#like I don’t need to see a couch to know what it looks like

[youngsadlesbian]

hi, one of my favorite writers!

i never noticed your requests were open, so is it okay if you write about wanda x fem!reader where they have been in a relationship for almost 6 years, the longest in their friend group, their friends assume the worst because they love eachother like bestfriends. what i mean is that when their friends see them sleeping together, they both face the other way. or when they watch a movie, their isn’t much snuggling. but when they’re actually alone, they feel more comfortable with eachother, that their friends walk in on them being clingy to eachother. being a lowkey couple isn’t so bad compared to what their friends think type of trope!

thank you for your time, and i love your works. xo !

BEHIND CLOSE DOORS

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

summary: after nearly six years together, your relationship with wanda is the longest-lasting one in your friend group. but to everyone else, you two don’t look like the typical couple. you don’t snuggle at movie nights, you sleep facing opposite directions at group sleepovers, and your friends quietly assume your spark is gone. little do they know, you and wanda are simply a lowkey couple—comfortable and deeply in love when the world isn’t looking. but when your friends accidentally stumble upon one of your private, clingy moments, they realize just how wrong they’ve been.

a/n: i had this request in my inbox for a long time and only noticed it these days. sorry for the delay and i hope you like it.

word count: 1,1k

warnings: fluff <3

“You and Wanda are basically like an old married couple,” Kate teased, nudging you with her elbow as you all sat around the coffee table for game night.

“Is that supposed to be a bad thing?” you replied, raising a brow as you stacked your deck for Uno.

“No! Not bad, just…” Kate trailed off, clearly trying to find the right words.

“Predictable,” Yelena finished bluntly, tossing a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

“I mean, you don’t even sit next to each other during movie nights,” Natasha chimed in, smirking from her spot on the couch.

Wanda, who was sitting across from you, laughed lightly. “So? We’ve been together for six years. We don’t have to be glued to each other.”

“Yeah, but where’s the passion?” Kate asked, gesturing dramatically. “The fire? The hand-holding and constant cuddling?”

“We’re not 16,” you deadpanned, earning a chuckle from Wanda.

Your friends dropped the topic after that, but you could still see the curious glances they exchanged. You and Wanda didn’t fit their idea of what a couple should look like, but you didn’t really care. You and Wanda were fine just the way you were.

Living together for the past three years had only made your relationship stronger. You and Wanda had fallen into a comfortable rhythm that worked perfectly for both of you.

Your mornings started with quiet moments—Wanda making coffee while you scrambled eggs, sharing small smiles across the kitchen. Evenings were spent unwinding on the couch, reading, or binge-watching whatever show caught your attention that week.

You didn’t feel the need to be overly affectionate in public or around your friends because your bond didn’t rely on outward displays. It was in the little things: Wanda setting aside the last slice of pizza for you, or you remembering to buy her favorite tea when the supply at home ran low.

But your friends didn’t see those moments. They only saw the surface.

The first time your friends openly voiced their concerns, it was at Natasha’s apartment after a late-night movie marathon.

“Okay, don’t take this the wrong way,” Yelena started, her tone making it clear she was about to say something controversial.

“Here we go,” Wanda muttered under her breath, leaning against the arm of the couch.

“It’s just… are you two, like, okay?” Yelena asked hesitantly.

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’ve been together for so long, but you don’t act like it,” Kate interjected. “You’re more like… roommates or best friends.”

Wanda exchanged a look with you, her lips twitching in amusement. “Just because we don’t make out in front of you doesn’t mean we’re not fine.”

“Exactly,” you added. “We’re just not into PDA. That’s all.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two even hold hands.”

At that, you and Wanda burst out laughing.

“Oh my God,” Wanda said, wiping a tear from her eye. “You guys are ridiculous.”

But the concern on their faces didn’t fade.

Later that night, back at your apartment, you and Wanda finally addressed the conversation.

“Do you think they really believe we don’t love each other?” you asked, pulling on a sweatshirt as you got ready for bed.

Wanda was already under the covers, scrolling through her phone. “Probably. But who cares? We know the truth.”

You climbed into bed beside her, resting your head on her shoulder. “Still, it’s kind of funny.”

“They think we’re boring,” Wanda said with a dramatic sigh, wrapping an arm around you.

You laughed. “If only they knew.”

Because behind closed doors, you and Wanda were anything but boring. You loved snuggling up during quiet afternoons, Wanda’s fingers tracing patterns on your arm as you watched TV. You teased each other endlessly, sharing inside jokes that no one else would understand.

And when it came to physical affection, it wasn’t something you felt the need to flaunt. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t there—it was in every kiss goodnight, every lingering touch, every whispered “I love you” before falling asleep.

\*/

The incident happened a week later. Your friends had come over to your apartment to hang out, and you had no idea they were still around when you wandered into the kitchen to find Wanda.

She was standing by the counter, scrolling through her phone, when you wrapped your arms around her waist from behind.

“Hi,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

Wanda smiled, setting her phone down to place her hands over yours. “Hi.”

“I missed you,” you admitted, resting your chin on her shoulder.

“You were in the living room five minutes ago,” Wanda teased, turning her head to kiss your cheek.

“Still missed you,” you said with a grin.

The sound of a dramatic gasp made both of you freeze. You turned to see Kate, Yelena, and Natasha standing in the doorway, their jaws practically on the floor.

“Oh. My. God,” Kate said, pointing a finger at you two. “You do like each other!”

Yelena burst out laughing. “This is amazing. I feel like I’ve just uncovered the world’s greatest secret.”

Natasha smirked. “So much for ‘just best friends.’”

Wanda rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “Get over it, guys.”

But your friends didn’t let it go. For the rest of the night, they wouldn’t stop teasing you about how “different” you were when no one was watching.

After that, your friends seemed to accept that your relationship didn’t need to look like anyone else’s. They stopped questioning why you and Wanda weren’t overly affectionate in public, and they stopped assuming the worst.

And while you still preferred to keep most of your relationship private, you didn’t mind letting a little bit of your affection show.

“See?” Wanda said one day, lacing her fingers with yours as you walked into Joe’s Bar. “A little PDA won’t kill us.”

You grinned, squeezing her hand. “It’ll definitely keep them off our backs.”

From then on, your friends never doubted the love between you and Wanda again. Because whether you were holding hands in public or sharing quiet moments at home, your connection was undeniable.

[prettyfilmz]

THROB • JIMMY USO

author's note: hi my loves!! honestly have nothing to say other than this was a random idea that was born out of how fine jimmy looked here I hope y'all enjoy it😭

synopsis: in which you've been ovulating and taking your frustrations out on jimmy because you're too stubborn to ask him for what you need. lucky for you, jimmy knows just what to do to get you to act right.

tags: 18+(MDNI), jimmy uso x fem reader, established relationship, arguments, bratty behavior, teasing, breast sucking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), big jim™ , overstimulation, lots of dirty talk, squirting, creampie, slight humiliation, degradation, jimmy is a lil mean in this, dacryphilia, breeding kink, multiple orgasms, doggy style, mating press, small aftercare at the end.

word count: 3.2k words

You were pacing back and forth in the living room, arms crossed, your brow furrowed so tightly it could’ve scared the undertaker away.  Every little thing Jimmy did irritated you, though you knew deep down it wasn’t his fault. He sat there on the couch, broad shoulders relaxed, his tattoos flexing subtly as he scrolled through his phone. His usual goofy grin wasn’t there, though. He was watching you, trying to hold back his amusement.

“Why you stompin’ ‘round here like a lil’ ass gremlin, huh?” Jimmy’s deep voice cut through your mumbling, making you whip your head toward him.

“I ain’t stompin’, Jimmy! Maybe if you’d do somethin’ helpful for once like puttin’ your damn shoes away from in front of the door instead of sittin’ there, I wouldn’t be irritated!” You snapped, your tone sharp.

