#i do feel a little better now that hes back home with me i want him to be comfortable. he deserves to rest

[bi-writes]

ok reverse the TROPE !!!!!! sugar-mommy!f!reader x retired!simon <333 (18+)

he got discharged on a medical injury. his knee flares up now, phantom pains that shoot up his leg and pinch his spine. he feels like a failure--a lieutenant in his prime, and now he has to acclimate to civilian life and grit his teeth instead of drown the voices in his head out with gunfire.

he's been deployed as much as he could be just to stay away from this kind of place. so he didn't have to get on a train, or take the tube. so he didn't have to think about looking over his shoulder in the shops or learn how to pay a wifi bill. he hates going to the doctor's office, and he hates learning how to properly open his bank account, just to learn that there's nearly nothing in it.

the numbers just dwindle before his very eyes. the rent is too high, even in his shitty studio. when did cable cost that much? why can't he go to the pub for just a few pounds anymore? where is the compensation for giving more than a decade of his life in service of his country just to have to wait in fucking lines to get his medication and argue over the phone about where all his fucking money went.

maybe he never had any. maybe it's all lost somewhere. he'd ask his former captain, but he's halfway across the world, and over his dead body would he hold a hand out and ask for charity when he's 36 years old.

"don't get that one."

simon turns his head, a snarl caught in his throat. there's a pretty thing standing beside him, also staring at the array of ramen packages in focus. you take the orange package out of his hand and put it back on the shelf before reaching for a different package. it's got japanese characters on it, so he can't read the label, but you smile up at him.

"this one is way better. good price for it, too."

"'s more expensive."

"yeah, but you get eight packets in this one. that one only gives you five."

at the till, you notice him subtly counting the notes in his wallet. you pretend not to notice, rocking back and forth on your heels, but just as he picks up his bag to leave, you speak up.

"you wanna get a drink? on me."

and fuck, he could use a bourbon. on the first one, he thought your presence was pleasantly tolerable. by the fourth, he's staring down your shirt, dark eyes mapping out what the curves of your breasts might look like in the palm of his big hand. by the sixth, you're pressed up against a sticky bathroom wall and holding on for dear life as he pounds into you from behind, knickers in his back pocket, manicured nails digging slits into his tattooed forearm.

you sink those claws in that night; and you do not let go.

the third night you ask him out, he sees your flat for the first time. in a nice building downtown, doorman holding the door open for you. the elevator ride is long enough for him to see the tops of buildings, and when you step inside your flat, he swallows hard when he realizes you are way out of his league.

gorgeous leather seats and couch. large tv with surround sound. a french kitchen with a gas stove. your flat is filled with knickknacks and candles, low yellow lights and wonderful collections of art and little glass vases and sculptures. your home is filled with warmth, and you don't belong with him.

just as he thinks about backing out of the place, you turn and grip the lapels of his jacket, tugging him closer. you touch your nose to his over his mask, smiling, and you push the door closed behind him and press him up against it.

"so, which room do you wanna christen first? i thought we could start in the kitchen."

you're a woman that knows what she wants, he'll give you that; and he doesn't have it in him to say no.

the sun wakes him up in the morning. he doesn't remember falling asleep--he doesn't like to make staying over a habit. when he sits up on his elbows, he takes a deep breath, realizing his back hurts a lot less. the mattress of your bed is wonderful, much more supportive than the flat mess he has on the floor in his own place, and he blinks himself awake when you come out of the bathroom.

you're freshly dressed, makeup on, and you're putting on your jewelry when you see him. you smile at him, coming towards the bed, and you bend down to kiss where his mouth would be under the mask.

"good morning, simon. sleep well?"

"mmm..."

you take that as a yes, cupping his jaw, and you kiss him over his mask again before going to get some shoes from your closet. he doesn't comment on the fact that when you open it, he realizes the closet there is only for shoes...

"you hungry, baby? want some breakfast?"

"i--oh..." simon lays back down when his back tweaks, and you reach for him when you see him fall back in the mirror. you smooth a hand down the side of his body, frowning.

"why don't you stay in bed? i'll have my assistant bring you something."

"no, tha's--"

"i'm not asking, simon, i'm telling you," you coo. you pick up one of his hands and trace one of his scars with your finger. you have long, almond-shaped nails. there's pretty chrome nail art over the wine red color you wear, and he focuses on it as you kiss his knuckles gently. "will you wait for me to come home?"

"where y'goin'?"

"gotta work, honey," you wink down at him. "and i want you to be here when i get back."

"tha' so?"

"mhm," you smile. "right here. in my bed--" you lift the covers a little and peek, giggling as you put it back down after getting a glimpse at his cock resting against his lower stomach. "just like this, simon."

he doesn't remember if he ever goes back to his flat. he thinks he went one more time, to grab a few bottles of his medication, but the tick in his knee hadn't been so bad with the great physical therapy you started paying for and the warm massages you gave him every night.

and his back--your bed always contours perfectly against the muscles of his back, and he finds himself sleeping a full seven hours every single night.

not to mention his new work outs. simon hadn't been to the gym much since coming home, but he knows he must be burning hundreds of calories with you. you test his limits. as soon as you're home, you jump on him, and the stress relief your pussy brings him is just what he needs to get the edge off. you're a fiend, especially after a rough day, and the way you bounce on his cock in every room of your flat keeps him up at night sometimes with the most glorious wet dreams.

you're up late that night. you're curled up on the couch in one of simon's shirts and a glass of red wine, and there's a mountain of papers around you that you're focusing on reading. you have a huge presentation tomorrow, and everything needs to be perfect. simon comes into the living room, shirtless, and you smile when you see him standing there. he's wearing the new sweats you got him, but you can't focus on that too much when you're staring at his pudgy, toned stomach and his nice pecs. you bite your lip, taking a long sip of your wine, and simon hikes up his mask to take a bite out of his bowl of ice cream.

"gonna be up late tonight?" he asks, and you nod. "want me to sit with ya?" you nod again, lifting up your legs, and when he takes a seat next to you, you drape them across his lap. you lean over to give his scarred cheek a kiss, and when you turn back to your paperwork, a thought comes across your mind.

"we should get married," you say softly, circling a note over something. simon keeps eating, as if what you said doesn't phase him.

"why's tha', love?"

"tax benefits."

"mmm..." simon drops one of his hands and thumbs against your ankle. the flat is warm. his stomach is full. his body hurts less, and his heart aches with something nice. "olright then."

you smile.

"good. cause i already bought the ring."

[gay-dorito-dust]

I can't stop thinking about the batboys in a relationship and their significant other doing that trend where you call your boyfriend your husband. Like just randomly mid conversation they'd be like "my husband". I wonder how the batboys would feel about that.

I’m currently in mourning of my snakebites (they might be healed up after I took them out for one fucking day, sounds dramatic I know but I genuinely can’t get them back in) so rip to them I guess haha(laughing but crying real tears 🥲)

Dick

He acts like he knew you’d would call him husband one day but on the inside he was trying not to explode with how badly that word affected him.

Husband.

He didn’t think he would fit the mould for a perfect husband, yeah sure he’s great in many aspects when it comes down to it, but Dick still has a fear that he still didn’t measure up and that he’d end up letting you down sooner or later.

Yet hearing you call him your husband with confidence and pride only had him feeling as though he was falling for you all over again as his vision seemly became brighter, Gotham’s dark and miserable aesthetic had become a little more tolerable for Dick.

Within a blink of an eye he’s holding your face, his beautiful blue eyes shimmering like gemstones, and before you could say anything your face was being bombarded with rapid fire kisses and sweet nothings to accompany them.

‘You want to marry me? Awww you’re so definitely in love with me!’ - Dick would say teasingly.

‘Dick we’ve been dating for a while now-‘

‘Shhhh, let’s enjoy this moment sweetheart.’ Dick would cut you off as he holds you closer to his chest, pressing a lingering kiss against your forehead as he felt a warm and welcoming feeling within his chest as he could only imagine the day where you got to obviously call each other mrs/mr Grayson or spouse.

It made dick impatient for the future, but he knew he couldn’t rush perfection.

Jason

Smug prick.

That’s all I’m going to say is that the moment you call him your husband, he’s got a smirk upon his face but his eyes are soft and filled with unspoken love and affection.

He genuinely didn’t think he’d ever get to a point where he would have someone to call him own, to call his home and have something that was his and wouldn’t run away when he comes back from patrol bloody and bruised.

He didn’t think a domestic life was for him but with you, there wasn’t a day that went by where you weren’t doing something domestic like folding clothes, or doing the dishes together; it was moments where Jason is proven wrong that makes him feel more compelled to think towards the future, or more specifically a future with you where he’d one day stop being a vigilante for good and settle down.

So hearing you call him your husband has this man on cloud nine and a hell of a lot happier then he’s ever been in his entire life. Expect to be hugged tightly from behind with his faces buried deep into your neck as he just breaths you in and reminds himself that this was all real, that this wasn’t some fantasy dream he’ll wake up from; Jason will be reminded that this is his life and it’s a hell of a lot better with you in it that was for certain.

Damian

Doesn’t outwardly show his reaction but his actions afterwards will definitely show what really thinks.

He’s doing more domestic tasks with and for you without hesitation, treating you to lovely outings with Titus and Ace within the park where he’s holding you from behind and smiling at you when your eyes were occupied elsewhere.

With Damian he doesn’t verbally say he how he felt about being called your husband, he just acts like he is your husband by spoiling you rotten with gifts and quality time with him, for he soon came to realise that his time with you was few and far between for his own liking.

He does everything he can in his power to prove that he would be a reliable husband one day, he even does chores that you put on yourself in hopes that eases the long, long list of things to do you’ve already given yourself. He doesn’t like it when you’re stressed and can’t do everything within an unrealistic timeframe that you’ve set for yourself.

However there are still some things that Damian keeps up his sleeves as he’s not found of showing all of his little tricks when there’s room for him to surprise you later on down the line. He acts like your husband because he will become your husband in the distant future, one that’ll be safer than the times you are both were living in now; he just won’t tell you but he will give you hints in hopes you’d able to see them beforehand.

Tim

He stops.

Literally.

Like he has completely stopped what he’s doing and tries to piece together whether or not he did in fact heard what you had just said.

So he waits for you in hopes that you’d say it again and when you do, he’s beaming, he’s smiling as wide as he possibly can.

So once he’s done being frozen to the spot, acting as though he’s just completely shut down from the inside, his laptop would have multiple tabs open with stuff such as;

‘How to be a good husband (with pictures)’

‘Be a better husband by avoiding these 21 common mistakes.’

‘15 small ways to be a better husband, from a marriage therapist.’

And ‘25 qualities of a good husband’

He wasn’t playing when it comes to preparing in being a husband that you can be proud of and gush about to your friends, not only that but also becoming that cliche couple that might as well still be in their honeymoon phase. He just wants to be ready and prepared when the day does become reality and he might as well have folders upon folders of advice that he had stored away for future reference.

It didn’t matter whether or not you meant it when you called him your husband because Tim was more than ready to learn how to be one for the distant future, for being married to you would be a daydream for sweet Tim and he wanted your marriage to be a long and happy one.

[just-some-random-blogger]

I said I was going to reblog this when I woke up. That was today and now I'm sleepy and about to go to sleep but I REFUSSSE TO DO SO BECAUSE MY GOSSHHH THIS GOD MEEEEE SOMMEEEEEE TYPAAA WAYYYYY HELLO????????? 😫😫😫😫😫😫

Even if it was in a different way, you had a hard time refusing him when he used the same charm tactics as his twin brother.

I cannot put into words how this like... Changed my brain???? Like it's so beautiful and sensible and yah. That part. That would 100% happen if you were dating a twin like hello? Also idk the thought just makes me swoon ))))):

“Reckon we’re past that, hmm? Your problems are our problems, and all.”

JSJDJDJSJJSJSJSJJSHSHSHHSHA HES SO STUPID THIS IS WHY HES MY FAVE BB GIRL ARE YOU SINGLE IM TRYNA GET YOU PREGNANT AYO MY GUY WHAT DO YOU MEANNNNNNN WHEN YOU SAY THIS UR SO SILLY WTFFFFFF IM GIGGLING LIKE I GET PAID TO DO IT

“That’s a big deal.” He hummed, sympathizing with you to make you feel better. “Bloody inconsiderate, if you ask me.” But you weren’t asking him, and somehow his justification of your feelings only made you feel worse. “What? Not allowed to speak my mind?”

HE REALLY SAID SIS LOUDER AND

“If you’d rather, we can forget the elixir and grab dinner instead. I’m not Fred, but I’m pretty damn close.” He gave you a cheeky smile, earning an honest laugh from you.

NASJJSJSBSJJSJSB IM SO SORRY THE GEORGE GIRLIE IN ME WANTS SO GO HELL YEAH LETS MAKE THAT RAT FREDDIE RUE THE DAY HE WAS BORN 😫😈😈😈 HES JUST SO DARLING I LUV HIM HES SO SILLY AND STUPID FUCKKKK

“I was not getting sloshed, I was doing business.” He corrected, defensive over the fact. “S’pose you were hoping I’d take a little longer, yeah? Give you some more time to cozy up with my brother?”

“Blimey, Fred. If you took any longer, I’d imagine you’d have to move in with the lad.” George took your side on the matter. “At least she wouldn’t have to worry about you missing dinner again.”

👏THAT👏PART👏 RIP HIM TO SHREDS GEORGE. ANNIHILATE THAT GINGER GIT

“Yeah, right. What else did he fill in for, sweetheart? Anything you think I should know?”

“Yeah, but I bet you would’ve let him, right?”

EXCUSE ME

He grabbed your hand, spinning you back around to face him. He pulled you into him, his athletic build never leaving him even after he stopped playing quidditch.

.... WHAT ABOUT IT

“Bitching and moaning cause I couldn’t be home to take you to dinner… if you were so upset, why didn’t you come to me, princess? Tell me what was wrong?”

❓❓❓❓ DI BALE SANA NANDITO KA???? HELLO

(tr: NEVERMIND IF YOU WERE ACTUALLY HERE. and the pick is let's go stupid/idiot)

You could smell fire whiskey on his breath, feeling his chest heaving with anger against your own. As angry as you were, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of arousal run through you. The slight sneer on his face, the fire in his eyes, and the protective hold he had on you was sending your head spinning with thoughts much less pertinent to the topic at hand.

I fear I may be quaking in my boots... It's not the only thing quaking.

“See, Princess? She’ll always tell me the truth.”

NO CUZZZZ

His grin faded, slowly sinking into a scowl as your disobedience remained clear.

I love icarusing myself WHAT ABOUT IT WEASLEY

“So you don’t care who’s between your legs?” He continued, unrelenting as you stared him down. “Doesn’t matter who, as long as there’s a cock in you? As long as someone’s taking care of your pretty pussy?”

HES GOT SUCH A DIRTY MOUTH ON HIMMMMMMM FUCKKKK OFFF

“Doesn’t matter, sweetheart. When I’m done with you, I’ll be the only person you can think of. Surely then you won’t be able to forget who you belong to.”

Raw. Next twin.

“My little whore needs more?”

“Asking a lot from someone you aren’t being very good for.”

Brat tame me then 🙄✋ I dare you also

Silently, he sunk to his knees between your legs, pulling you to the edge of the table by your hips. He didn’t spare a single glance at your face before his tongue connected with your core, the warm wetness of his tongue even more pleasurable than the rough pad of his thumb.

VIOLENTLY SHAKING IM ILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

“Oh, god.” You gasped, your legs resting over his shoulders in attempt to stop the constant trembling of the lips. “I’m yours, Fred, fuck!” You exclaimed, a sheen layer of sweat forming over your forehead as the knot in your belly began to tighten. “Only you can make me feel this good. Nobody else.” You whined, your fingers tightening on the locks of hair as you began to tug at the strands. You could feel him smiling against you, happy to finally hear you admit the truth.

UghhhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHH SO GOOD NEXT TWIN LMAO HAHAHAHHH

Green-Eyed Monster | F.W.

For the first time ever, Fred Weasley finds himself jealous over the only person in the world he needn’t worry a bit about.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x f!reader

Word count: 8k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, oral + fingering (f!receiving, (lots of) dirty talk, name calling, praise/degradation, dom/sub dynamic, some nipple play, touch of a breeding kink, possessiveness/jealousy, some toxic themes, established relationship, swearing, drinking, arguing, angst, fluff, sorry if miss any!

first hp fic in a very long time! what better to post than this mess (jealous, possessive, sexy mess). basically pwp—let me know what you think! (Barely edited at all lmao my apologies)

You sat quietly at George’s desk, eyes focused on a piece of parchment as you both tried to break down the recipe George had scribbled down. There was a hiccup, a hitch in the plan of brewing a batch of Euphoria Elixir for the joke shop, and it was pushing back your plans to place them on the shelves this week. After a few hours of quiet deliberation on his lonesome, George decided to seek your help in hopes of speeding up the process.

