His hands moved cautiously, but as he adjusted, the baby made a little noise- a content huff- and he relaxed a little. He glanced down at the little face staring up at him, and for a second, his usual bravado slipped. As he adjusted, the baby let out a soft coo and her tiny hand reached up, instinctively grasping one of his fingers.

Barry froze for a moment, his eyes widening slightly as the little hand curled around his finger. His face softened, a rare, almost tender expression crossing his features. He gently adjusted his hold, ensuring the baby was comfortable, and for a moment, he just stared at her with something close to awe in his gaze.

“Shi-,” he muttered under his breath. “You kinda cute, huh?”

Rafe walked into the living room, a bag of takeout in his hand, ready to settle in for a quiet evening. But as soon as he stepped through the doorway, he froze, his eyes widening in surprise.

There, on the sofa, sat Barry- his usually hard-edged friend, the man who’d never been the type to do anything too tender or gentle. And yet, there he was, with Rafe’s baby girl cradled in his arms like she was the most precious thing in the world.

Barry was leaning back against the cushions, completely at ease now, the baby cooing softly in his hands. His gaze was softer than Rafe had ever seen, his usually sharp and intimidating presence replaced with a strange calmness as he looked down at the little girl. Rafe’s initial shock quickly faded into a mix of amusement and disbelief. He raised an eyebrow, stepping further into the room with a quiet chuckle. Just as he was about to say something, Y/n appeared at the doorway walking to Rafe, looking over at the scene with a smile that immediately softened her features.

“Aww, Rafe, look at that,” 

She said, her voice full of affection as she watched Barry with their baby. Rafe paused, his eyes flicking from his daughter to Barry, then back again. A grin spread across his face as he wrapped his arm around Y/n’s side. 

“I think we got ourselves a new babysitter,” he teased. Barry’s eyes narrowed, and with his usual bluntness, he shot back, 

“Shut yo bitch ass up”

“Hey! Watch your mouth in front of my daughter”

He said, his tone playful but with an edge of protection. Barry raised an eyebrow, but the tension broke when he let out a small laugh, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, yeah- we best friends now, ain't we cuz?”

He muttered, turning his attention to the baby cradled in his arms. The baby blinked up at him with wide, curious eyes, her tiny mouth opening in a silent "O" before a soft, contented coo bubbled out. Her little fists wiggled, and she kicked her legs faintly, her whole body giving that jerky, uncoordinated movement typical of a baby her age. Barry’s grin widened as he pointed to her. 

“See that?

Rafe shook his head, a faint laugh rising from his chest, “Man, she doesn’t even know who you are yet.”

“Nah, nah-” he replied confidently, leaning back on the couch. “She knows her uncle Barry, don't ya sweetheart.”

The baby let out another soft sound, something between a sigh and a happy gurgle, her tiny face scrunching in what could almost pass as a smile. Y/n laughed softly at the exchange, moving closer to the couch, with Rafe close behind her, his arms around her waist as they two looked down at their daughter. Y/n looked at Barry, her expression warm. 

“You’re good with her, Barry,” she said, a note of gratitude in her voice.

Barry gave a small shrug, his usual tough-guy persona slipping back into place, but there was a subtle softness in his eyes as he looked down at the baby. 

“She’s cool,” he said, his voice gruff but genuine, “ain’t as bad as people think.”

Rafe rested his head against Y/n’s as he watched his friend, amused. He teased, eyeing Barry with a grin. 

“Just don’t get too attached.”

[toothfa-1-ry]

CHICKS DIG BAD GUYS

choi su-bong/thanos x ex gf!reader

"Fuck me" you whisper under your breath with obvious annoyance as you spot the familiar shade of purple approaching you, cursing yourself for having such bad luck

The tall boy's grin seemed to widen even more upon hearing your remark

"Gladly" he gleamed with obvious delight which caused your frown to deepen

"Hey boss, you know her?" no. 124, you quickly note his number, says to the boy who stood infront of you

"Hey! Hey! shut up man" su bong, as you know him as rather than his weird nickname thanos, frowns at his team mate (which in your point of view seemed more like his lackey)

Su bong in turn, whips his head towards you with an excess amount of glee in his face to your dismay

"Senorita!" He leans to you "I'm sure you missed me"

"Su Bong-" an irritated expression plants your face which your ex boyfriend quickly recognized as the face you made before you began scolding him

"Hey Hey hey!" He shouts with enthusiasm which causes you to groan much to his enjoyment "It's thanos not su bong. Cmon, you know that baby"

The familiar nickname he called you made you feel like gagging. No one had called you by that awfully cringe nickname ever since you broke up with him when he used up your savings to invest in crypto currency without your knowledge

"What the hell are you doing here?" You ask him as you fold your arms, taking a step back to create some distance between you and your ex boyfriend

"For the same reason you are" su bong takes an immediate step towards you when he sees what you were trying to do

You open your mouth to retaliate, shout, or even scream but su bong beats you to it with widened eyes

"Don't you think it's fate?" He says as he walks behind you, grabbing you by your shoulders while he leans towards your face

"What the hell are you on" you knitted your brows "are you on some kind of drug-"

"I mean" he laughs loudly, causing other people to turn and stare "It's has to be fate or some kinda shit right?"

"Get of your high ass su bong and speak properl-"

He cuts you off again, this time placing his finger in your lips

"thanos. It's thanos baby, you know that" his voice low, if it were anyone else they would have taken it as a threat but instead you just brush his hand away from you, glaring at him

"Whatever, you and your shitty nickname. Just say what you want to and get lost"

Su bong gives as exaggerated sigh "do I really have to spell it for you? You always did like to play hard to get didnt you"

You felt like slapping that cheeky grin away from his face

"All im saying is that it's fate baby!!" he nodds his head with giddiness while punching the air with both his arms

"even the universe wants us to get back together. Why else do you think we would both coincidentally end up meeting eachother in this place?!" He spoke rapidly, fast, almost as if he was rapping

You immediately scoff, which caused his smile to drop in an instead

"Get lost loser" you turn away "Don't you dare talk to me again, i don't talk to bad people like you"

"Hey!" su bong attempts to grab your hand but you flipp him off, showing your middle finger as you walk away from him.

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

Nam gyu stood awkwardly next to thanos as he watched the rapper get flipped off, trying to decid on how he should respond in order to make thanos happy

"I guess even winners have to lose some right?"

He recieves a resounding thud in the head by the frowning rapper

"didn't you even pay attention to what they said?!" Thanos shouted with offence

Nam gyu massaged his head with an dumbfounded expression "i dunno boss, that kinda sounded like a rejection to me.."

"You idiot! Wanna get hit again?"

Nam gyu immediately staggered a few steps away from thanos, covering his head with his arms

Thanos took a deep breath, placing his hands in his hips, taking an assertive stance as he laughed. Very loudly.

"She called me a bad person" thanos said in a tone that seemed a bit too optimistic.

Nam gyu couldn't help thinking, isn't being called a bad person a obvious insult?

Thanos quickly noticed his lackeys expression which made his scowl "you really don't understand women do you?"

Nam gyu shook his head fervently as Thanos wore a proud look on his face, his fingers on his temples as he shook his head

"Chicks dig bad guys" he says with cockiness in his voice

"So?"

"So? You asking me So?! Don't you get it!?!" Thanos loops his hand around his lackey as he jumped up and down,

He grinned from ear to ear as he shouted at the top of his voice impulsively

"Holy shit! she still wants me so bad!"

[ghstzzn]

roommates for dummies!

pairings: lee heeseung x f!reader, jay park x f!reader, jake sim x f!reader, park sunghoon x f!reader synopsis: desperate to get off of your bestfriends couch, you decide to reply to an ad online in search of a roommate. sure, you were skeptical about living with four men—but if anything, just desperate. it wasn't long before you started to completely regret this decision. however, some things just might be worth the stress and anger.

part two! wc: 7.8k

tags/warnings (chapter specific): SMUT. theres no fivesome happening (sorry..), rough sloppy sex, oral (f.), overstim, squirting, lots and lots of gross vulgar talk, jake tries to be mean dom but he's just desperate, creampie, unprotected sex, degrading, usage of the word slut & whore, nothing makes sense, slightly unedited if there's mistakes then oopsies, chaewon bestie moment, arguing, jayhoon secret gay lovers, slight mxm but it's also nothing at all, jake cums untouched but it's barely mentioned, heeseungs always listening, and they talk about fucking her at the start. every one sucks in this btw. reader likes being a whore. jake has an imaginary bet going on with the other guys. if i missed anyth lmk!

🍊: sorry this is almost two months late. got busy teehee. also, yes this is a series, no it's not a strict timeline or anything. it's just porn with some plot that doesn't work in one part. i kind of hate the intro but enjoy!!! <3

masterlist / part one / part three

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT!

roommates were a strange concept. living in a house full of friends, or even your partner, was one thing. but moving in with strangers and entrusting your entire life with them seemed so normal.

although, living with four men was quite uncanny, and a bit scary at first. everyone thought so too. it was no surprise to you that word got around through a small crowd that you were the boys’ new roomie, and of course people thought you were no more than just their fuck toy.

was the wild accusation really that far from the truth?

you never had more than two roommates at a time in your life, but you always categorized them; the friend and the enemy. maybe it was bad luck, but you always ended up stuck living with someone you never quite got along with. the short-lived housing situation with your ex-boyfriend claimed both titles to himself though. 

but now, you sit and wonder where your current roommates fall in these categories. you weren’t exactly friends with any of them. save for when you sit and rant to jake about your day or his best friends or the 2 a.m accidental kitchen meetings with heeseung because the both of you have a nonexistent sleep schedule (for totally opposite reasons.) but you would never consider those enjoyable because he can’t seem to keep things normal. ever.

your status with jay remained awkward. there was a weird tension between the two of you that you wouldn’t call sexual or was it because either of you were shy. maybe it was because he was sunghoons (the enemy) best friend, or the fact that he walked in on sunghoon balls deep inside of you in the shared kitchen and kept nonchalant about it.

the two of you bicker but it ends quickly because you both run out of things to say, and you suppose that's where the sexual tension comes in but you both walk away before it makes its grand appearance.

but oh boy, when sunghoon comes around, jay can’t keep his mouth shut about you. he could go on about how you’re such a bitch and all you do is nag. you wonder if the two get off next to each other as they talk about their supposed shared hatred for you.

heeseung is another good example of an odd relationship. you weren’t his friend, and he surely wasn’t yours but it’s also not like the two of you are constantly out for each other's heads. this could be because he’s high out of his mind half the week or because he locks himself in his room more than half the day.

when the sun disappears, heeseung makes his appearance. 

it’s been a few weeks since your escapade in the kitchen with sunghoon and heeseung. for some sick reason, you thought some pussy would shape them into better roommates— better people. but unfortunately, men will always remain men.

also, to your surprise, nobody told jake.

and jay? he completely forgot it even happened.

“YOU FUCKED HER?” jake screeches loudly from the living room. “both of you?!”

heeseung giggles like a teenage girl, legs swinging as he sits on the counter across from jay, where he slaves away at the stove to make sure his best friends remain fed.

“yeah, yeah.” sunghoon rolls his eyes. “could you be any louder?”

“no?” jake holds a look of distress as he paces back and forth from the living room to the kitchen.

“wait- that was her? on the counter, sunghoon?” jay suddenly asks, holding a large knife in his hand as he recalls the day he walked in on sunghoon fucking you against the kitchen counter.

the taller male hums, returning his attention to his phone. jay smacks his lips and shrugs.

“against the counter?!” 

“dude, shut up!” 

jake slams his hands against the counter top, “i demand details. now.”

“you don’t need to know sh-“

“oh my god, she was so tight.” heeseung cuts his roommate off, “i made sunghoon hold h-“

“you fucked her at the same time?”

heeseung throws the entire roll of paper towels at the brunette haired boy, “stop fucking interrupting! anyways… yes. hoonies a fucking freak, you know.”

“says you,” sunghoon retorts. “day one gooner over here just couldn’t wait to get into her pants. he made me hold her while he got his dick wet.”

“i’m getting hard just thinking about it.”

jay shoots an appalled look at heeseung before turning off the stove. the boys gather around the kitchen island, grabbing portions of food for themselves. the conversation drifting away into something new— video games and sports. man talk.

“wait, so did she like it?” jake speaks up once more about the topic.

sunghoon and heeseung share a smirk before turning to jake, who honestly seemed a little afraid of the two men at the moment.

“oh, that girls a fucking slut.”

it was a surprisingly quiet morning.

you were able to sleep in thanks to the silence in the house, the sound of light rain pattering against your window lulled you back to sleep the first time you woke up.

exiting your attached bathroom, you peel off your shirt and throw on a cuter, more put together, top. you exhale and stretch your arms upwards, rolling out your neck, relieving any tension from the night before.

this is what you needed. a relaxing, tension free day to yourself.

“hey.” 

forget that. of course the incels are still home.

“jesus fucking christ jake!” you jump back and curse at the man who just barged into your room. “i thought i locked that fucking door.”

jake glances at the door knob and shakes his head. 

“okay, then knock next time!”

he shrugs his shoulders and steps further into your room, studying your walls and decorations. “cute room, baby.”

you roll your eyes and follow him with your eyes. “much cuter when there isn’t an obnoxious man inside.”

“heeseung? has he been in here too?”

“what?” you ask, dumbfounded. “no. what do you want?” 

“you let heeseung fuck you?”

all you could do was stare at your roommate. “i can't even get a good morning? not a ‘hey! how’s your morning going!’”

“and sunghoon? you let them both fuck you in the kitchen?!”

you let out a long sigh, running your hands through your hair and sit at the edge of your bed. you couldn’t lie, jake bringing up the entire situation made you heat up a little but you had to keep up a nonchalant act in front of these men to keep their egos from exploding.

“yes, jake. i fucked them both.”

jake lets out a groan— or whine. and you only stare at him with confusion. “whyyy?” he throws his hands over his face dramatically.

“…why did i fuck them or-“

“yeah! why did you fuck them first?”

you blink at him, trying to wrap your head around his absurd curiosity. he’s like a child asking why his sibling got to go outside and play while he was told to stay inside. jake seemed genuinely upset and so curious about it all. it’d all be endearing if the conversation at hand wasn’t about your pussy and who you let use it first.

and here you are, at a loss for words. because why did you?

“well, i-i.. it’s not like i meant to..” jake listens intently to your answer. for the first time, he’s paying attention to you but for the wrong reasons. “it just happened. one minute we were arguing and the next i- well, you know…”

“no, i don’t.” he replies flatly.

you start to speak again but go quiet. what exactly did he want from you now? and why did this somehow feel serious?

“were they good?” jake asks. “did they eat you out? did they pull out? did you even cum?”

“jesus christ jake!” you cut off his rambling. “are you jealous? or like, upset?”

“so.. no?”

you groan and lean back on your arms. this entire conversation was actually starting to piss you off, and you didn’t even know what the point even was. 

“why the fuck do you care? i’m not some thing you can just fuck and use when you please! i mean i have feelings and-“

jake nods, fingers on his chin as he “listens” to you rant to him. he lets out a few hums, faking his responses for you. to him, by doing this, he’s winning brownie points.

“-you all walk all over me and treat me like shit!”

“oh, baby…” jake sighs, stepping closer to you and kneeling down in front of you. your body tenses up as he puts his hands on the mattress, caging you between them. “it must be so difficult knowing no one here bothers hearing you out. i'm so.. sorry. you deserve better, yeah?”

you furrow your eyes at the man kneeling before you, torn between wanting to smack him in the face or thanking him for actually listening. “i… yeah. it’s just not fair.”

“yeah?” he hums. “it’s not, is it? it’s not like you have a choice either… so you just have to put up with it.”

“yea- what?” 

“i wish i could take all your frustration away.” he continues, “i wanna make you feel better— can i make you feel better?”

you scoff at him, pushing him away by his forehead, sending him falling backwards.

“what was that for?”

“did you listen to a single word i fucking said?” you shout at him, blood boiling at his responses. “you are such a prick, jake. i was being vulnerable to you.”

“and i appreciate that you trust me enough to do so! now let me make you feel better in return.” he crawls back between your knees.

“you weren’t even listening— and i don’t trust you!” 

jake feigns an offended expression, holding a hand over his chest. “i was!” 

“then what did i say?” you ask him with crossed arms, awaiting his response as he deeply thinks about your question, but you already know his answer.

“you said.. you said sunghoon pisses you off! or something like that,” you scoff at his response. “please! you’re being difficult.”

“you’re annoying.”

“let me eat you out.” 

“no.”

“come on, please.”

“jake.”

“let loose a little! i already know heeseung didn’t do that much for you, so let me!” he continues to plead. “look, i can make you feel really really good. i’m better than him when it comes to eating pussy— i can make you forget all about them.”

you roll your eyes and scoot further up the bed, it may seem like an attempt to get away from the man but he only persists and follows your movements. “come on, baby. i want you to cum on my face. you don’t have to like me for me to do this.”