Jimmy slowly raised an eyebrow, setting his phone down. That cheeky grin started creeping back onto his face, and it only made you more annoyed. “Girl, ain’t no way you talkin’ to me like that. You been barkin’ at me all week, and I let it slide ‘cause I know what timing you’re on. But you really gon’ sit here and act like I don’t know why you mad?”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms tighter.  “I ain’t mad, Jimmy.”

“Oh, so you just bein’ a brat for fun?  I’m supposed to believe that?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his smirk widening as he caught the way your thighs clenched together at the shift in his tone.

Your body betrayed you. It always did when he was around, especially now.  The heat between your legs was unbearable, and your nipples were pebbled, brushing against the soft fabric of your tank top in a way that had you biting back whimpers. Normally, you’d have your vibrator for relief when he was on the road, but he’d been home all week. Which fucked up your usual routine you had going and now you're too stubborn to ask him.

Jimmy tilted his head, his dark eyes dragging over your body like he already knew what you were hiding.  “Yeah, see, I know exactly what’s goin’ on with you, baby girl. You think you tough huh? You don’t even need to tell me nothin’.  I can see it in the way you walkin’ ‘round here all moody.”

“Jimmy, shut up,” you shot back, though your voice cracked slightly.  He noticed.

“Nah, I’m gon’ keep talkin’.  Matter fact, come here,” he said, his voice taking on that commanding edge that made your knees weak.

You hesitated, shooting him a glare.  “Why?”

“‘Cause I said so, that’s why. Don’t make me come over there and get you.” He leaned back, spreading his legs in that laid-back, cocky way that showed off the sheer size of him. His gray sweats left nothing to the imagination, and the way his dick pressed against the fabric had your mouth watering despite your irritation.

With a heavy sigh, you walked over, but your attitude wasn’t going anywhere.  “What, Jim?  You gon’ keep talkin’ shit?”

He chuckled, reaching out to grab your wrist and tugging you between his legs.  “Girl, you just mad ‘cause you’re neglecting what you need. But you too damn stubborn to ask for it, huh?” He let his hands slide down to your hips, squeezing them as he pulled you closer.

“Jimmy, I swear to God—”

“You swear to God what?” he interrupted, his voice dropping lower.  His thumbs pressed into the softness of your hips, holding you in place.  “You ain’t gon’ do shit, baby. Stop frontin’.”

The heat in his gaze melted your resolve, but you couldn’t let him win that easily.  “You just know everything, huh?”

He smiled, leaning forward to press his lips to the sensitive spot just below your ear.  “I know you ovulatin’,” he murmured. “And I know you ain’t been able to take care of yourself like you usually do. You need daddy to take care of you, hm?”

Your breath hitched, and you tried to step back, but his grip tightened.  “Jimmy, stop playin’—”

“Who said I’m playin’?” He tilted his head up to look at you, his expression softening just enough to make your heart flutter.  “Why you bein’ difficult, huh? This what you wanted, ain’t it?”

You tried to keep up your defiance, but when his lips trailed down your neck, you couldn’t hold back the shiver that coursed through you.  “Jimmy…”

“There she is,” he teased, pulling back to look you in the eyes.  “Now, you gon’ ask me nice, or you gon’ keep actin’ like a spoiled lil’ brat?”

Your pride wrestled with your desire, but the way his hands roamed your body and his voice dripped with authority had you caving.  “Please,” you whispered, barely audible.

He cupped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.  “Please what, baby? Let daddy hear you.”

“Please, daddy,” you repeated, your voice trembling with anticipation.

A satisfying grin spread across his face as he leaned back, patting his thigh. “There we go.  Now, sit that pretty ass down.  You got some apologizin’ to do.”

You climbed onto his lap, straddling him as his hands immediately found their way under your tank top.  His palms were warm against your bare skin, sliding up to cup your breasts.  You gasped when his thumbs brushed over your sensitive nipples, and he chuckled darkly.

“Damn, these are real sensitive, huh?” he said, leaning down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. His tongue flicked over the hardened bud, and your hips bucked against him involuntarily.

“Shit!” you cried out, clutching his shoulders as your body betrayed every ounce of control you thought you had left.

“Shh, baby, let me take care of you,” he murmured, switching to the other nipple.  His teeth grazed it gently, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

You whimpered, grinding against him as the pressure built inside you.  “Daddy, please, I need…”

“I know what you need, baby girl.  But you gon’ learn not to keep this shit from me.” His hands slid down to your ass, giving it a firm slap that made you yelp.  “Next time, you gon’ tell daddy what you need, understand?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whispered, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming sensation.

“That’s my girl.” He kissed your lips softly before flipping you over onto the couch.  “Now, lay back and let daddy handle the rest.”

Jimmy hovered over you now, his larger frame trapping you beneath him on the couch.  His hands gripped your thighs possessively, thumbs brushing against your skin in a way that sent shivers straight to your core. You stared up at him, panting, your chest heaving as his dark eyes raked over you. That playful grin he usually wore was gone, replaced by something darker, more intense. He licked his lips like a predator sizing up its prey, and you couldn’t help but squirm beneath him.

“Mm-mm,” he growled, pressing his hands down harder to still your movements. “Ain’t no runnin’, baby. You wanted this, didn’t you?  All week, you been actin’ up snappin’, throwin’ them lil’ ass tantrums, tryna to act like you don’t need me. But I know you,” His voice almost in a mocking tone.  “Your body been screamin’ for me since I came back, mama.”

You whimpered, your pride dissolving under the weight of his words.  “I—Jimmy, please…”

“Please what?” His hands slipped beneath your shorts, gripping the soft flesh of your ass. “What you need from daddy?”

The way he said it so smooth, teasing, but dripping with authority had your resolve crumbling completely. “I need you to fuck me,” you breathed, barely audible.

He smirked, leaning down so his lips brushed against your ear.  “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?  But you still owe me an apology, baby.  You gon’ tell daddy you sorry for bein’ a brat?”

Your cheeks burned. “I’m sorry, daddy,” you whispered.

“Mean it,” he says, his tone sharp enough to make you obedient. His hands tightened on your thighs, reminding you exactly who was in control here.  “I know you can do better than that.”

“I’m sorry, daddy,” you whimpered out, your voice trembling with need.

Jimmy grinned, clearly satisfied. “Good girl.  Now let’s see if you can keep that same energy when I’m done with you.”

Before you could respond, he tugged your shorts and panties down in one smooth motion, leaving you completely exposed.  His eyes locked onto the slickness between your thighs, and he let out a low whistle.  “Damn, look at you. I didn’t even touch you yet and you already wet as hell.”

You whimpered, trying to close your legs, but he wouldn’t let you.  “Jimmy, don’t tease me…”

“Who you think you talkin’ to?” he shot back sharply, grabbing your knees and spreading them wider.  “You don’t call the shots here, baby girl. Now stay still.”

His hands gripped your thighs as he lowered his head in between your legs. The first swipe of his tongue against your clit had you crying out, your hips jerking off the couch.  Jimmy chuckled, pinning you down with ease.  “I said be still, didn’t I?  You gon’ listen, or you want me to tie you down?”

“D-daddy, I—” Your words dissolved into a moan as he sucked your clit into his mouth, his tongue working you over with precision.  The combination of his lips, tongue, and the slight scrape of his teeth had your body trembling uncontrollably.

You tried to squirm away when the pleasure became too much, but Jimmy wasn’t having it.  He slid two fingers inside you without warning, curling them just right to hit that sensitive spot that had you seeing stars.  “Stop fuckin’ runnin’,” he growled, his voice muffled against your pussy.  “This what you wanted, huh? So take it.”