So, the two of you put your heads together and re-read the ingredient list a million times, wondering how the hell it turned out murky green instead of sunshine-y yellow. The cauldron sat smoldering across the room, a rain cloud above it as the bubbly mixture spilled over the sides. Upon first glance, you had stated the absolute obvious.

“Isn’t that supposed to be a rainbow?” You raised an eyebrow, looking at your brother-in-law as he collapsed in his chair.

“Yes, you git.” George rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. You shot him a sharp look, warning him to be nice if he wanted your help. You knew George didn’t mean any of the insults—he was simply frustrated and maybe even a little embarrassed that he could not figure it out by himself. “Sorry, Y/N.” He conceded, realizing he came on a bit too strong.

“S’alright.” You assured him, stepping towards the desk where he sat. “Where’s the ingredient list? We’ll start there.” You offered, knowing you would help no matter how poor of a mood he was in. You loved George almost as much as you loved Fred, if you had to compare. Even if it was in a different way, you had a hard time refusing him when he used the same charm tactics as his twin brother.

After spending so many years in a relationship with Fred, it would be obscure for you not to have a bond with the closest person to him. Over the years, he’d surpassed a friend and had grown into your own brother. You were certain that no matter where life took you and Fred, George would always hold a special place in your heart. When the two opened their shop in Diagon Alley, you volunteered most of your free time to help them in any way you could, and whether it was tweaking new products or doing some of the dirty work, you never really minded.

That evening in specific, Fred was off on some ‘official business’, which really just meant meeting with a potential product buyer at The Leaky Cauldron. Last month, George took the burden of doing so, and they decided it was only fair for him to do it this time. Unfortunately for you, as much as you loved supporting them, it did interfere with your evening plans with him. So, sulking and trying your best to swallow it down, you distracted yourself with stocking shelves downstairs to prepare for another busy day ahead.

You were actually near grateful when George emerged from the office, calling out to you in desperation. It gave you a break from the monotonous back and forth, and someone to talk to. If it could not be Fred, you decided George was the next best.

“So, what’d’ya think it could be?” George asked, peeking over the cauldron that was still spitting back at him. He dodged out of the way, trying his best not to get any of the splashback on his new jumper.

“Well, from what you’ve told me, seems like you put all the right stuff in.” You deducted, pursing your lips slightly as you read over the list for what seemed like the millionth time. “Sad as it sounds, I doubt we can save it now, even if we figure out what happened.” You said, recalling your potions knowledge that Snape had relayed over the years.

“Right, but I’d like to know what’s wrong before I try again.” He explained, taking a moment to look over your sad expression. His eyebrows furrowed, his head cocking to the side as he tried to figure out where it was coming from. “What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Your eyes flickered upwards to meet his, your cheeks tinged red from the heat of the room. Your lips dipped into a frown as you shrugged your shoulders, brushing him off so you did not need to explain yourself. “I know you better than that. Come on, now.” He urged, placing his palms flat against the desk as he leaned towards you, a challenging look in his eye.

You narrowed your brows, keeping a stony expression as you met his gaze. “What’s it to you, Weasley?” You shot back, unsure of where your defensive nature was coming from. Perhaps you weren’t willing to discuss your relationship problems with your boyfriend’s twin brother, or maybe it was because you felt foolish for being upset at all.

“Reckon we’re past that, hmm? Your problems are our problems, and all.” He responded, also unsure of why you were being so reserved with your thoughts. Usually, you were an open book, especially with the two of them.

“My problems aren’t your problems, Georgie.” You shook your head, shutting down the ridiculous notion. “Let’s get back to the real problem, yeah?”

“No, I don’t think so.” George disagreed, his concern now over something completely different. “Is it about Fred?” At that, the tips of your ears began to burn and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “Ah, I see.” A devious smile crossed his lips.

“It’s not a big deal.” You covered your tracks, tapping the ink-less quill against the worn parchment.

“I have a hard time believing you, considering you just lied to me.”

“Lied is a strong word,” you rolled your eyes, quickly realizing that there would be no escaping the conversation. “I didn’t lie about anything.”

“What’s he done?”

“Nothing!” You exclaimed, a dry laugh leaving your lips. “It’s just… I’m just being dramatic.” And it’s true, you were being dramatic. Well, maybe not fully, but that’s what you were trying to convince yourself of. “I just miss him, I suppose. I know you both have been busy, but I think maybe I underestimated how busy you would actually be.” You continued, knowing it was wrong to confide in his twin brother about your relationship issues. Still, it felt good to get it off your chest, to voice the concern and have someone shoot you down, just so you knew you were being irrational. “This is the third night in a row we’ve canceled our plans. I’ll get over it. It’s no big deal.”

“That’s a big deal.” He hummed, sympathizing with you to make you feel better. “Bloody inconsiderate, if you ask me.” But you weren’t asking him, and somehow his justification of your feelings only made you feel worse. “What? Not allowed to speak my mind?”

“No—“ you let out a defeated sigh, slumping down in your seat. “I know that, but I was hoping you would tell me I’ve gone mad, instead.”

“Blimey, Y/N, you’re allowed to be upset. We're busy, yeah, but you’re still his girlfriend.” George said, jumping slightly when the rain cloud above the cauldron let out a crack of thunder. “If you’d rather, we can forget the elixir and grab dinner instead. I’m not Fred, but I’m pretty damn close.” He gave you a cheeky smile, earning an honest laugh from you.

“S’alright, Georgie. Thank you, though.” You appreciated his kindness, but you were sure it would only make your predicament even worse, considering Fred’s recently acquired short-fuse when it came to you and George spending so much time together. It was odd for him to be so protective, so jealous of the one person in the world he needn’t worry about, but it seemed as though the new trait was permanent. Perhaps it came from the fact he was also missing you due to your busy schedules, and how it sometimes seemed you and George were most often left at the shop alone.

“You know, I have noticed that lately.” George continued, leaning against the desk as he reminisced over the last few weeks. “Always seems to be us stuck here together.”

“Mhm.” You mumbled, slowly realizing that you weren’t as insane as you previously thought if he was noticing all of the same things. “Let’s just figure this out so I can get home.”

So you did. A grueling hour spent recounting George’s every step in brewing the elixir left the two of you puzzled and even more frustrated. By that point in the night, you were hunched over the long list of his steps you had jotted down so you could (hopefully) discover what he missed.

“I dunno, Georgie.” You sighed. “Seems like you did everything—“ you cut yourself off, leaning closer to the page on the desk as you caught something you hadn’t seen before.

“What?” He asked, his head snapping towards you. “What is it?”

“You said when you let it simmer, it was turquoise.” You said, looking up at him.

“Yeah, so?” He replied, confused why it was such a big deal.

“It’s meant to be blue.” You explained, a grin on your face as you relayed the information to him.

“Turquoise… blue… same thing, innit?” He asked, standing and walking over to you.

“Maybe to you.” You giggled, pointing to the piece of paper where he missed the step. “After you add the shrivelfig, you have to stir it until it changes color.” He walked up behind you, placing one hand on your arm as he leaned over your opposite shoulder. He smelled of butterbeer, likely due to the one he’d been nursing the entire time you sat together. You immediately noticed the warmth of his body, how similar it felt to how Fred touched you, but how drastically different it was all the same.

“Blimey, you’re right!” He exclaimed, his voice still soft so he was not yelling in your ear. “What would I do without you?” He gave your arm a gentle squeeze, leaning closer and pressing the side of his face to yours in a makeshift hug. His hand dropped to your back, lingering there as the conversation continued.

“It’s nothing, really.” You smiled, closing your eyes to enjoy the warmth for a moment. “So now you know. You can do it again, but make sure to stir it until it’s blue. By tomorrow, we’ll have it bottled and on the shelves just like we planned.”

“Our number one girl, saving the day yet again.” He sighed in relief. “I better get to it—“

Before his thought could finish, the door to the office swung open, cutting him short. Your eyes turned upwards, landing on a slightly drunken version of the boyfriend who’d abandoned your evening plans. The gloss of his eyes and the goofy smile on his lips led you to believe so, and the redness on the apples of his cheeks only solidified it. Only his cheeky grin didn’t last too long when he processed the scene in front of him, how close the two of you were, how heavy George’s hand seemed on your back and how rosy your own cheeks were.

Quickly, his jaw tightened, his gaze narrowing as he tried to decipher the whole situation. His nostrils flared ever so slightly, and his arms raised to cross over his chest. Immediately, you knew what you’d be in for; a long, tiresome argument that changed absolutely nothing. Instead of fighting the silent accusations, defending yourself for no real reason at all, you watched him with the same intensity while you awaited a snide comment.

“So what’s all this, then?” Fred asked, his face clearly conveying all of his emotions.

“Helping Georgie make the elixir while you were off getting sloshed at The Leaky Cauldron.” You muttered, noticing George straighten himself up in hopes of avoiding any further damage.

“I was not getting sloshed, I was doing business.” He corrected, defensive over the fact. “S’pose you were hoping I’d take a little longer, yeah? Give you some more time to cozy up with my brother?”

“Blimey, Fred. If you took any longer, I’d imagine you’d have to move in with the lad.” George took your side on the matter. “At least she wouldn’t have to worry about you missing dinner again.” At that, Fred’s eyes cut to you, immediately understanding where the underlying tension was coming from.

“Is that right?” Fred’s voice was no louder than a whisper, all of the pieces clicking together in an instant. “I don’t suppose the two of you had dinner? Let him fill in for me while I was gone?”

“No, we did not.” You snipped, standing as you gathered the ingredients for George’s second attempt at the brew.

“Yeah, right. What else did he fill in for, sweetheart? Anything you think I should know?” At that, your eyes widened and your face turned red. Your entire body felt like it was engulfed in flames, appalled that he would even think such a thing.

“Piss off, Fred.” You muttered, stepping out from behind the desk as tears stung your eyes. George shot you a sympathetic look as you pushed past his brother and out into the stairwell. You trodded down to the main level, swiping fallen tears away from your cheeks as you rushed out the front entrance of the building.

The cool air of the night was nice, especially after spending so long cramped up in the tiny office space, but it was not as freeing as you might have hoped once you heard footsteps following behind you. Without acknowledging him, you pulled your keys from your pocket, hoping that maybe he forgot his own set and you wouldn’t have to deal with his drunken arguments tonight if you got inside before him.

Of course, you knew that was childish and cruel, because despite being upset with him, loving him was the only thing you knew how to do. You unlocked the front door, holding it open with your boot-clad foot as he stumbled his way behind you. As soon as he passed through the doorway, you continued on your journey to ignore him and tossed your keys on the counter.

“Hey,” Fred reached out, his warm hand landing on your arm, stopping you from running any further from him.

“What?” You snapped, immediately regretting the harshness of your tone. He recoiled at the sound, shocked that you spoke to him in such a way. Usually the two of you saw eye to eye on everything, and in your long standing relationship arguing had never been your thing. Until you left school, you were certain the two of you had never been angry at each other, ever.

“What the bloody hell was that about? I leave for a few hours, and the two of you get on like that? Does that happen every time I step out?” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes again, wondering why this became such a problem in the few short months you’d been graduated.

“Merlin, Fred. You’re acting like you caught us in a broom closet.” You tried again to make your way to the bedroom, unwilling to argue a point he knew was blasphemous anyhow. “We were working, not fucking.”

“Yeah, but I bet you would’ve let him, right?” He grabbed your hand, spinning you back around to face him. He pulled you into him, his athletic build never leaving him even after he stopped playing quidditch. “Bitching and moaning cause I couldn’t be home to take you to dinner… if you were so upset, why didn’t you come to me, princess? Tell me what was wrong?” You could smell fire whiskey on his breath, feeling his chest heaving with anger against your own. As angry as you were, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of arousal run through you. The slight sneer on his face, the fire in his eyes, and the protective hold he had on you was sending your head spinning with thoughts much less pertinent to the topic at hand.

“Maybe I would have if you spared me the time of day.” You argued, finding yourself short of breath as you realized just how much he towered over you. “But, as it seems, you’ve been too damn busy to spare me a second glance.”

“Christ, when did you get so needy?” His rebuttal came easy, like he’d been waiting to have this fight for weeks. “Weren’t satisfied at home, so you thought my brother could do it for you?”

“Are you daft?” You hissed, feeling his fingers tighten on your hips. You hated that the feeling made you forget about your troubles, urging you to push the argument to the side and settle it in a better, more pleasurable way. “If that’s what I wanted, you think I’d be up here arguing with you?”

“That depends, sweetheart. Were you planning on getting caught?” He raised an eyebrow, the thud of his heart against his chest letting you know just how worked up he was. There was no way he truly believed you would do that to him, especially after all you had been through together. You wondered if maybe the lack of time spent with each other was getting to him, souring his thoughts because he missed you just as much as you missed him. “We may be identical, Princess, but he could never give you what I can.”

You hated to admit it, but for some strange reason, jealousy looked really good on him.

“What, a headache and a poor mood?” You decided to play his game if he wasn’t willing to listen to reason. If he wanted to fight, you could do it too. “I’m sure he could manage. In fact, he could probably do a hell of a lot more.” That seemed to strike a nerve in him, pushing him over the edge in an instant and changing the entire mood hanging heavy in the room. He no longer wanted to talk, but rather prove a point.

He took a step backwards, never easing his hold as he pushed you towards the kitchen table. He didn’t stop until your ass hit the edge, a mischievous look in his eye replacing the earlier annoyance. He had you locked in place, no intent to back down as he stared down at you over the bridge of his nose. Then, a small smirk turned the corner of his lips, leading you to believe he was also thinking of a much more simple way to solve your problems.

“Maybe you just need a reminder of who you belong to, yeah?” He asked, his voice quieter than it was before. You felt your mouth run dry, your eyes never leaving his as a dull ache between your legs began to pester you.

That would make you feel better, but he had pissed you off enough that you wanted to refuse him the satisfaction.

“Maybe we should get Georgie up here. According to you, he’d be the one to set me straight.” There was a slight venom in your tone letting him know you wouldn’t be letting anything go so easily. A low chuckle shook his shoulders, his eyes gleaming with a sinister look you weren’t sure you’d ever seen from him before that night. He shook his head ever so slightly, playing into you as he reached one arm behind you.

Your heart raced as you awaited a response, wondering if maybe you pushed him too far and crossed a boundary you could not double back on. You didn’t have to wonder long, because without a second thought, he cleared all of the items littering the table with one swift move of his arm. Papers scattered everywhere, floating through the air and landing all over the floor. Broken products and half finished merchandise for the shop tumbled off the edge, falling less than gracefully onto the tile below. Without ever breaking eye contact, he raised an eyebrow, daring you to say it again.

“You think he can fuck you better than I can?” He asked, giving you the opportunity to change your mind.

“Right now? Yeah.” You spat, wondering if he’d ever drop the act and get on with his day. “Seems like all you want to do is get on my nerves.”

“Yeah?” He challenged, his face so close to yours you could feel his breath on your skin. The tip of his nose grazed your own, his normally warm and comforting irises engulfed by his lust-blown pupils. Or perhaps it was anger that gave him the new look—you weren’t quite sure. “You’d rather go home with him at night? Wake up next to him every morning? Is that really what you want, princess?” He taunted, knowing very well that your heart was his, even if he found himself caught up in a few moments of doubt.

Still neglecting to give him any gratification, you nodded your head despite the sickening feeling that washed over you at the thought. As if he called your bluff before you ever said it aloud, he laughed at the certainty in your action, which only seemed to anger you further.

“If that’s the case, seems like I’ve got my work cut out for me tonight.” He responded, brushing the comment off as if it were nothing. If there was one thing Fred couldn’t ever turn down, it was a challenge, and since coming upstairs with you, it was only further proven to him that’s all this was. “Maybe I’ve gotten too comfortable, sweetheart. After so long, you think you’d know that you’re mine, huh?” Before he continued his tyrant, he used his hands on your hips to lift you onto the table with ease. The ache between your legs had grown stronger, more intense and impossible to ignore. You could feel the wetness soaking through your panties, and the thought of his strong arms lifting you so carelessly only made you spiral further. “Maybe I expect too much of you.” He theorized, recognizing the gleam in your eyes because he’d seen it a thousand times before.

He let his hands trail under the hem of your jumper, settling on the button of your jeans as he undid it with ease. You never let your eyes trail from his face, realizing that no matter how upset you were, it could never take away from how much you loved him. He was beautiful, his fiery red hair and the freckles splattered across his cheeks and nose creating a perfect picture. The softness of his complexion and the gentleness hidden deep in his expression assured you that whatever the two of you were doing was nothing more than an act. He knew you were his just as well as you did, but he knew the only way to settle the (admittedly, misguided) fear was to hear you say it aloud.

You helped him pull the fabric from your legs, wrapping your arms around his neck as you lifted your hips from the table. He discarded the clothing on the floor, paying no mind to it as he returned his hands to your bare legs. His eyes searched your face, carefully looking for any sign of discomfort. Instead, he was met with a pleading expression that only seemed to fuel his too large ego even further.