“you are seriously an insufferable piece of shit, it’s no wonder you’re best friends with these idiots.” jake smirks at your response, ghosting his hands down your sides to your thighs. he’s absolutely eating up every reaction you give him. you do it all the time, and you’ve done it since you moved in. the way you shyly avoid his gaze and tell him to quit yet you never move away from him.

even when you argue with jake, you blush a deep red and he doesn’t think it’s all from anger. jake thinks it’s quite endearing, actually. all you need is a little love, and a few touches.

and it pisses him off that he wasn’t the first one to fuck you.

like seriously? you hate sunghoon. you hate sunghoon more than the other three boys. since the day you moved in, you and sunghoon would go at it like cats and dogs. he pissed you off to no end with his arrogant attitude and his narcissism. the man was another rich asshole who spoke with a mouthful of silver spoons that didn’t even belong to him.

you fucking hated nepotism.

and though the other three weren’t much better, at least jake could hold a conversation without flexing how many figures his daddy makes in a year. or that his mommy owns the neighborhood you all reside in.

or that his family owns the fucking university you go to and threatens to get you kicked everytime you piss him off.

maybe you do favor jake out of the four. it’s not like you adore the guy in any way, but he was more tolerable than the nepo-baby, the gooner and the… whatever the fuck jay has going on. he was a different breed of asshole.

and though the sentiment isn’t real, jake will gladly sit there and listen to you rant about his own friends. before he found out what happened between you, sunghoon and heeseung, he proudly sang with confidence that his time spent with you would land him a free ticket in your pants.

seriously, how many times does jake have to cover up his horniness as a genuine connection. how many times does he have to flash you his signature smile and playfully flirt with you until you fold?

was he the first to fuck you? no. but jake is sure he’s about to not only make you cum on his tongue, but also his cock and boy is he going to rub it in all of their faces.

but you aren’t stupid.

“get,” you grab his hands and push them off of you, “out.”

“what?”

you roll your eyes and climb out of bed, standing over jake, who was still on his hands and knees. “i said get out. i have plans today and i don’t need any of you foiling them.”

“what the hell?”

-

“why are you so on edge?” 

you look over at chaewon from your position on the couch, previously focused on jay moving around in the kitchen and jake sitting at the island with his face shoved in his nintendo switch.

“it’s too calm here.” you mutter in response. truly, it felt like the calm before the storm. you were currently co-existing with your roommates at a near distance and not a single person was making a rude comment.

granted, chaewon was visiting and it’d be childish to act out in front of a guest. and both jay and jake are on the calmer side of the spectrum when it comes to pissing you off. 

chaewon cocks an eyebrow at you, “do you want the opposite.” 

“no. it’s just weird.”

your best friend hums and nods her head, suddenly scooting closer to you. “so, who was it?”

“what do you mean?”

“girl, who fucked you in the kitchen?” she shoves you playfully and your eyes widen. you glance around to see if the two males heard that and cringe deep down when jay makes eye contact with you.

you sigh and shoot her a glare, “you have such a loud mouth.”

“okay? is it either of them?”

you shake your head, looking around once more. sunghoon and heeseung were home, but either hidden away in their rooms or somewhere else in the house and your friends curiosity won't die down unless she sees them face to face. 

“heeseungs probably in his room,” you start, pausing to think about the other male’s whereabouts. “i’m not sure where sunghoon is.” chaewon groans in response, causing you to roll your eyes and playfully swat at her.

“do either of you want some fruit?” a voice interrupts the two of you.

you slowly turn your head towards jay and blink at him. he doesn’t remove his gaze from you, not even for a second.

“oh, that’s really sweet of you…” chaewon trails off.

“jay.”

a nervous smile takes over her expression and she nods at his short reply, “jay.. yeah, i’ll have some.”

he continues to stare at you, waiting for your response.

“sure.”

every single time you have tried to reach for a piece of fruit, jakes hand is beating you there. the first few times could’ve been mistakes, but now he’s shooting you a smirk when his fingers graze against yours. in any other situation you would’ve found it to be an endearing mistake. but this is jake. it’s not endearing. it’s annoying.

with a roll of your eyes, you bring your hand back to your lap, earning a confused and quite offended look from jake.

chaewon sits silently next to you, nervously biting into a piece of watermelon. the poor girl was too scared to speak over the glares you were sharing with the two men.

you were sure this was apart of some elaborate plan from the two. they have never once offered sliced fruit in your few months of living here, nor have you ever just sat in the living room, bonding, as chaewon put it.

“so, chaewon..” the mentioned girl looks up rather quickly from the same watermelon piece she’s been chewing on for the past few minutes. jake is sprawled out on the lounge chair, playing with a few strands of his hair. “what do you do? like, what’s your major?”

chaewon straightens her posture, setting the slice of watermelon down. she shoots you a quick glance, as if asking for permission to speak. you give her a reassuring smile and she takes a deep breath.

“well…” she trails off, explaining her major and why she’s taking it. jake is staring at you the entire time with one hand running through his hair and the other resting on the crotch of his jeans.

you let out a scoff, slightly louder than intended, gaining everyone’s attention. chaewon raises an eyebrow and a cocky grin spreads across jake's face.

jay looks up from his phone, “that was a little rude, wasn’t it?” as if he were paying attention in the first place.

jake lets out a snicker as the other male keeps his gaze on you. you readjust your sitting position awkwardly and mutter a quick sorry to your best friend, urging her to continue.

“my plan is to be a nurse,” chaewon continues, “i feel as if people don't appreciate nurses as much as they do surgeons or doctors. i just want to help people in more ways than just a scalpel.”

she smiles and looks down at her lap. you’ve always found her so endearing, and you knew her soul was beautiful inside and out.

“wow, that’s really something,” jake responds, clapping his hands together as he leans forward. “you know, jays dad owns a few hospitals, i’m sure he could help you out there.”

“really?” 

jay looks at jake before looking at chaewon, giving her a small nod. “hm, sure. we could get you in as soon as you’re ready. my dad is kind of strict on hiring but i can tweak some things.”

“what’s the catch?” you’re the center of attention once again, but you direct your focus on jay, who’s now sporting a cocky expression as he leans back against the couch.

he tilts his head and throws his arm around the back of the couch, “why would there be a catch? just helping a friend in need.”

“but she’s not your friend, nor is she in need.”

chaewon goes quiet again, looking everywhere except at the two of you. your other roommate is shaking his head as he holds back his own laughter.

“jeez, no need to get jealous. i’d be more than happy to pull some strings for you too.” jake butts in, “look, you made your friend feel bad.”

you turn your head towards chaewon, “hey, i didn’t mean it like that. i just— i mean, i don’t trust them.”

“they are your roommates.” she mutters.

“aw man,” jake cooes. “you should really learn to lighten up. not everyone is out to get you.”

you shoot a glare at him and he throws his hands up in a defensive posture. chaewon darts her eyes around the tense living room, deciding it would probably be best if she left right now.

“i’m gonna get going,” she announces as she stands up, “it’s late.”

“it’s not even seven.”

she ignores jay’s comment and grabs her bag, heading for the front door. you follow her and shoot her an apologetic look before letting the girl out.

“seriously?” you cross your arms as you walk back into the living room.

jake shrugs and leans over for another piece of fruit, popping it in his mouth, “we didn’t do anything except give her a really useful piece of information that could help her further down in life.”

“yeah, right.” you roll your eyes, “i’m not dumb and you guys can't operate without there being a catch.”

“that attitude is going to get you absolutely nowhere,” jay says, “your bitchy tone drove your own friend to leave— not my job offer.”

you scoff at his insult, it wasn’t your fault, what the hell? jays smug expression made you want to hop over the couch and wipe it off yourself.

“seriously though, we were just being nice. a friend of yours is a friend of ours.” jake spread his arms out, motioning between himself and the other male sitting across from him.

“we aren’t friends.”

“ouch, babe.”

you roll your eyes again. you’re sure that one day they’ll get stuck that way. “i’m going to my room.”

as you finish collecting your belongings from the living room, shoving them into your bag, jay speaks up once more.

“you know, i’ve never truly had a problem with you… but today, you really do prove that you’re just a bitch who can’t even tell when someone is truly being kind or not.”

you have two options; throw your entire bag at jay while screaming, or walk off cooly and not let it bother you.

“‘never had a problem with me?’” you quote in the air, “tell that to all the times you and your boyfriend shared snide comments about me to each other.”

“my boyfriend?”

“yeah,” you nod, pushing back your own smirk, “park sunghoon.”

he scoffs at you, looking up from his spot. you can’t even deny how good it feels to be above him, even if it is just your current position. “i know who you’re talking about.”

“oh, well. i’m glad that bit is settled.” you respond with a soft smile, tilting your head ever so slightly to portray the faux ignorance to the true reason he’s upset.

jays jaw clenches and he’s about to say something before jake springs up from his seat with a loud, dramatic sigh. “all you guys do is fight. it never ends.”

“we don’t fight.” you respond with a shake of your head. it was somewhat true– you and jay rarely spoke to each other and only half of your conversations included snarky remarks towards one another. the problem was that jay only spoke up about you when others were around.

jake looks back and forth at the two of you with a bored expression. jays attention is focused on the faux houseplant in the corner of the room, avoiding both of your gazes. 

“jay just likes to talk shit about me when you and the other boys are around because he thinks it’ll impress you,” you continue, “like it’s gonna make you guys worship him and suck his dick.”

“you’re so fucking gross,” jay spits. you give him a sarcastic smile in exchange. 

the shorter male cringes and scoffs, “you are very vulgar sometimes, you know that?”

if it weren’t for the situation, his comment would be funny considering he only let you move in because you were a woman with a seemingly hot voice. except, you refused to give it up for months after moving in, and that pissed jake off. and you wouldn’t be surprised if the others were just as mad you didn’t open your legs for them either.

but before you could respond, jay beat you to it. 

“i really miss the days you would hide in your room.”

you chuckle, “ah, you’d like me in my room wouldn’t you, fucking freak.”

the male rolls his eyes, leaning back in his seat comfortably, “don’t be weird, not everyone wants to fuck you.”

jake shrugs at the response, mumbling a soft “wrong” earning a glare from the other. 

“and what’s that supposed to mean?” you were pushing him. jake was getting antsy at the way you continued to egg jay on. he wishes you’d submit and run to your room so he had the chance to relieve you of your anger and stress.

but you were so god damn full of yourself. and so fucking stubborn. 

“seriously?” jay lets out a dry laugh. you tilt your head, waiting for him to elaborate after a few moments of silence. “i don’t know what you did to get these three so pussy drunk– but it won’t work for me, especially if that’s how you plan to get your way around here.”

“i haven’t fucked her?”

the both of you ignore jakes comment, “pussy drunk? i haven’t done shit.” you respond. “you think you’re so wise using every word to call me a slut but it was your friends that came onto me first.”

“sure,” you squint your eyes at him, confused as fuck. “sunghoon doesn’t even make you pay rent. you walk around here like you fucking own this place– when you don’t and you’ll never come close to living a lifestyle like this.”

you were sure that jay was using this moment as a flex considering he genuinely had nothing to hold against you. bringing up money and work was not surprising at all to you, he’s just doing exactly what his best friend does to you. 

“you love bringing up sunghoon and you try so hard to act just like him,” you respond, voice full of amusement. “you’re so obsessed with the man, is he your sugar daddy? is he fucking you hard and deep, jay? because i don’t understand the big deal about that man.”

jays face crinkles in disgust. “you’re fucking crazy.” 

“i’m sorry you didn’t get first dibs on the pussy that has me living rent free here,” you sigh. “i’m sure another willing girl will waltz in here sooner or later. or maybe go take your dicks frustration out on hoon or one of your guitars he bought you.”

“hoon?”

“i’d come up with a nickname for you too but you missed the chance to fuck me,” you repeat. it’s not even like you wanted to have sex with the man, but he was the one who kept bringing it up. it pissed you off that he pretended to know everything– how he acted as if he were god and beyond superior all because he didn’t stick his dick in you.

jake stands there awkwardly yet very amused. 

“i told you i’d rather die.” jay spits.

“then fucking die, jay, i don’t know what you want me to say.”

jake holds his hands out, “woah, hey guys. no need for death threats!” he waves his hands in front of you both. “we are all friends here!”

“sure, if that’s what you wanna call it.”

“the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

you laugh at jay’s quick response, “i’m talking about your relationship with sunghoon.”

“okay! guys, please,” jake pleads, standing between the two of you but only facing you, “let’s chill. ignore him, he’s just trying to piss you off and you know this.”

jay stands up from his chair, mumbling under his breath, “i didn’t even start this shit.” he growls as he walks off, disappearing further into the house. you both hear a door slam in the distance and it takes everything in you to not laugh.

“he’s such a child.”

the shorter male shakes his head, “and you love to fight, don’t you?”

“no? but he fishes for it.” you huff, finally grabbing your bag to travel to your own room, away from the testosterone in the house. jake follows you like a lost dog, and you know it’s because he has nothing better to do so you let him.

he pushes past you into your bedroom and plops down on your bed, spreading his legs and leaning back on his hands. jake watches as you organize your work on your desk, though his eyes are focused on the curve of your ass each time you bend over.

jake feels like he’s suffocating. he’s been sporting a half hard dick since your interaction this morning because he cannot stop thinking about eating you out. sure he can be a bit needy and gross when it comes to getting his dick wet, but he doesn’t think he’s ever been this down bad for somebody knowing his friends got to them first.

it started out as a joke, that he’d be the first to fuck you when letting you move in. he honestly had no plans on making moves on you, nor did the others. but when you got comfortable enough to walk around in your skimpy pajamas and those thin, dainty tank tops you loved to wear, he started to lose his mind.

the amount of times jake has walked into the kitchen to see you sitting on the counter in an oversized shirt, leaving what's under it to his imagination, he’s had to walk out immediately. 

when he would run into you at three in the morning, seeing your half asleep figure in nothing but a tank top and shorts, a strap falling down your shoulder, he’d run back to his room and watch loads of porn to distract himself from you. 

“you feelin’ okay?” jake asks, clearing his throat to avoid a voice crack. he needs to do this smoothly.

you straighten your posture, turning to face him. “honestly, i’m pissed off and all i want to do is relax.”

“lay it on me, baby.”

“it’s just…” you sigh, stepping towards him. “chaewon was over so we could study for our exams next week and i feel like both jay and i ruined it for all of us.”

which is not what he meant whatsoever, but he sits and he listens, nodding as his eyes shut to mask his own frustration, “have you thought about moving out? i’m not asking because i want you to, but…”

jake’s eyes flutter open as he waits for your response. honestly, he’s over talking about all of this. he doesn’t care much for the beef that you have with him or his friends anymore, and he’s certainly over them shit talking about you all day.

“yeah, but i mean i don’t want to leave,” you start with a loud sigh, “i mean, it’s the middle of the year and i can’t get into a dorm, my parents live fifty miles away, and fuck even just a studio is way over my budget.”

“so, what?”

“i need to fucking meditate or something,” you respond, placing a hand on your forehead, “i’m not gonna lie and say i don’t start half of it. i need to be the bigger person here but i have no outlet for my anger.”

jake hums, then pauses. a lightbulb goes off in his head and if you could see inside his mind, you’d see him deviously rubbing his hands together. you let out another sigh and shake your head, “i’ll figure it ou-”

“hear me out.”

“i am not doing this, jake.”

you ought to hear jake out on his ideas more often. sure, it pissed you off that he had only one thing on his mind. but you could feel the anger and tension leaving your body as his tongue flicked against your clit again.

“f-fuck, right there.” you tug his hair upwards and he follows your needy command. his tongue diving through your wetness as if he wanted to drink it all up and his nose bumping against your sensitive bundle of nerves. you’ve always wondered what it’d feel like to have his thick lips attached to your pussy and you’re not at all disappointed by this turn of events.

jake was a god when it came to eating pussy.

suddenly, his words from that morning are flooding back into your mind. you haven’t even come yet and you’re already thinking about the next time you’ll have your roommate between your thighs.

as if on cue, his nose bumps against your clit again and you clench around his tongue, which was buried inside of you. your back arches, forcing your cunt into his mouth as an orgasm washes over your body. jake doesn’t stop either, nor does he slow down. his hands wrap around your thighs and pulls them apart as he nuzzles against your wetness with a grunt.

you have to yank his hair when it all starts to overwhelm you. jake lifts his head up, wearing a surprised look, half of his face drenched in your arousal. “what’s wrong?”

“‘t’s too fucking much, jake.” you breathe out, legs twitching in his hold.

“that’s kind of the point,” he grins widely at you. “feelin’ less frustrated though, right?”

you agree with a whiney hum, in which he responds with a chuckle. “you know how long i’ve had to wait to get you in this position?” you watch as he lifts himself and leans forward. “so long, babe. too long.” jake places a sloppy, wet kiss to your jawline. you can feel your own slick against your skin, he pulls back and places a kiss to your lips, biting softly. “even if the reason is jay, i’ll fucking take it because you taste so fucking good and i’ll sit between these thighs until you’re screaming for me to stop.”

oh. he’s insane about pussy and it makes you throb down below. jake lowers himself once again, placing soft kisses down your stomach before facing your cunt. his eyes flicker to yours before diving in.

you yelp out when he sucks your clit between his lips, legs shaking around his head. 