You sobbed his name, your nails digging into the couch as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.  He didn’t let up, his pace relentless as his fingers pumped in and out of you, his mouth never leaving your clit. “Oh my God, Jimmy, I’m gonna—”

“Yeah, you gon’ cum for daddy?” he taunted, his eyes gleaming as he looked up at you. “Do it, baby.”

The coil in your stomach snapped, and you came hard, your back arching off the couch as your orgasm tore through you.  You screamed his name, your thighs shaking as he kept working you through it, refusing to let up.  “That’s my girl,” he murmured, licking his lips as he finally pulled back. “You look so pretty when you cum, baby.”

You barely had a chance to catch your breath before he was pulling his sweats down, freeing himself.  It was as thick and heavy as ever, and the sight of it made your mouth water.  He stroked himself slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “You ready for this, baby? You gon’ be good for me?”

“Please, daddy,” you begged, your voice shaky. “I need you.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he said, positioning himself at your entrance. He slid the head of his cock through your slick folds, teasing you until you were whining in frustration. “Damn, you so wet, baby.  You gon’ take all of me, huh?”

“Yes, daddy, please,” you plead. “Please put it in..”

Jimmy finally pushed inside, and the stretch had you gasping, your nails clawing at his arms.  “Fuck,” he groaned, his voice low and rough. “You so fuckin’ tight, baby. Been missin’ me, huh?”

You could barely form words, the fullness of him stealing your breath.  “Fuck… yes daddy,” you managed to choke out, your legs trembling as he buried himself to the hilt.

“That’s right,” he growled, pulling back and slamming into you again.  “This my pussy, baby. Don’t forget that.”

He set a brutal pace, his hips snapping against yours with enough force to make the couch creak beneath you. Each thrust sent delicious shockwaves through your body, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. You were already on the verge of another orgasm, your body still sensitive from your previous release.

“Why you runnin’, baby?” he teased, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head.  “This what you been actin’ out for, huh?  So take it.”

“I’m tryin’ daddy!” you sobbed, tears streaming down your face as your second orgasm crashed over you. Your body convulsed beneath him, and you felt yourself gush around him, soaking his thighs.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his pace faltering for a moment. “You squirtin’ for me now? you so fuckin’ nasty, that’s my good girl.”

But he didn’t stop. If anything, he fucked you harder, flipping you over onto your stomach and pulling your hips up so he could take you from behind.  The new angle had you screaming into the disarrayed couch cushions, your body trembling uncontrollably.

“You gon’ tell daddy you sorry again?” he growled, spanking your ass hard enough to leave a sting.  “Say it.”

“I’m sorry, daddy!” you cried out, your voice muffled. “I’ll be good, I promise!”

“Yeah, you gon’ be good now, huh?” He gripped your hair, pulling your head back as he pounded into you mercilessly.  “You ain’t got no choice, baby. Daddy gon’ fuck all that attitude outta you.”

Jimmy didn’t let up for a second. His grip on your hair kept you pinned in place as his cock slammed into you relentlessly, the sound of your ragged cries filling the room. You could feel the heat of his body pressing down on yours, his weight anchoring you as if there was no escape—not that you wanted there to be anyway.

“Look at you,” he growled, leaning over until his lips brushed against your ear. His breath was hot and heavy, dripping with amusement.  “All that attitude, all that shit talkin’, and now you cryin’ for daddy, huh? You so fuckin’ pretty like this, baby. All obedient for me.”

You whimpered, barely able to form words as his cock dragged against every sensitive spot inside you.  Your body was overstimulated, every nerve on fire, and the wetness between your thighs only made it worse. “D-daddy, it’s too much,” you choked out, trembling beneath him.

“Too much?” he repeated mockingly, pulling your head back further until you were arching against him.  “Nah, baby, you can take it.”

He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust that made your back bow, another broken sob spilling from your lips. Tears were streaking your cheeks as he fucked you harder, his pace unrelenting.  The sting of another spank sent a jolt through you, the sharp pain only intensifying the overwhelming pleasure.

“Tell me what you is,” he demanded, his voice low and commanding.  “Go on, baby.  Say it.”

“I’m—I’m your slut, daddy,” you gasped, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own moans.

“Damn right you are,” he snarled, slamming into you so hard the couch creaked beneath you.  “And don’t you forget it. This is my pussy.  Say it.”

“It’s yours, daddy..fuck!” you cried out, your voice breaking as you felt another orgasm building, threatening to drown you.

“That’s right,” he growled, pulling out suddenly and flipping you onto your back before you could even catch your breath.  He hooked your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half as he lined himself up again. “And I’m gon’ remind you every fuckin’ time you forget.”

The first thrust in this position had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your nails clawing at his arms as his cock hit a deeper angle. His weight pressed down on you, forcing your thighs against your chest as he pounded into you like he had something to prove.  You could feel the muscles in his arms flexing beneath your hands, his strength keeping you pinned in place as he wrecked you.

“Fuck, baby, you feel that?” he groaned, his voice thick with arousal.  “Feel how deep I am?  I’m right where I’m supposed to be, fillin’ that pussy up. And you gon’ take all of me like a good girl, huh?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whimpered, your nails digging into his biceps as the pressure built inside you.  “Please don’t stop—please…”

He smirked, leaning down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth.  The heat of his tongue against your sensitive skin sent you spiraling, your back arching as you came again, harder this time. Your body convulsed beneath him, the pleasure so intense it almost hurt.

“Fuck, look at you,” he muttered, his voice laced with pride as he watched you fall apart beneath him.  “That’s my girl.  You so good for me, baby.  So fuckin’ pretty when you cum.”

 Even as your body trembled and tears streaked your cheeks, he kept going, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls with every brutal thrust.  “You said you wanted it, baby,” he teased, his tone both mean and sweet. “You been talkin’ shit all week so don’t tap out now.”

“Daddy, I—” Your words dissolved into a choked sob as he grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head. His hips snapped against yours with a punishing rhythm, the pleasure teetering dangerously close to pain.

“You cryin’, baby?” he taunted, leaning down to kiss the tears off your cheeks.  “Aw, don’t tell me it’s too much now.”

“I can’t—Jimmy, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, his voice firm but laced with a tenderness that made your heart ache.  “You gon’ take it, baby. You was made for this dick, and I’mma remind you every fuckin’ time.”

He reached down between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen clit and rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles.  The added stimulation sent you spiraling, another orgasm tearing through you before you could stop it.  You whimpered his name, your body trembling violently as your walls clenched around him.

“Shit,” he groaned, his pace faltering as your orgasm milked him.  “You tryna make me cum, baby?  You want daddy to give you a baby, huh?  Want me to fill this pretty pussy?”

“Yes, daddy, please,” you whined, your voice trembling with desperation.  “Please cum in me, daddy.”

That was all it took. With a low growl, Jimmy slammed into you one last time, his cock twitching as he came deep inside you. The warmth of his release filled you, and you moaned at the sensation, your body shuddering beneath him. He didn’t pull out right away, instead grinding into you slowly, making sure you felt every last drop.

“Fuck, baby,” he muttered, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath. “You did so good for me. Took it all like a damn champ.”

You whimpered softly, your body still trembling from the aftershocks.  “Thank you, daddy,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss your lips softly.  “Ain’t no need to thank me, baby.  You earned that.”

Jimmy finally pulled out, and you winced at the emptiness.  He watched as his cum dripped out of you, his tongue peeking out to lick his lips.  “Damn, look at that.  You so fuckin’ sexy, baby.”

Your face heated up, turning your face away, but he grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.  “Don’t get shy on me now,” he teased, his voice softer but no less commanding.  “You did good, baby. Real good.  Daddy’s so proud of you.”

A small smile crept onto your lips despite the exhaustion weighing you down. “I love you, Jimmy.”