“No matter,” he disregarded his earlier rant, his eyes growing heavy as his hand fell between your legs. His fingertips grazed the thin fabric separating him from your core, a shiver running down his spine as he noticed the arousal that had soaked straight through. “I don’t mind having to show you. Least I’ll get to have my fun too, yeah?” He applied slight pressure to your aching clit, watching to see your reaction. Your eyebrows knitted together, your lips parting slightly as your hips moved forward into his hand, your body betraying your mind and begging him for something more.

At that, a grin encased his face, happy to see that he hadn’t lost his touch, even if your lives were vastly different and ever-changing by the day. He knew exactly how to make you feel good, and he took pride in it.

“See, Princess? She’ll always tell me the truth.” He taunted, his voice quiet as his eyes trailed down to his hand. You swallowed hard, knowing he had you in a stalemate. “Tell me again, who do you think knows how to make you feel good? Who does it best?” He was on a power trip, unwilling to slow down until he heard you admit it. Still, you stood your ground, pressing your lips tightly together so not a single sound could pass through. His grin faded, slowly sinking into a scowl as your disobedience remained clear.

He removed his finger from you, tracing the hem of your panties as he hooked his finger through the side of the fabric resting on your hip. He awaited an answer, giving you the opportunity to change your mind. When you kept your stoicism, he gave one, hard tug on the lacy fabric until it snapped in two. He used his other hand to do it to the opposite side, giving himself easy access to you without hearing a complaint on your end.

“So you don’t care who’s between your legs?” He continued, unrelenting as you stared him down. “Doesn’t matter who, as long as there’s a cock in you? As long as someone’s taking care of your pretty pussy?” Your cheeks flushed, your chest burning as the filthy words washed over you. “Doesn’t matter, sweetheart. When I’m done with you, I’ll be the only person you can think of. Surely then you won’t be able to forget who you belong to.”

His hand connected with your bare cunt, his fingers trailing through your arousal and settling over your clit as he began to trace slow circles into the sensitive area. Your legs trembled at the contact, finally feeling some relief from the nagging sensation that had been taking over.

“Fuck. Fred.” You whispered, giving yourself away immediately. He let out a low hum, pleased with the sound and knowing he was the reason for it. He had you where he wanted you, and now he just had to keep up the pace. You could feel his hardening length against your leg, distracting you completely from the pent up anger and frustration.

“That’s it.” He encouraged, his middle finger sinking inside of you as he let his thumb take over on your clit. “That’s my girl.” He made sure to accentuate the claim, never once letting you forget it. “All you needed was a little help remembering.” Slowly, he pumped his finger into you, keeping time with his thumb as he began to work you towards a climax. “You want to say it for me? Tell me what I already know?” Instead of responding, you let out a whine, your hips bucking forward into his hand. Although it wasn’t what he was looking for, it was just enough for him to keep going.

He curled his fingers as he pumped them into you, begging for a reaction as your hand wrapped around his bicep for support. You felt the tense of his muscles as he worked at you, only pushing you closer to insanity. You were his, undoubtedly and wholeheartedly, and you would be crazy to ever want anyone else.

“Stubborn little thing tonight.” He remarked, his eyes focused on the point in which his hand met with you, never breaking his stare as he watched his fingers disappear into you. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Need more, Freddie.” You replied, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt the pleasure pulsing under your skin. It had been a long time since you felt him this way, and your impatience was quite clear.

“My little whore needs more?” He teased, applying a little more pressure with his thumb. A gasp fell from your lips, sending your upper half leaning forward until your forehead rested against his. “Asking a lot from someone you aren’t being very good for.” He chastised you for your behavior despite being the one that caused the problem in the first place.

“M’sorry, my love. S-so sorry.” You rushed out, his fingers brushing against the sweet spot inside you only he knew how to find.

“That’s not what I want to hear sweetheart, and you know it.” His tone was firm, unrelenting as he continued his torment. You let out a groan of frustration, wishing he’d quicken the pace and give you what you wanted, even though you refused to give in to him.

He leaned forward, closing the gap between your mouths as he grew tired of waiting for the words he wanted to hear. He tasted like the whiskey that had been fuelling his poor mood, sweet and bitter all at once as his tongue grazed your bottom lip. You hated how easy it was for him to turn you into a mess, hated how easy it was for him to make you forget you were angry at all. You pulled him closer to you, holding his arm tightly so he would not pull away. You were stubborn, but despite that, you were showing him everything he wanted to see through your actions alone.

You broke from the kiss as a particularly intense wave of euphoria pulled your stomach. Your forehead continued to rest on his, holding you upright as he continued to give you just enough to keep you satisfied.

“Say it, princess.” His voice was low, raspy and laced with desire as he watched you turn into a mess below him. “Tell me you’re all mine. Tell me I’m the only one who can make you feel like this.” Instead, you connected your mouths again, letting a desperate moan out at the same time. He drank in the sound, his cock throbbing as his hips jutted forward into nothing. He was almost more desperate than you were, which only allowed for you to take him less seriously.

“G-gonna have to try harder than that.” You found a peculiar pleasure in leaving him on edge, giving him a taste of his own medicine as he continued to torture both of you at once. “Show me why I should say it, Freddie. Seems like you’re all t-talk.” You stuttered, tripping over your words as you tried to keep your composure.

He withdrew his hand from you, making you cry out in frustration from the loss of pleasure. Your eyes met his, desperation written all over your face as you protested his actions. Silently, he sunk to his knees between your legs, pulling you to the edge of the table by your hips. He didn’t spare a single glance at your face before his tongue connected with your core, the warm wetness of his tongue even more pleasurable than the rough pad of his thumb.

You laid back on the table, your hands sinking downwards and tangling in the soft locks of hair. Although you were denying him of the statement he wanted to hear, you could not deny that your last argument was wholly untrue. Fred was determined to prove a point, and he was doing it well.

You weren’t far off from an orgasm, his tongue making quick work at pushing you to the edge. The sounds falling from your lips were telling of your current state, and as delirium began to set in, your defenses began to break down.

He suctioned his lips around your clit, adding his fingers to the mix and returning to his earlier pace to torture you further. Every nerve in your body was ablaze with desire, need seeping from every pore as you realized just how badly you needed the release. Sick of the game, you finally broke in fear he would leave you hanging yet again.

“Oh, god.” You gasped, your legs resting over his shoulders in attempt to stop the constant trembling of the lips. “I’m yours, Fred, fuck!” You exclaimed, a sheen layer of sweat forming over your forehead as the knot in your belly began to tighten. “Only you can make me feel this good. Nobody else.” You whined, your fingers tightening on the locks of hair as you began to tug at the strands. You could feel him smiling against you, happy to finally hear you admit the truth.

Pleased with your confessions, he curled his fingers against your g-spot one last time, generously giving you the very thing you’d been pleading for. In a mess, your entire body tensed as the pleasure took hold. The orgasm washed over you, leaving your heart racing against your chest and your head swirling with filthy thoughts for the boy between your legs. A hum of approval let you know he was more than happy with your performance, and he kept his pace until he felt you relax against the table below you.

Once he knew he’d gotten the most out of you, he rose to his feet, towering over you as you laid below him. In the dim moonlight, you could see your orgasm glistening on his chin, only furthering his cockiness as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip so he did not waste a drop of it.

“Always taste so sweet, princess.” He whispered, using one hand to free himself from his pants and his boxers. “And it’s all for me.” He continued, slipping his shirt from his head. He used it to wipe his face clean before tossing it on the floor to join the growing pile of clothes. With shaky hands, you lifted your upper half from the table and pulled your own jumper over your head. “Isn’t that right?” He stepped toward, settling between your legs as his hands ghosted over your bare thighs.

You let out a whimper, his grip landing on your already sore hips as his eyes raked over your entire frame. Your gaze flickered to his cock, hard and aching for relief as he continued to tease you. His fingers tickled your stomach as he trailed his touch upwards, his palm landing flat against your breast as he gave it a gentle squeeze. He let the pad of his thumb brush over your hardened nipple, sending another wave of pleasure through you.

“Answer me, sweetheart.” He wasn’t playing anymore; he wanted to hear the words, and he was done with your obstinacy. He pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger,

“Yes,” you huffed, already forgetting the pleasure from your first climax as a whole new wave of need began to take over. “I’m yours, Fred. All yours.” You reiterated your earlier statement, now willing to do whatever he wanted of you to prove the point.

“Tell me how bad you want it.” He shot you a twisted little smile, almost as if he was getting off just from the thought of you begging for him.

“I need it, baby. Need to feel you, please.” You whined, reaching for his arms and pulling him closer. “Want you so bad, Fred. Been waiting all night for it.” You felt the tip of his cock connect with your cunt, his expression faltering as soon as he felt the wetness.

“God, you make it so hard to be upset with you.” He hissed the words through his teeth, using his hand to guide himself through your folds as he sucked in a sharp breath. He settled himself just over your already sensitive clit, pushing his hips forward ever so slightly to apply pressure to the spot. “Sound so pretty when you’re begging to be fucked.”

Slowly, he let his tip run back through your arousal, settling the head just at your entrance. He pushed himself forward, but just barely. You whimpered as you braced yourself for the feeling, only to be let down when he stopped himself from going any further.

“Fred,” you warned, catching his eye so he could see your desperate face. You hoped that if he did, he would stop being such a tease. “Please fuck me.”

“What was that?” He smirked, turning his head slightly so his ear was closer to you. “Didn’t quite catch it.”

“Fred, stop—“ you cut yourself off, letting out a huff of annoyance. You knew chastising him for his actions would only make him less likely to give in, even if it was incredibly hard to hold it back. “I need you to fuck me.” You repeated, clearer and louder in hopes of swaying his decision. “Can’t wait any longer, baby. Please.”

At that, he pushed forward the rest of the way, sending your entire body raising with goosebumps. The stretch as he filled you was exactly what you craved, and as he reached the hilt, his tip brushed against your g-spot so delicately that it almost made you come undone right then and there. Your eyelids grew heavy with satisfaction, focusing on how full you felt with him inside of you, knowing that he for certain would always be the one for you.

“That good enough for you, Princess? This is what you wanted?” He asked, letting himself rest inside you for a moment. He felt your walls flutter around him, pulling him even further and making it harder for him to resist you.

“Mhm,” you hummed, giving him a tired nod of agreement. You could feel him throbbing inside of, desperate for a release just like you had been moments before, but he was still trying to prove his point.

“Nobody else gets to have you like this, sweetheart. You’re mine.” He whispered, now sober from the alcohol but intoxicated by an even stronger, deadlier force; you. “He couldn’t fuck you like this, and you know it.” As he spoke, he withdrew his hips and slammed them forward into you again. The action stole the breath from your lungs, twisting your stomach with pleasure as your nails scratched over his skin.

He began at a pace, slower than normal but the force behind his movements making your head spin. You moaned quietly, lost within the feeling of being so close to him. He never failed to take your breath away, never failed to amaze you with his every move. You were so in love with him it sometimes felt like there was no room within your heart for anyone or anything else.

“Tell me, Y/N.” He ordered, his stare never wavering as he fucked into you. As much as he wanted to succumb to the sensation of you wrapped around him, he found it hard to push the thoughts of your earlier arguments out of his head. “You think he’d fuck you like this? You think he could make you feel this good?”

“No, Freddie.” You gasped, feeling the strength of his thrusts increase, sending the legs of the table wobbling. His fingers tightened on your hips, likely leaving behind angry red marks that would fade into reminders of him for days to come.

“That’s it, Princess.” He panted, his chest heaving as he tried to resist the pull of pleasure. “Don’t you think, not even for a second, that anyone can give you half of what I can.” You both knew this to be fact; nobody in the entire world could ever compare to him. “And why do you think that is?”

“‘C-cause I’m yours,” you managed to stutter out the response, watching him as the statement washed over. He brought his hand to your thigh, your legs wrapped tightly around you as he pulled you back on him with every thrust. His head fell back on his shoulders, the dim light of the room casting a beautiful hue over his already breathtaking features.

“That’s right,” he grunted, slamming his hips forward again. There was a thin layer of sweat sheen on his chest, the toned muscles of his abdomen flexing every time he moved. The exposed columns of his neck made your mouth water, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed back his own groans of pleasure. “Was that why you were mouthing off? You just needed someone to take care of you? Just needed me to fuck you?”

“God, yes.” You moaned, feeling the pressure in your belly begin to reach a peak.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? All over my cock?” He smiled, looking down at you so he could appreciate the view. “Come on now, making a fucking mess of it.”

“Fuck,” you whimpered, his words hitting you hard and causing the tightening knot in your belly to tense even further.

“That’s my pretty girl. Just like that.” He continued to encourage you, studying your expression as pleasure began to twist it.

It didn’t take much more for you to descend into another orgasm, your entire body quivering as you cried out for him, singing his name like a hymn and he was the god in which you prayed to. Your throat was raw, raspy from the constant string of moans passing your lips. You were tired, almost too fucked out to continue on, but he was having none of it. He didn’t slow his pace as you came down from the high, instead speeding up and ensuring that he pulled your entire body down on him as he fucked into you.

“Freddie, please.” You breathed, feeling the threat of overstimulation begin to creep in. He would have had sympathy had he known you couldn’t take it, but he was confident in your ability to keep up with him.

“What’s wrong, Princess? Wanted it so bad and now you can’t handle it?” He asked, his eyes glazed over with lust as he felt himself approaching his own orgasm. You frowned at his words, now on a quest to prove your own point as you tried to ignore the stinging beginning to set in.

“I can t-take it.” You huffed, a shiver running down your spine as he reached upwards and palmed your breast. He gave the supple flesh a gentle squeeze, his eyes closing in bliss as he let himself slip out of the persona he had created.

“Being so good for me—just a bit longer now.” He whispered, his voice far away as his eyes settled over your face once more. “Bloody hell, Y/N.” he groaned, his forehead creasing as his eyebrows furrowed together. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

He slipped his hand between your legs, his thumb landing atop your clit. He traced slow circles, knowing you were a bit further behind him and unwilling to climax without giving you at least one more. He could see how tired you were, but it did not deter him from his commitment to pleasing you.

“I love you, Fred.” You whispered, softened entirely by the sweet look in his eyes. All of his previous anger fled, leaving him just as the boy you’d fallen so hopelessly for.

“I love you, sweetheart.” He hummed, his hips stuttering and his stature faltering. “Give me one more, yeah? I know you can do it.” And he was right, your entire body was ablaze with another orgasm much more powerful than the last two.

“Together?” You gasped, reaching up and settling your palm on his cheek.

“Yeah? You want to cum with me?” He encouraged your train of thought. “Want me to fill that pretty cunt? Really show you who you belong to?”

“Fuck yes, please.” You cried, your fingertips tangling in the locks of hair hanging over his ears. Your walls clenched around him, drawing him in and effortlessly finishing what you had started.

You felt his hips stall, a low growl leaving his lips as he pulled you down on him one last time. He managed to whisper your name as he spilled his release into you, the feeling of him filling you completely sending you spiraling on your own accord. You let out a defeated sigh, the tail end of it turning into a whine as your body went rigid. Your nails scratched at the skin of his arm, your hand on him the only thing keeping you tied to earth instead of floating up and through the clouds.

The both of you rode the high together, euphoria infiltrating every nerve in both of your bodies as he leaned down towards you. Ever so gently, he laid his head on your chest, which was still heaving as you tried to catch up from the lack of oxygen. He placed a plethora of small kisses against the warm skin, his eyes fluttering closed as he appreciated the comfort that came with your company.

Silence hung heavy between you for a few moments, neither of you sure where to go from there. You were still strung out on bliss, barely remembering what got the two of you in the position until he spoke again.

“M’sorry, sweetheart.” His voice barely broke through the room, so timid and shy that you almost missed it completely. “I know you’d never do that. Just got in my head, I s’pose.”

“I… I get it.” You sighed, twisting a lock of his hair. “If I walked in on that, after us being so.. you know. I’d likely feel it too.” You confessed. “I was upset that we had to cancel dinner. I am upset, but not at you.” You tried your best to explain yourself despite exhaustion eating away at your mind. “I’m just upset because I miss you. You’re so busy now, and I’m happy for you, really, but I miss you too.”

“You think I was bloody happy about it?” Fred chuckled, the tip of his fingers tracing shapes into your skin. “I’d much rather be here, with you.” At that, you relaxed completely, understanding that you had gotten too far into your own head. “It’s my favorite place to be. Always has been.”

“Mine too, Fred.” You hummed, smiling softly at the thought.

“I reckon I was a bit jealous, ‘specially at the thought of you and George spending so much time with each other. Would rather it be me, you know, sitting at the shop and laughing with you all night… taking you out for dinner… loving you.” Another gentle kiss was placed to your chest, just before he looked up to meet your eyes. The soft, warm, familiar sight made you feel at ease. He was back to being your Fred, the one you missed all along.