“louder.”

it’s near impossible to be quiet as he makes out with your cunt, his words only egg you on. you aren’t the only noisy one in the room either. jakes groaning against you, or talking you through it, whether he’s telling you to be louder or asking how it feels.

his fingers prod against your entrance, pushing the tip of the two digits in before out again. he has no plans starting you off slowly, he wants you to feel his own frustration all while taking you out of yours.

“c’mon, baby, don’t you want him to hear?” he cooes, “want him to hear how good i can make you feel… you don’t need them, huh? never did.” he plunges his fingers inside of you, curling them while bringing his mouth back to your clit.

you don’t even know who he’s talking about, it could be jay or it could be sunghoon, but you don’t have time to think over it because the way the tips of his fingers push against the spot inside of you paired with his tongue flattening against the bundle of nerves has your mind completely blanking. 

“mff- yes, god!” you cry out, throwing your head back against your mattress. you lift one of your hands from jakes head and bring it under your shirt to play with your own nipples, pinching and squeezing to add to the pleasure. 

jake takes notice of this and lifts his head for a mere second so he could throw your shirt over your chest, wanting to see you mess with your own tits.

“does it feel that good?”

you nod your head, whining at the way his fingers pump in and out of you, curling and reaching that spot inside of you so well. he can't hide the smile growing on his face as he watches you arch your back into his touch and grope your tits with pleasure.

he leans down, voice low as he mouth plays with your clit, “tell me– tell me how good it feels. i wanna hear you.”

“t-they’re gonna hear,” you manage to respond in between moans.

“let them.”

jake circles his tongue around your clit before softly biting down. the action itself is painful but so good, paired with the fast pacing of his fingers, you’re biting back a scream but he does it again. he wants you loud and unapologetic. fuck, if he could, he’d get you screaming for sunghoon who resides secluded on the other side of the house to hear, better yet, they neighbors. 

because ultimately, he won.

“‘m gonna fucking cum, jake.” you gasp loudly, “d-don’t stop, please don’t fucking stop.”

you don’t have to tell him twice. in fact, he speeds his fingers up and sucks loudly on your clit, sloppy, messy and loud– how he likes it. your body jolts and you grip his hair tighter as you feel your orgasm approach once more. a loud, choked sob escapes your throat as you cum, squeezing your eyes shut and chanting his name like a mantra. 

jake slurps up your wetness, removing his fingers so he can shove his tongue in your dripping hole, wanting every last drop of your cum down his throat. he was a fucking mess and it was all because of you. 

your thighs close around his head so tightly that he can’t even hear your loud moans and pleads for him to let off, just the ringing in his ears from the pressure. he nuzzles his face flush against your cunt, as if it were possible to get any closer. 

“jesus, fuck!” you practically scream out. it was almost painful but if it weren’t for your estranged yelp, he would remain buried. 

he looks at you in a daze, completely fucked out even though his cock remained untouched. but he can feel himself dripping in his own pants, his boxers clinging to his dick due to the dampness, he’s not even sure if he came untouched because he was so focused on your cunt.

“y-you’re fucking insane,” you pant, chest rising and falling dramatically. 

jake shakes his head, a droplet of your arousal falling from the tip of his nose. he looked amazing like this, and it scared you how much it turned you on. 

“please let me fuck you.”

it’s not like you want to say no, but he spent so much time abusing your cunt with his mouth that you’re on the verge of numbing out. “jake, i’m so sensi-”

he cuts you off, leaning forwards a pressing his bulge against your wetness, “i’ll be gentle– i can be gentle, just please, i think i need to fuck you before i actually lose my mind.”

jakes plan on fucking you dumb, to the point of forgetting where you are or why you were upset had completely backfired and now he felt like the stupid one. his head was dizzy and all he could think about was stuffing you full.

for all those times he’s had to restrain himself, to hold back because he didn’t want you running out the door–it’s paid off in a way. when his friends told him about their experience fucking you, he lost his moral compass on the way to your room the next morning. he’s begging you to let him lose himself in your cunt because it all he needs.

“‘t’s not fucking fair,” he groans, burying his head in your neck. “you only take cock from them now? can’t let me have this?”

you don’t know what he’s rambling about nor does he. he grinds against you again and you let out a whine.

“see? you want it so bad, don’t you? walking around here like you hate us, but let us fuck you just how you like because you’re so god damn full of shit, huh?” 

“jake-”

“so fucking hungry for cock,” he continues, one hand doing all the work to free himself from the restraints of his jeans. “they’re right. such a slut but god it’s so sexy, you know that right?”

before you can blink, jake buries his cock deep inside of you. he has to pause to breathe and let his head clear before he lets himself loose and cums before even starting. for a second time. he lets out a deep sigh before rocking his hips slowly, warming himself up before speeding his pace up.

your cunt flutters around him and he chuckles, readjusting your position so that your legs are resting on his shoulders. his hair is damp and stuck to his forehead despite not even moving much.

“look at you,” he groans softly, “don’t like being called a whore but sure do like getting fucked like one.”

he tries to speak up but his own moan cuts himself off. he couldn’t degrade you more if he tried because holy fuck your pussy might have him convinced he won in life. jake pulls his hips back before roughly plunging his cock back into you. he drinks up every loud moan you give him, and he thrusts into your leaking hole as if trying to get you to be louder.

but at this point he’s chasing his own pleasure. no matter how hard he fucks into you, it doesn’t feel like its enough. jake leans forward, pushing your knees to your chest so he can hit it from another angle. 

letting out a loud groan like whimper, jake presses his forehead against yours and continues his rough, sloppy pace. your moans mixed together plus the sweet sound of wet slapping fills the room like a song, and there was no denying that the entire house could hear it.

it was far too much, he said he’d be gentle but jake has fucked the both of you into stupidity. but you can’t bring yourself to be upset because the way the tip of his cock almost meets your cervix has you seeing the fucking stars. the entire scene was desperate and messy. jake couldn’t even get his pants fully off before fucking you and you could feel the material of his jeans rub against your ass almost painfully.

“god, fuck me,” jake roughly whines, “pussy ‘s so good.”

his voice is breaking and stuttering, attempting to hold himself back but he just can't. the male's lips are wet against yours, desperately biting and kissing yours with fervor. he can feel his stomach tense up but he holds back, edging himself to get the most of your pussy because jake knows once he cums, he’ll be fucking cooked. 

“j-jake, please,” you cry out, gripping his shoulders tightly. you feel as if you’re about to explode, the pleasure is overwhelming and almost painful due to his sloppiness but nonetheless you feel another intense orgasm creeping. “please cum soon, i-i can’t-”

he groans loudly, lifting himself to thrust harder– he was about to have the best orgasm of his life. the man can’t even be embarrassed about the literal whimpers and sounds coming out of his mouth because he knows god damn well that any other man would be in the same position if given the chance to fuck you like this. 

a sharp yelp rips from your throat and your legs wrap around his wait, almost restricting his moments. but when he looks down, he sees god. 

clear liquid gushing from your cunt, soaking the bottom half of his shirt and covering the both of your thighs. his eyes roll back as he cums without a second thought to it, cock pulsing as thick, white ropes cover your walls. 

it takes a few long moments for the both of you to recover from your orgasms. nothing but the sound of panting fills the air.

“p-please get up,” you smack jakes back softly. his body jolts, realizing he almost fell asleep in the position. 

he whispers an apology before lifting himself up and off of you. the feeling of his cock dragging against your creamy walls almost makes him want to go another round, but he knows he has to resist.

though, if it were up to him, he’d be making up for every missed opportunity today. instead, he kneels in front of you, trying not to get lost in the way his cum drips out of your pulsing hole, and helps you sit up. this way, the two of you can see the wetness covering both bodies. 

“you squirt,” jake comments, “that’s real fucking hot.”

before you can reply, the door slams open and shut within two seconds.

“what the fuck, heeseung?” the both of you spit at the same time.

the red haired male stands there with his hands up, “look, i was trying to be respectful and blow a load in my own room but sunghoon came in all pissed off mid jerk off and told me to shut you both up.”

“so?” jake answers before you, “what, is he like, jealous?”

“i don’t know, i gave up figuring that out because i heard you say she can squirt and i wanted to see.”

your tired eyes widen and you yank your shirt down, attempting to cover yourself, not that he hasn’t seen it all already. 

“you missed it–should’ve been here earlier.” jake states with a smirk.

“hold the fuck on-”

“nah, i’ve fucked this girl standing up, she has more stamina than you think.”

you get hit with major deja vu. the two conversing as if you’re not there.

“what makes you think i’d squirt again for you?” the two men look at you, a predatory smirk growing on both of their faces.

but before anyone could make a move, a loud guitar riff cuts them off, barely muffled by the wall that separates yours and jay’s bedroom. you shift awkwardly in your position, suddenly aware that everyone in the house did in fact hear you.

“look at her acting all shy,” heeseung snickers, “three down, one more to go. you’re just lucky he’s distracted with his guitars right now, baby. that just means you can be as loud as you want.”

“leave the door open though, they love watching.” jake mumbles before leaning down, placing kisses against your knees and thighs. heeseung chuckles and pulls the door ajar before making his way to the both of you, gripping his shoulders and looking at you as he hovers from behind him.

you visibly gulp at the sight, watching as heeseung leans closer to jakes ear, pressing his body flush against his friends back. you can feel jake’s cock twitch against your thigh and you decide then and there that you’re content with this situation in its entirety–and that you have more ways than one of getting back at your angry roommate in the other room, strumming his guitar with frustration. 

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[my-castles-crumbling]

skeptic - jegulus - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 272

“I heard you’re going to Potter’s for the holidays,” Marlene McKinnon said to Regulus one day in mid-December, causing Regulus to give her a funny look. Sure, they had mutual friends, but they’d never had a one-on-one conversation before.

“Erm…yeah,” he shrugged, another swell of nerves flooding his system. He was trying not to have daily panic attacks about meeting James’s parents, but so far he was failing miserably.

McKinnon gave him a smile that seemed more like a smirk. “Good luck. You’re in for it.”

Regulus’s stomach dropped. “Sirius says they’re both amazing?” he said, tone coming out more like a question.

“Oh, they are. Which makes the fact that they’re both bloody hot ten times worse,” McKinnon chuckled. “Trust me. You lucked out with James. His gene pool is like a Greek God’s or something. Euphemia Potter is so fucking-”

“I mean, they’re his parents. How attractive can they be?” Regulus interrupted skeptically, eyebrows knitting together. McKinnon was a bit weird.

“Sure. Go into it unprepared. Your funeral,” McKinnon shrugged, still grinning.

But, a week later, as the train arrived on the platform and James excitedly led Regulus to two people who could only be his parents, Regulus had to physically bite his lip to stop himself from gasping as he took in Fleamont Potter’s appearance. His salt-and-pepper hair, his glasses that perched on his chiseled face, his piercing eyes and warm expression…the trimmed scruff that gave him a distinctly approachable but still authoritative feel….not to mention his outfit.

One thing was for sure: if James Potter aged to look anything like his dad, Regulus had lucked out, indeed.

[kyber-crystal]

through the seasons || f.w.

summary: he would love you till the end of time. everyone can see it, and they can only hope that you’ll come to your senses and realize that too.

words: ~6.4k (i went overboard LMFAO)

warnings: light angst, some mentions of death / violence (but dw it's a happy ending)

a/n: first ever hp fic in like, ever LOL so apologies if this seems off in any way. the timeline for this is a lil weird?? but basically the fic starts during the spring of GOF: you’re a year below fred & a year above the golden trio : ) ALSO i highly recommend listening to 'moonlight serenade' by frank sinatra ESP during the parts it's mentioned in. you'll see why :)))) add yourself to my hp taglist here!

spring

Given that springtime was nearly over, it was rather cold outside. 

The sky gleamed a bright, cornflower blue, with the May morning breeze hitting your skin. You, Hermione, and Ginny found yourselves huddling together in the stands and tightly clutching each other to keep warm. 

Anticipation nipped at your insides like tiny needles. You had spent the past half-hour at breakfast listening to a nervous Ron ramble on about how he hardly knew what he was doing, and seeing an unusually quiet Fred pick at his food. You knew it wasn’t like him to spend almost an entire meal without saying more than a few words. 

“You ok?” you mouthed, glancing over at the redhead in concern.  “As long as you’re looking at me,” Fred replied, attempting a small smile. He pressed something warm and fuzzy into your hands under the table. “You’re my good luck charm today. Keep this for me during the match.” You nodded, and felt your heart warm as you looked down to see that it was the fuzzy scarf he always wore during Hogsmeade trips or around the castle when it got particularly chilly. His initials had been hand-stitched into one end—undoubtedly Mrs. Weasley’s handiwork. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” “That’s my girl.”

“Look!” Ginny whisper-shouted, ending your momentary flashback. “I think that’s them!”

The Gryffindor team filed out into the stadium to be instantly met with a cacophony of loud cheers and applause. Your throat was already starting to hurt from screaming alongside the seas of blazing red and gold, though the match had yet to begin. 

Without even realizing it, you found your eyes scanning the area for a particular ginger-haired Beater, and the tension you didn’t even know you had in your shoulders loosened as soon as you saw him. 

“You’re not even playing, yet I’d say you’re as big of a mess as poor Ronald,” Hermione chuckled lightly. “Concerned for someone?”

“Oh shut up,” you muttered, tightening Fred’s scarf around your neck just a bit more. “It’s the last match of the year—I’m just as nervous as everyone else. I need to see someone beat Malfoy’s egotistical arse to a pulp.”

Both her and Ginny snorted at this. 

“You’re right…but that’s not who I was referring to,” your best friend reminded you. 

You rolled your eyes. “Uh huh.”

“Don’t you think you care a little too much? More than a friend should?”

“No,” you stated flatly. But Hermione knew this was a lie—after all, she had known you for five years now and could tell when you were lying. She watched as you fiddled with the ends of the colorful scarf around your neck—a flash of something caught her eye, and she squinted to see F.W. embroidered in delicate gold. 

Of course you were being serious, she chuckled to herself. She decided to not say anything about why you had Fred’s scarf on, and instead joked, “Do you think he or Ron’ll make it without getting a concussion?” 

“Now that’s hard to say…” you began, knowing how the two boys were sometimes often quite clumsy. “Fingers are crossed that my Fred will be just fine.”

“Your Fred? What about Ron?” she raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you care about both of them?”

“—Both of them will be just fine,” you quickly corrected yourself. “They’ll be alright.”

“Okay…” she said, unconvinced that your reply wasn’t just a slip of the tongue. 

Turning your attention back to the game, you heard Lee Jordan’s classic, enthusiastic voice echo across the grounds. “Welcome to the last Quidditch match of the YEAR! We have quite the game in store today, Gryffindor versus Slytherin…” 

Eventually, after the captains shook hands and everyone mounted their brooms, Madam Hooch blew her whistle and released the balls into the air. Loud cheers filled the stadium once again, and all fourteen players shot up into the sky. You were only really focusing on one thing—or person, really. It seemed that you couldn’t take your eyes off him. 

“—aaand that’s a Bludger to the head from Fred Weasley, ouch, that’s gotta hurt…There goes Katie Bell, making a swift pass over to Johnson…there’s Johnson with the Quaffle! And then, ,there he goes…Fred Weasley does it AGAIN! Malfoy gets a hard Bludger to the back—”

Right then, Fred caught your eye and winked. You sent back a shy wave in response. 

Everyone tries their best to ignore the Slytherin section’s jeering taunts and chants of Weasley Is Our King. You didn’t need to look over to know Ron was hardly taking it. 

From there on out it was a blur of motion, noise, and loud sounds, and before you knew it, the match was over and done. 

“—GRYFFINDOR WINS! WITH WEASLEY’S GAME-WINNING BLOCK AND POTTER’S SHEER SPEED, THEY WIN!” The excitement is clear in Lee’s voice. “GRYFFINDOR WINS THE QUIDDITCH CUP!”

The crowd went wild again as Fred made his downward descent. As soon as the tips of his shoes touched the grass he jumped off and immediately rushed over to you as fast as his feet would take him.

Your head was spinning and you could barely tell what was going on amidst the ground-shaking noise and overall chaos. But there he was in front of you now, sweaty and tired but grinning wildly nonetheless as he brought you into a tight embrace. He started spinning you around and you couldn’t help but join in on his contagious laughter. 

“There’s my good luck charm,” he whispered into your ear as he set you down, breath fanning against the skin behind your ear. 

Having no words left except pure joy, you shook your head and smiled as you leaned into him, squeezing him back even tighter. “I’m so proud of you.”

Both of you were too busy to notice that your friends around you had stopped congratulating the other players and chattering with one another, their eyes now on you two. Ginny, Harry, and Hermione exchanged a look, and Ron, amidst his nerves and exhaustion, cracked a grin as he watched his older brother and best friend savoring a moment with each other. 