“I love you too, baby girl,” he said, kissing your forehead.  “Now let’s get you cleaned up.  You gon’ need your strength for round two.”

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[orimuraa]

ㅤㅤ ⌇ Two shots deep and I'm getting lucky - Park Sunghoon

꒰ 𝔖𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ꒱┆falling in love with a slytherin was not on your bucket list ⨾

۶ৎ slytherin!park sunghoon x fem ravenclaw!reader ┆fluff, angst┆kisses, petnames, cursing, crying┆wc 2.5k

⤷ 𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: this was requested by my 🫧 anon so i hope you enjoy!! reblogs and feedback are always appreciated ^o^

꒰ঌ ℬℴℴ𝓀𝓈𝒽ℯ𝓁𝒻 ໒꒱

you liked to think of yourself as a smart and wise student. precisely why you were placed in the house of ravenclaw a few years ago.

you never imagined yourself getting involved with the school’s playboy, park sunghoon.

you see, sunghoon was so different from you. he was egotistical, rich, and quite snobby. but also very, very attractive.

he was a slytherin and that tells you all you need to know about him.

so how did you end up falling for him?

“y/n!!” a voice called out for you, stopping you in your tracks.

turning around, you find none other than your beloved best friend, kim sunoo.

sunoo was a sweet hufflepuff that you met on your first day here at hogwarts.

all your life, you’ve been told that you were very cold looking and hard to approach. but sunoo ignored all of that and went straight into becoming your friend.

“hi sun,” you smile, waiting for him to catch up.

“the new gossip for today is that someone saw park sunghoon making out with one of the girls in an empty broom closet,” he spills, waving around his hands as he spoke.

sunoo was very much interested with the school’s gossip whereas you couldn’t give a care for any of it.

“sun..when are you ever going to stop being so invested with other people’s lives!” you laugh, rolling your eyes playfully at your best friend.

“never!!!” he jokes before taking you by the hand and running to the hufflepuff common room.

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧

it was currently posions class and you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was staring at the back of your head like you had a target planted there.

turning your head, you slowly caught the gaze of..park sunghoon?….

why the hell was he looking at you?

immediately, you whip back to the front, rubbing your eyes before turning your attention back to professor snape.

“today class, we will be learning how to make the potions amortentia, also know as, the love potion,” snape says in his monotone voice.

this causes a few giggles to irrupt from behind you, making you roll your eyes.

once class was over, you make your way back to your dorms. unfortunately, there is something blocking your path. and by something, i mean someone.

“hey, woah woah woah! where are you in a rush to princess?” park sunghoon. again, what the hell does he want with you?

“don’t call me that,” you snarl, assuming this is exactly how the park sunghoon gets his reputation.

“listen, i just wanted to chat! that’s all, i swear,” he confesses, raising his hands in the air.

you’ve never been this close to him and oh god is he gorgeous. his bushy eyebrows and his moles perfectly placed around his face.

“fine, let’s at least go outside then,” you sigh, disappointed in yourself for already falling for sunghoon’s charm.

“so, why did you wanna talk to me specifically?” you ask, curious as to why the park sunghoon would even know of your existence.

“i dunno,” he says as if he’s bored before leaning forward, almost too close to you. “maybe i just want to get to know a pretty girl better.” he smirks, staring you down with those gorgeous eyes.

you don’t last very long before you’re a blushing mess and forcing yourself to look away.

“well from what i’ve heard, is that you’re not very good at sticking around. and i’m not looking for someone like that,” you say, praying that he wouldn’t notice you’re very much flustered state.

“and if i said i would be willing to stay for you?” oh god. your heart just exploded.

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧

“aughhhh!!! i don’t know sun…he clearly stated that he’s into me but i’m just scared of being another one of his toys…” you sigh, flopping down onto the couch.

in all honesty, you wouldn't mind going out with park sunghoon. you were just scared to get tricked and end up with a broken heart.

"maybe tell him that you would like to get to know him better before starting anything serious? i mean, that's kinda the truth anyway, right?" sunoo suggests, sitting down on the couch next to you.

"yeah...maybe i'll do that..it's smarter and safer. thanks sun," you smile, knowing you could always count on sunoo.

the next day, you were thinking about all the possible scenarios that could happen with sunghoon. turns out, there are actually many negative scenarios that you could think of which made your stomach turn, not in a good way.

"hey princess! got an answer for me yet?" turning around to face reality, you mentally grow some balls, deciding to not be a chicken and just tell him now.

but god, why did he have to be so handsome!?

"o-oh...hi sunghoon.." you nervously stutter, making a mental note to beat yourself up for this later. "i actually thought about this yesterday and i think it'd be nice to get to know you...i would appreciate taking our time though and not really rush into things, y'know?" congrats! you did it!...

"wait really? you'd actually go out with me?" sunghoon perks his head up, totally losing his "cool guy" persona and quickly replacing it with a loser-like one.

"did you think i would reject you?" you fake gasp, clutching at your heart teasingly.

"no! well- sort of? i guess..i'm just used to getting an answer right away..and it's always a yes...and you were taking a lot of time so i just assumed it was a no.." cute. who knew the park sunghoon was such a loser in reality?

"well i've said yes, so when's the first date?" you tease, tilting your head to the side.

"meet me at the 3 broomsticks at 2. don't be late~" he winks, his normal attitude coming back.

sunghoon turns on his heel, walking away and leaving you with a warm and glowy feeling in your cheeks.

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧

its been exactly 2 weeks since your first "date" with sunghoon and you've gotta say, they've been filled with fun and excitement.

turns out, sunghoon's quite a gentleman for you, making you fall for him even more.

he makes you laugh at silly things, he makes you smile so much til' your cheeks hurt, and he makes you feel understood.

of course sunoo understood you, but you meant by a romantic interest.

all of your previous relationships ended poorly because you never felt understood by your partner, resulting in bad communication.

but sunghoon, he always knew what you were feeling or what you were trying to say. he just...got you.

sunoo was over the moon when you told him things were working out with sunghoon. he's always been like your protective older brother.

he's been there for you every time another one of your shitty partners left you, always there to wipe your tears and tell you that they weren't worthy of your love.

so naturally, he was thrilled to hear that something was working out for you.

"sunoo!!! sunoo!!!!!" you exclaim, running up to him and bouncing like crazy.

"what!? jesus, calm down, you're gonna break something," he says, holding you in place.

"sunghoon asked me to the winter ball!!!" you screech, jumping again and clapping your hands out of excitement.

sunoo just blinks a couple time, fully processing your words before his eyes widen, his hand shooting up to cover his mouth.

"no way!!! really?!!?!" he gasps through his hand. you nod aggressively, giving him his answer. "then we have to find you a dress!"

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧

"hoon!!" you shout, catching the attention of the raven haired boy. he looks up at you with a cold expression before it melts away at the sight of you.

"hi princess," he greets softly, pushing out the chair next to him so you can sit.

this was how you current situationship was with sunghoon. you were still hesitant of a relationship but you were slowly warming up to the idea every time you were with sunghoon.

you learned that he was actually a big softie once you get to know him and if he lets himself open up.

there were moments where you caught him staring at you, a gaze of admiration in his eyes, making you blush and look away.

he had an effect on you that none of your past partners did, making you more and more convinced that he was the one for you.

as you and sunghoon silently joked in the small corner of the library, 3 figures silently observed from a far.

"that bitch thinks she can steal sunghoon away from me!" jia, one of sunghoon's many crazy admirers, huffs.

"i'll just have to steal him back then," she smirks, a plan forming in her head. then, she signals for her friends to follow as they walk out of the library.