“Darling, you have nothing to be jealous about.” You promised, smiling as he placed a quick peck on your lips. “Though, if it means we get to have brilliant sex like that, by all means do what you have to do.” You explained. “Bloody brilliant, at that.” Without any further words, the two of you descended into a fit of laughter and the clouds that previously hung above your head seemingly cleared in an instant, easily proving to him there was really never a need to worry at all.

[moechies]

big brudder shidou is such a guard dog.. never letting u have a boyfie but basically having been your boyfie since forever <3

nonnie ur so right :( ryu nii is wayyy too possessive and every single aspect and bit of him feels a violent yearn to always be with u , be the only one on ur mind . yeaaahh he’s da best ♡ tw cest

"i hate you!" you whine — having thrown your tantrum the minute your brother stole you away from the seat of your secret date night, to the moment he shut the door behind him to your shared home.

you toss your white clutch onto the ground, stomping incessantly towards your bedroom before slamming the door shut. he hears your muffled groans of frustration, soft hiccups barely audible as you whine into your pillow. "stupid, stupid, stupid nii-nii." you mumble, and he merely chuckles at your attempt to hide your fustrations at him.

your date didn't even last a whole thirty minutes before you felt a familiar clasp of a big warm hand on your bare shoulder. it's evident by the way your date's eye's peer up at the unfamiliar face that hovers behind you, stuttering as he poorly excuses himself to the washroom. shidou almost laughs as he watches your excuse of a date stumble across the marble grounds, nearly slipping as he gets one last glance at your brother, not you, before making a run for it.

"what are you doing—!" before shidou lets you you finish your sentence, he’s tugging you by the soft of your bicep, cusping and trapping you against his side. "let's go home, sis."

you fuss and whine, attempting to convince shidou to call the stupid, unworthy man back, but he wastes no breath wanting to entertain you, and simply sits you down on the leather seats, buckling your seat belt, and slamming the car door shut. he's whilstling the entire time with no care in the world, as if another casual night of taming his little sister.

shidou shrugs his jacket off, making his way towards your room with a sluggish drag. he shoves your door open with no shame, watching and chuckling at your sulking self hidden under all your fluffy blankets and pillows. you only ever go into your room when you're sulking or upset at shidou, (which is common) but you're often sleeping against the brute in the comfort of his silk sheets and master bedroom. he claims that the bed gets too cold at night, and needs you by his side.

"now now," shidou grins, situating himself on the edge of your bed, "don't be like that. yer acting like a damned brat."

"fuck off, ryu." you hiccup foot pressing against the mans glute to distance him from you. he only catches the limb with a swift grab, halting any movement from your left leg from now on.

"is that really how you're going to thank your big bro for saving you from that piece-of-shit excuse of a man? hm? look at mee." shidou drags out, his free burly hand coming to reach at your face. he turns your jaw, cheeks squeezed tight in his hold, forcing your eyes on him. he enamours the sight before him, your quivering lips and watery eyes — how conniving you are. he knows you don’t care for the man, but you want to be pitied and coddled by your eldest brother. he knows you all too well. you’re a brat. "he wasn't that ba—!"

"he's nothing compared to me."

"that's—“

"yeah? are you going to tell me that's not true? say it." shidou growls. "tell nii-nii that useless slag is better than me, sis. speak up. don’t get shy on me now.”

he lets go of your foot, bringing his face close to yours. his forehead presses against yours intimately enough, blearing rosy orbs glaring into yours. you whine, hand coming up to loosen his fingers with a strong grip on your sore cheeks. "n—n'more, nii-nii, h—hurts." you cry, sniffling when he lets go.

"tell me he's a better man."

"not, he—he's not. not—not a better man." you mumble, hiccuping softly.

shidou hums in content, his once engraving glare shifting back into his dim, pinky ones. ‘course he’s not.’

"are you still angry? angry nii-nii fucked up your date?" shidou smiles, pressing a soft kiss against your shoulder. "you are, hm? do you want nii-nii to make it up to you?" you whine, a soft blush growing on the apple of your cheeks. "tell me."

you find yourself mute, but you nod your head shakily. "speak up, or i won't." shidou threatens, a malicious grin that spreads across his face. "wait ! wan' you to make it up to me, nii-nii, f'being so mean."

"nii-nii's sorry." shidou moves close, fingers playing and finding their way under your thick sheets. "really, really sorry." shidou whispers against the shell of your ear, and you whine helplessly under him when you feel timid finger drag lightly across your thigh. "will you forgive nii-nii?"

"i—i dunno."

"really? so mean." shidou chuckles, eyes widening when you willingly part your legs subtly. as if he wouldn't notice. "makin' it easy for me, huh? how nice of you."

"stopp.." you whine, embarrassed.

he strokes his middle finger under the crotch of your cotton panty, whistling softly when he discovers your soddened cunt, seemingly having been crying for him all this time. "look at you." you whine, shaking your head softly with your eyes shut tight.

"'mouto's so desperate for me. she’s so cuteeee." he teases, giggling when you gasp out a soft stop. you flinch hard when he presses his middle finger into your soft pussy with no warning, feeling the rest of his hand against the outside of your cunt. "nii-nii!"

"mmm, right here." he mumbles, pressing a tender kiss against your slicked up lips. "look so damn pretty t'night. y’don’t even dress up like this f’me. hm?" the brute admits, curling his finger upwards and making you yelp. "nii-nii!"

"you deserve this for making me jealous, okay? take it like i know you can."

you moan of a sweet melody, hand grasping at his free one when he slips his ring finger besides his middle finger, the overwhelming stretch of his burly fingers making you cry out. "ryuuu," you cry against his lips, moans hitching softly at his constant pummels of his fingers against your walls. "ha—hah—!"

“are my fingers helping you, baby?” shidou giggles, a sick grin that plasters his face when he hears your breath hitch and your lower lip wobble at a particularly mean thrust. “oh baby, don’t cry.” he coos condescendingly, on par to his normal act around you.

“nii-nii, make me c—cum! want to, now!”

“there, there,” shidou coos, “yer wish is my command, righ?’”

and he does — mean fingers molding your pliant pussy to his fingers, drooling and creaming cunt messing up the sheets below you. don’t worry, nii-nii will take care of it all. because that’s just how great of a man shidou ryusei is . ♡

[mandarinmoons]

Hi! I’ve been following you for a little while now and I just adore your writing! And I’m feeling brave to finally request a thing ☺️ could I please request an angst/ hurt comfort thing where the unsub kidnaps/ tortures reader. Maybe he and reader are in a secret relationship? And I don’t know I just have this image of Spencer getting frustrated that he can’t find reader and he’s all “BECAUSE I LOVE HER” I don’t know I’m kinda babbling and you can do whatever you want with the request bc your writing is amazing!!

“Spencer! Spencer, help me!”

Those were the last words Spencer heard before you were pushed to the back of a van and taken off into the night.

Spencer was frozen for a moment before the adrenaline kicked in and he ran after you, but he was too late. The car drove off so fast that he never stood a chance. His heart broke when reality set in, where were you being taken? Were you going to be okay? Was he ever going to see you again?

Those were the questions that played over again in his mind as he paced in an office at The BAU. After being treated for some cuts and bruises, Spencer was quick to get back to the line of duty to try and find you. Hotch, however, stopped Spencer from taking another step out the door.

“You need to rest. It’ll do you no good to be out there right now.”

Spencer wanted to fight, he knew you better than anyone else on the team, but with his leg aching he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up with the search, so he had to stay back.

He felt the taste of blood in his mouth as he was biting his chapped lips so hard they started to bleed. He remembered how you always reminded him to try and quit the habit, a light chuckle left his lips at the memory and he stopped the gnawing so you wouldn’t be too stern with him once you were back.

Or if you were back. No, you had to come back, you just had to, he couldn’t lose you. His anxiety spiked again and he started pacing through the room again, this time with his breathing more irregular.

Penelope noticed Spencer’s actions and quickly moved to try and calm her friend down. She walked to the room and tried to take a hold of Spencer’s arm to try and get him to stop pacing, her fingers caressing his forearms as she tried to get him to take deep breaths.

“Spence, it's okay, we will find her.”

“How? I can’t do anything from here and it’s driving me insane.”

“We’ve found her before and we will do it again just like all the other times.”

“This isn’t like the other times.”

“How?”

“Because I love her!”

Penelope blinked a few times and took in the words Spencer had said. She had her suspicions, which now turned out to be true, but she wished this would’ve been revealed during different circumstances.

You and Spencer had been dating for the past 4 months. With both of you being pretty private individuals you decided to keep the relationship under wraps for the time being, keeping it professional at work and would only attend to more intimate things behind closed doors of each other’s homes.

It was hard at times. There were days when a case was so stressful that both of you needed a break to hold each other, sometimes you’d maybe catch a break when you were in an office by yourselves and you’d press a quick kiss to each other’s lips. It was hard to hide the blush on your cheeks afterwards though and it would’ve been revealed soon enough, namely by Penelope who had gossiped with JJ about her hunch and they were betting to see how long it would take for the secret love birds to announce their feelings.

Apologizing at his outburst, Penelope paid no mind to Spencer’s reaction and pulled him in for a hug, letting him know that she was here for him, the whole team was, and that you would be returned home one way or another.

Hours later, Spencer managed to calm down enough to close his eyes to rest a bit, the only thing keeping him calm was holding onto your sweater. Your scent filled his nose and brought tears to his eyes, when would he be able to hold you again? It was already agony enough that he wasn’t able to have you in his arms during work hours, but now not knowing where you were made his brain work overtime.

His eyes fluttered open when he heard voices coming from outside the office, ecstatic ones it seemed.

Hoping for a miracle, Spencer scrambled to his feet and rushed out the door, his eyes searching for the reason he heard all of the glee. And then he saw it, you.

“Y/N,” Spencer practically ran to you, his arms scooping you into his embrace and holding onto you so tight so he knew he wasn’t hallucinating and that you were really here safe and sound.

“I’m okay Spence.”

Taking your face into his hands, Spencer’s thumbs brushed over the light cuts and bruises on your skin, trying his best not to exacerbate the pain.

“Thank God you’re okay.”

“I thought about you the entire time. You kept me going.”

With teary eyes and a chuckle leaving his lips, Spencer pressed his lips to your forehead in the most gentle way he could. Your arms wrapped around him as you tried to fight off the shaking, resting your head on his shoulder and taking in the warmth of his embrace.

You were safe again, in the arms of the man that meant to you the most.

You can find my masterlist here!

Let me know your thoughts in the comments and like & reblog to support <3

[kyunniebuns]

˗ˏˋ Entry : 056 - Lover! Sung Jinwoo x Fem! Reader: Drabbles ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Winter Blues ] ¡! ❞

Curse Winter.

As lovely as the season is— It's stretching on for far too long and now you're in your room bedrotting the hours away since somehow you feel your body extremely heavy as of late.

You know you should be doing productive things instead of procrastinating, but what can you do if your body feels as if it has a ton of weight placed on it?

So screw it and just stay in bed.

That's the best way to deal with this issue, just screw it all and rest peacefully.

꒰ .... ꒱

"Jagiya?" Jinwoo calls out as he enters the pitch black room and turns on a lamp— To which he hears you grunting and whining the moment the soft yellow light flashes around.

A small smile only tugs at the corner of his lips, shaking his head and sets the takeout food he ordered on your desk before approaching the bed.

"Jagiya, you know you shouldn't be in bed all day" He cooes lovingly, rubbing your back to soothe you. "Are you sick?"

"No, winter is just making me so lazy" You complain, shuffling over to his lap and nuzzling his stomach.

"Mn... I guess it's extra cold today, huh?" Jinwoo smiles. "Come here"

He lifts you up to his lap, settling you on his thighs while pulling your head to hide on his neck.

"There, there" He hums lovingly, peppering the side of your head with gentle and lingering kisses. "I can't have you get too lazy, but for now I'll indulge in you."

He had always been spoiling you ever since the both of you started dating. Honestly you don't even know how you managed to pull a hotshot like him. People are always intimidated by him, specifically the men, the girls? —Oh they have a fat crush on him.

Can't blame them, Jinwoo is hauntingly so handsome after all.

With pretty grey eyes like his and a deadly good looking face with a body tall and lanky but muscular— Why wouldn't you fall for him? He's like an idol himself that made you feel very self-concious about the fact someone as mediocre as you is dating such a good looking man.

But somehow you managed to date him because you to met by a friend of a friend, became friends yourselves, and then he courted you somewhere down the line.

If Jinwoo ever finds out about your insecurity— You'll be in for a long scolding session and making you tell yourself you're absolutely prety in front of the mirror.

Yeah, he has a very... Unique way of scolding you.

So now you're here, being babied by Sung Jinwoo. Never spent a day without having him spoiling you one way or another.

May it be cuddles or kisses— You'll always have them and he make sure you do.

"Wanna eat some noodles? I bought some home?" He reaches out to the food he bought home and opened the plastic bowl. "Come on, you can't be lazy in eating too, sarang"

And so, he started feeding you as if you're a child.

It's embarassing to be treated like this but Jinwoo himself seems to be enjoying the fact that you are this reliant on him. He made sure to blow on the noodles before feeding them to you of course, he can't have your pretty little tongue burnt since he intends to kiss you until you're breathless later.

"Heh..."

"What?" You perk up at his little chuckle after gulping down the soup on the bowl.

"Nothing, you just look especially cuter as of late" He wipes the excess soup on your lips with his thumb before bringing it to his lips. "Still feeling a bit fatigued?"

"I feel a little better now" You mumble, nuzzling against him like a clingy kitten.

"Mn..." He hums, kissing your forehead affectionately. "I guess I should baby you more for now, huh?"

"My lovely sarang."

꒰ 🪼 A/N: A short fluffy fic because I want to heheh~ I'm planning on posting another fluffy fic before a lovesick one because hehhhheeh!!!!~~ Are you guys excited for another lovesick fic :D? ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧: ~ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[5:11 pm]

(cw: f!reader)

You weren’t sure at exactly what point you’d become comfortable enough to shower at the Nu Chi Theta frat house. You know you’d put some hard work to make the bathroom that your boyfriend used look like it was used by humans and not raccoons. It took hours of scrubbing and letting chemicals sit and work their grime fighting power.

Yet, as you stood beneath the stream of hot water while you washed out your shampoo, you found yourself wondering exactly when this frat house became more like a frat home to you. There were the meals that you shared with the guys here, frat trips you were a part of, you helped clean after parties, and many other chores that you helped out with that made you feel like a part of the fraternity. Things that made you feel accepted and like you belonged even far beyond being fratboy!Jaehyun’s girlfriend.

You sighed, shaking your head as you washed the last of your shampoo out before squirting some of your conditioner into your palm. When had you even bought your usual toiletries for the frat house? Jaehyun must have bought them for you…

As you lathered the conditioner into your hair, you froze. The door, with the broken lock you’d asked Johnny to fix, creaked open. Then you heard, “yo, I’m popping in to take a leak. Stay in the shower, bro.”

You stuck your head out from behind the opaque shower curtain before the person could take any appendages out. It was Yuta. “I’ll be out in like 5 minutes if you want to use the bathroom downstairs,” you told him, making sure to keep your eyes on his face.

“Sweets! What’s up girl?” Yuta greets with a dazzling smile, “nah, it’s all good. You should uh, stick your head back in though unless you want to see my Johnson.”

Your face froze into one of shock as you slowly retreated to your privacy behind the curtain. When had this level of familiarity occurred?

Thankfully, over the stream of water you couldn’t hear him pee, but you did hear him laugh, “hey, just so you know. I was totally about to rag on whoever was using your shit without your permission.”

“Uh, thank you?” You replied while reaching for your body wash.

“Got you, girl. Alright, see you in a bit,” Yuta called out before you heard the door close again.

Just to be safe, you stuck your head out to make sure you were actually alone. “So weird…” you mutter to yourself while doing your last rinse.

As you stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around yourself, the door opened once again to reveal Haechan. “Oh there you are! I’ve been looking for you!” Haechan greets.

“Dude, I’m standing here in a towel. Do you mind?” You ask with a blank look.

“I actually don’t mind!” Haechan exclaims, squeezing past you to sit on the closed toilet lid, “anyway, we’re getting pizza for dinner and I wanted to ask if you were still into those little garlic knots you’ve been ordering. I can place a small order just for you, if you want. Taeyong is letting me order tonight so if you want some wings just for you I can order that too.”

“Haechan! I’m naked right now!” You yell, hoping that it would be obvious that he should not be in the bathroom with you right now.

“Sweetheart, it’s better if we get this awkwardness out of the way now and not on the wedding night. I’m totally body positive. The female body is the most exquisite form in all of mankind,” Haechan tells you with his hands held up in defense.

You roll your eyes with a scoff as you march back to Jaehyun’s room. Unfortunately for you, Johnny and Jaehyun are in the middle of a conversation as you enter the room. Johnny looks at you and sends you a nod while Jaehyun sends you a smile. Did he not notice that you were standing here in just a towel?