Hopefully, they’ll realize it for themselves…he thought. Amidst the chaos of the past year, he knew that all of them—especially the two of you—deserved a bit of peace more than anything. 

summer

“Last one there is a rotten egg and has to take the soddy backup broom!” Ginny shouted. You all immediately broke into a sprint at this, scrambling to go outside for yet another round of backyard Quidditch. Harry damn near tripped over his own feet as he and Ron tried pushing over each other to squeeze out the back door. Fred and George were doing the same thing, and you and Hermione used this chance to sneak past them. You silently high-fived each other at this.

“Boys will be boys…” she laughed quietly, linking your arm through hers as you continued walking across the meadow, the grass brushing against the fabric of your trousers. “There’s no catching a break around here.”

Lo and behold, poor Ron was forced to take the backup broom, grumbling the entire time as everyone put their gear on. “I hate you guys. Haven’t I been through enough already?”

Everyone took turns being the score-keeper, and this time it was Hermione (she had also been score-keeper the last two rounds as she was a bit tired, and didn’t really mind). She sat down under the giant apple tree as she chose the teams. 

“Harry, George, and Fred!” she called out. “Versus the rest of you.” 

“That’s so not fair!” Ron complained. “You have two Beaters and the—”

“—youngest Seeker in a century on one team,” Harry finished his sentence with a cheeky grin.

Ron rolled his eyes. “At least I’m with you, Y/N…I guess…”

“Thanks for the compliment, Ronald,” you said with a slight hint of sarcasm. 

It was only a few minutes in the match when Fred found himself distracted. He was supposed to be on guard, but his eyes kept wandering over to you, zipping around on your broom with ease, gliding through the air like a bird. He wondered when he stopped seeing you as just his ‘best friend’ and started seeing you as someone who made his heart beat faster; someone who he desperately wanted to see smile because that’s all he needed to make his entire day. 

“Awe, come on, Freddie, get your head back in the game!” you called out to him in a teasing voice as he just barely blocked a flying Bludger hurtling towards his face. “Don’t wanna be slammed into, now do you?”

He shook his head and quickly snapped out of it. “Of course not.”

“Blimey, Fred! You nearly gave yourself another concussion there from ogling at her!” George exclaimed. 

“I can’t help but be charming,” you joked, sending Fred a wink. “Enjoy the view while you can!”

It was only mid-morning/barely afternoon by the time you finished the last match, but if anything, your sore muscles told you that it felt like days had passed. Adrenaline was still thrumming in your veins as everyone headed in, laughing at the thrill of flying through the skies without a care in the world. 

“Remember that losers have to make lunch!” Harry reminded.

Ginny groaned. “Come on. Way to ruin the vibe.”

You, her, and Ron all let out long sighs before heading straight to the kitchen to whip something up for the six of you. Food bets needed to stop…

After a quick meal of sandwiches, everyone headed back outside to play more rounds of backyard Quidditch. You opted to stay in this time around; the dull ache in your shoulders and lower back telling you you’d had enough for the day. One cold shower and some quiet work helping Mr. Weasley organize his home office later, you slumped onto the sofa.

The remainder of the afternoon and evening went by slowly but peacefully. Eventually, you found yourselves sitting around on the living room floor, playing board games well into the night while the crickets chirped outside. The days were long, and cracking jokes and long talks came much easier than they normally did. Of course, Fred sat next to you the entire time, finding a way to be touching you in one way or another no matter what. Shoulders pressed together closely, fingers tracing patterns into your palms, a hand rubbing your back. 

Harry gulps down his mug of butterbeer before launching into a dramatic retelling of when Professor Moody turned Malfoy into a ferret, earning roars of laughter and “That git deserved it” from all around. Fred follows up with the first time him and George tested prototypes of their Puking Pastilles, which ended with a delirious Lee Jordan and Ron’s face turning greener than mandrake leaves (much to Mrs. Weasley’s horror—she sent both twins death glares at this). 

You were too busy losing it to notice an arm—Fred’s—snaking around your waist, pulling you into his side. But when you did realize it was him, you didn’t say anything, and just simply relaxed against him. It was second nature to you both; you’ve learned to anticipate him sliding up next to you. And, it was comforting to know that he would always be nearby.

Despite being the last one to go to bed, Fred was the first one awake before dawn had even broken over the horizon. The skies were clear but grey, and the roosters had yet to make a sound. 

“Wake up,” you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

“Whaddayawant,” you groaned, voice groggy. “Listen Ron, it’s too early to play Quidditch, tell Wood that you want to go for a round instead…”

“Hey, it’s only me,” Fred replied. “Come on, I’ve got something to show you.”

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you got up, being careful not to step on Hermione or Ginny’s hands or arms on the way out the door. He kept a hand pressed against the small of your back the entire way down the creaky staircase. 

“Ta-da…” he whispered, the classic Weasley grin spreading across his face. “Take a look at this beauty.”

“A…record player?” your brows furrowed in confusion. “This is what you woke me up at 4 a.m. for?” 

“Dad got it at this old Muggle store in central London years ago, he said it was a ‘thrift shop,’” Fred explained as your eyes glanced over the cracked, but beautiful record player on the kitchen table. “D’you reckon it still works, though?” 

“We’ll have to see for ourselves,” you shrugged. 

He placed the vinyl CD into the player and adjusted the needle, and within seconds a slow Muggle tune began to play. 

“Oh, I know this one…Hermione has told me about it before. Frank Sinatra is quite famous in the Muggle musical world.”

“Well, then…may I have this dance?” Fred extended a hand out to you. You shake your head and roll your eyes, but take his hand and allow him to pull you close. His arms wrap around your torso as your hands rest on his shoulders, and you allow yourselves to get carried away by the slow, melodic ballad.

My love, do you know That your eyes are like stars brightly beaming? I bring you, and I sing you  A moonlight serenade

Fred gently twirls you around the kitchen before bringing you back in and smoothly catching you by the waist, and you’re surprised at how easy it is for him. You often forgot that he had a knack for dancing—it wasn’t often that you got to see him do so. 

“And you were about to be upset at me for waking you up,” he leans in to say. 

“You’re forgiven,” you exhale, resting your head against his chest. “But you know I could never be upset with you.” 

Long after the song had ended, you still found yourself wrapped in his embrace.  

Mrs. Weasley was heading downstairs to start preparing breakfast, but suddenly stopped midway. Her heart warmed as she took in the sight of you and Fred standing in the middle of the kitchen, eyes closed as he hummed a foreign tune, slow dancing without a care in the world. 

Deciding not to interrupt, she stands there for a moment, smiling as she watched her boy fall in love with the young woman that she hoped to call her daughter one day. 

fall

“—Godric’s sake, I’m so tired of losing,” Ron groaned as you quickly smacked the top of the deck with your wand, dust flying into his face. “I’m never playing this with you again.” 

You rolled your eyes as he coughed and dusted himself off. “Okay, no Exploding Snap, then no more sweets from Honeydukes ever again.” 

“Fine, I’m playing, I’m playing,” he sighed, rubbing the side of his forehead as the colorful deck of cards reshuffled themselves. “You’re almost as horrible as my brother.”

“Almost as horrible as who—hey, Y/N, is that my jumper?” Fred paused as he approached you and Ron sitting at the coffee table, as Luna, Neville, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny watched on. 

“Dunno, is it?” you shrugged innocently, tapping your chin. “Hey, Nev, you want a go? I have to finish reading my book for McGonagall’s class.”

Neville nodded, and Ron raised a fist in triumph. “FINALLY! Bring it on, Longbottom.”

You shifted onto the couch so Neville could take your spot, and without another word, Fred sat down right next to you. The deep burgundy color of his Gryffindor sweater only further brought out the color of your eyes, he noticed, which sparkled brightly under the dim lighting. 

Fred then shifted to lay his head down in your lap, and you didn’t even do so much as flinch. With your book in one hand, you used the other to start brushing your fingers through his hair. You hadn’t even realized what you were doing until you heard him let out a quiet sigh of contentment. 

“Did I ever tell you that you’re absolutely brilliant?” he glanced up at you from where he lay, watching carefully and intently. “Sometimes I’m surprised that you weren’t sorted into Ravenclaw.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Weasley,” you laughed softly as you turned the page. 

Right as you were about to turn the page again, he stopped you by lightly tugging your wrist. “Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

“What are you talking about?”

He carefully turned your hand to look at the scratches etched into the back of it. They were beginning to fade, but the occasional shifts in movement would cause them to sting and sometimes crack open. 

“When did Umbridge do this to you?” Something unfamiliar flashed in Fred’s eyes, and he seemed angry for the briefest of moments. But the darkened look was quickly replaced with one of concern. “Does it still hurt?”

“No, not at all,” you lied as you set down your book, but he didn’t miss the way you winced slightly as he adjusted your hand to look at it again. 

The rest of your friends had scattered elsewhere at this point, the typical noise now having faded into a soft chatter of sorts. Hermione came back with a bowl of yellow liquid, eyeing you worriedly. “Strained and pickled Murtlap tentacles…these should help…”

“Oh…thank you…” You placed your hand into the bowl and immediately exhaled with relief. 

“I think I’m going to sleep a little early tonight…I’ll see you two at breakfast? Take it easy, Y/N,” Hermione gave your shoulder a squeeze. You nodded as she gave you one last smile and walked away. 

Once the pain had faded into a dull ache, you set the bowl of murtlap on the table and leaned back against the sofa. Fred was now laser-focused on something he was holding, fiddling with it using what looked like a small pair of tweezers. Assuming that it had to do with the joke shop he and George were working on, you paid it no mind, and picked up your copy of Guide to Advanced Transfiguration again. 

You were far too absorbed into your book to notice when Fred had slipped whatever that thing was onto your finger. It was cold to the touch but fit snugly. 

“D’you like it?”

“What is…” You put your book away and glanced down, about to say something half-sarcastic, but immediately stopped. 

It had to have been the most beautiful ring you had seen. Although it was slightly on the thinner side, it glittered brighter than any star you had ever seen. You twisted your hand this way and that as you watched the material catch the light. 

“...You know my ring size,” your voice trailed off as you took notice of the hopeful look in Fred’s eyes. “But what is this for? You know we’re—”

“For when the time comes,” he explained simply, raising your scarred right hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss there. His gaze on you remained steady and comforting in the same way that his presence made you feel. “You’ll wait for me, won’t you?”

Tears prickled at the edges of your eyes, and you nodded, feeling a sudden lump form in your throat. You were filled with a warmth that you knew had nothing to do with the blazing fire in front of you. “You know there’s no one else.”

How your best friend could make your chest ache in this way, you had no clue…For some odd reason, you thought, it wasn’t all that difficult to picture a future with him in it. 

Not when he was your future. You loved him, no doubt, but when it came to describing your exact relationship all words fell short. You were close friends, but was it in the same way that you and Hermione were friends? Or you and Ginny? 

But he’s my best friend, you told yourself. He’s been my best friend for over six years. 

But ‘best friends’ don’t make you feel the way that Fred does. 

Best friends went beyond just saving you a seat at the Great Hall if you woke up late for breakfast or slept through lunch because of a long nap. They didn’t pull you away on Hogsmeade trips and insist on hanging out with you one-on-one when you could very well just hang out together as one big group with all your friends. 

They definitely didn’t fashion you a ring by hand in the middle of one quiet fall night, but he did. 

“Earth to Y/N?”

“Hm…what?”

“You okay? You seemed a little spaced out there, love,” Fred raised a brow at you as he sat up, taking your hand in his. 

“Just…thinking,” you hummed, letting your head lean against his shoulder. He pulled you into his side at this, tenderly brushing his lips against your forehead. 

“About how I’m your favorite person on the planet and that I’m loads funnier than Georgie?”

“As if you’d ever be the only thing on my mind.”

Fred pouted, his bottom lip sticking out. “Ouch. That hurt.”

“I’m kidding,” you glanced up at him, pouting slightly. “You’ll never leave my mind. I’m holding you hostage.”

“And that’s a sentence I’d want to extend for as long as I could,” he responded. 

Voldemort's return and the premise of another war loomed overhead. But he found that when your warm hand slipped into his, body leaning in close, and your laughter ringing through the air like shooting stars, it was easy for him to forget. To fall into you and feel as if you're the only thing that mattered in this world because frankly, you were.

winter

There was one big thing to look forward to today: another Hogsmeade outing. The final weekend trip before Christmas was always a little bittersweet, but filled with the most pure joy. 

The Great Hall was decked out from ceiling to floor as it always was during the holiday season. Bits of snow delicately floated down from the crystalline ceiling as the classic giant Christmas tree stood tall behind the staff table. You stopped every few seconds to admire the decorations despite having been here for nearly seven years now and seeing (and even having helped one time) the grandiose setup.

Excited chatter filled every table as you went over to the Gryffindor table to sit with your friends. Ron was already piling his plate with food, grinning excitedly as he did so. 

“Where’s Fred?” you asked as you sat down next to George. 

“Already missing your lover boy?” the younger twin teased. “He’ll be down in a sec. The lazy arse overslept so Lee went to drag him down here.” 

“Oh, okay…” You paused for a moment. “Wait, he’s not my—”

You felt someone squeeze your shoulder behind you before pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head, stopping you from finishing your sentence. 

“Morning, my love,” Fred greeted casually as he slid into the spot next to you, seemingly oblivious to the stares he got from his gesture. “You sleep okay?”

“Merlin’s beard, Fred, when are ‘ou going ‘o admid it?” Ron groaned, in the middle of chewing his third drumstick. 

“Yeah, when?” Ginny echoed. “I’m going to hex you if you don’t.”

“Tell me what?” you tilted your head to the side as you glanced between them. 

“Oh, uh, nothing!” she said quickly. 

“Nothing!” Fred grinned sheepishly. Ginny sharply jabbed an elbow into his side. “OW!” 

You rolled your eyes, deciding not to question the odd exchange. 

Fred placed a soft hand on your thigh, using his other to swipe a croissant from your plate. 

“Hey!” 

“You know you love me,” he teased. 

“Shut up,” you muttered, feeling your face burn, a smile crept up on your face nonetheless. You continued eating, his hand remaining in place, and pretended like you didn’t mind what he was doing. 

You exited Hogwarts to flurries of snow blowing around, adjusting your hat and (Fred’s) scarf accordingly to protect your face from the biting winds. Hogsmeade was relatively quiet today, so you took every second you had to relish in the peace. 

“Godric, you’re freezing,” Fred’s bright smile turned into a slight frown when he noticed you were shivering, rubbing your gloved hands together. “Here.”

He shook off his coat and handed it to you, helping you put it on by holding the sleeves out. You let out an involuntary sigh of relief once the warmth enveloped your body.

“T-thanks, but aren’t you gonna get c—”

“Trust me, I’ll be alright,” he assured you, squeezing your hands. “Don’t want to get sick before Christmas, right?” 

You managed a nod, and he casually slung an arm across your shoulders. “You’re the best.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” he grinned. “Now come on, I think we have some drinks waiting for us.” 

As always, he had pulled you away from your friend group to “spend extra special time with the coolest and funniest girl in the world” and though you rolled your eyes at this, you allowed him to take the lead. (You weren’t complaining.)

Maybe it was the snow, maybe it was the added heat from Fred’s jacket, or maybe it was something else, but you were in an unusually good mood today. Fred noticed how you smiled more than usual, eagerly tugging his hand as you pulled him from shop to shop. 

“Y/N…you’ll drain my pockets,” he groaned as you stopped in front of Honeyduke’s, positively beaming. “And you’ll rot my teeth.”

“Please…?” you begged. “I’ll die if I don’t get a bag.”

“Y/N, love, come on…” But seeing the blissful and innocent twinkle in your eyes made it damn near impossible for him to say no. “Alright, fine. Pick out what you want, it’s on me.”

“You’re the best!” you squeezed his arm before heading into the shop together, hand in hand. “This is why I love you.”

“Ow? Placing my worth based on how many sweet treats I am willing to bestow upon you?” Fred feigned offense at your statement. “But it’s okay. I love you too.” 

Half an hour later, you were walking out of the sweet shop with a bag filled to the brim, and Fred was magically several Galleons lighter.

The two of you were only a three-minute walk from the castle grounds when the wind started to pick up. What was once a light snowy drizzle had suddenly turn into a full-blown blizzard, obscuring your vision for meters. 

“I can’t even—I can’t see a thing!” you yelled over the whipping winds, trying to shield your face. “Fred, where are you?” 

“Right behind you,” he murmured, circling an arm around your middle. “Don’t worry.” 

But then, you felt something cold and icy slip down your jumper. 

“Fred Weasley!” you yelled as he ran away, laughing with another clump of snow in hand. “You get back here right this instant before I kick your arse—” 

You lunged forward and went sprinting after him, well, as fast as you could through the thick blankets of snow. Fred’s laugh echoed through the frigid air as you rolled up a giant snowball and chucked it at him. It hit him square in the back and he nearly fell from the impact. 