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧

with only 3 days left until the winter ball, there's much excitement within the castle. many people are running around, trying to find a date or even just an outfit.

the owls have been dropping off suits and dresses of all kinds all day long for the students.

luckily, you and sunoo had already gone shopping together, picking out perfect outfits for the ball.

as you walked the hall, a slight hop to your step, you reach the slytherin corridor, wondering if sunghoon was in there just so you could pop in and say hi.

you hear a high pitched giggle from inside the corridor and thinking nothing of it, you open the door. immediately you regret that decision because this was not something you wanted to see.

sunghoon was kissing some girl passionately and mind you, he's never kissed you before even once!

when the girl notices your presence, you swear you see her smirk before tapping sunghoon's shoulder to say that someone's here.

he turns around but he looks different..there's something about his eyes that you can't place but you know for a fact that their not his.

especially with the way he just shrugs you off, going back to being smitten with the girl you now recognize as jia.

heartbroken, you dash out of the room, tears blurring your vision as you run to find sunoo.

"i knew i never should have trusted him sun!" you sob into his shoulder. all sunoo could do was hold you in his lap, patting your back and letting you know that nothing was your fault.

you didn't understand it all. if this was all a game, why did sunghoon stick around for so long?

just then, sunoo gasps, shaking you to look at him.

"ynnie! it wasn't him! you told me that the look in his eyes looked like he was almost soulless, right?" you nod slowly, not yet catching on.

"well! jia used a potion of amortentia on sunghoon! that potion, although making you fall in love, if it's not a true love, the eyes show no sign of it! meaning, he's being forced to love her! he's under her spell!" sunoo exclaims, pushing his hair back in shock.

"oh sunoo!! you're a genius!!" you cry, throwing your arms around him and hugging him. "but now i feel so bad for ever doubting him..." you sigh.

"you had every right to at the moment, 'kay? it was a natural reaction and now, you just need to fix it by getting sunghoon back," sunoo reassures.

so, the two of you spent the rest of the day, brewing a potion to cure sunghoon. now all you had to do was figure out how to slip it to him.

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧

walking into the great hall, you stride over to the slytherin table and over to sunghoon. annoyingly, jia is right there, clinging onto his arms.

now that you know, you do see how soulless he looks, not his usual bright and colorful self.

"hey could you two come with me? i need to survey couples for the ball," you lie, just trying to get them away. jia reluctantly agrees, pulling sunghoon with her.

while you were distracting these two, sunoo was borrowing harry's invisibility cloak to drop in the antidote into sunghoon's drink.

once you were done, you sit back at your table, making eye contact with sunoo and sending messages through your stares.

you swiftly turn around to see sunghoon taking a sip of his drink and you smile softly to yourself, knowing he'll be back in no time.

you stand up, walking out of the great hall and to your dorm, wanting to collect your thoughts before talking to sunghoon again.

meanwhile, in the great hall, sunghoon feels like he just woke up from a dream, taking a second to process the whole situation. looking down at the weight on his arm, he sees a girl who is not his y/n.

immediately, he pulls it back, scooting away from the girl.

"sungie?" god her voice made him cringe.

"what the fuck is happening? where's y/n?" he growls, starting to lose patience with the girl.

the girl just scoffs.

"ugh, really? that bitch? she's not eve-" she's cut off by sunghoon's intense glare, like he was daring her to finish that sentence.

"don't ever talk to me or y/n ever again. got it?" he seethes, before getting up and walking away to find you.

"sunoo! where's y/n?" he asks the shorter boy, knowing that you and sunoo were best friends.

"she's probably in the library, but please let her talk, she really likes you and she's just scared to lose you," sunoo says, offering sunghoon a small smile.

thanking him, sunghoon runs off the the library to looks for you.

he finds you at the desk you and him always sat at, making his heart melt a little.

"y/n?" he calls out quietly, and louder and his voice might betray him.

your head turns around at the call of your name, your eyes widening at the source of it.

"hi sunghoon..." you smile softly, motioning for him to sit down next to you.

you fill him in on everything. jia making him fall in love with her, the kiss, and even how you felt. you felt vulnerable talking about this with someone who wasn't sunoo, but sunghoon kept quiet, listening to you attentively.

"princess i'm so sorry..i know that probably isn't enough for all you've been through, but i just want you to know that i like you so so much, and i could never dream of leaving you for anyone else, okay? i will wait forever just so you could be mine, baby," he smiles, placing his hand on yours.

"thank you," you whisper, not trusting your voice. "i really like you too sunghoon, and i want this."

"can...can i kiss you?" he asks softly, reading your expression. you smile and nod, giving him the go ahead.

and with that, he leans in slowly, capturing your lips in his.

his lips are soft against yours, moving slowly yet passionately.

you two pull away breathless, silently laughing to yourselves.

he leans his forehead against yours, kissing the tip of your nose.

"i'm so lucky to have you princess, you mean the world to me."

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: @en-diaries, @k-films, @k-nets

⚘. Perm taglist: @vmpivory, @yuvany, @seozii, @pinknjm, @greentulip, @jomisu, @nxzz-skz, @ancnymcnzjy

[my-castles-crumbling]

sober - January 26 - black brothers - jegulus - @black-brothers-microfic - word count: 321

“Hey!”

Regulus looked up from where he was sprawled on his couch to see Sirius letting himself into Regulus’s flat, slamming the door behind him.

“Can you be fucking quiet?” Regulus snapped. “I have a terrible headache.”

“It’s your own damn fault,” Sirius retorted, completely unsympathetic. “Hangovers are a bitch, huh?”

He frowned. “What’s gotten into you this morning?”

But his brother sat down on the end of the couch before he spoke, storms in his eyes. “You need to stop, Reg,” he said quietly, sounding pained.

Regulus paused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said loftily. Or as lofty as he could with his head throbbing.

“Yes you do,” Sirius sighed. “It’s gotten out of control. And James will never say anything because he’s too far gone for you. But you’re hurting him, Reg. Do you ever have any intention of acknowledging him while you’re sober?”

He frowned. He didn’t want to say it, but Sirius was right. It had become a thing. Downing a bottle of wine by himself or knocking back a few shots at the bar with his friends before texting James. Stumbling drunkenly into the older man’s bed and succumbing to his own passions and desires.

Then crawling out of the warmth of comforting arms in the morning and pretending it had never happened.

“He doesn’t want me like that,” he murmured, closing his eyes to stop himself from tearing up. “It’s just…for fun.”

“Yeah? Then why does he have mac and cheese for breakfast and cry at romcoms all day every time you leave before he wakes up?” Sirius challenged him, crossing his arms.

Regulus blinked. James was sad that he left? “I…”

“Just…maybe text him, yeah? You both are too stubborn and stupid for your own damn good,” Sirius grumbled. 

For the first time, Regulus considered that maybe Sirius was right, and this thing between himself and James could be something more.

[prettymfwrites]

Forgotten Date Prank

Paige bueckers x Female reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・。.・゜✭・.・。.・゜✭・.・。.

The camera’s red light blinked steadily, recording the scene unfolding in your shared apartment. You adjusted the tripod, making sure the angle was perfect before flipping the viewfinder around to check your framing. Perfect. You grinned mischievously to yourself, glancing over your shoulder to where Paige was sprawled on the couch, scrolling mindlessly on her ipad.

"Hey, guys! Welcome back to the channel!" you started brightly, clapping your hands together. "So today’s video is super special because my girl Paige has finally decided to plan a surprise date for us! Like, she's the cutest."

Paige’s head whipped up immediately, her blonde ponytail bouncing. “Wait, what?”

You ignored her, suppressing a smirk as you kept your attention on the camera. “I know, I was shocked too! I’ve been bugging her for months to take the lead and plan something on her own, and she finally did it! So today, we’re doing a GRWM for this dinner date.”