“And so I think if we just focus on the alumni for the winter-“ Johnny explains to Jaehyun before being interrupted.

“Oh shit! My girlfriend is naked right now!” Jaehyun exclaims, rushing over to you and pushing you behind him. It seems then that Johnny realizes as his eyes instinctively dart over to you. “Don’t look!” Jaehyun yells as Johnny leaves his room, “we’ll talk about the alumni later.”

Jaehyun shuts the door quickly and turns to you with flushed cheeks. You cross your arms across your chest, “I miss the novelty of being the girl around here. You guys are too comfortable around me.”

“It was just Johnny that saw you like this… right?” Jaehyun asks slowly.

“No! Yuta literally came in to pee and stayed even when I told him it wasn’t me! Then Haechan came in and started talking about dinner! And you told me they were all going out to play soccer!”

Jaehyun runs a tired hand down his face, “I really need Johnny to fix that lock, dude. No one… like saw anything, right?”

“No,” you sigh moving over to your clean clothes to get dressed.

“Good,” Jaehyun replies, wrapping his arms around your waist while pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, “this is for my eyes only, sweet girl.”

“Sure,” you snort, “until the next time I decide to shower here and Jungwoo walks in before I have my towel on.”

“Sweetheart, that’s not funny.”

[redrose10]

i see you're taking more reqs!! i wanted to suggest a yoongi sugar daddy or dilf au maybe? or both? 🤪 i don't have anything specific in mind tbh, maybe something he did makes oc jealous and then he reassures her? or whatever else you'd like to do will be fine!

There will be a part 2 to this. I hope its’s okay and that you like it so far!

Idol Yoongi x Female Spouse Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst, body insecurity, hints of cheating, Jealousy, maybe more…

🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒

You admired the man standing infront of you carefully fixing his tie so that he could look perfect for the evening ahead.

“I can’t believe I lost my cherry tie.”, he pouted as he spritzed on some cologne. “I’m sure it’ll turn up, besides we’re supposed to dress formally tonight and a tie with little cherries on it isn’t exactly formal.”, you chuckled. It was the night of the talent show at your daughter’s school. They had asked the parents to dress as nicely as possible to really make the kids feel like it was a special night for them.

When your husband gave you a little spin you couldn’t help but be stunned in silence. Your husband Yoongi was incredibly handsome. His suit was tailored to hit him perfectly. More than though he was also charming and charismatic with a smile that could melt even the coldest of people. Not to mention the immense amount of talent that he had. It was no surprise that he had people all over the world shouting Yoongi Marry Me any chance they got.

You were lucky though. You were the one he fell in love with. The one he calls his and the one he comes homes to at the end of the day. You are the one he started a family with that was growing by one more any day now. All of this should keep you happy and satisfied yet somehow you often, especially lately, felt like you weren’t quite enough.

“Ready?”, Yoongi asked as he reached out for your hand. His wedding ring glistened in the light. You groaned as he helped you get off of the bed. You were nine months pregnant with your guys second child. Your belly was large and you were sore and swollen and exhausted, but you were determined to watch your five year old daughter perform in her school’s winter talent show. Yoongi kept his hands on your waist to make sure you were steady before you took any steps. “You look beautiful Y/N.”, he said before placing a kiss to your lips. “I look like a cherry about to burst.”, you groaned while really regretting the red dress you had chosen. “You don’t…but even if you did you know I’ve always had a thing for cherries.”, he smirked before leading you to the car.

The school was packed. Yoongi walked infront of you to help create a path while his hand was gripping yours tightly to pull you through the crowd with him. Every few steps he would take a look back at you to make sure you were still doing okay all while politely dodging questions and denying other eager parents of photos and autographs. He knew your feet were already killing you so he was trying his best to get to your seats quickly and without being noticed, but unfortunately being a famous idol came with lots of attention, both positive and negative.

You heard the gasps, the camera shutters, the whispers,

“He’s so gorgeous.”

“He’s even better looking in person.”

“I hope I have a husband like him one day.”

“Yoongi’s such a good dad. His daughter is lucky.”

But there were also the negative ones that were mostly directed at you and while you were used to it by now they were still uncalled for and hurt you quite a bit.

“Wow, I know she’s pregnant, but that’s not an excuse to let herself go like that.”

“Yoongi must be so embarrassed of her.”

“Yeah he could do so much better.”

“Yoongi is definitely cheating on her. There’s no way he still finds that attractive.”

The entire walk to your seat you kept your focus on Yoongi’s hand intertwined with yours while willing yourself to ignore the comments and not end up crying on your daughter’s big night.

The auditorium quickly filled with family members as well as some school staff all ready to watch the kids put on the show they had worked so hard for.

The principal gave a little speech and then the curtain opened and the first act commenced. The kids were adorable and you loved watching them put all of their talents on display. You and Yoongi especially loved the little boy who danced to Boy With Luv.

“And next we have Hana Min.”, the announcer said. You laughed as Yoongi got his phone out ready to take a video.

Your daughter scanned the crowd looking for the two of you and immediately started waving as soon as she saw you. Then she went on to do a wonderful job performing a dance to a piano tune Yoongi had recorded for her. The crowd applauded and you couldn’t have been prouder. Then after a few more acts it was finally time to leave.

“What do you think? Ice cream on the way home?”, Yoongi smiled as he helped you out of your chair. “You know me so well.”, you chuckled going to take a step forward when you were cut off by a group of the other moms. You recognized them from various events around the school. You had always tried to be nice and friendly wanting to make some friends, but they always excluded you for some reason. You assumed it was jealousy, but never really probed for a reason.

Now they were surrounding your husband badgering him with compliments and questions,

“Hana must’ve got her talent and her cuteness from you Yoongi.”

“Are you free to give my son piano lessons? I’ll pay EXTRA….*wink wink*”

“Have you been working out? Your shoulders look so broad.”

“You’re such a good dad Yoongi. I wish my husband was half as involved as you are.”

Those comments you could ignore. They were nothing different than the usual things you heard and you had seen even worse online over the years.

“Oh Yoongs…I’m so glad to see you here.”, an unfamiliar voice spoke from behind you. A woman, about your age maybe a little younger, was walking up towards you and your husband. Her floor length shimmering gold gown caught your attention thanks to the way it perfectly hugged every curve of her body. You thought the thigh high slit was a little inappropriate for a kids event, but you couldn’t deny it looked good. Her hair was long and curled perfectly which matched her perfectly applied makeup. You started to feel like you should’ve put more effort into your appearance tonight, but just getting dressed was an accomplishment on its own at this stage of your pregnancy. You were so caught up in her appearance that it took a moment for her words to process in your brain.

“Yoongs?”, you questioned with furrowed brows.

The grip Yoongi had on your hand increased, almost to the point of pain and you had to pull away.

“Aera.”, he nodded, “It’s nice to see you here.”

“The talent show was great. Little Hana did amazing. I would’ve loved to sit up front with you, but my asshole of an ex-husband cancelled at the last minute. Chul was devastated and it took a while for me to convince him to still show up and perform so I got here just as the show was starting.”

“Yeah he did a great job. He has definitely got a shot at a rap career.”, your husband smiled.

You had seen this play out many times before. Someone would tell Yoongi how he inspired their kid to get into music and he would play it off and get all shy and nonchalant. This time seemed different though, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“Well he has a great mentor in you.”, she replied, “I just wish he had a dad as good as you too.”

Your husband awkwardly chuckled before running his hand through his hair, a nervous habit of his. He tried reaching for your hand to lead you away when Aera suddenly jumped in excitement startling both of you, “Oh, I almost forgot!” She started digging around in her purse before pulling out a neatly folded tie. Not just any tie, but the tie you had given Yoongi on your third wedding anniversary. It was covered in little cherries, an inside joke between the two of you. It was the tie with the cherries that he was looking for earlier and thought he had lost.

You started to pull your hand out of his wanting to question why this woman had his tie in her purse, but he strengthened his grip keeping you put.

Aera handed it over, “You left it at my place a few weeks ago and I just keep forgetting to give it back. I’m just so forgetful sometimes.”

You forcefully ripped your hand out of Yoongi’s grasp and backed away. There was only one reason why your husband would remove his tie at another woman’s house and the thought of it made you sick.

[starlost-mochi-x]

hi~ would love to request from the prompt list!!

46 + 49 with bangchan seems interesting :D

hihi, sorry for the delay lol TT producer!chan now joins the fic library alongside producer!jisung. i felt like writing something with most of skz bc i think it makes it more fun :] here you gooooo

electrifying - bang chan

pairing: bang chan x producer!reader

summary: a late night with chan in the studio leads to a little more.

genre: fluff, idol! au, comfort, kind of crack tbh, most of skz is in this fic, hyunlix honourable mention, mutual pining

a/n: producer chan save me. divider by @veonaa

⛓️ prompts: 46. "What if I told you I knew?" / 49. "I have a confession to make."

skz prompt list | skz masterlist

"Try one more time," you suggest quietly. "Just the last two lines then we'll move to the pre-chorus."

Minho nods from the recording booth, slipping one headphone back over his ear. He nails it and you replay back the recording, looking to Chan to verify that it's okay.

He's writing down a couple of notes on his lyric sheet, a thin pencil held between his fingers. Looking up, he nods, before his gaze flits to yours and then back again to Minho, who is waiting quietly in the recording booth. You compliment him and give him a sunny smile as he exits the booth.

The process continues with most of the other members; Jeongin and Changbin have already finished recording their parts since they came in early. Seungmin's part takes a little longer, so you and Chan do him next, trying to work productively.

The night ends up running quite late; most of the boys are beginning to get bored, and Chan had initially suggested a group meeting at the end of the session, but after several antics begin to disrupt the process, he dismisses them with a weary sigh.

Hyunjin practically flies out the door, Felix following him with a smile to the dance studio, and the other boys begin to dissipate, thanking you quietly before heading home for the night.

You try not to laugh as you save Seungmin's recording on a file. "Thank you, Seungminnie. You can go."

He nods and thanks you politely before turning to leave. Now it's just you and Chan, who has yet to record his lines. Unlike most of the other boys, Chan's part takes unusually long. He fixes his voice on one line but messes it up on another, dragging out certain words and furrowing his brow.

"Chan, you okay? We can call it a night if you want."

He looks at you through the glass, seemingly surprised. "Yeah, I'm alright, why?"

You set your headphones down. "It's just that it's quite late, and you might do better tomorrow with some rest? You look exhausted."

Chan sighs and nods. Whatever is on his mind, it's clearly bothering him, and you glance sideways at him as he sits back down next to you at the recording table. All is silent as both of you relapse into editing the recordings at your own individual paces.

But you're not so much focusing on the recordings as focusing on your fellow producer. You fight not to look across at him, knowing it'll be obvious, and turn yourself a little away from him in order to not be distracted. You do it subtly, so that Chan doesn't notice, and it works a trick, because half an hour passes and you've almost finished editing the recordings and checking the backing track.

Neither of you have said a word, a comforting silence descending over the studio. Maybe because it's night time and the usual noises from outside the door are beginning to quiet, or maybe it's because Chan is here, bringing with him a sort of safe serenity that you only really feel when he's around.

You lean back in your chair and make to grab a notebook from behind you on the lower table, sneaking a glance at Chan in the process. All black clothes as per usual, his leather jacket slipping off his shoulder a little as he hunches over the desk. His hair is curly and un-styled, a little fluffy under his black cap. He's murmuring to himself as he scrubs a hand across his eyes, smudging a length of pencil graphite across his cheek in the process.

Without turning, he speaks. “You know, Y/n… I’ve been thinking. What if I told you I knew?"

You frown, snapping out of your daze, looking at him slightly confused. “Knew what?”

Chan turns, and there's a gentle smile, almost a smirk painted across his mouth. The world holds its breath and suddenly you find that nothing else matters. Not right now.

He leans a little closer, resting an elbow on the desk. “Knew that you like me. That you’ve liked me for a while now.”

You freeze for a second, tidal waves of reality crashing down on you at his words. Your cheeks flood with colour. “W-What? How—how could you possibly know that?”

Chan chuckles, but there’s a tenderness in it that makes your heart beat a little faster.

He shrugs. “I’ve noticed the little things. The way you smile at me when you think I’m not looking. The way you get quiet when I tease you. I’m not blind, you know."

The warmth in his voice makes your crush’s face turn bright red (more so than it already is), and for a moment, you don’t know what to say. The air between you feels charged, filled with unspoken feelings. Chan reaches over and gently brushes his thumb against your hand.

The touch is electrifying.

His voice is soft. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. Also, while we're on this topic, I’ve got a confession to make.”

You looks up at him, heart pounding, as he speaks again, the weight of his words suddenly heavier than expected.

Chan speaks slowly, looking into your eyes. “I like you too. A lot. And I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you without messing things up. You know, considering all of this.” He waves his hands vaguely in the air, but you know what he means.

The confession hangs in the air, and for a long moment, neither of you say anything. But the silence is comfortable like before, like everything both of you have wanted to say has finally found its way out. Chan’s hand stays gently resting against yours, a comforting yet giddy warmth, and you feel your heart flutter at the sight of his hand swallowing yours.

You smile shyly at him. “You really knew?”

Chan laughs quietly, not unkindly. “Yeah. I think I’ve known for a while now."

There’s a pause, then both of you break into shy smiles, both realizing that the thing you were both too nervous to say has finally been said. It's clear neither of you know how to continue, as you're too shocked to process what has apparently just happened, and it seems Chan hasn't planned this far either, his energy simply concentrated on confessing.

You both sit and gaze at each other, mouths opening a little and then hesitating, wondering if the other will say something. But neither of you do, until the door flies open with a bang.

Hyunjin and Felix are standing in the doorway, sweating and disheveled from a nightly dance practice. Seeing how they flew out of the studio earlier, you see no foreseeable reason why they would have returned, until you see Hyunjin's phone on the low table.

"Sorry," Hyunjin drawls, panting. "Forgot my phone-"

He cuts himself off and his jaw drops, matching Felix's. The looks on their faces are comical and you would laugh if you weren't suddenly so flustered.

Felix quickly stumbles past Hyunjin and grabs his friend's phone off the table, shooting Chan a not-so-subtle smirk as he bows hurriedly.

"Sorry for interrupting!" Hyunjin calls, cackling before turning away, a giggling Felix at his side.

The door slams shut before either of you can process, hands jerked back from each other as they'd entered and frozen in the air.

The situation is suddenly so ridiculous that you burst into unexpected laughter. You can see Hyunjin and Felix through the frosted glass of the studio door, hunched over and whispering to each other through hushed snickering and giggling.

Chan groans and drops his head into his hands.

a/n: i love the purple theme, suits channie so much

[rose24207]

hiiiii!! i loved you normal lando mechanic story, can i request a part 2 where lando gets a taste of her lavish life, maybe like an expensive fundraising event or similar?

More than enough Pt.2

Summery: Lando experiences a whirlwind of love and luxury as you shower him with extravagant gifts, fine dining, and unwavering affection, helping him realize his worth beyond material things.

Genre: Normal!Lando, CEO!reader, fluff

TW: None!

A/N: I love normal!Lando!! I think I might do a few more parts based of this! What do you think? English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

P1

Masterlist

Lando leaned against the hood of his beat-up project car, wiping grease from his hands with a rag. It was another long day at the garage, but he didn’t mind. The work gave him purpose, and besides, he had something even better waiting for him at home: you.

The past few weeks had been a whirlwind. Ever since he’d discovered the truth about your wealth, life had taken on a surreal quality. It was a lot to process—going from a modest life to being immersed in the world of luxury—but the thing that amazed him the most was how little your status had changed the way you treated him. You were still the same person who laughed with him over cheap wine, danced barefoot in his tiny kitchen, and held his hand during late-night drives.

But lately, you’d made it your mission to spoil him in ways he never thought possible.

The first surprise came on a cloudy Saturday morning. Lando had been tinkering in the garage when you appeared, leaning against the doorframe with a playful smile.

“Hey, handsome,” you called, your voice cutting through the hum of the street outside.

“Hey,” he replied, wiping his hands on his overalls. “What’s up?”

“Come with me,” you said, holding out your hand.

Lando raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. You led him out to the driveway, where a sleek, black luxury car sat gleaming in the soft light. His steps faltered as his eyes widened, disbelief washing over him.

“What… what is this?” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s yours,” you said casually, as if you hadn’t just turned his entire world upside down.

“Mine?” he repeated, staring at you like you’d just told him he’d won the lottery.

“Yes, yours.” You laughed at his expression, stepping closer to hand him the keys. “You’ve been working so hard, and I know how much you’ve wanted something reliable—and fun. So, here you go.”

Lando’s hands trembled as he took the keys, his heart pounding in his chest. He walked around the car, running his fingers over the polished surface, his reflection staring back at him.

“Babe,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “this is… I don’t even know what to say. This is insane.”

“Say you like it,” you teased, leaning against the car.