The blizzard added an extra layer of difficulty, but you were determined to win by sheer talent and not take the easy way out with magic. 

Your arms began to ache from forming and throwing snowball after snowball, and you were sure that you’d be getting bruises all over your body (especially from one particularly hard hit between your shoulder blades when you’d been distracted). But seeing Fred so blissfully happy made it worth it—for a split second, you could pretend you were both thirteen again, no worries in the world except for beating each other in Quidditch. 

“Okay, this is so over!” you shouted as you chased him over a small hill and finally jumped on his back to tackle him, causing him to fall face first into the snow. 

“You absolute—” he began, voice muffled. “Ow.”

He fell silent for a few seconds and stopped moving, causing you to worry. “Freddie, you alright? Fred!”

After you panicked for a few more seconds, Fred finally flipped over, clutching his stomach as he laughed at you. “You actually thought I was hurt?” 

“It’s not funny!” you exclaimed in a high-pitched tone. Your face flushed as you realized you practically sitting on him and awkwardly shifted off, opting to kneel by his side as he sat up. “What if you actually were? I’d like to be the one that heals you, not hurts you, thank you very much!”

He smirked. “Aw, so you were worried about me. You care, don’t you?”

“Shut it, I do not,” you scoffed. 

His eyes trailed down your ring, which still shone so brightly, as you absentmindedly fiddled with it. 

“...I think you’re missing a little something, don’t you think? Or maybe it’s me that is,” he said so quietly that you almost missed what he’d said. “A diamond, perhaps….”

“A diamond?” your voice came out in the tiniest of whispers as well. “I think you’d look alright in a little silver…”

Fred then cupped your face in his hands, which forced you to look back up at him. He gently grazed his thumbs over your cheekbones and there was now what seemed like a look of longing in his bright hazel eyes. He’d always gazed at you admiringly but that was because he was your best friend, you told yourself (a lie that, time and time again, you’d try and fail over the years to convince yourself of). Best friends loved and cared for each other, that’s what they’re supposed to do. 

But here he was, making you feel things that a friend normally didn’t. And you didn’t even try to push him away because you didn’t want him to leave; you never wanted him to. 

He finally closed the ever-decreasing gap between you two and kissed you, capturing your lips in his. You buried a hand in his messy hair and pulled him closer; as close as you possibly could, desperate for the way he made you feel so alive because he was the one thing keeping you anchored to the ground. 

IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou, he says over and over. You swore you’d explode, feeling him smile against your lips, tugging you even closer. 

the in-between

The chasm of grief, so cold and uninviting, seemed to open up and swallow you whole. 

You hated war. You hated watching the blood of innocent people being shed by the ruthless works of evil. You hated that you had survived while so many you had grown to know and love didn’t. They’re just kids. They’re too young. They didn’t deserve to die the way they did. They’re just kids. They’re just kids. 

You weren’t sure how you even survived. 

As soon as you locked eyes with each other, you, Harry, Ron, Luna, Ginny, Hermione, Neville, Dean, Seamus, and Parvati collapsed into one giant hug on the floor, tightly clutching one another. You had all been incredibly lucky to have made it through together.

Fred’s eyes carefully scanned the room, searching for a familiar face. When he saw you there in the corner, eyes squeezed shut and clinging to your best friends, he wanted nothing more than to approach and comfort you. But he knew you all needed this time together—you had lost many loved ones, and they were some of the only family you had left. So he let you be, leaning against the wall and watching from afar. 

Over the next hour or so, people slowly started trickling out of the Great Hall—parents coming to pick up their kids, families reuniting—until it was just you, Harry, Hermione, Lupin, Tonks, Sirius, Fleur, and the Weasleys. There was an unspoken feeling of gratitude lingering in the air and you could sense the relief all-around. 

Your heart clenched as you watched Harry embrace his godfather. Your mother had died when you were young and your father had suffered a similar fate as the Longbottoms, so watching families reunite always sent a spear through your chest. 

“Hey,” you heard, feeling someone intertwine their fingers with yours. You didn’t need to look over to know it was Fred. “Sickle for your thoughts? Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

Leaning into him, you closed your eyes, attempting to will the tears away. “I don’t…I don’t know.  I just hate war. While I’m glad this is over, I can’t help but think how unfair it all is. People losing each other, being torn apart…Voldemort’s gone, I know, but it just feels like he took a part of me to the grave with him.”

“I hope it’s not the part that made you fall in love with me,” Fred joked, and the corners of your lips quirked up in a grin.

“Of course not…” you murmured, “you’d have to pry your heart out of my cold, dead hands to try and take it from me. I’m here now, whether you like it or not.”

“For good?” 

“For good,” you stated, reaching up to kiss him softly. “I love you.”

“And you know I love you more.”

epilogue (it’s a new spring with you)  

With the Dark Lord gone, there were many loose ends to tie up and much-deserved resting to do. You had stayed behind to help start with cleaning up the castle grounds, before deciding to take the Hogwarts Express back home all togehter—for old time’s sake. 

“What about the shop?” you asked George as you sat down between him and Fred. “Don’t you two need to be there?” 

“We reckon it’ll be just fine—it’s not just us there anymore, remember?” he said, “but, Freddie thought you were more important. That’s why we’re here.”

Resting your head against his chest, you gazed up at Fred and smiled. “You left for me?” 

“You know all that I do is for you,” he explained as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Ew my teeth, they’re going to rot from the cheesy sweetness,” Ron groaned. “You’d think that the war would wipe all that out.” 

“Oh shut it, Ronald,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Let them live.” 

You drifted off and slept through the entire ride home, feeling a tad bit more refreshed when pulling in to King’s Cross station. It was a blur from there: taking the Floo network, carrying bags, washing up, and whatnot. You felt as if you were on autopilot with a barely functioning Muggle battery. All you wanted was to collapse on the floor and sleep forever, but you wanted to sit around the living room floor with your friends and catch up like you always did during the summer. 

Lupin and Tonks had gone home to take care of Teddy while the rest of you were settling in. Chatter filled the Burrow as you spent time unpacking, and you found that you’d missed all the noise more than you initially thought. Dinner was an equally chaotic but also peaceful affair, filled with plenty of toasts, extra servings, and laughter, of course. 

While Sirius was busy telling the table about the Mauraders’ antics, Fred squeezed your hand, jerking his head behind him to indicate that he wanted to go out back. 

Now? What is it? you mouthed. 

Fred nodded. Yes, now, so come on. 

He took your hand and led you out the back door to the orchards, crescent moon shining overhead. A faint smile graced your face as you thought back to the days you spent together under the giant apple tree, reading stories from Hermione’s books to one another, skipping stones by the lake, and tending to the chickens. 

A familiar tune started drifting through the air, and Fred extended a hand towards you.

“May I have this dance?”

You were immediately hit with a wave of déjà vu at his question, and allowed him to sweep you up into his arms. He placed his hands on your waist and you felt sparks shoot up your spine at his touch. Your arms wound their way around his neck as you swayed to the melody, losing yourselves in a dreamy lullaby. Though you had done this with him before on several occasions, it still felt like you were falling in love all over again. 

You swallowed hard as you thought about how you had both been forced to grow up so fast. Moments like these—of pure bliss and childlike innocence—were far and few between, so they were to be greatly cherished. It was easy when he was twirling you around like this; effortlessly guiding your motions, to forget that anything and anyone else existed. 

Closing your eyes, you focused on the feeling of his warm hands through your sweater and the soothing sound of his soft hums, allowing them to carry you away. 

At one point, he briefly stops before spinning you outwards—but this time, he doesn’t pull you back in to catch you. You’re about to be confused but then, you turn around to see him down on one knee, a glittering diamond ring in hand. You froze in place, completely shocked. 

“A diamond, perhaps…” you echoed, recalling that one winter night when you had kissed him for the first time, feeling like your heart was going to explode out of your chest. 

“It’s always been you,” said Fred in a simple, soft tone of voice. “Always has been and always will be.”

Your eyes began to water. “You’re bloody kidding me…”

“Y/N, I know I joke around a lot—hell, I opened a whole shop with Georgie…but one thing I’ve never joked about is the way I feel about you.”

“Fred…”

“...Will you marry me?”

You opened and closed your mouth but no words seemed to come out. All you could manage was a small nod before tears fully blurred your vision and you stepped forward, hand shaking as he slid the diamond ring on. 

When his lips brushed against yours, time seemed to splutter to a stop, and you felt your weary heart slowly but steadily stitch itself back together. 

Except, he was the one holding the needle and telling you that there was no need to be anxious or scared because he’d be by your side for the rest of your life. 

So don't let me wait Come to me tenderly in the June night I stand at your gate And I sing you a song in the moonlight A love song, my darling A moonlight serenade

tags: @htchnr @arkofblake @xhanthexzoria @antriimx @pinkdaiisies @lovely-whale-is-lovely

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

a beautiful little lie. [chapter 1] l Harry Castillo

Summary:  you are the personal assistant of Harry Castillo, a wealthy entrepreneur who asks you to go with him to his friend's wedding. there you meet your ex-boyfriend and things get out of hand

Warnings: fluff, a little bit of angst, friends to lovers (maybe?), one pregnant woman, some alcohol, two broken hearts, one lie

A/N: I'm not sure if I should have posted this. But I couldn't help myself because this story has been in my head for two days and if I don't get it out I'm going to go crazy. Let me know what you think and if I should continue. Thanks to the people who put up with my doubtful ranting. please be gentle with me.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[my masterlist][Harry Castillo masterlist] [a beautiful little lie- series masterlist]

"I told you that you should put up a signpost or sprinkle crumbs on the floor."

There was a sigh on the other end of the phone, and you smiled to yourself. You drove Harry Castillo to the brink of madness. “You’ve been to my apartment so many times, so why haven’t you learned the layout yet? You know where my office is.”

"I don't know." you replied, pouting your lip. "Maybe because it's a real maze?"

"Where are you?"

“I’m standing in front of some weird sculpture.” You looked at this piece of art, which was probably worth a few thousand dollars, for five minutes, Harry probably thought you were wandering around his penthouse.

Another sigh. He was already close to breaking down, but he tried to sound calm. His low, warm voice resonated in your receiver again. "How weird is this sculpture?"

"Weird enough."

You could barely contain your laughter when you heard a muffled "Jesus Christ." You adjusted the folders you were holding in your arms, looking around the spacious hallway. The conclusion appeared in your head that Harry would soon start looking for you himself, so you spoke up.

"I see the kitchen on the right."

"Great. So go left." He rubbed his eyes with his hand and leaned back in the chair. He could hear your footsteps in the receiver. "You should pass three rooms on the left, then turn right and..."

"Oh!"

A strange shiver ran down his spine. "What's that 'oh' supposed to mean?"

You cleared your throat. "Harry, this room is weird. I didn't expect that from you..."

"W-What? What are you talking about..."

"These whips, the leather... Jesus. And this?" There was silence for a moment. Harry thought it would take forever. "How is that supposed to fit in there? It won't fit. Or maybe..."

“What the hell?!” he shot up in his chair. “Where are you?” but out of the corner of his eye he noticed the door to his office open.

His assistant stood there, clutching a folder of documents to her chest and the most disarming smile on her face. He rolled his eyes, unsure whether he should fire her or kill her.

"Gotcha!" You chuckled and entered the office with a determined step "I brought what you asked for."

Harry Castillo, CEO of a large multi-million dollar company, watched as his assistant placed a folder of documents and Chinese takeout in front of him. It was supposed to be another Friday night, where you try to plan the coming week instead of trying your luck at bars or watching TV on the couch.

You had worked for him for almost a year, and your relationship had quickly changed from formal to friendly. Although you still called him Mr. Castillo at work, you were both more casual outside of that setting.

The job was very fulfilling, but your personal life was a complete mess. Apart from a few friends at work, there wasn't much going on there. But the pay was decent, and your boss was a really nice guy, so...

"Mark said he'd send the report tonight. That email you were waiting for also arrived." you said, sitting down on the comfortable chair in front of his desk and quickly scrolling through your phone "Mrs. Smith asked to contact you after the weekend. She has a few questions about the contract."

It wasn't until you tore your gaze away from the screen that you noticed Harry watching you intently from behind the desk, his dark eyes fixed on you. The white T-shirt hugged his broad, strong shoulders nicely, and a smile played on his lips.

"Is something wrong?" you asked uncertainly.

"I need you." Harry replied. Now a strange shiver ran down your spine and you gripped your phone tighter.

"What do you mean?"

He tilted his head without taking his gaze off you. "I need a woman."

He watched with delight as your eyes widened and your mouth parted in silent surprise. It took a lot of effort not to burst out laughing at the sight.

"A w-women?" you finally repeated in a choked voice "In what sense? To what? No! Don't tell me!"

You squeezed your eyes shut, raising your hands as if you wanted to stop him, although Harry was still sitting at his desk and still just staring at you.

Finally he decided to take pity on you. “A good friend of mine is getting married on Saturday. I want you to go with me.”

You opened one eye, then the other, and burst out laughing. “No, no, no!” you shook your head. “Good joke. I go with you to client meetings, not to your friends’ weddings. You have many friends, beautiful women, why don’t you invite any of them?”

Harry leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. He was a handsome man, and you were sure there were plenty of women who would love to go to a party like this with him.

"Maybe I've already asked them and you're the only one left, darling?"

“Ouch, that hurt.” you mumbled, squinting. “I’ll have to say no too. I don’t have…”

"I'll buy you a dress tomorrow, no problem. The wedding is in the afternoon, so we'll make it." He smiled at you as if the decision had already been made and you had no other choice.

“Harry…” You sighed. “That’s not the point. You know, I… I don’t think I’m cut out for this.” He frowned, so you tried to explain. “These people, your friends, aren’t my world. They’re always so beautiful and dazzling, and I…”

“What do you mean?” he asked. “Do you think I'm some kind of higher class or something? A better species of human?”

"Can I be honest? On the Titanic you would definitely have first class. I would have been below deck."

“Jesus!” he laughed and shook his head. “I assure you, honey, you will be the most interesting person at this wedding. I know what I mean. Besides, you will be with me. If this ship sinks, you can take the door, I won’t argue with you about it.”

You shook your head, smiling slightly and not believing that you had given in to him.

The place looked like it was cut out of a wedding magazine. Your eyes moved from the crystal chandelier, to the tables covered with snow-white tablecloths, to the vases with beautiful bouquets of flowers. Soft music flowed from the corner of the room where a band made up of several professional musicians stood.

You almost jumped when someone placed a hand on your back. "Harry, don't do that." You said, feeling your heart speed up.

"I'm sorry, are you okay?" he asked, smiling friendly. He looked stunning in a well-tailored suit and styled hair. When you nodded, he led you to your table.

He could see that you were stressed. Although you looked stunning in your dress, which beautifully emphasized your curves, and many eyes were looking after you, you kept smiling nervously and were rather silent. It wasn't like you so Harry did everything to cheer you up, and he was great at it. 

He didn't leave you alone with people you didn't know for long, his arm always served as your support and he made you laugh whenever he had the chance. That evening would have passed pleasantly if not for the fact that when you were coming back from the bathroom you heard a familiar voice that froze you. Someone said your name and when you turned around you saw him.

"Daniel! What a surprise! What are you doing here?" you smiled even though you had the impression that someone had just squeezed your insides with a vice.

A tall and slim brunette approached you smiling, the suit he was wearing looked really impressive. "It's my friend's wedding. And what are you doing here? Are you a friend?"

"I'm accompanying someone." you replied.

Daniel nodded in appreciation. "I came with my wife. Do you remember Beth?"

Oh, you remembered Beth. Very well to be honest. It was for her that he left you three years ago. You followed your gaze to the place he indicated and saw a beautiful blonde with a nicely rounded belly. Something sharp must have pierced your heart, but you bravely smiled.

"Still looking for a job?" Daniel leaned slightly towards you. "A friend of mine is looking for a secretary. He runs a construction company, I can give you his number."

"Thank you, but I'm not looking for a job right now. I'm happy with what I have."

Daniel shrugged. "You've never needed much, have you?"

The words got stuck in your throat. For a few moments you didn't know what to answer, and at the same time you were afraid that whatever left your lips would be immediately turned against you. Daniel was a master at this.

Suddenly, someone said your name again and in the back of the room you noticed Harry, who was walking away from a group of elegant-looking men and heading towards you.

"It's Harry Castillo." Daniel mumbled, straightening up. "I didn't know he was here."

"Yeah, it's his good friend's wedding. We came together and..."

"You're with Harry Castillo?"

It was too easy. You knew perfectly well that you shouldn't do it, but your lips moved before your brain had time to react properly. "Yes, we're here together."

It wasn't a lie. Not completely.

"I was worried about you." Harry said, walking over to you and smiling politely at Daniel. He quickly extended his hand in greeting.

"Daniel Stevens." He introduced himself. "I'm a lawyer."

"Nice to meet you." Harry looked at you expectantly.

"Daniel and I, we've known each other for a while. And this is his wife, Beth."

A pretty blonde walked up to you and Daniel put his arm around her, straightening up proudly. A woman like her was definitely the crowning achievement of his career. You weren't cut out for this. 