Paige’s brows furrowed, her lips parting slightly in confusion. “Ma, what are you talking about? I didn’t—”

"Shh!" You held up a finger, still grinning. "I’ll ask Paige what kind of look she’s envisioning for me, and we’ll go from there. Baby, what vibe are we going for? Glam? Natural? Something bold?"

Paige sat up straight now, her iPad forgotten as she stared at you in full-blown panic. “Baby, what? I didn’t plan—hold on—when is this date supposed to be?”

“Oh, you don't have to act like it's still a secret” you teased, swiping your makeup bag off the counter. “You’re so bad at surprises. Just tell me what I should wear so I don’t ruin the aesthetic.”

“Baby.” Paige’s voice cracked slightly, and you had to fight back a laugh. “I didn’t plan a date, What are you talking about? Are you messing with me?”

You glanced at her, face full of disbelief. “What? Are you serious right now? Paige, you texted me this morning, ‘Be ready at 7.’ Don’t tell me you forgot!”

Paige’s jaw dropped. “What?! I didn’t text you that!” She grabbed her phone, scrolling frantically. “Did I? No, there’s no way—I didn’t—hold on—”

“Babe, don’t tell me you’re flaking on our date already,” you said dramatically, turning to the camera with a fake pout. “Y’all see this? She planned a whole romantic evening and now she’s trying to back out.”

“Mama, stop lying on my name in front of them. ” Paige groaned, running a hand through her hair. “I didn’t plan a date, I swear! Unless—wait—am I supposed to have planned a date? Did I forget something? Oh my God.”

You turned back to her, holding up a tube of lipstick. “So red or nude for the lips?”

Paige’s eyes darted between the lipstick and your face, her expression a mix of panic and confusion. “Uh—uh—nude, I guess? But seriously, baby, where are we going? What am I supposed to do?”

You held up your blush palette next. “Peachy cheeks or more bronzed?”

Paige slapped a hand to her forehead. “baby, look at me. If I forgot a date, you gotta tell me where it is so I can fix this! Like—give me something to work with. Is it fancy? Casual? Do I need to make reservations?”

“I don’t know,” you said, shrugging. “You tell me.”

Paige groaned, flopping back onto the couch dramatically. “You’re killing me. Killing me,” she muttered, staring at the ceiling. “Okay, okay, okay—think, Bueckers. What can I pull together in—” she glanced at the clock, “—two hours? Picnic? No, it’s too cold for that. Dinner? Do I have time to find a good restaurant? Maybe I can—”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. The laugh burst out of you, loud and uncontrollable, as you doubled over clutching your stomach.

Paige sat up, her eyes narrowing. “Wait a minute.” She pointed a finger at you. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

“you're so cute” you gasped, still laughing. “Oh my God, you should’ve seen your face. You looked like a deer in headlights.”

Paige groaned, throwing a pillow at you. “Mama, why you gotta do me like that?! I was out here thinking I forgot our anniversary or something!”

You wiped a tear from your eye, still giggling. “I couldn’t resist. You were too easy to mess with.”

Paige shook her head, though a reluctant smile tugged at her lips. “You’re evil. Straight up evil. I was about to sprint to the grocery store and buy some flowers or something.”

“You love me, though,” you said, grinning as you walked over to sit beside her.

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, pulling you into her lap. “But don’t think I won’t get you back for this.”

“Oh, I’m shaking,” you teased, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

Paige rolled her eyes but smiled, wrapping her arms around you. “You’re lucky you’re cute, baby. Real lucky.”

I take requests💋

[imsofreakingtired]

Hi! I love your writing <3

I wanted to ask,can you please write something about really drunk Sevika being vulnerable with reader and reader comforting her?

Maybe drunk Sev talking about how tired she is or her expressing some insecurity?

anon i love this ask so much, here u go<3

tired (angst, hurt/comfort)