“Like it?” He turned to you, a grin spreading across his face. “I love it.”

“Good,” you said, your smile matching his. “Now, how about a test drive?”

Lando didn’t need to be asked twice. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he marveled at the smooth leather interior and the advanced dashboard. Everything about the car screamed luxury, and for the first time, he allowed himself to feel like he belonged in it.

As he drove through the winding streets, the car purring beneath him, Lando couldn’t stop smiling. The way you looked at him, proud and happy, made his heart swell.

The car wasn’t the only surprise you had in store. A week later, you insisted on taking him shopping.

“Babe, you don’t need to buy me anything else,” he protested as you pulled him into a high-end boutique.

“Humor me,” you said, dragging him toward the watch display.

Lando glanced at the gleaming cases, his eyes widening as he took in the rows of intricately designed timepieces. Each one looked like it cost more than a month’s worth of his paychecks.

“Pick one,” you said, gesturing to the display.

“What?” He turned to you, his eyebrows shooting up. “No way. These are… I mean, look at the price tags!”

“Don’t worry about the price,” you said, your tone gentle but firm. “I want you to have something nice.”

Lando hesitated, his gaze flicking between you and the watches. Finally, he pointed to a classic design with a black leather strap and a gold bezel.

“That one,” he said, his voice almost timid.

You nodded, signaling the salesperson to take it out. When they handed it to Lando, he turned it over in his hands, marveling at the craftsmanship.

“It’s beautiful,” he murmured, slipping it onto his wrist.

“It suits you,” you said, your smile warm.

Lando pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m so glad you’re here.”

A few days later, you surprised him with reservations at a Michelin-starred restaurant. When you told him, Lando’s eyes went wide.

“Are you serious? Those places have, like, year-long waitlists!”

“I might have pulled a few strings,” you admitted with a wink.

That evening, as Lando stepped out of the car in his new suit, he looked around in awe. The restaurant was perched on a hill overlooking the city, its glass walls offering breathtaking views.

Inside, everything was immaculate—the soft glow of chandeliers, the quiet hum of conversation, the faint clink of glasses. Lando felt slightly out of place at first, but you squeezed his hand, grounding him.

“Relax,” you said, your voice soothing. “This is your night.”

The meal was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Each course was a work of art, and Lando couldn’t stop raving about the flavors.

“This is insane,” he said between bites of the main course. “I didn’t even know food could taste like this.”

You laughed, your heart swelling at his joy. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

“Enjoying it? This might be the best night of my life.”

Over the next few weeks, you continued to treat him to little luxuries—a weekend getaway to a private villa, a pair of custom leather driving gloves for his new car, and even a surprise visit to a racetrack where he got to test-drive some of the fastest cars in the world.

But what made it all worthwhile was the look on Lando’s face. Every smile, every laugh, every moment of pure, unfiltered happiness reminded you why you were doing this.

One evening, as the two of you lay tangled together on the couch, Lando turned to you with a thoughtful expression.

“You know,” he said, his voice soft, “when I first found out about… everything, I didn’t think I could handle it. I felt so out of my depth.”

“And now?” you asked, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

“Now I feel lucky,” he said, his eyes locking with yours. “Not because of the car or the watch or any of that. But because I have you. You make everything better.”

Tears pricked your eyes at his words, and you leaned in to kiss him. “You’re everything I could ever want, Lando. And I’ll never stop showing you how much I love you.”

As he pulled you closer, Lando realized something he hadn’t before: it wasn’t the material things that mattered. It was the love and care behind them, the way you made him feel like the most important person in the world.

And for the first time, he truly believed he deserved it.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hxxi3, @same1995, @amatswimming

[elixirfromthestars]

Hey Mel, I've been thinking about dad Bucky! Which one of your Bucky's do you think would be a girl dad?

Hello my lovely anon, do you understand how much I adore you for sending this in?? 😭🩷🩷 I want to give you the biggest hug because this immediately sparked something for me!! Please enjoy my moodboard and thoughts for my detective Bucky being a girl dad 🥹💖 And if you'd like to know more please let me know!! I had so much fun answering this!! 🥰

Contents -> detective bucky + lawyer reader, baby girl w/nickname Teddy 🥹🩷, mentions of life/work as a homicide detective, all the feels okay? like all of them

Detective!Bucky Barnes as a Girl Dad 🧸ྀི‎♡‧₊˚

Okay, so first of all, our precious Teddy was planned 100%. You’re one of the top prosecutors in New York, of course, your life is structured the most it can be and you knew you wanted to start a family with Bucky when the timing was right. Teddy came along after you were married and had moved into an apartment together. By this point, Bucky had moved up the ranks and passed his sergeant’s exam, allowing him more free time to be around and present.

When Teddy was born, best believe Bucky cried—you both did. She was just so cute and so tiny. You both marveled at how the two of you made someone so wonderful and so perfect. She looks like a mini version of you but with Bucky’s eyes and smile.

He honestly couldn’t wait to show her off to everyone. His desk at work is now covered in pictures of you and his baby girl. His lock screen? It’s a picture of you holding Teddy. You know that little pocket in a wallet where an ID should go? Yeah well, he has a polaroid picture of the three of you instead. He has those pictures there to remind him to be extra safe on the job since he now has you two waiting for him to come home safe and sound.

Teddy got her nickname not too long after she was born. She was a bit of a fussy baby and liked to cling to you or Bucky when she slept. With your careers, it wasn’t always possible to have Teddy with either of you 24/7. And then one day the teddy bear Bucky won you at the fair from your first date ended up in her crib. Teddy ended up keeping it close and hugging it the entire time she slept. Even as she started getting older, that bear went wherever she did. From the moment she fell in love with that bear, you decided everything Teddy owned had to be bear-themed.

All your friends and family love Teddy. Sam and Nat bicker all the time over who Teddy loves the most—Uncle Sam or Auntie Nat. You’d never tell them, but Teddy adores her Uncle Stevie the most. Whenever he visits, she won’t leave his arms which makes Bucky a little grumpy (which you always tease him over).

Bucky has always been protective of you (maybe sometimes a little overprotective) and that doesn’t change when Teddy comes along. If anything, he becomes even more protective of his girls—this man is a devoted husband and father. Dotting on you and Teddy whenever he gets the chance. Acts of service is 100% one of Bucky’s love languages and he’d do anything for you and Teddy. 

When the topic of daycare comes up, Bucky doesn’t want to hear it. He just can’t imagine anyone taking care of his baby girl better than you and him. No one else would take the time to cut Teddy’s food into the cutest of shapes—her favorite being stars, no one else would pick her up and play airplane with her when she gets fussy, no one else would sing twinkle twinkle little star with her for the millionth time just to see her happy, and there’s so much more others wouldn’t do for her that you and Bucky would. 

Daycare lasted a couple of days—Bucky just couldn’t do it. He was losing his mind wondering how she was doing. On the first drop off that man was damn near begging on his knees for you to change your mind. You were firm on your stance (neither of you could afford cutting back even more on work hours since you were saving up for a home). So as much as you hated being the one to do it, you had to be the one to put your foot down on the subject. That was until on what would be her last day at daycare, Teddy cried out Mommy with the utmost heartbroken voice as you were walking away and your heart just shattered. Needless to say, the daycare phase didn’t last long and instead you took the longer commute to drop off Teddy at Grandma Barnes’ brownstone. Bucky’s mom was over the moon at this decision because that woman adores her grandbaby. She spoils her rotten which sometimes backfires in the silliest of ways.

Being one of the top prosecutors in New York means you have many late nights. Bucky is always there to be supportive in any way he can be. Before Teddy, you used to work on cases together at home, but ever since she was born he has enforced a no work-at-home policy. He doesn’t want his baby girl hearing or witnessing anything from the homicide cases you and he work on. He wants to protect her from that world for as long as he can. 

Especially since he has worked on some cases that show him the worst of humanity. Now that he is a dad they hit him a little deeper. Whenever he works a case where a parent has lost their child, his chest feels tight the entire day and there’s a heaviness on his shoulders he can’t shake off. On those days he insists you two visit Teddy during your lunch break. And that night he holds Teddy just a little longer and a little tighter in his arms—like he’ll lose her if he lets go. After she falls asleep in his arms, he tucks her in her crib and goes looking for you. No matter what you’re doing Bucky coaxes you to drop everything and come to bed with him where he holds you just as tightly as you lay together. He promises over and over again that he’ll keep you and Teddy safe, whispered promises of how much he loves you both and how no harm will ever come to either of you between passionate kisses that seal the meaning of those promises into your very soul.

Bucky adores being a dad just as much as he adores being your husband. His life feels complete having you two in it and he'd be damned if he ever let anything or anyone ever jeopardize it (which in this line of work there have been a few close calls on both your ends that have tried, but those stories are for another day).

I honestly could go on and on all day over this, but for the sake of not going on for too long, I will end my little happy ramblings here 🥹🩷 Thank you again for sending in this request, I had so much fun with it!! 🩷🩷

[sofa-king-lame]

I'm curious as to what you'd do with 47 (out of spite)!

Yay thank you!

Sorry for any spelling/grammar errors or crappy formatting, I smashed this out in the notes app on my phone lol.

—

“Honestly, Eddie, we never understood what you were thinking moving to LA,” Helena sighs. “It’s so…progressive.”

“Abuela was here,” Eddie argues. “Pepa is here.”

“Your abuela came back, and Pepa has been thinking about doing the same. Soon you’ll have no family left there, Edmundo. Moving back here is the right decision,” Ramon chimes in. Eddie’s jaw tightens and he feels Buck tense next to him, and Eddie knows he’s biting his tongue to stop from interjecting. Buck had offered to be there when Eddie told his parents he was moving back to El Paso, and given the sick feeling that had settled in his stomach when he realised he was running out of reasons not to tell them he gratefully accepted.

“I have family here. I will always have family here,” Eddie argues. “The 118 are my family.”

“Coworkers, Eddie? Really? They don’t know you like we do,” Helena sighs. Buck is now visibly uncomfortable, enough that Eddie sees it in his peripheral vision.

“You’re right. They know he better,” he bites out. “This isn’t - I didn’t call you to argue. I’m moving for Chris, I need to fix things. I can’t do that when he won’t - when you won’t let me speak to for more than ten minutes at a time on a video call with a shitty connection.”

“Edmundo,” Ramon admonishes, “you’d better watch the way you speak to us or you’ll find yourself alone in your rental unable to speak to Christopher at all.”

“Excuse me? You remember he’s my son, right?” Eddie snaps. “He’s not your do-over child after you fucked the first three up.”

“See what I mean, Ramon? He never spoke to us like this before he moved to LA. You watch, he’ll be telling us the city turned him gay next,” Helena huffs and something inside Eddie breaks. He grabs Buck’s face and kisses him, dirty and wet, right in front of his parents. Eddie had resented his parents for a long time before he moved to LA, but pure spite and anger had been building inside him since the moment they appeared on his doorstep to take Christopher away from him. He wants to hurt them.

Buck has gone completely still and his parents are silent as Eddie pulls back, eyes unfocused and hazy as he finally realises what he’s done.

“Oh. Oh fuck,” he whispers as Buck pushes his chair back and darts out of the room. Eddie hangs up the call as his parents start talking over the top of each other and runs after Buck, catching him halfway to his car.

“Eddie, I can’t talk about this right now,” Buck starts.

“I’m sorry, fuck. Shit. I should have - I shouldn’t have done it like that,” Eddie stutters. “I should have asked.”

“Yeah, maybe you should have,” Buck mutters. He won’t look Eddie in the eye and it makes Eddie feel a little sick. He’s definitely just made things infinitely more difficult with his parents, and now…now he doesn’t want to go to Texas. He didn’t want to go anyway, he was moving purely out of necessity, but now he feels like he can’t. Because that fucking kiss -

“Is it always supposed to feel like that?” Eddie breathes. Buck’s eyes snap up to meet Eddie’s, bright blue and clouded with confusion.

“Like what?” Buck asks hesitantly. His hands are shaking, but he’s not breaking eye contact now.

“Like coming home,” Eddie whispers. He hears Buck’s breath hitch in his throat as he takes an uncertain step closer, reaching out but dropping his hand back down.

“Eddie.”

“Can I try that again?” Eddie asks. Buck nods enthusiastically and doesn’t wait, closing the distance between them and kissing Eddie in a way that is so devastatingly tender he might float away on the light breeze ghosting over them. Yeah, he definitely isn’t moving to Texas now.

“Fuck,” Buck laughs, his hands coming to rest on the back of Eddie’s neck.

“Look at you,” Eddie murmurs, “corrupting this innocent Texan boy.”

“Me? You’re the one who shoved their tongue down my throat in front of his parents,” Buck snorts.

“Yeah, well. Seems like my subconscious wanted me to create a reason to not move,” Eddie sighs.

“You’re not -"

“We’ve got a 48 off next weekend. Come with me to bring Chris home? Enough is enough. He can be mad at me here, but I’m done. I want my kid back,” Eddie huffs. Christopher can be as pissed off as he wants, but he can do it under this roof. In their home.

“Oh your parents will love me being there,” Buck snickers.

“I don’t give a shit what they think. Will you come?”

“Yeah, Eddie. Of course. Let’s go get him back.”

[littlcdarlin]

Into Temptation

summary: old!Joel obsessively watches sweet reader from across the tipsy bison each night, until one day he walks her home. read on AO3 warnings: girthy age gap (reader is 20, Joel’s age isn’t mentioned but I imagined late 50s), daddy kink, praise kink, breeding kink, mention of pregnancy (Joel wants to knock her up so bad), naive/sweet reader, Joel calls reader “kiddo”, Joel is a bit of a pervert but so are you for reading this

note: this is written in head-canon format but sort of reads like a cohesive story. It allowed me to churn this out much more quickly than writing it my usual way!

He watches you from his spot at the bar, across the tipsy bison, how you laugh with your friends, how your cheeks gain colour with every drink, how you politely refuse any man who makes advances

He knows you’re barely in your twenties, all fresh-faced and so sweet looking, the world can’t possibly have gotten to you yet — that’s what intrigues him, how untainted by cruelty you seem

Tommy catches him staring and scolds him for it — she’s off limits, Joel, there’s a million men better suited for a girl like her

Yes, a million men who you refuse, night after night, offering them your sweet apologetic smiles, and returning to playing cards with your friends. He can’t help but wonder if you’ve got a man already, if that’s why you refuse everyone

One night you make your way over to the bar, stumbling in your cowboy boots, your cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol, your movements a little fuzzy, a vague smile on your face that he recognises from his own youth — the kind of smile only brought out by carefree evenings in bars, cigarettes, and flirting without a goal

You ask the barkeeper for another drink, and accept his wink with a sweet smile when he puts the glass down in front of you. It bothers Joel, this new development. You’re supposed to refuse everyone here

That guy cheats on his wife, he tells you, and your big Bambi eyes land on him, surprised. You two haven’t spoken before. Thought you oughta know.

You cock your head curiously, and lift your glass to your mouth. It’s sweating from the ice, pearly drops of water drooling over your fingernails. You know everyone’s business, Mr. Miller?

You know his name — Joel’s spine tingles. For a sweet girl, you sure manage to hold his gaze, most people would have looked away by now. He’s not known for his pleasant small talk

He wants to ask you to come home with him, but he can feel the eyes of your friends on the two of you, so he restrains himself. Your small hand comes to rest on top of his shoulder, and the touch sends a bolt of electricity through him

I wasn’t flirting with him, Mr. Miller, just being polite. You’d know if I was, you say, and then you’re gone, off to your friends again, your dress swaying around your thighs and for a second he has to fight the impulse to drag you back over to him and sit you down on his lap

But he can’t do that, won’t do that, not when you’re so young and half of Jackson would want to see him hang

From then on, you talk to him every time you get a drink — and you start getting them for your friends, too. Any more town secrets to spill, Mr. Miller? How’s that whiskey for the eighteenth night in a row, Mr. Miller? Mr. Miller, I heard Tommy’ll be a Daddy soon — looking forward to being an uncle?

So what if he indulges you? He’s making conversation, people can hardly judge him for it — so long as they don’t know about what he does when he gets home from the bar each evening, imagining it’s your little hand instead of his own

You keep denying all of your admirers, which are more than Joel would like to admit, ever friendly about it. They leave with bruised egos, but glad you were polite about it — all but one. A tall kid, a little older than you but barely 25, and he keeps pestering you night after night. Joel watches the way your brows furrow, the corners of your mouth turning downward rather than up into that sweet smile he adores

The fifth night, the boy touches your shoulder, and your friend pushes his arm away, but he persists. Before Joel can stop himself, he’s on his feet. There a problem here?

Your eyes are round and relieved when they find Joel, and even subconsciously you move towards him. It’s fine, we’re just making conversation, the kid says, so Joel looks at you. You shake your head so slightly he almost doesn’t see it, but it’s all it takes

How ‘bout you ‘n I make some conversation outside? The boy is gone before Joel can put his fist to his jaw, which he’s been itching to do for days now, but after he gives you a slight nod, and you thank him, he leaves your table again to make sure the boy won’t be back as soon as he’s gone

Before he can step outside, he feels your little hand on his arm, and he turns around to look at you. Could you walk me home, Mr. Miller?