Even though you kept a smile on your lips, the whole conversation felt like a speeding bus was heading towards you. Harry was as polite as ever and didn't even bat an eyelid when Daniel mentioned "She said that you are together. It must be something new, because nothing has spread around town yet."

"We want to keep it private. You understand, Daniel." Harry replied smoothly and without hesitation, placing his hand on the small of your back and looking at you fondly. "A woman like that is a treasure, I want to enjoy her before we show ourselves to the world."

Daniel nodded as if he understood what Harry meant, and Beth let out a fond sigh. After a few moments, you said goodbye and Harry led you towards the door.

“Do you want to tell me more?” he asked quietly, more amused than angry.

You shook your head. "Just throw me under the car." you muttered "Damn! I knew I shouldn't have come here."

Harry immediately sensed that something was wrong. You seemed more tense and withdrawn during the whole conversation. "Who was that?" he asked.

You took a deep breath. "My ex-boyfriend. And Beth... That's the woman he left me for. And as you can see, she's pregnant now. Wonderful, right?" you tried to laugh, but it came out so fake that you quickly fell silent.

"So that's why you told him that you and I... That we're together?"

You stopped. You looked so pathetic that his heart almost broke.

"I didn't lie to him. Not really." you finally said. "I told him that we were here together. Daniel took it differently."

“So maybe I should explain it to him?” Harry made a move as if to go back to the party and find Daniel, but you quickly grabbed his arm.

"No, please!" you groaned. "Don't make me feel even worse. This whole situation is already embarrassing enough. Daniel will forget about it by tomorrow."

"If you say so." Harry sighed and put his arm around you. "Come on, I'll take you home. It's been a long day."

You were quiet as you climbed into the backseat of his car, your gaze barely leaving the window as the driver drove you through the dark city. Harry didn't say a word either, respecting your silence. But this wasn't how he expected the evening to end.

It wasn’t until you were standing in front of your apartment that he heard your quiet voice. “Thank you, Harry. And I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

He smiled, and at the same time, a small smile appeared on your lips. He reached for your hand and squeezed it lightly. “You always have me by your side. And you can always count on me.”

"I know. Thank you."

He watched you for a moment longer, then you said goodbye to him and the driver and got out, leaving him alone.

Harry Castillo had almost everything a man his age could ever want. A thriving company that was making millions, a penthouse in the heart of New York City, and an expensive car. But the expensive suits he wore and the clothes made of the best materials couldn't hide what he really lacked. Closeness.

Although he was surrounded by many people, when the door to his 12 million apartment closed behind him, he felt really lonely. Harry was slowly approaching fifty and was starting to wonder if it wasn't a bit too late for him. Maybe he had missed a moment in his life?

Yes, he had met many beautiful women, had gone on dates, but it was never long-term, and that was exactly what he was looking for. He wanted someone who could be just his, who would love him and ask how his day was. Someone he could watch stupid movies with on the couch, go on vacation, or just be bored. Was he asking for too much?

"Do we really have to do this today? Everyone has gone home." The door to his office slammed shut, and then he heard a dull thud as you plopped down on the couch. Harry smiled to himself and turned away from the huge window that overlooked the city at night.

"We'll get this over with in a minute and then I'll drop you home. Is that okay with you?" he asked, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and rolling up the sleeves.

You rolled your eyes and sighed. "I'm not sure. I could have snuck out with the others."

"My personal assistant tells me things like that?" he frowned, but at the same time smiled and sat down next to you. "It's just some folders to look through. It'll take us an hour at most. Would you like a drink?"

You shook your head and lifted the mug of tea you had brought with you. You grabbed the first folder and flipped through it. "You have a sponsors' party this week. I've cleared the evening and morning for you."

"Thank you."

For a moment, you were both focused on your work. You were putting the next reviewed documents on the empty chair, and the room was filled with your quiet typing on the laptop keyboard. Harry took a sip of whiskey and glanced in your direction.

You were so focused that you completely ignored him. A small wrinkle appeared between your eyebrows as your eyes ran over the next lines of text.

“Would you like to go to this party with me?” he asked, breaking the silence, and when you looked at him, he added, “We’ve been having quite a bit of fun together lately.”

“Do you really think so?” you were surprised, remembering Daniel and the situation that had taken place at the wedding. “Can’t you bring one of your friends with you? You were dating Jean recently, right? What about her?”

Harry shook his head and smacked his lips. “It’s over. I don’t know if it’s even started, though.” He shrugged, and you felt sorry for him. Harry was a really great guy, even though he was your boss. Handsome, tall, well-mannered, he always made the people around him feel seen.

“Can I be honest?” you asked, putting your work aside for a moment, and Harry’s brown eyes landed on you expectantly. “I feel like you’ve jumped headfirst into a pool without even knowing how much water there is. I mean, when you meet someone and you just go for it. Expensive restaurants, gifts, flowers, weekends together… You fulfill all their dreams and whims, and yet you don’t want anything in return. I wonder where you are in all of this.”

Harry analyzed your words for a moment, until he finally spoke. "So you think I should..."

"You should really get to know someone first. And then they should get to know you too. Because you have a lot to offer, and I don't mean money or anything like that. But the real you..."

Silence fell after your words. You stared at Harry's profile, his prominent nose, the fine lines around his eyes, you noticed a few grey hairs at his temple. He was really handsome and you were surprised that you had to explain such things to him.

Finally, he moved his gaze to your face again. "How is it possible that you are still single?"

You smiled sadly. "I am a lot to handle."

"Not true. Who told you that?"

But you didn’t answer that question. Harry could tell you were sad, though you tried to hide it by looking back at your computer screen. “I think we should get back to work.” You finally said. “We don’t have much left.”

For a moment his attentive gaze rested on you, analyzing your words.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[mywritersmind]

TOUCH ME - LN4

summary : y/n shows her affection through hugs, kisses, and just plain touching. lando is sad when he realizes that she does this with everyone but him.

listen up : no warnings!! cuteness!! singapore win!

word count : 747

⋆｡‧˚⋆

It had been bothering him for months. Lando noticed when he and Y/n started becoming friends. After a long period of not liking each other, the two finally agreed to put their differences aside because of all their mutual friends.

Their mutual friends started becoming the issue for Lando.

She touches everyone. Not in a weird way, she just shows affection through touch… Through touching anyone but him.

Lando watches her in his drivers room, she’s drawing on the small whiteboard; a tiny lando and a tiny y/n in the corner.

“Why do you touch everyone?” He asks out of nowhere, she turns back slightly, giving him a look before turning back to the board.

“My love language is touch… I guess? At least that’s what people tell me.” She shrugs, coming to the end of the drawing.

“But you don’t touch me.” This makes her pause for a moment before finishing off the drawing and turning back around to face the man.

He's sitting on his drivers bed, race suit unzipped half way and water bottle in hand.

“You want me to touch you?” she raises a brow, teasing him a bit.

He looks down at his water, fiddling with the straw, “I just mean- we’re friends, right? You seem to kiss and hug everyone except for me.”

This makes her more uncomfortable, she slips her hands in her pockets and shrugs, “I don’t mean to not. I guess it’s just different with you.”

“How am I different from Oscar or Charles?” He looks up at her again, his eyes so bright, “They both have girlfriends and you don’t seem bothered.”

Y/n laughs, not thinking before speaking, “Yeah because I’m not into them like that.”

Lando’s eyes widen a bit, “But- you’re into me… like that?” Y/n decides there is two options,

1. Confess her feelings for Lando, ruining all the progress they’ve made to have a good and comfortable friendship while simultaneously risking rejection from someone she really cares about.

2. Lie.

Two seems safer.

“Of course not.” she shakes her head.

Lando doesn’t believe her, or he just doesn’t want to believe her, “So why don’t you touch me? Even after I won in Zandvoort you didn’t hug me.” she hadn't realized how much this had hurt him. She was simply thinking about the hundreds of cameras facing them and how she was already blushing.

Someone knocks on the door then, calling out, “Lando, Warm up starting now.” He swallows, looking up at Y/n.

“I’ll go.” She says quietly, wondering how everything so quickly went south, “Good Luck, Lan.”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Y/n watched the race with Max, on the edge of her seat and sweating. The moment Lando crossed the finish line, a grin was permanently planted onto her face.

After every interview, the podium, a shower, and change of clothes, he walked out to the track where Y/n sat.

She jumped up and hugged him.

“You’re so fucking amazing.” Lando’s heart skipped a beat.

“Enjoy the race?” He smiles as she pulls away, her hands joining and clapping.

“Duh! Everyone else was all boring and whatever but you did so well! Twenty seconds ahead- shit!” even though he was in the race and just had a thirty minute meeting about it, he could listen to her talk about it for hours. “And Lan, about before- I really didn’t mean to hurt you it’s just different and I don’t know why but I swear it’s not to be mean! You’re my friend and-”

“Just friend?” Lando stops her immediately.

She looks up at him, “Well… I always thought-”

“I fancy you. I have for a while.” He just spits it out, his hands on her elbows as she stares blankly at him.

She blinks, “You’re not taking the piss are you because I swear!” He kisses her then.

She’s laughing against him as he pulls her closer, touching her softly and savoring it.

“I like you too.” She blushes. “And fuck you for not telling me sooner!”

He scoffs, “You could have as well! Plus you’re so damn mysterious I couldn’t tell if I should be flattered at your yelling or scared.”

She laughs, kissing his cheek before resting her head on his chest.

He puts his arms around her, his heart beating rapidly, “If you touch your friends like that then i’m damn excited to see how you treat your boyfriend.”

[supernatural-bias]

𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐥𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: alastor being a bit egotistical

↳ song: si j'étais blanche—joséphine baker

↳ notes: got any ideas for stuff i should do next? reblogs are appreciated

masterlist | commissions | carrd

• It wasn’t your fault you’ve always had a messed up sleep schedule

• Even while living, nighttime had never been able to tame you. It was just your luck that the habit carried on into hell. Figures that the world wouldn’t give you a break even in death

• You weren’t exactly an insomniac, per se. It was quite the opposite in fact. Just a simple case of falling victim to spontaneous naps in the most random of places. Yet never at night

• Narcoleptic & nocturnal were the terms that your friends used to use for you. With grins, they’d compared you to an owl; always up at night wandering aimlessly. Sometimes for days on end you’d carry on doing this and that, only to curl into a ball the next day and remain that way

• The habit never was anything more than a nuisance until you’d started living at the hotel. The place was just so big, with so many places for you to lie down before the thought of your bedroom even crossed your mind

• Angel Dust was the first person to find you passed out. He had been strolling into the kitchen, looking for something to consume that wasn’t drugs for once, when he spied you hunched over the counter snoring softly

• In your hand was a wooden spoon covered in a creamy batter of some sort, a bowl beneath it with the same concoction. Almost as if you had been making something before passing out

• Briefly checking his phone, the spider confirmed that it was only two in the afternoon, and approached you with a sly smile

• You were promptly startled awake by a loud shout directly next to your ear

• “I’m sorry—“ Angel laughed wildly as you fumed, not sounding sorry at all. “—but you should have seen your face.” He clutched his stomach as he fell into another laughing fit

• “Hey! Watch it!”

• He ducked with a frown as you sent the spoon flying at his head, just barely missing the porn star’s styled hair

• Everyone quickly made their own discovery about your weird sleeping habits soon after. Each in their own embarrassing ways

• Vaggie witnessed you lying on the stairs looking positively drained one morning, and Charlie even found you face first on the bar counter while Husk wiped away at a cocktail glass

• “Too much to drink?” She asked the cat, lifting up one of your arms between her thumb and forefinger carefully, almost as if you’d wake if she pressed to hard

• Husk laughed to himself at the question, remembering how he had turned to make you a shot before coming back to the sight before him now

• “Not exactly.” He huffed

• Perhaps best example of just how bad your timing was came in the form of an impromptu staff meeting

• Alastor had called everyone— more like demanded them —into the main parlor for an announcement one day. A mere week after the kitchen incident with Angel, in fact

• With a flourish of shadowy magic and a twirl of his hands, the overlord presented some sort of home made commercial on the age old TV the place had, looking very amused with himself as he did so

• You tried to pay attention, you really did. But at one point the actors and stray blood splatters started to look like the back of your eyelids

• By the time it was over, Alastor was tapping his fingers along the top of the picture box rhythmically while everyone looked at him with awkward smiles

• But you? Well—

• “So!” Alastor cheered with a cheesy grin as he spun on his heel. The rest of the members in the room watched him awkwardly, not noticing that your head had hit the back of the couch at a rough angle. “What do you all thi— are they asleep.”

• Static bled into the demons voice at an alarming rate as you let out a half jolt at the shift in mood, falling off the couch with a yelp in your wake

• You took a moment to swipe at your face wildly before blanching at Alastor towering over you nervously

• “Uh, my bad?”

• Alastor’s smile strained itself so thin, you thought it would split his face in half

• “Glad to know I’m keeping you entertained.” He all but laughed happily. But the white knuckled grip on his microphone told you otherwise

• You recall Charlie telling you something about ignorance being one of Alastor’s least favorite things. Especially when it came to his little spectacles

• “Maybe we’ve had enough peer feedback for today—“ Vaggie cut in cautiously

• “I concur.” Came your quick agreement

• You made sure to avoid Alastor for a few days after that

[messylustt]

can i plllllleeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaase have a bubbly reader offering miguel a hug (as a joke bc hes grumpy) and he says no at first but later on when hes rlly upset abt whatever he puts his pride in his pocket and asks for one??? i know tht man is touchstarved a good hug might fix him

wait shut up. this is adorable :((

݁   𓂃 ៸៸៸ a hug? — miguel o’hara + reader: everyone knows that your bubbly nature offers everyone hugs. but no one expected miguel to accept one.

contents : fluff. that’s literally it. maybe a bit of angst. wc 1.5k.

pt one pt two pt three

“and why are you so grumpy?” you slid across the bench, as miguel sat, minding his own business and eating. he doesn’t spare you a glance as you just rested your hands on your elbows, tilting your head with a smile.

“what is she doing?” gwen asks, from her farther seat, next to hobie, pavitr, miles, and (occasionally) peter. they are all staring at you and your bubbly nature.

“ah, let her figure out how antisocial he is.” peter shrugs, adjusting mayday’s spider beanie.

“i think she already knows.” miles says.

“that’s probably why she’s over there. to “cheer” him up.” pav adds.

“good luck with tha’” hobie lightly chuckles, resting back against pav as he swings his legs up, watching what he’d call a “show”.

“you look like you could use a friend.” you say, finally making miguel look at you. his expression was the definition of ‘indifferent’. your smile didn’t fall. “or maybe an acquaintance you can talk to?”

miguel’s expression doesn’t shift. you nod. “imma have you figured out soon…i promise.” your eyes slightly narrow in an inspection of him. then he turns back to his food.

“it’s going well.” pav sarcastically comments back at their table, making hobie scoff.

“you know…” you say, fingers lightly tapping the table. “there’s things that can help with being moody.”

“i’m not moody.”

“ah huh!” you softly cheer. “you spoke. progress.”

miguel looks exasperated as he shuts his eyes. He just wanted to enjoy his empanada.

“but you wanna know what will help?”

“i’m not…moody.” he repeats a little slower, to make sure you heard.

“yeah you are. but it’s okay. cause you wanna know what will help?”

“you clearly want to tell me.” miguel breathes out.

“mhm.” you smile. “a hug.”

miguel shifts his gaze to you, blinking a few times.

from the farther table, the spider gang is still thoroughly invested. “oh shit, he looks annoyed.” miles comments.

“what do think she said?” gwen asks, resting against the table.

“tha’ he looks like a wannabe gangster.” hobie says, now rocking his leg slightly back and forth as he watches.

“a hug would help. it helps me.” you are saying, still staring at miguel, smiling.

miguel clicks his jaw, before he’s standing, muttering to himself.

“let me know!” You call to his leaving form with a chuckle.

;;

later that night miguel is pacing his office, just back from a mission that went terribly. The anomaly got away. and miguel is beating himself up inside. how could he let that happen?

you’re walking down HQ’s hallway, looking for something you had dropped. as you scanned the floor, you hear muttering that reminded you of earlier today. miguel.

you stopped by his slightly cracked open office door. you carefully knock. miguel swings it open, sighing upon seeing you. “now’s not a good time.”

you smile. “don’t worry. i just want to ask if you’ve seen a pen.”

“a pen?” miguel’s brows furrow.

“mhm. i lost it.” you reply. “you look stressed.”

“i’m not—“ he takes a deep breath. “i'm fine. and no I haven’t seen your pen.”

“no worries.” you begin to back away. “let me know if you see it though. it’s got a weird blue design on it.”

miguel’s mind is whirring for some reason, as he finds himself calling for you to stop and turn back around. “did you mean it?” he muttered it so quietly that you almost missed it.

you’re now walking back, eyeing him. “mean what?”

miguel’s tongue pokes out against his cheek, feeling his entire body drenched with exhaust and self pity. and putting his pride away he says “a hug.”