content warning(s): alcohol abuse, heavy(ish?) angst

“you haven’t felt right for days is it the fact you never say what comes in your mind that day? maybe it’s time to shut away ‘cause i’ve never really felt okay.” 

~~~

You can’t find Sevika anywhere—she’s not at the Last Drop, she’s not at the harbor, and no one in the Shimmer warehouse has seen her all day. You finally find her up in Silco’s empty office, sitting on the couch, nursing a bottle of hard liquor and staring blankly at the wall in front of her. Her prosthetic arm is detached, propped up against the low table. You remember that Silco’s away on a trip uptown for the night, something about him needing to buy things for Jinx’s room. The room is so silent you can hear everything in the streets outside—the fights, the drunk laughter, the rumble of wheels. Somewhere deep beneath the building you hear the distant boom of an explosion—Jinx must be working on her experiments. 

“Sevika?” you say in a low voice. She gives a start, stares at you like she’s never seen you before. 

“Hey,” she says. Her gaze is slightly unfocused, and in the dim light of the lamp the rings beneath her grey eyes look deeper and heavier than you remembered. 

“You okay?” 

You approach her slowly. You’ve never seen her like this before—sitting in this slouched position, hand limp, absent-minded. You feel a sudden concern. Is she sick? But that was like wondering if the sun shined at night. Sevika didn’t get sick. 

“I’m fine,” Sevika says gruffly. 

You feel her forehead anyway. Half-heartedly, she bats your hand away. You’re closer to her now and can smell the alcohol on her breath.

“Hey,” Sevika says again. “Why do you stick around?”  

“What?” 

She raises the bottle to her mouth, but seems to decide even that motion requires too much energy. She lets the bottle roll onto the floor. It was empty anyway. 

“I’d leave me, y’know, if I could,” Sevika mutters. “So why don’t you.” 

Then you understand. The slurring of words. The heavy tone. She’s drunk. This is somehow even more alarming than if she were sick. Sevika doesn’t get drunk. She has a powerful alcohol tolerance and disciplines herself with a limit to how much she can drink each day. She can’t afford to get carried away, doesn’t have the time to let herself fully escape from the world. There’s just too much to do. Silencing Silco’s opponents. Overseeing shipments. Bribing Piltie suppliers. Making deals with the magistrates of Zaunite districts. And, lately, cleaning up Jinx’s messes. 

At any rate, though, she’s drunk now—no doubt about it. You’re almost fascinated. Working at the Last Drop, you’ve seen any number of drunks: some sobbed loudly about past wrongs, some picked violent fights, some jumped up on tables and sang. But Sevika is collected even in intoxication. Her voice is subdued, and she looks more tired than anything. 

“I stick around because I care about you,” you say matter-of-factly, sitting down beside Sevika. 

“I’m no good,” she says. “I’ve been thinking about it. I’m no good. You deserve better.” 

“Don’t say that, Sevi. It isn’t true.”

There’s something desperate in the way she’s looking at you—a raw plea in her eyes. You cup her face in your hand, raising her chin to look her in the eye. “Hey,” you say softly. “It’s okay. Talk to me.” 

She looks away. “I feel like I’m holding up a crumbling brick wall. I’m walking through these streets and I see these kids, you know, playing in the gutter and looking up at me with their hungry eyes, and my chest gets so tight I think I might die.” She shakes her head, draws in a shuddering breath. “It’s never enough. No matter what I do, what choices I make. It’s never enough. I’m never enough.” 

“You’re doing all you can.”

“I’ve done horrible things. I close my eyes and I see these…these faces, these twisted angry faces, cursing me for what I’ve done to them.”

“You didn’t have a choice.” 

“I had the choices. I made all the wrong decisions.” Her voice breaks and she stops abruptly, biting her lip. “I just…I just don’t know myself anymore.” 

“I know you,” you tell her. “And I know you’re doing your best. I know you’re more than enough.” 

She looks at you tiredly. You wrap your arms around her, rubbing her broad shoulders.

“It's okay, Sevi. I’m here.” 

With a deep sigh she rests her head in your lap, and you stroke her hair until she falls asleep. You don’t leave her side even after you hear her slowed breathing. You stay there, running your fingers through her hair, threading out the heavy thoughts, warding away the nightmares. She won’t remember this in the morning. She would deny she ever gave a thought to any of what she told you, let alone spoke them aloud. So you store her secrets in your heart for her. If you could take away her burdens by doubling your own, you would. 

In her sleep, Sevika clings tightly to you.

[lanaroff]

To Love, To Stay

pearing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

summary: Reader and Wanda Maximoff are basking in the joy of a blossoming relationship when an unexpected pregnancy changes everything.

The first months with Wanda were a dream. Everything felt easy, natural. Dates at quaint little cafes, lazy mornings wrapped in blankets on the couch, and laughter—so much laughter. Wanda had a way of making even the simplest moments feel magical. It was as if being with her brought color to a life you hadn’t realized was so gray before.

You were still in the honeymoon phase of your relationship, enjoying every moment without thinking too far ahead. Conversations about the future felt distant, unimportant. All that mattered was the now, and the now was perfect.

But then things changed.

Wanda started acting distant. At first, it was subtle. She seemed preoccupied, her mind wandering during conversations. She canceled a couple of dates with vague excuses, and when you did see her, she wasn’t as present as she used to be. It wasn’t like her to pull away—Wanda was always so open, so warm.

You tried not to overthink it, but the nagging feeling that something was wrong only grew. It wasn’t until one evening, when you’d gone to her room at the Avengers Compound unannounced, that everything came crashing down.

The bathroom door was slightly ajar, and a small white stick sat on the counter. At first, it didn’t register what it was. But then you saw the two pink lines.

Your stomach dropped. You felt like the floor had been ripped out from under you. A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, but one stood out above the rest: She cheated on me.

“Wanda!” you called, your voice sharp and trembling. She appeared in the doorway, her face pale when she saw what you were holding.

“It’s not what you think,” she said quickly, her hands raised as if to calm you.

You scoffed, your chest tightening with anger and hurt. “Not what I think? Then explain this to me, Wanda, because it sure looks like you’ve been hiding something pretty big.”

“It’s yours,” she said, her voice steady despite the tears welling in her eyes. “The baby is yours.”

The words hit you like a freight train. “What?” you whispered, stumbling back a step. “No… no, we haven’t even talked about this. We never…” Your breathing quickened as panic set in. “I can’t do this. I can’t be a parent. I don’t know how.”

“Y/N please,” Wanda pleaded, her voice rising. She stepped closer, her eyes filled with desperation. “We can handle this. Together. Please, just listen—”

“Listen to what?” you snapped, your voice cracking. “That you decided to keep this from me? That you didn’t even think to talk to me about something this big? How could you, Wanda?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you!” she shouted back, tears streaming down her face now. “I was scared, okay? I… I didn’t know how you’d react. I’ve seen how you get when we even talk about the future, and I… I panicked.”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “So you just decided to keep it to yourself? To make this decision for both of us?”

“I didn’t make any decisions,” she shot back. “I’m still trying to figure it out, just like you. But you… you’re running away before we can even talk about it.”

“Because I’m not ready for this!” you yelled, your voice echoing through the room. “I don’t know how to be a parent, Wanda. I don’t even know if I want to be a parent.”

Her face crumpled at your words, and for a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of her quiet sobs. You felt a pang of guilt, but the fear and anger coursing through you were too overwhelming.

“I need time,” you said finally, your voice breaking. Without another word, you turned and left, the sound of the door closing behind you echoing in your ears.

You found yourself at a bar, drowning your panic in shot after shot of whiskey. The fear clawed at your chest, and no amount of alcohol could quiet the voices in your head. Memories of your parents flashed through your mind—the yelling, the tears, the chaos.

Your father’s voice was always loud, sharp, biting. He had a temper that seemed to ignite over the smallest things, leaving you walking on eggshells every moment you were around him. Your mother, though softer, wasn’t much better. Her silence often felt as cutting as his words. She would retreat, disappearing into herself, leaving you to navigate the storm alone. You could still remember the fights—so loud, so consuming. Nights spent curled up in your room, covering your ears as the walls shook with their screaming matches.

When they finally left, it didn’t feel like relief. Your father slammed the door with a suitcase in hand, his angry footsteps echoing in your memory. Your mother stayed for a while, but her emptiness was suffocating. Then she too was gone, leaving nothing but the ghost of what a family should have been. They had both vanished from your life in different ways, but their absence carried the same message: You’re not worth staying for.

And now, here you were, standing on the precipice of creating a family of your own. The idea of it filled you with dread. What if you turned out just like them? What if you failed the way they did? What if you hurt the people you loved because that was all you’d ever known? The fear was paralyzing.

Yet, despite that fear, there was another feeling that cut through the haze of alcohol and self-loathing. Love. Love for Wanda. Love for the way she looked at you like you mattered, like you were worth something. Love for the way she could make you laugh even on your worst days. Love for the possibility of something good, something real. But was love enough to outweigh the fear?

Hours later, you stumbled into the Avengers Compound, your legs barely carrying you. The common area was dimly lit, and there she was, sitting on the couch, her eyes red from crying. Wanda shot up the moment she saw you, rushing to your side.

“Where have you been?” she asked, her voice laced with worry. She steadied you as you nearly collapsed, her arms strong and grounding despite your drunken state.

“Wanda,” you slurred, tears streaming down your face. “I’m so scared. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be a parent. What if I ruin everything? What if I ruin them? I… I don’t want to hurt you, or… or our baby.”

Her face softened, and she guided you to sit down, keeping her hands on your shoulders as if to anchor you.

“You think I’m not scared too?” she said, her voice breaking as she held you close. “Do you think I have all the answers? I don’t. But I know one thing—I love you, and I want to do this with you. Please don’t shut me out. Don’t run from me.”