He can’t possibly refuse you, doesn’t want to, so he gets your jacket from the coat rack by the door — you don’t question how he knows it’s yours — and leads you outside with a heavy palm on your shoulder

You don’t speak much, but you walk closer to him than you have to, and a sick satisfaction pools inside his belly. You feel safe with him, you trust him to get you home safe, you want to be near him

Right before you reach your house, you look up at him, the apples of your cheeks violently flushed by the cold, snow dotting your hair. Stay a while?

He can’t, he really shouldn’t, not when you’re clearly desperate for him to do so, not when your eyes are all hopeful and innocent and unknowing of what you’re asking of him. Please, I get so lonely at night.

Now, he can’t have that. Sweet girl like you, anyone would be happy to keep you company, and yet Joel’s the one you’re asking. So he agrees, and you open the door into a warm corridor that smells of cinnamon and apples

You take off your boots, revealing your bare legs, only covered by a pair of white stockings to keep you warm, and one of your cotton dresses that can’t possibly keep you warm in this weather. He wants to wrap you up in a blanket and rip it all off at the same time

He stays to ease your mind after he incident at the bar, and after a while you dose off to sleep on the couch, your head drooping and snapping upwards again every few seconds. And he knows you need your sleep, you’re still only twenty after all, so he picks you up to carry you upstairs, but you stir in his arms

Come on, let’s get you to bed, kiddo, he mutters, and in your sleep-drunken state, you rest your head against the crook of his neck, your soft mouth pressing a wet kiss there, and he’s done for, beyond help

When he puts you down on your bed, your eyes open, and he wants so badly to kiss you, to claim you. Sleep with me, you mumble, and God help him, he gets into bed with you, still wearing his jeans

You cuddle up to him, stealing his warmth, his scent, dizzying him with yours. He doesn’t get a wink of sleep, not with the sweet sounds you make while you dream and the way your body molds so perfectly against him

In the morning you smile up at him like you can’t quite believe he’s still there, and then you kiss him, and he knows there’s no turning back from any of it now, not when he’s got you rested and pliant and warm in a bed, not when your legs are wrapped around his thigh so sweetly

So he does what he’s been wanting to do, climbs on top of you, his body weight pressing you into the mattress and pulling the sweetest sounds from your pretty throat — your hands grasp at his shoulders, his back, his arms, when he kisses and licks and bites whatever part of you he can reach

You’re so responsive, like this is the first time someone’s touched you like this, and the thought makes him dizzy. You’re whining for him and he hasn’t even gotten you out of your little dress yet. By the time two of his fingers find your clit, you’re positively trembling under him, and he watches in fascination as you shake and come for him so easily, like you’ve been waiting to do just that, like it’s been building all night. Good girl, my sweet, good girl.

That makes you twitch for him, a broken sound coming out of your mouth that he knows is supposed to be a word. Speak up, kiddo, can’t hear ya.

You do, your hips still moving after your orgasm has faded. D-daddy. His blood starts to boil, and it’s all it takes for him to roughly open his belt buckle, ignore the way his joints pop at the movement, hike up your dress, pull down the cotton panties you’ve soaked, and press the tip of his aching cock against your dripping entrance

When he finally presses himself inside of your tight body, you mewl for him with wide glassy eyes, and it takes all his strength to not just slam into you. He knows you need to adjust to his girth, especially if he’s right and this is the first time someone has fucked you

When he’s fully sheathed inside of you, your breathing comes in little pants, and you throb and clench around him. It makes him want to come inside of you, fuck you until it takes, until that little pussy has what it’s so desperately trying to drain from him

He starts fucking you deeply, as deeply as he can, and you cry for him with every thrust, sweet chants of DaddyDaddyDaddyDaddy. You don’t just want it, you need it, eyelids fluttering and your soft red mouth slightly agape. Your hands tangle into his greying hair, tugging and trying desperately to hold onto something

When you come for him again, he rubs at your little clit until you’re done, but even then, you keep letting him fuck you, his cock moving in and out of you easily, your whole body shaking with overstimulation. Want it inside please, Daddy, you moan, your muscles limp. He grips your hips, and empties his balls deep inside of you, keeps thrusting until he’s sure his spent can’t possibly be deeper inside of you

You smile up at him when he calls you his good, sweet girl, a blissed out and happy look on your face

So he stays, fucks you again and again that day, barely lets you leave your bed, until Tommy knocks on the door and tells him he missed patrol and the whole of Jackson is talking about you and him. But Joel doesn’t care, not when the second the door is closed you kiss him

People stare when the two of you walk through the streets of Jackson, your hand in Joel’s, smooth fingers against weathered, calloused ones. You don’t mind, kiss him in the tipsy bison in front of everyone, ignore even Tommy and your friends when they tell you to take some space

He knows it’s bound to get worse once your belly starts to swell, which is inevitably going to happen with how often he pumps you full of his load, his back aching and yours arching off the bed. He pays it no mind, though, not when you beg him for it so sweetly every night, please Daddy, want it inside.

[no-144444]

get through it- o.piastri

summary: oscar's there for you after you loose your mom.

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! reader

warning: there is a lot of talk about loosing a parent (specifically a mother) so if you're not up for that right now, please protect yourself :)

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He was there when you got the call. He watched as your eyes widened and your heart sank. He caught you before you fell down on your knees. He was the one holding you when the hospital hung up. 

"It’s alright,” he whispered into your hair. He knew it wasn’t alright. He knew everything was falling apart, but he was going to try and hold it together for you. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

You just cried. For days. He’d never seen anything like it before. He assumed that’s what he would do in your situation. Your mom was gone. She passed peacefully in the middle of the night. You’d never get to see her again. It crushed you. He held you every single night when you cried yourself to sleep, whispering sweet words, showing that he cared. He was there for you every morning when you’d cry as you got ready for the day, helping you get dressed. He saw how it all weighed you down. He noticed every little change in facial expressions, every nudge of your arm, everything. He was there to protect you, to be there for you. He’d give anything to have more time before training camp came around, and he had to go back to Monaco. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

“Is everything packed?” you asked, your tone flat, but still caring. You couldn’t come with him. You had a life and a job in New York. He’d spent his entire Christmas with you. And going over to Australia together and meeting his family for the first time was your favourite part of the break. Everything after that was a blur of tears and funerals. 

He nodded. “Leaving in the morning,” he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. “You’re sure you’ll be alright.”

You nodded. “I’ll survive. I’ll have Mae anyways.”

Oscar’s sister, Mae, was going to be staying in your apartment as she attended her last year of school right there in the Big Apple, a fun transfer year. 

“I don’t want you to go back to work too soon,” he said in a hushed tone. “Don’t throw yourself into things just because I’m not here to pull you out of them.”

You mumbled. “Mae is on strict orders to text you if I start coming home late,” you mock saluted. 

He sighed, and looked at you in his arms. The love of his life (even if you didn’t know that yet). “I’ll miss you.”

You shook your head, tears forming. “I’ll miss you too.” 

He pulled you into his chest, feeling your laboured breath. “Let it out,” he whispered. You shook your head, pulling away. 

“I’ve cried enough,” you smiled sadly, wiping your eyes. “I just… I want to thank you. For everything you’ve done for me. I… love you.” 

He smiled, bright and big. “I love you too,” he grinned, wrapping an arm around your waist. “And for the record, I’d do it over and over again. Forever. I just want you to be happy.”

You nodded, feeling the tears building again. He meant it. You could tell. You’d wondered how you were going to get through it, the awfulness of the grief almost felt insurmountable, but with Oscar by your side, it was feeling a little better. 

“Come on,” he grumbled against your skin. “Bedtime.” 

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mclaren masterlist

navigation for my blog :)

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

Sick as a Dog

Where Harry is sick and y/n just wants to help him.

Word count: 3,833

Content warning: cursing, mentions of being sick (no throwing up).

I wake up to the soft warmth of sunlight streaming through the curtains, casting a golden glow on the room. The familiar scent of him—clean, woodsy, with just a hint of his cologne—fills the air. For the first time in what feels like ages, Harry’s here. Really here. Not a FaceTime call, not a text, not a fleeting thought as I drift off to sleep alone. His arm is draped lazily over my waist, his chest rising and falling steadily next to me.

I shift slightly, careful not to wake him, but the movement stirs him anyway. His eyes flutter open, green and warm like spring after a long winter. A soft, sleepy smile spreads across his lips as he tightens his hold on me, pulling me closer.

“Morning, love,” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep and that raspy undertone I adore.

“Morning,” I reply, tracing lazy circles on his forearm.

For a while, neither of us says much. Words feel unnecessary. He presses a kiss to the top of my head, then my temple, and finally my lips, slow and unhurried. His stubble grazes my skin, a reminder of how real this is.

Eventually, the world outside our cocoon of blankets starts to intrude. My mental checklist of errands creeps in, and I know his does too. But for now, we linger, soaking in the quiet intimacy of the morning.

“You know,” he says, breaking the silence, “I could stay like this forever.”

I laugh softly. “You say that, but we both know the list waiting for us today.”

He groans in mock protest, burying his face in my neck. “I just got home. Can’t we just…not?”

I want to agree. I want to cancel the errands, turn off the world, and spend the day exactly like this. But life has other plans. I kiss him one last time before sitting up, dragging him reluctantly along with me.

“Alright, Mr. Styles,” I tease, “up and at ’em. Groceries won’t buy themselves.”

With a dramatic sigh, he stretches and finally rises, his hair a tousled mess that somehow still suits him perfectly. The day awaits, but in this moment, everything feels right. He’s home, and that’s all that matters.

Harry’s standing at the dresser, pulling on a simple white graphic tee that hugs his chest just right. He pairs it with light-wash jeans and his trusty white Vans, and I can’t help but stare. His hair is still a little messy from sleep, and there’s this ease about him that makes him look so effortlessly… Harry.

He notices, of course. He always notices. Turning to catch me mid-stare, he smirks, tilting his head slightly.

“Take a picture, Y/N. It’ll last longer,” he teases, his voice dripping with that cheeky charm.

I roll my eyes, trying to fight the grin tugging at my lips. “Maybe I will,” I shoot back, grabbing my phone and pretending to snap a photo.

“You’re ridiculous,” he chuckles, stepping closer to press a quick kiss to my forehead before grabbing his wallet and keys.

I pull on my own pair of jeans, a plain tee, and sneakers. Comfort over style today—though Harry always insists I look good no matter what. As we make our way to the kitchen, he hums softly under his breath, a tune I don’t recognize but know I’ll ask him about later.

Breakfast is simple: toast, eggs, and coffee. Harry insists on making the coffee, declaring himself the “king of the French press.” I don’t argue; he really does make it better than I do.

As we finish up, he grabs his sunglasses and tosses me a lopsided grin. “Ready, love?”

We head out to his car—a sleek black Range Rover that feels way too fancy for a trip to the market, but that’s Harry. As he starts the engine, he glances at me with a playful glint in his eye.

“Do you remember the last time we went to the market?” he asks as we pull onto the London streets.

I laugh, shaking my head. “Not specifically, but I’m sure you’re about to remind me.”

He grins, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “You tried to convince me we needed three different types of cheese for one dish.”

“Because we did,” I argue, crossing my arms.

“And we forgot the bread,” he counters, his laugh filling the car.

The easy banter flows between us as the city passes by outside. It’s moments like these—simple, mundane, yet filled with so much warmth—that make me realize just how much I’ve missed him while he’s been away. He reaches over to squeeze my hand, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

The market is alive with the hum of people, the scent of fresh produce, and the clatter of carts. As soon as we step inside, Harry grabs a cart and immediately veers toward the snacks aisle.

“We don’t need that,” I laugh as he tosses a jumbo bag of crisps into the cart.

“Don’t we?” he counters, feigning offense. “I’ve been deprived of proper snacks for months, love. Let me live a little.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help grinning as he starts piling in more things—chocolates, biscuits, and a random jar of pickles. “Harry,” I warn, trying to keep a straight face.

“What?” he says innocently. “Pickles are essential. You can’t deny it.”

We wander through the market, switching off who pushes the cart while the other roams the shelves. He sneaks in a box of cereal I’m pretty sure we already have at home, and I add a bottle of wine, pretending I didn’t see the outrageous snack haul he’s created.

As we pass the fresh pasta section, he stops, holding up a package of tagliatelle. “What do you think? Pasta for dinner?”

“Sounds perfect,” I say, reaching for a jar of marinara sauce. “What should we do for a side? Garlic bread?”

He nods enthusiastically. “And maybe a little salad. Gotta stay balanced,” he jokes, throwing in a bag of pre-washed greens with exaggerated flair.

By the time we’re at checkout, our cart is an eclectic mix of essentials, indulgences, and things we absolutely don’t need but couldn’t resist. As he loads the bags into the back of the car, he turns to me, a sly smile tugging at his lips.

“What do you think about a movie night tonight?” he asks casually, though there’s a twinkle in his eye that tells me he’s up to something.

“I’d love that,” I reply. “I’d love to do anything with you.”

His grin widens, and he leans in just slightly. “Anything, huh?” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a suggestive tone.

I shove him playfully, trying to fight the blush creeping up my neck. “Don’t start.”

He laughs, the sound warm and infectious. “What? I’m just saying we could… expand the agenda.”

“Let’s focus on dinner first,” I quip, climbing into the passenger seat.

As he starts the car, he shoots me one last cheeky glance. “Dinner and a movie, it is. For now.”

As we drive back home, the city whizzes by outside the windows, but my attention is completely fixed on Harry. His hand rests casually on the steering wheel, the other drumming lightly to the rhythm of the music playing softly on the radio. The late afternoon sunlight filters through the windshield, casting a soft glow over his face.

I take in the details—the way his tattoos peek out from beneath the rolled-up sleeve of his tee, the way his hair curls just slightly at the ends, looking perfectly imperfect. It’s all so him. Effortless, magnetic, entirely Harry.

My chest tightens with a wave of emotion I can’t suppress. For months, I’ve been waiting for this—to have him home, to watch him do something as simple as drive, to just be with him.

“I love you,” I say softly, the words spilling out before I even realize it.

He glances over at me, his green eyes warm and a little surprised, like he wasn’t expecting it but loves hearing it all the same. “I love you too, Y/N,” he says, his voice gentle but steady, like it’s the easiest truth in the world.

I shake my head, smiling as I try to find the right words. “No, I mean… I really love you. I missed you so much, Harry. I missed this. Us. You.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just reaches over to place his hand on mine, squeezing it gently as his thumb brushes over my knuckles.

“I missed you too, love,” he says quietly. “More than I can even put into words.”

The car falls into a comfortable silence, but it’s filled with so much more than quiet. It’s filled with the weight of everything I feel for him, everything I’ve held onto while he’s been away.

As I look over at him again, I realize just how deeply he’s woven into every part of me. The sound of his laugh, the warmth of his touch, the way he knows exactly what to say to make me feel like the only person in the world—it’s all part of why I love him.

As we pull into the driveway, Harry shifts the car into park and turns to me with a smirk. “Alright, love, get those muscles ready. It’s time to show me what you’re made of.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Excuse me? I’m a delicate flower. I shouldn’t have to carry groceries,” I tease, fluttering my lashes dramatically.

He rolls his eyes, playing along. “Right, how could I forget? Well, I guess I’ll just do it all myself then,” he says, feigning exasperation as he climbs out of the car.

“Good plan,” I call after him, though I follow and grab a couple of bags because I’m not that cruel.

Between the two of us, we manage to carry everything inside, though Harry insists on making a show of flexing his arms every time he brings in another load.

“Impressed yet?” he asks, winking as he sets the last bag on the counter.

“Totally,” I say, deadpan. “Your talent for grocery-hauling is unmatched.”

He grins, leaning against the counter while I start unpacking. As I’m putting things away, I notice him setting a few things aside on the island—the pasta, marinara, garlic, and salad mix.

“Getting a head start on dinner, are you?” I ask, glancing at him over my shoulder.

“Just being efficient,” he replies, pulling out a cutting board and inspecting it like he’s about to perform surgery. “Also, you know I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving,” I tease, but my words are muffled as I reach into a bag and pull out a pack of cookies.

Harry spots them instantly, his face lighting up. “You’re a genius,” he says, grabbing the pack from me and tearing it open.

“Hey! I was going to do that,” I protest, but he’s already popped a cookie into his mouth, grinning as he chews.

“Too slow, love,” he says, holding the pack out to me.

I take one and lean against the counter next to him, snacking while we chat about nothing and everything. The kitchen fills with the sound of our laughter, the clinking of jars and cans as I finish putting the groceries away, and Harry’s occasional commentary about how he’s “the true mastermind behind dinner.”