“a hug?” your smile has widened. “i thought you weren’t moody?”

“i’m not. i just— you know what forget I asked.” miguel goes to turn away feeling stupid, but then you’re reaching forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, with a smile.

at first miguel doesn’t know where to place his hands, but you stay put, just resting your body against his, as your cheek slightly squishes up against his shoulder. then miguel slowly—very slowly—wraps his arms around your midriff, and hugs you back.

miguel doesn’t what to admit that his body has instantly relaxed upon feeling yours against his. your hand had begun to softly soothe the top of his back. just drawing in slow circles, that makes his muscles stop their tensing.

and that hug wasn’t the last time it happened.

now miguel would secretly search for you. big on the ‘secret’ part though, because he can’t have anyone else knowing he likes to hug you. no that would cause too many implications and destroy his well thought out ‘in control’ demeanour.

so when he’d find you walking alone—something he noticed you did a lot. and after he’d make sure that you were both in a desolate enough place, he’d softly grab your arm, pulling you somewhere even more desolate before he’s wrapping his arms around you in a much needed hug.

you didn’t mind. hugs had always been your love language with family and friends alike. though you were surprised by how often miguel would now seek you out, just so you could rest your head on his shoulder and draw patterns on his back.

he claimed it was just for relaxation and that you shouldn’t have offered him a hug if you would’ve asked so many questions. so you let him, his own hand having gradually drawn its own patterns on your waist.

he liked hearing and feeling your breathing. your breath by his ear sent almost cleansing shivers through him. and the feel of the rise and fall of your chest against his own made his usually racing heartbeat calm down to match with yours.

he liked the calmness your body gave him. and deep down he knew he now craved it.

;;

you were all in a different universe. gwen, miles, pavitr, hobie, peter, mayday, miguel and you. jess had to take care of another mission so miguel very clearly claimed how he’s stuck with you all, his scowl very present.

it was midway through trying to catch this anomaly when miguel’s gaze gets caught up in a man and his child. and as you stopped, noticing his focused gaze first, you identified the man and child as miguel and his daughter.

you didn’t know much about miguel’s daughter. just that in his universe she had died. and now as miguel watches a variant of himself with a variant of his daughter he can feel his body tensing.

he’s never had the misfortune of seeing variants of his family before. and now really wasn’t the time to dwell and sink deeper into his mind but he just can’t help it.

“is he okay?” whispered miles to peter.

peter shakes his head. “but there’s nothing we can do about it. no one can take him out of episodes like this.”

because everyone could see that inside miguel was fuming, so close to exploding that everyone had almost taken a step back.

you stared at miguel, watching as his chest heaved with a racing heart.

you remember one time he had muttered to you, head in your neck. you weren’t sure if you were actually meant to hear it or not. but he had said how your breathing slowed his breathing. or something along those lines. because after he had said that he had drawn you in tighter, keeping his large hands around your body.

so now you edge closer. and this could be a terrible idea, you realise that. your friends seem to as well.

gwen hisses your name quietly, watching as you edged closer to the ‘beast’ or how everyone else was treating him like.

you all needed miguel to focus to capture this especially dangerous anomaly. you couldn’t have him trapped in his mind teetering on the edge.

so you continued to walk forward, and as everyone stared in shock, you carefully wrapped your hands around his neck in a hug. you did so very lightly, to give him any room for rejection. you were actually waiting for the rejection.

but then, to everyone’s shock, miguel wraps his arms around your waist, just like every other time. and he’s found you fit against him so nicely, it felt so comfortable. your heartbeat was against his now, and the slower tempo made miguel sink into your neck, his arms now engulfing you.

shocked now isn’t a big enough word. because you were hugging miguel. and it wasn’t the ‘you’ part everyone was surprised by. it was the ‘miguel’ part. he was clearly eager to hug you back, and they all watched as miguel practically became putty in your hold.

yes. miguel craved your hugs now. and there was nothing you could do to stop him from bringing you in and keeping you close. you were now his comfort and he a wasn’t going to let that go so easily.

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[pitlanepeach]

Radio Silence | Chapter Three

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren't quirks, they're survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, pushy reporters, Carlos Sainz Sr is a little bit of a villain in this chapter (sry).

Notes — I feel like so much happens in this chapter and I love it. Also: tysm for 500 followers!!🧡

Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know! - Peacn x

2019

She hadn’t planned to cross through the garages; it just happened. Amelia was following a technician back from a briefing when she lost track of the conversation and the path, her thoughts spiralling through gearbox data and tyre deltas.

That’s when she heard it. Her name. Loud. Sharp. 

“Miss Brown.”

She stopped. Pivoted.

Carlos Sainz Sr. stood a few feet away, hands behind his back. 

He wasn’t smiling.

“You are the daughter of our team’s CEO, yes?” he asked.

Amelia nodded. “Yes.”

“You spend a lot of time in the garages,” he said. “Too much, I think.”

She frowned at him. “I— I help.” She told him. 

“Right,” he said, and his face did a strange twist. “But with Carlos, my son, it is important he has focus. Space.”

She stared at him, unsure what he was trying to imply. “Carlos told me that I was allowed in his garage as often as I like.”

“He would,” Sainz Sr. said. “He is polite. A respectful boy. But it is not always good to blur lines between personal and professional.” He paused. “It could cause problems.”

Amelia stood perfectly still.

“I’m not causing problems,” she said, a bit too flatly. 

Sainz Sr. regarded her a moment longer, then gave a short nod. “Good. I hope it remains that way. Distance, por favor.”

He turned and walked off, leaving her standing in the middle of the paddock walkway, her yellow water bottle pressed tightly to the base of her stomach.

She didn’t move for a long moment.

Her chest felt tight, but not like sadness; not exactly. It was the feeling of a… system error. A mismatch. She couldn’t understand what she’d possibly done wrong.

Carlos hadn’t seemed uncomfortable with her presence. He asked her thoughts on setup changes. Let her hover near the monitors during debriefs. He’d even nudged her elbow pre-quali and whispered, “Wish me luck.”

That didn’t feel like someone who did not want her around. 

Swiftly, she made her way back to Lando’s garage. Slow and quiet, avoiding eye contact. Lando waved at her from where he was talking to Jon, but she didn’t wave back. Just sat down beside a stack of unused tyre blankets and stared at the concrete floor.

Her fingers fidgeted, tugged at her sleeves. She didn’t cry. She didn’t really feel anything, other than... a disorienting sense of being wrong.

She thought of the conversation on loop. Trying to decode it. Trying to figure out how she’d accidentally made an enemy out of Carlos Sainz Sr.

She couldn’t focus. Not on the setup sheets. Not on the chatter from the engineers. Not even on the low buzz of the paddock outside.

She started working hard to anchor herself to something familiar. The smell of tyre rubber. The click of Lando’s cooling fan. The buzz of telemetry feeds looping on a nearby monitor. Safe things.

“You hiding, or working?” came Will Joseph’s voice, low and even.

She glanced up. Lando’s race engineer stood a few feet away, clipboard in hand.

“Hiding,” she told him. That’s what it felt like she was doing, anyway. 

Will nodded. Then he crouched down in front of her, elbows on his knees. “Wanna talk about it?”

Amelia tugged the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands. She hesitated. “I don’t think I did anything wrong. But… I think I have made somebody angry.”

His jaw jumped. “Yeah? Someone in the team?”

She gave a small nod.

Will glanced sideways. His voice stayed calm, but there was a weird tightness when he said, “If you want me to talk to them, I will.”

Amelia frowned. “It’s okay. I don’t want to… make it worse.”

“You sure?” He asked.

She looked away. “Yes.” She said, eventually. 

He paused, then stood, still watching her. “Okay. But if you change your mind… you know where I am.”

She nodded. Will turned as if to go, but then glanced back at her again.

“You want to look over brake traces with me?” he asked. 

She stood slowly, gripping her yellow water bottle. “Yes.”

Will gave a small smile. “Knew you would.”

--

It was Sunday, and her garage smelled like grease and old metal and comfort.

Amelia was elbow-deep in the engine bay of her BMW, sleeves rolled up and a thin streak of oil smudged across her cheek. Jazz played softly from the old radio by the workbench, and a fan hummed lazily in the corner, stirring the warm spring air. She was in her zone — focused, grounded, calm.

She didn’t hear the car pull up. But she did hear the familiar sound of her father’s golf shoes on the concrete. 

She turned just in time to see them step inside.

Her dad was in his usual race-less Sunday outfit, white sleeves shoved to the elbows, cap pushed back on his head. Beside him, Lando Norris stood in golf clothes; white polo, khaki trousers, hair a little messy. He looked slightly sunburned.

“Thought we’d swing by for dinner,” her dad told her, a big smile on his face. “We got finished up early today.”

Lando lifted a hand and waved at her. “Hey.”

Amelia stared at him. “You’re wearing real shoes,” she said.

Lando glanced down at his golf trainers. “Yeah. I know. Weird, right?”

Her dad ignored both of them, already wandering over to inspect the engine. “You’ve done the belts,” he noted.

“I did the belts yesterday,” Amelia told him, still staring at Lando.

Having him here felt… odd. This was her space, her house, her garage. The place where everything made sense, where she could retreat from the world and lose herself in the rhythm of machinery.

Then again, she considered, she was always in his garage. This was just the other way around, really.

Lando shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Your dad said dinner was happening. I didn’t really get a say.”

She shrugged. “You could’ve said no.”

“I could’ve,” Lando agreed. He was smiling at her. “But then I wouldn’t get free food. And apparently your mum’s making roast potatoes.”

“She puts garlic in them,” Amelia told him. She turned back to watch her dad, making sure he wasn’t touching anything. Or worse, moving anything. 

“She sounds like a genius.” Lando said behind her. 

Her dad pushed the hood higher, eyes inspecting the wiring, and let out a low hum of approval. “Right. Dinner in twenty,” he said, glancing at both of them, but there was a slight hesitation in his voice. “Lando, you coming inside?”

Lando wiped his hands on his trousers, then glanced back at Amelia, clearly unsure. “Might stay out here for a bit,” he said with a slight shrug.

He paused, eyes flicking between them. He seemed to weigh the situation for a second before speaking again, more slowly this time. “That okay with you, Amelia?” 

She looked over at him. Shrugged. “Fine.” 

Her dad nodded and gave them both one last look before walking out of the garage and toward the house. He started whistling somewhere along the way. Amelia grimaced, shoulders inching toward her ears. 

There was a beat of silence. Amelia crouched beside the car, fingers working a stubborn bolt. Lando just hovered. 

“This place is sick.” He said, eventually. 

She looked at him and then around the absolute chaos that was her workspace. “It’s a mess,” she said.

“Yeah, but like… a cool mess. Suits you.” He shrugged. 

She made a face, nose scrunching, eyebrows lowering. “I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.” 

“It’s a compliment.” He said. “Like… you fit in here.” 

Oh. Well. That was nice of him to say. Fitting in wasn’t something she usual excelled at.  

The bolt finally gave way with a soft click, and she exhaled, satisfied.

Lando took a step closer, leaning in to peek at the engine. “So what are you working on now?”

She handed him the bolt without thinking. He closed his fist around it. “Timing chain.”

“Oh. Sick.”

“You keep saying that word.” She told him. 

“I’ve got a limited vocabulary,” he said with a half-smile, sliding the bolt into his pocket. She narrowed her eyes. “Mine now. Finders keepers.”

“I hate that saying.” She muttered, not asking for the bolt back. She didn’t need it. Maybe he did. “Do you like chicken?” she asked abruptly.

“Sure.” He nodded.

“Good.” She sighed. “It’s all my mom knows how to cook.”

“Mom,” he repeated, mimicking her accent.

She frowned. “You’re quite annoying.”

He grinned, the lines next to his eyes deepening. “I know. Want me to get you a drink or something?”

Her gaze flicked to her yellow water bottle, standing out like a warning sign against the cold steel of the garage. Then to him. Her mind caught on the image of him picking it up, his hand unscrewing the lid, closing it again. It wasn’t even anything weird. Just… she didn’t like it. Not today.

Her stomach did a small, unwelcome swoop.

“No,” she said, sharp. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” he replied simply. 

She squinted at him. This would be the perfect moment to bring up his social media. She had a whole list saved in her notes app; bullet points and everything. Of things he could post that would improve long-term brand perception, boost fan engagement, attract sponsor interest. She’d even colour-coded it.

But then he leaned a little closer to the engine bay, poked a stray wire with the back of his finger, and asked, “What does that do?”

And instead of launching into a Twitter audit, she blinked. Then sighed. Then said, “That’s not a wire. It’s the gas belt.”

He just looked at her. “That sounds made up.”

“It isn’t.” She crouched beside him and pointed. “It’s part of the pressure regulation loop. If it’s too tight, the fuel intake timing offsets and we lose energy recovery.”

“Oh,” he said, looking down at it. “I thought it was just a spare wire.”

“It’s never just a spare wire.” 

She didn’t plan to spend an hour explaining the entire energy recovery system to a man who literally drove race cars for a living. But she did. And he listened. Asked questions. Didn’t pretend to know more than he did.

Dinner came and went. Her mom popped her head in, said she’d keep their plates warm. Amelia didn’t even realise how long they’d been in the garage until her dad came to check if they were still alive.

“What’ve you two been up to?” He asked.

And Lando, still squatting beside the car with grease on his knuckles, said, “She taught me how a gas belt works.”

Amelia felt her lips twist into a smile before she could stop it.

Her dad laughed, loud and full of something Amelia couldn’t place. 

Lando’s cheeks went a bit pink. 

—

By the time the Spanish Grand Prix rolled around, one thing had become evident.

The Renault engine was going to be a problem.

It wasn’t just an occasional glitch or a minor calibration error — it was systemic. Structural. A pattern beginning to take shape. Carlos had already been forced to retire from the first two races. Lando hadn’t made it past lap twenty in China. And now, in Spain, he was pulling into the garage mid-race with smoke curling out from the rear. 

Amelia didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. The telemetry screens told her more than enough — voltage spikes, temperature climbs, the dreaded red-highlighted warnings blinking across the console in angry bursts.

She watched from her usual spot, perched on the edge of the engineering desk with her notebook balanced on her knee. The frustration in the air was sticky. 

This was becoming predictable. Usually, she would like that — this was not one of those times.

After the race, she found herself lingering in the quiet corner of the garage, sketching out hypothetical flow improvements in the margins of her notebook. She didn’t work on the engines — not directly, not yet. But she could see the shape of the problem, the flaw in the systems approach. She could feel it humming under her fingertips like a code waiting to be cracked.

Across the paddock, celebrations echoed from the teams that had made it to the finish. The podium champagne had already been popped. But in Lando’s garage, it felt like they were all waiting out a storm that they already knew was coming.

She pressed her pen to the page and underlined a note she’d written hours ago, before the race had even started.

"Energy efficiency doesn’t matter if the engine won’t survive the lap."

She sighed and capped her pen. In the background, someone was wheeling the scorched power unit away for inspection.

Maybe she should’ve warned them louder.

— 

She found him in his driver’s room, slouched in a chair with his legs stretched out in front of him. His helmet was discarded on the floor, and he was still in his fireproof suit, half-zipped. Amelia hesitated outside the door for a second, wondering if she should just leave him alone. But Lando had left his water bottle in the garage, and Amelia wasn’t the best at letting things slide. She wasn’t sure why it felt important to bring it to him, but it did.

She knocked softly on the already-open door before walking in. Lando didn’t even look up. He was just staring at the wall. 

“I brought your water,” Amelia told him. 

He looked up at her then. “Thanks,” he muttered as he reached for the bottle, shoving the straw into his mouth and taking a long gulp. “Second DNF in five races,” he said, his voice rough. “Rookie season, and this is what I get.”

After a second of hesitation, Amelia sat on the beanbag chair across from him, folding her hands neatly in her lap. She didn't say anything at first — just looked at him. She wasn’t sure how this worked, whether she needed to talk first or wait for him. 

Eventually, Lando exhaled through his nose and kept going, his words starting to pick up speed. “I don’t even know what went wrong this time. One minute, I’m fighting for position, and then it just… dies. The engine. The whole thing. It’s like I’m cursed, or something.”

“Curses aren’t real,” Amelia said, frowning. “Drink more water. I think you might be dehydrated.”

He laughed, but it was short, and it didn’t feel genuine. “Yeah, well. Maybe I deserve to be dehydrated.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” she sighed, reaching up to itch her neck. She was pretty sure that she’d started to develop a stress rash somewhere around the tenth lap. 

“I know it doesn’t,” he muttered, rubbing his hand over his face. “I just… I keep replaying it. I did everything right. I kept the pace, I managed the tyres, I even—” He stopped himself, jaw tight. “I’m trying so hard. Every week. And it still ends the same way.”

Amelia tilted her head. “Trying hard doesn’t guarantee results. Statistically, a mechanical failure is not a reflection of your driving ability.”

“Yeah, but people don’t see it like that, do they? Sponsors don’t see it like that. Fans don’t see it like that. They see a DNF next to my name and think “Ah, that lad’s shit. Couldn’t even finish the race.”

“They’re wrong,” she said, voice steady. “You can’t control the engine.”

He looked at her, like he was searching for something on her face. “That’s not really comforting, you know.”

“I’m not trying to be comforting,” she shrugged. “I’m telling you the truth.”

A beat passed. Then he let out a breath and leaned his head back against the wall, his shoulders finally sagging a little. “Still… it sucks.”

She watched him for a moment, then reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I made a chart,” she told him. “About Renault’s historical DNF rates. You’re not even in the worst percentile.”

He blinked at her, and for the first time that day, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You made a chart?”

“I like charts,” she said. “They help me make sense of things. Maybe they’ll be able to help you too. I colour coded.”

Lando unfolded the paper and scanned it, a soft breath of laughter escaping him. “You’re actually unbelievable.”

Amelia blinked. “In what way?”

He didn’t answer that, just kept smiling at the paper like it had done something remarkable. Which it hadn’t. It was a simple data set, neatly formatted, with pink for DNF, green for points finishes, and orange for races affected by mechanical issues but still completed. She had used bold font for his name and added a tiny asterisk explaining why none of it was technically his fault.

“You should remember that every time your engine has survived, you have finished in the points,” she said, because facts were important when emotions got loud. “And the season’s not over yet.”

Lando looked up at her. “Thanks, Amelia.”

His voice was quiet, yes, but there was something else layered in the tone, something that made her chest feel tight in a way she couldn’t immediately categorise. She frowned, not at him, but at the sensation itself.

There were variables she didn’t have control over. Facial expressions. Tone. Context. She could usually work it out when someone was mad, or distracted, or lying. But fondness… that was harder. It was inconsistent. Often irrational. Frequently confusing.

She pointed at his water bottle because that was easy. “You should still drink the water.”

He smiled again, this time more to himself, and shook his head. Then he picked up the bottle and unscrewed the lid, just like she knew he would.

As he drank, Amelia watched him carefully. Maybe, she thought, tucking her hands back into her lap, she just needed to collect more data in order to be able to fully understand Lando Norris.

— 

iMessage — 17:09pm

Max F. Sorry about the shit luck, mate. Engine again?

Lando Norris Yeah. Just shut off mid-corner. Didn’t even get a warning this time. Proper embarrassing.

Max F. Not your fault. That Renault engine’s a grenade with wires.

Lando Norris Yh that’s what Amelia said kinda She made a chart

Max F. A chart?

Lando Norris Yeah. With colours Fucking cute

Max F. Whipped. 

Lando Norris

Yh 

— 

She liked the Mercedes hospitality unit. Neutrally designed, air-conditioned, and smelled faintly of eucalyptus. She liked that a lot.

Amelia walked slowly, phone in hand. 

There was no sign of Lewis or Roscoe when she stepped inside, just the low hum of quiet conversations and the click of cutlery. She turned left, toward the usual corner where Roscoe liked to sleep in the sunbeam from the long vertical window.

She didn’t make it that far.

“Amelia.”

She blinked. Then blinked again.

Toto Wolff stood halfway down the hallway. In a dark polo. Arms crossed. He was very tall. 

“Hello,” she said. She meant to say it with some level of confidence, but it came out more like a question.

“I was hoping we might speak.” His tone was hard for her to read. 

She tilted her head, a slight frown growing on her face. “I’m supposed to go and see Roscoe.”

“He will not mind waiting. I am told he is a very patient dog.” Toto said. 

She wasn’t sure what to say to that — Roscoe was not, in any sense of the word, a patient dog. She also didn’t really want to argue with Toto Wolff. 

So she just gave a small nod and followed him when he gestured to a nearby side room. It was empty. A single chair. A single table. It felt a bit like an interrogation room. 

Toto sat. Amelia did not. She hovered just near the wall and folded her arms tight against her chest.

“I understand,” he began, “that you have declined my offer. The junior engineering placement.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

There was a pause. His brow furrowed, just slightly. “You did not think it was a good opportunity?”

“I thought it was an excellent opportunity,” she said honestly. “But I already have a place at McLaren. The team like having my input.”

“That they do,” he said. He didn’t sound offended. He sounded like he was calibrating. “And Lando?”

She blinked. “What about him?”

“He seems to like having you around especially. I have noticed that you spent your time primarily on his side of the garage.”

She wasn’t sure what that meant, so she didn’t respond. She could feel her fingers starting to curl in against her arms. She tightened her grip to stop it.

Toto exhaled through his nose. “I will not press. I simply wanted to say, the door is still open. Mercedes does not forget talent.”

“I know,” she said. “My dad doesn’t either.”

There was a twitch at the corner of his mouth. Possibly a smile. Possibly a tic.

“I see. Then I will stop trying to, how do you say in English… poach you.”

“That would be good,” she said. “My dad would get mad if he found out.” 

Toto raised an eyebrow. “You did not tell him?” 

She shook her head. “No. I need to go now. Lewis and Roscoe are waiting.”

“Of course,” Toto said, standing. He offered a handshake, which she pointedly ignored.

She left the room and continued on down the hallway until she found Roscoe, sprawled across the carpet like a throw rug.

She dropped to her knees and scratched behind his ears.

“Hello. I have missed you very much,” she whispered. Roscoe huffed, then rolled over.

Lewis rounded the corner a second later with two smoothies in hand. One was green, and the other was pink. She hoped that the pink one was for her. He glanced over her shoulder, where Toto was walking away, his phone pressed to his ear. “Oh dear. Did you get ambushed?”

“Yes,” she said. “But I escaped.”

— 

Two races later, she found herself in Canada.

She was en route to the Red Bull motorhome — they always had the best coffee vendor, and no one ever seemed to mind when she slipped in — when someone stepped into her path.

“Miss Brown? Amelia?”

She blinked. The man was tall, holding a Viaplay mic, all teeth and polished camera charm. 

“We’re doing some quick paddock interviews — would you mind answering a couple of questions?”

Amelia hesitated. She wasn’t in team kit. Just a plain black hoodie and her headphones around her neck, though the headphones did have the McLaren logo engraved onto them. She glanced over his shoulder. The cameraman was already adjusting focus.

“I’m not a driver,” she said, pushing the words out through a chest that suddenly felt tight.

He laughed, like she’d made a joke. “No, of course — we know. You’re Lando Norris’, uh, data engineer, right? And Zak Brown’s daughter?”

Her fingers tightened in her sleeves. “I’m only officially one of those things,” she replied. “I am not Lando’s data engineer.” 

“Still. Very involved in McLaren. We’d love a few thoughts on the upcoming qualifying session. From your perspective.” He was still smiling. 

Amelia’s teeth squeaked with the force that she was grinding them together. Her heart was ticking fast, too fast. She didn’t like being filmed. She didn’t like… whatever this was. 

She especially didn’t like when people used polite voices to try and back her into a corner.

“I didn’t say I’d do the interview.” She said, eventually. 

“Just one or two—”

“She said no.”

The voice came from behind her. Flat. No hesitation or inflect. 

Amelia turned her head. Max Verstappen was standing next to her, hands in his pockets, jaw tight. He wasn’t looking at her — his eyes were locked on the reporter.

“We’re just asking—”

“She doesn’t work for a team. She doesn’t have to answer your questions.”

“Ah, Max, come on, we’re live in—”

Max took one step forward. The cameraman slowly lowered the lens.

“I do not like to repeat myself.” He said. He didn’t sound angry, but there was nothing kind about the way he said it. 

The reporter faltered. “Right,” he muttered, stepping back. “We’ll… catch someone else.” They disappeared down the paddock, the cameraman not even bothering to stop the recording properly.

Amelia stared at Max.

He didn’t look at her right away. Just let out a breath through his nose and rubbed the back of his neck. “They should not be bothering you. That was very shit of them.”

“I’m not very interesting,” she told him, her voice barely a mutter as she tried to collect herself. “There’s no point putting me on TV.”

“You’re on TV more than you think,” he said, glancing sideways at her. “Especially when Lando’s around. People are very interested in you both.”

She frowned. “What?”

Max looked at her for a moment, then shook his head. “Nothing. Doesn’t matter.”

It sounded like it might matter, but if he said that it didn’t, then she wasn’t going to bother asking more about it.

Instead, she tilted her head upward in his direction. He was much taller than he looked when he was in his car. “You’re Max Verstappen.”

He squinted a little under the sun. “Yeah. I am.”

“Why did you help me?” She asked. 

He shrugged, like it was obvious. “Because I don’t like people getting cornered. And Dutch media are, ah—assholes, sometimes.” Then, his mouth curved slightly, something close to teasing. “And because Lando would kill me if I let someone mess with you.”

She just stared at him.

Her stomach did something strange and fluttery that she didn’t like at all.

Max must’ve caught the look on her face because he looked away immediately, regret passing across his features like a cloud. “Anyway,” he added, tone turning brisk, “don’t let them bother you. You’re not public property.”

“I know that,” she said, a little too fast. “I just… forget sometimes. That I’m allowed to say no.”

He nodded once. “You are.”

Then he gave her a brief, crooked grin. “I’ll see you around, Amelia.”

And with that, he disappeared into the Red Bull motorhome, as though nothing unusual had happened at all.

Amelia stood there for a few seconds, her skin still prickling from the confrontation, her thoughts spinning in all directions. The iced coffee no longer felt essential. She turned sharply on her heel and made her way back toward McLaren.

The motorhome wasn’t quiet, or even particularly peaceful; but it was familiar.

It was safe.

—

Lando’s garage was louder than usual.

Or maybe Amelia just wasn’t settled yet; her ears hadn’t quite adjusted, and everything felt like it was pressing in from too many angles. The buzz of the generators, the thud of tyres being stacked, the distant screech of an engine on an out-lap. None of it was new, but it all felt sharper today. She tugged her sleeves over her wrists and walked the perimeter of the garage, not because she needed to check anything, but just because she needed to walk.

Lando was leaning over the front wing of his car, talking to his race engineer. His voice had the kind of ease that came only after a good FP3. He glanced up when she approached.

“You okay?” he asked, brow ticking up.

She nodded. “Yes.”

He didn’t believe her. She could see it in the way he paused, fully paused, mid-sentence with Will, and turned his body slightly toward her.

“You sure?”

She considered lying. Or deflecting. She was usually very good at both.

Instead, she told him, “I ran into Max.”

Lando blinked. “Verstappen?”

“Yes.”

He looked vaguely alarmed. “Did he—? I mean, are you—what happened?”

Amelia folded her arms across her chest and looked past him, toward the pit lane. “Viaplay tried to interview me. I wasn’t wearing anything official. I said no, but they kept asking questions. Then Max showed up and made them leave.”

“Oh.” Lando’s face shifted, obvious concern first, then something much tighter. “That’s… are you okay?”

“Max said that Dutch media can sometimes be assholes,” she added matter-of-factly. “His words.”

“He’d know that better than any of us.” Lando said. 

She looked at his hands, noticing that his veins were very blue. “He also said you would kill him if he let them mess with me.”

Lando coughed, and Will made a choked sound somewhere in the back of his throat.

“Did he?” Lando asked, ears already pink.

She nodded. “Yes.”

Will looked like he was trying not to laugh, which was odd, because she hadn’t heard anyone make a joke. Lando gave a little shrug. Will nudged him with an elbow, and Lando muttered, “Fuck off, mate,” under his breath.

She sighed, looking off toward the data screens. “I didn’t even get my iced coffee.” She mentioned. 

Lando leaned a little closer to her. “You want one now? We can go get it together.”

She shook her head. “No. Just… I want to stay here. Until quali starts.”

His smile got softer. “Yeah. Okay. You can do that.”

So she stood there, adjacent to him, not speaking; just listening to the familiar rhythms of the garage. Tyres being moved. Headsets crackling. Mechanics calling out numbers and adjustments.

She watched Lando pick up his gloves and flex his fingers into them, testing the fit. Quiet. Focused.

And then she turned, and for a split second, panicked. Her water bottle had been moved. She looked around quickly, breath hitching.

But Lando cleared his throat and caught her attention. He walked over to the back of the garage and pulled it from underneath the counter. “Put it in the mini fridge,” he told her. “Didn’t want it getting warm.”

She took it from him, stared at it for a long time, and then smiled. 

— 

iMessage — 5:08pm

Mom Hello, darling! Just checking in. Hope everything went well today x

Amelia Hello, mom. I have a question. How do you know if you have a crush on somebody?

Mom I think this conversation would be much easier on FaceTime. Are you back at the hotel yet?

Amelia No. Lando asked me if I’d like to go get burgers after qualifying and I said yes. Dad was busy so I didn’t tell him. I texted him though.

Mom Is Lando driving you to get burgers?

Amelia Yes. He is a very safe driver in a normal car. He drives exactly at the speed limit. I was a bit worried that he would speed, but he doesn’t :)

Mom That’s very nice, honey x

—

iMessage — 5:12pm

Tracy Brown (Wife) Zak Brown. You have some explaining to do.

Zak Brown (Husband) What’s going on, honey?

Tracy Brown (Wife) You tell me! Your driver has taken our daughter out on a date and you’re none the wiser!

Zak Brown (Husband) What? Which driver?

Tracy Brown (Wife) He is driving her, Zak. To go and get burgers. She texted you.

Zak Brown (Husband) SHE TEXTED ME “ALL GOOD” I THOUGHT THAT MEANT SHE WAS SAFE IN HER HOTEL ROOM UNDER TEN BLANKETS WATCHING A BARBIE MOVIE 

Tracy Brown (Wife) Nope. She’s in a car. With LANDO NORRIS. They’re going for a burger date.

Zak Brown (Husband) I’m calling his father. That little shit head. 

Tracy Brown (Wife) Don’t be dramatic. They’re just getting food. I think she likes him. It’s cute.

Zak Brown (Husband) Cute? Are you serious? The media are going to be all over this. 

Tracy Brown (Wife) Have you seriously not noticed? They’ve been the talk of the paddock for weeks! They’re attached at the hip. I don’t know how we missed this 

Zak Brown (Husband) I think I’m having a heart attack And also a stroke. 

— 

Amelia had already deconstructed her burger; bun on one side, lettuce on the other, everything organised into neat piles. She wasn’t sure if that was weird or not, but Lando hadn’t commented, so she assumed it was fine.

She cleared her throat, tapping her straw against the side of her milkshake. “I’m sorry if I’m in your garage too much.”

Lando blinked at her mid-bite. “What?”

“I just… I know it might be annoying. I don’t want to get in the way. But since I’m not really allowed in Carlos’ anymore—”

“Wait. Hold on.” He put his burger down, brows pulling together. “What do you mean you’re not allowed in Carlos’ garage anymore?”

She picked up a fry, broke it in half, and frowned down at her tray. “Carlos’ dad told me, in China, that I wasn’t welcome in there. So I’ve just been staying in yours.”

There was a long pause. Then, “Fuck that.” Lando said. He was digging his phone out of his pocket. 

Amelia blinked at him, taken aback. “What are you doing?”

“I’m texting Carlos.” He stared down at his phone, typing furiously. “That’s absolute bullshit. You’re not just allowed in my garage, Amelia, you’re wanted there. You practically run the place. I mean, I was wondering why you didn’t spend any time in Carlos’ anymore, and he’s been thinking this whole time that he did something wrong.”

She took a deep breath. “I don’t run anything—”

“You do.” He cut her off, still a little frantic. She stared at him. He took a deep breath. “I’m serious, Amelia. Everyone listens to you. Even Will. Which is terrifying.”

She bit her lip, worrying as she glanced at his phone. “It’s okay, though. I like your garage better, anyway.”

Lando smiled at her. “Good. But still. He can’t just get away with that. Carlos appreciated your input — he told me so. And you belong wherever you want to be, yeah?”

Her face felt warm. She reached for another fry, more for something to do with her hands than out of hunger.

“Also,” he added, a little more casually than before — but she didn’t miss the way his jaw was set, or how his voice had tightened just slightly. “Next time someone tells you that you’re not welcome somewhere you want to be… just tell me, alright? I’ll handle it.”

She tilted her head, frowning slightly. “Handle it how?”

“I don’t know,” he said, grabbing another fry. “However I have to.”

— 

iMessage — 7:48pm

Lando Norris oye

Carlos Sainz qué pasa

Lando Norris did your dad seriously tell Amelia she wasn’t welcome in your garage?

Carlos Sainz ¿qué? when??

Lando Norris few races ago. bahrain she just told me she thinks you don’t want her around

Carlos Sainz no jodas I never said that I just thought she was busy I will talk to him. 

Lando Norris she didn’t wanna say anything

Carlos Sainz

I am glad that she did. 

tell her I never said that and that she is welcome any time

Lando Norris yh. already told her but yeah, sort your dad out mate 

Carlos Sainz voy a hacerlo ahora mismo this is nonsense

Lando Norris cheers mate

Carlos Sainz de nada are you with her right now?

Lando Norris we’re just getting burgers no biggie 

Carlos Sainz Liar.

NEXT CHAPTER