Harry hums softly to himself as he moves around the kitchen, a wooden spoon in hand as he stirs the pot of simmering sauce. It’s a sight I’ve missed—his ease, his focus, and the way he somehow makes cooking look like an art form.

I sit on one of the barstools, resting my chin in my hand as I watch him. He glances over his shoulder and smirks. “You’re staring again.”

“Can you blame me?” I reply, grinning.

He shakes his head, chuckling as he dips the spoon into the sauce. “Alright, taste test,” he says, walking over to me with the spoon held out.

I lean forward and take a small sip, the tangy warmth of the marinara spreading across my tongue. “Mmm,” I hum, nodding in approval. “That’s really good.”

Harry grins proudly, but his expression turns playful as he tilts his head. “Really good, huh? Just ‘good’? Not ‘amazing’ or ‘out of this world’?”

I roll my eyes and lean in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Amazing,” I say, teasingly.

He whines dramatically, turning to face me fully. “That’s all I get? A cheek kiss after slaving away over a hot stove?”

Laughing, I reach up and pull him down for a proper kiss, his lips soft and warm against mine. He hums in satisfaction, pulling back just enough to look at me, his green eyes sparkling.

“Much better,” he says, his voice low and content. Then, with a grin, he gestures toward the living room. “Now go on, find us something good for movie night. I’ll finish up here.”

I linger for a moment, watching him as he turns back to the stove, stirring the sauce with one hand and tossing pasta into a pot with the other. He looks so at home, so effortlessly himself, and I feel a wave of love wash over me.

“Anything in particular you’re in the mood for?” I ask, heading toward the couch.

“Something good,” he calls back. “No pressure, though.”

I laugh, flopping onto the couch and scrolling through the streaming options, already knowing whatever I pick, he’ll make it perfect just by being there.

A few minutes later, Harry walks into the living room, balancing two bowls of pasta with garlic bread perched neatly on the side. His careful concentration makes me smile, and he lets out a dramatic sigh of relief as he sets the bowls on the coffee table.

“Dinner is served,” he announces with a grin, plopping down next to me and handing me my bowl.

“Thank you, chef,” I say, nudging his shoulder.

“Only the best for you, love,” he replies, leaning back into the cushions and taking a bite of his pasta.

We settle in, the familiar hum of a rom-com filling the room as we eat. Every so often, Harry sneaks a piece of my garlic bread, and I swat at him in mock protest, though I don’t really mind. It’s comfortable.

When the credits roll, Harry stretches with a groan, his head tilting back against the couch. “I hate to admit it,” he says, his voice laced with playful regret, “but I think I’m officially an old man.”

I laugh, resting my head on his shoulder. “What are you talking about? You’re a spring chicken.”

He shakes his head, smiling. “As much as I’d love to expand the evening and, you know, do naughty things, I’m absolutely knackered.”

I giggle, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “That’s fine, Harry. Go on, get some rest. I’ll clean up here.”

He gives me a grateful smile, standing up and stretching again. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

“Don’t forget it,” I tease, watching him as he heads upstairs, his steps slow and tired.

Once he’s gone, I take my time cleaning up the kitchen and living room. I rinse out the bowls, wipe down the counters, and straighten up the cushions on the couch. It feels good to take care of the space we share, to know he’s upstairs waiting for me.

When I’m done, I slip into the shower, letting the warm water wash away the day. The quiet hum of the house wraps around me, and I feel an overwhelming sense of contentment.

After drying off and pulling on a cozy t-shirt, I head upstairs and crawl into bed next to Harry. He’s already half-asleep, his arm draped across my side as I settle in.

“Night, love,” he mumbles sleepily, his voice muffled but full of warmth.

“Goodnight, Harry,” I whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

The next morning, I wake up to the soft glow of early sunlight streaming through the curtains. I glance over at Harry, expecting to find his side of the bed empty like usual—he’s always the first one up. But this time, he’s still there, lying on his stomach with one arm draped over the pillow.

It’s rare to catch him sleeping in, but he looks peaceful, his face relaxed in the quiet morning light. Not wanting to disturb him, I carefully slip out of bed and head downstairs.

Once in the kitchen, I decide to make breakfast—something simple: scrambled eggs, toast, and some fruit. The rhythmic sounds of the whisk and the faint sizzle of butter in the pan fill the kitchen as I work.

I’m almost done cooking when I hear slow, shuffling footsteps behind me. Turning around, I see Harry leaning against the doorframe, his hair sticking up in every direction. His face looks pale, and there’s a groggy, pained expression in his eyes.

“Morning,” I say, but before I can say more, he groans softly, running a hand through his hair.

“I feel like absolute shit,” he mumbles, his voice hoarse and scratchy.

Concern washes over me as I set the spatula down and walk toward him. “What’s wrong?” I ask, scanning his face.

He rubs his temples, leaning heavily against the counter. “Head’s pounding, throat feels like it’s on fire, and I’m pretty sure I’ve got a fever,” he mutters, his tone laced with irritation at his own body. Then he waves his hand weakly at me. “Don’t come near me. I don’t want you to catch whatever this is.”

Ignoring his warning, I step closer, my brows knitting in worry. “Harry, I don’t care about that. Sit down,” I say firmly, guiding him to a chair at the kitchen table.

He doesn’t argue, letting out another groan as he sinks into the seat. His head drops into his hands, and I can tell he’s trying to push through it, but it’s clear he’s not feeling himself.

“I’ll get you some tea and medicine,” I say softly, already moving to put the kettle on.

He glances up at me, his green eyes heavy with exhaustion but still filled with affection. “You don’t have to fuss over me, love,” he says, his voice cracking slightly.

“Of course I do,” I reply, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You always take care of me. Now it’s my turn.”

He smiles faintly, leaning back in the chair as I set about getting him what he needs, determined to nurse him back to health.

I set a mug of tea in front of Harry, the steam curling up in delicate clouds. “Tea with honey,” I say softly, sliding the plate of scrambled eggs and toast next to it. I make sure to add two Tylenols, placing them neatly on the napkin.

He looks up at me, his face still pale but his expression grateful. “Thanks, love,” he murmurs, his voice raspy.

I sit across from him, watching as he takes a sip of tea and winces slightly. “It’s the post-tour crud,” he says with a small, tired chuckle. “Happens every time. My immune system’s just catching up after weeks of running on adrenaline.”

“Well, it’s catching up hard,” I reply, leaning my elbows on the table. “But it’s okay. I’ll take care of you.”

He shakes his head slowly, frowning. “I feel bad, Y/N. You shouldn’t have to deal with me like this. And I don’t want to get you sick.”

I reach out and cover his hand with mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Harry, I don’t care. You’ve taken care of me plenty of times when I was sick. Remember when I had that horrible flu last year? You didn’t leave my side.”

“That’s different,” he says, his lips tugging into a weak smile. “I’m supposed to take care of you.”

I laugh softly, brushing my thumb over his knuckles. “Well, now it’s my turn. You’re always looking out for me, Harry. Let me look out for you this time, alright?”

He doesn’t argue further, just looks at me with a mix of gratitude and affection, his eyes slightly glassy from the fever. “I don’t deserve you,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“Yes, you do,” I say firmly, standing to refill his tea. “Now eat, take your Tylenol, and let me fix you.”

Despite his groans of protest, I can see the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

After breakfast, I set to work transforming the couch into a fortress of comfort. I grab every blanket I can find, piling them up alongside a collection of fluffy pillows, creating a cozy little nest. I pick a lighthearted show—something easy to watch, the kind Harry loves to have on in the background when he’s feeling off.

“Alright,” I say, standing back to admire my work. “Your throne awaits, Mr. Styles. Sit down, relax, and get comfy.”

He shuffles over from the kitchen, looking every bit the part of someone who’s feeling under the weather. As soon as he sinks into the pile of blankets, a sneeze erupts, followed by a series of coughs.

“Bless you,” I say, walking over to him. I lean down to press a kiss to his forehead, but he holds up a hand weakly, stopping me.

“Y/N,” he warns, his voice hoarse. “I’m sick. You shouldn’t—”

I ignore him, leaning in anyway to kiss his warm skin. “I really don’t care,” I say softly. “You’re stuck with me, germs and all.”

He shakes his head, clearly too tired to argue further, as I wrap my arms around him and pull him into a hug. His head rests against my shoulder, and I can feel the heat radiating from him. He’s definitely running a fever, but I don’t let go.

Once he settles, I sit on the couch and tug him gently toward me, guiding him to rest against my chest. He lets out a tired sigh, letting his body relax into mine as I drape a blanket over both of us.

I start running my fingers through his hair, smoothing it back from his forehead, and rub his back gently. “You’re burning up,” I whisper.

“I told you not to get close,” he mutters, though his voice is soft and grateful.

“Well, I told you I don’t care,” I reply, pressing my cheek to the top of his head.

He shifts slightly, snuggling closer, his hand resting lightly on my leg as the show plays quietly in the background. I keep stroking his hair and tracing light patterns on his back, hoping the touch soothes him.

For the first time since he woke up, he seems to relax fully, his breathing evening out as he watches the screen. Even though he’s warm to the touch and clearly miserable, I can feel the tension in his body melting away.

“I love you,” he mumbles sleepily.

“I love you too,” I whisper back, holding him a little tighter.

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎHeart Shaped Locks౨ৎ꣑ৎ

[fem reader] contains: abusive family pairing: fem reader x billy the kid summary: you don't understand why billy still wants you author’s note: billy fic!! it's a little short but <3 Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

The grass was soft on Billy's back. He adjusted his arm, careful not to shift you too much. A quiet breeze ruffled the leaves of the tree you were lying under, causing the shade to dance over your face, the sun beaming on you in patterns. You smiled softly; the lines usually held in place when you were closer to home melting away. He loved it when you became like this, as close to relaxed as you'd ever been.

"You're cozy," you said softly, nuzzling your head into his shoulder. Billy leaned in to press his lips to your temple. The idea that anyone at all could find comfort in him was still astounding. The fact that it was you was unbelievable.

He let his hand fall to your waist, rubbing just slightly. "Good." You settled your hand on his chest, smiling softly. What he wouldn't give to have that smile before his eyes at all times. He dreamt of having that someday, of being able to wake up every morning and see you beside him. For now, he had this, and it was enough.

"I wish we could stay here forever." You echoed his thoughts, and he pulled you closer, so your face was close to his neck.

"I know, sweetheart," he whispered, reaching up to smooth your hair. "I wish it too."

"I don't wanna go home," you mumbled, and Billy nodded, his heart heavy at the thought of you having to go back there. It wasn't a place he wanted you to be any of the time, let alone every night when he had to bring you back. "My brothers have been in a mood. It's a miracle I was able to get out today."

His hand moved to the side of your head without thinking, protecting with no visible object. "Do you wanna stay with me tonight?"

When he drew back to look into your eyes, you were solemn, the stress creeping back into your body. He could feel your shoulders tensing, see your jaw clench. You bit the side of your cheek, eyes on his hand as you thought. He didn't move it a muscle. "I want to."

"Hmm." He'd known a no was more likely when he asked. Billy used his hand on your head to thumb the side of your face. "We could have dinner."

"In public?" You sounded nervous. Billy remembered the dirty looks the last time you'd shared a meal in town together.

He shook his head. "No, just you 'n me. My place."

Your eyes were tired. Tracing your fingers up and down his chest, you murmured, "I'd better not."

Despite his expectations, a little strike of disappointment painted his chest. But he kept it out of his voice. "That's okay."

"I want to stay," you mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he promised, rubbing your back. "We'll just have a nice day here."

He repeated it over the course of the afternoon, trying to reassure you. It was obvious that you felt bad, and so he showered you in extra love. Kisses, cuddling, soft words. You got it all over the next few hours.

Billy always had an uneasy feeling whenever he dropped you off at home, and it didn't go away today. He lifted you off the horse, pressing a kiss to your forehead and rubbing the backs of your hands with his own. "Are you gonna be okay?"

He watched you paste on a smile. "Of course. I'll see you later." You stood on tiptoes, kissing his cheek before you scurried back to the house. Billy didn't take his eyes off you until you disappeared behind the door, waving at him from the porch.

For the entire ride home, Billy couldn't shake the feeling. It usually wore off by the time he passed the tree close to his cabin, but today it stuck with him, growing roots in his chest and spreading like a disease.

You said you were okay. He tried to remind himself. You were okay. You were okay. This was far from the first time he'd brought you home, and it wouldn't be the last.

But still, it plagued him still, a chasm carved into him that his heart was about to collapse into.

Droplets were pounding on the roof, but Billy hardly minded it. If anything, the rain was soothing, creating noise to distract him from his worries. You hadn't left his mind once, something dread inducing gnawing at his gut.

He dressed himself for bed, telling himself he'd check on you first thing tomorrow morning. Heaven knew if he'd be able to sleep, but he'd at least try. He had to respect that you'd have told him if something was wrong.

But what if something happened when you got home? Billy shook his head, pulling the covers over himself. In the morning. He'd see you in the morning and you'd be fine and he'd be able to hold you and know you were safe.

You didn't have anyone to protect you except him. Nobody to take care of you. It was something he could hardly fathom. How could anyone know you and not want to give you every bit of love and affection you needed and more?

"She's fine," he repeated to himself, staring at the ceiling. "She's fine."

He missed the knock the first time it happened, lost in the sound of the rain and the lure of his own thoughts. But the second time, he sat up, reaching for the gun on his nightstand. Reaching for his pants, he yanked that on, throwing one suspender over his shoulder and approaching the door with caution. This was the danger of settling- it was easier for an enemy to find him.

When he swung the door open, gun drawn, the sight of you, soaking wet and shivering, met his eyes. Billy's chest felt hollow. He set his gun aside, reaching for you and pulling you inside.

You were dripping water onto the floor, arms folded around yourself. Billy ignored all of this, pulling you into his chest and smoothing down your hair. "Oh, sweet girl...c'mere, let's get you somethin' else to wear."

He led you to the bedroom, sitting you on the bed and grabbing a shirt of his. "Can you unbutton your dress for me, honey?" When he turned around, you were fumbling at your buttons with shaky fingers. Billy knelt in front of you, taking over after you nodded at his silent asking.

Your skin was cold, and he held back the line of questioning on his tongue, concentrating on getting you into the shirt. The sleeves fell over your hands, the hem to your thighs, but he figured it was a good thing. You'd be warmer that way.

"Alright." Billy got up and returned with the blanket he saved for winter nights, getting you under the covers and spreading it out over you. As soon as he got into bed, you were burrowing into his chest, sniffling. He held you to him with one big hand over the back of your head, making sure the blanket was covering your shoulders.

After a moment of lying there, he found it in him to approach it. Billy held his lips to your head for a moment. "What happened, sweetheart?"

You sniffled again, your cold hands under his shirt. "M-my brothers saw me with you and t-they didn't like it-" Your breathing was getting erratic, and Billy held you tight to him, rubbing your back gently.

"Shh," he soothed. "Sweetheart...did you walk all the way here?"

The quiet nod against his chest confirmed it, and he sighed, kissing your hair again. "I knew somethin' was wrong. I could feel it all night."

"I'm sorry I came here," you started, but he shook his head, rubbing your back carefully.

"Baby, I'm glad you came here," he soothed, kissing your hair. "I always want you to come to me."

You sat up, staring at the pattern of the blanket over your legs. Billy watched you, leaning against the back of the bed. He could almost hear your thoughts spinning.

"Why are you with me?" you asked softly, bringing your knees to your chest.

Billy was frozen in place for a moment. He tried to formulate a response, but it almost felt like being kicked in the ribs.

You continued, fidgeting with the blanket. "We can hardly go anywhere in public because everyone hates my family. You have to deal with every time they make me feel bad. I can't stay with you as much...just..." your eyes found his, teary and about to spill over. "Why would you want to be with me if you have to deal with all that?"

Billy reached for you, pulling you to sit on his thighs. You let him drag you into his lap, shoulders slumped, body tired. He kept a hand at your waist, leaning you against his chest. There was a way to say what he wanted to, and he needed to get it right.

"You mean so much to me, sunshine," Billy said softly, lifting your chin so you were looking at him. "You light up my whole world. I don't know what I'd do without you." When your tears began to spill over, his thumb was right there to catch them. "Baby...you don't deserve a single thing you've been through. I want you to be okay. And I've never thought you were a burden. Not once."

Sniffling, you hid your face in his neck. "Billy."

"You're my girl," he whispered, rubbing your side. "I love you so much. And I wanna take you away from here someday, just you 'n me."

"You and me?" you repeated softly, holding his wrist. He nodded, kissing your nose.

"You and me, darlin'," he promised, and you relaxed a little more against him. Billy eased you back into laying down, your body draped over his chest. "I'm not gonna let you go."

He was surprised by how quickly you fell asleep. Your hair was still wet, but your body was warming slowly. Billy held you tight to him, kissing your hair. You were safe and warm. He knew that for a fact.

It wasn't right yet. But you were in his bed, and nobody could hurt you here. It was a start.