“I’m not running,” you said, your voice cracking as you sobbed into her shoulder. “I… I just don’t know how to be anything other than scared. My parents were a mess, Wanda. They destroyed each other, and they destroyed me. What if I… what if I’m just like them?”

“You’re not them,” Wanda said firmly, her hands cupping your face. Her thumbs brushed away your tears, her touch gentle but steady. “You’re kind, and loving, and you’ve already shown me how much you care. That’s what matters. You don’t have to be perfect. We just have to love them, and each other. We can do this.”

You looked into her eyes, seeing nothing but warmth and determination. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’m so sorry for how I reacted. I… I love you so much, Wanda. I don’t think I ever thought I’d be this happy, and it scares me. But the thought of losing you scares me even more.”

Wanda’s lips quivered as she smiled through her own tears. “I love you too,” she said, her voice soft and full of emotion. “And you’re not going to lose me. We’ll figure this out. Together.”

“I don’t deserve you,” you said, your voice breaking again. “But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to. I promise.”

She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, her hands still cradling your face. “You already do,” she whispered against your lips. “And you’ll be an amazing parent. I know you will.”

The two of you sat there, holding each other as the weight of the night slowly lifted. It wouldn’t be easy—you knew that. But as long as you had Wanda by your side, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you could face whatever came next. Together.

[loverangels]

HRSJIDJE IM BACK HII 🫰😋 I HAVE SOME MORE IDEAS since exams r finally done.

What about percy x cluess!reader that doesnt seem to get all the flirty action percy has been showing and thinks he's just friendly like that. Maybe throw in a hc about reader being in an aphrodite kid, and doesnt think that anyone could like them romantically cause they thinks its just due to them being aphrodite's child, and percy tries to show them that regardless of what god parent they have, he still likes us.

Can you tell my brain is fried?

-🌸

sooner

pairings: percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite!reader

a/n: I'm in love with this request you never fail to serve with your requests nonnie!!! I wish you all the best for your exams and I hope this can be a little treat since I know how horrible exam season can be! Make sure to take care of yourself love!! 🩷🌸

The sun hung low in the sky, casting golden hues across Camp Half-Blood as you walked alongside Percy. He was smiling in that easy, boyish way he always did, his hands casually shoved in his pockets as he glanced at you.

“So,” Percy said, bumping your shoulder lightly. “What’s the latest from Aphrodite cabin? You guys always seem to have, like, ten soap operas running at once.”

You laughed. “You’re not wrong. Yesterday, Drew tried to use a love potion on one of the Apollo kids, but she mixed it wrong, and now he won’t stop declaring his undying love for a watermelon.”

Percy chuckled. “Classic. But what about you? Any love drama of your own? Got your eye on anyone special?”

You tilted your head, considering. “Me? No, no one. Why?”

Percy stumbled a little, but quickly covered it up with a shrug. “Oh, no reason. Just curious.”

He glanced at you, waiting for some kind of reaction, hoping for even the tiniest flicker of realization. But you just smiled at him, completely oblivious. Percy sighed internally. How could you not see it? The way he went out of his way to make you laugh, the way he made excuses to spend time with you, the way he felt like his heart might actually explode every time you smiled at him.

But to you, Percy was just a friend. And no matter how many hints he dropped, you didn’t seem to noticem

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Later that evening, Percy found himself standing outside the Aphrodite cabin. Again. He stared at the door for a moment, debating whether to turn around, but then he sighed and knocked.

When the door swung open, your older brother leaned against the frame, looking completely unimpressed.

“Seriously?” he said, crossing his arms. “You’ve been here so much, we’re starting to think you’re an honorary sibling.”

Percy flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh… I just… I need advice. Again.”

The brother groaned and stepped aside, yelling over his shoulder, “Hey, lovebirds! Seaweed Brain’s back!”

Your siblings erupted in laughter as Percy shuffled in, his face red as a tomato.

“You’re still trying to get through to her, huh?” one of your sisters teased, lounging on her bed. “This is, what, the fourth time this week?”

“Sixth,” your brother corrected, smirking. “At this rate, we’re gonna have to start charging you.”

Percy sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what else to do! I flirt with her constantly, but she just smiles and changes the subject. I even asked her today if she liked anyone, and she said no!”

The group collectively groaned, and your brother flopped dramatically onto a couch.

“She is so oblivious,” one of your sisters muttered. “I love her, but gods, it’s painful to watch.”

“Have you tried being direct?” your brother asked, giving Percy a pointed look.

Percy frowned. “I’ve been trying! I’ve dropped hints, I’ve asked leading questions, I’ve been—”

“No, no, no,” your brother interrupted, waving his hand. “You don’t ‘hint’ at things with her. That’s like trying to teach a rock to swim. You have to be blunt. Like, hit-her-over-the-head-with-it blunt.”

“Tell her,” one of your sisters added. “Straight up. No room for her to misinterpret it.”

“She’s gonna think I’m crazy…” Percy mumbled.

“She already thinks you’re crazy,” your brother deadpanned. “Just own it. March up to her, look her in the eye, and say, ‘Hey, I like you. I’ve been flirting with you for weeks, and you haven’t noticed, so now I’m telling you.’”

The room went silent for a beat, everyone nodding in agreement. Percy groaned. “This is a terrible idea.”

“It’s your only shot, Jackson,” your brother said, patting him on the back. “Go get her.”

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The next day, Percy found you by the canoe lake, skipping stones across the water. He took a deep breath, his heart racing, and walked over.

“Hey,” he said, smiling nervously. “Got room for one more?”

You glanced up, your face lighting up when you saw him. “Of course. You’re always welcome, Percy.”

His heart skipped a beat. You had no idea what you did to him when you said things like that.

For a while, the two of you sat in companionable silence, watching the ripples spread across the lake. Then Percy cleared his throat, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

“So,” he began, his voice a little shaky. “There’s, uh… there’s something I need to tell you.”

You turned to him, your brow furrowing in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Percy said quickly. “It’s just… I’ve been trying to tell you something for a while now, but I don’t think I’ve done a very good job of it.”

You tilted your head, confused. “What do you mean?”

Percy took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage he had. “I like you. Like, like-like you. And before you say anything, no, it’s not just as a friend. I think you’re amazing, and funny, and brave, and honestly, you’re all I think about.”

You blinked at him, completely stunned. “Wait… what?”

“I like you,” Percy repeated, his face turning red. “As in, I’ve been flirting with you for weeks because I have a massive crush on you.”

You stared at him, your brain struggling to process his words. “But… I thought you were just being nice!”

Percy groaned, running a hand down his face. “How could you possibly think that? I literally asked your siblings for advice because I didn’t know how to tell you!”

“You talked to my siblings?” you asked, wide-eyed.

“Yes!” Percy exclaimed. “Half the Aphrodite cabin is sick of me because I’ve been driving them crazy trying to figure out how to get you to notice me.”

You blinked again, the pieces finally clicking into place. “Oh…”

Percy laughed weakly. “Yeah. Oh.”

There was a long silence as you stared at each other, Percy’s heart pounding in his chest. Finally, you smiled.

“Well,” you said softly, “you could’ve just told me sooner.”

Percy groaned. “You’re impossible.”

But then you leaned in, pressing a quick, soft kiss to his lips. When you pulled away, Percy’s face was bright red, but he was grinning like an idiot.

“Yeah,” he said breathlessly. “Totally worth it.”

[wondergirlsthings]

Charles Leclerc and the Power of a Simple Conversation

Charles Leclerc x Reader

It had been an exhausting week for both of you. Charles had just returned from a grueling race weekend, and you’d been juggling your own busy schedule. You hadn’t seen much of each other, and even though the time apart had been filled with texts and calls, you both felt the strain.

One evening, after dinner, Charles didn’t immediately retreat to his usual routine of relaxing with a game or scrolling through his phone. Instead, he set his phone aside and quietly suggested, “Why don’t we just sit down for a bit? I feel like we haven’t really talked in a while.”

You agreed, moving to the couch and curling up next to him. For a moment, the two of you just sat in silence, the weight of the last few days hanging in the air.

Then, out of nowhere, Charles spoke, his voice soft yet serious. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us. About everything, really. I feel like we haven’t had time to just… be with each other lately. It’s like life’s been moving too fast.”

You looked at him, seeing the vulnerability in his eyes that wasn’t often visible to the public. “I’ve been feeling the same way,” you confessed. “It’s like we’ve been running on autopilot, but not really connected.”

Charles nodded, his hand brushing through your hair gently. “I hate that. I never want to lose that connection we have. I want us to be able to talk about everything, even the little things.”

You smiled softly, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. “I love that about us. We can talk about anything.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping lower. “I just need you to know how much you mean to me. I don’t say it enough, especially when life gets busy. But you’re my priority. You always will be.”

You could feel your heart swelling at his words. There was something so raw about how he was opening up to you in that moment. It wasn’t a grand gesture or a surprise; it was just Charles being honest, something that made this moment all the more meaningful.

“I know, Charles,” you whispered. “And I feel the same way. I love you, and no matter what happens, that’s never going to change.”

The conversation drifted into comfortable silence, the two of you simply existing in each other’s presence. The bond you shared felt stronger now, not because of any grand gestures, but because of the quiet understanding and the willingness to make time for each other even when life got complicated.

Later that night, as you lay next to him, Charles kissed your forehead, a soft, lingering touch. “I’m glad we had this talk. It’s the little moments like this that make me feel like everything is going to be okay.”

You smiled, resting your head against his chest. “Me too. And we’ll always make time for moments like this, no matter how busy we get.”

[pickingupmymercedes]

Breathe on your own - Lewis Hamilton

genre: fluff (bit of angst, but you guys know the drill by now, angst to constrast the fluff)

wordcount: +2k

a/n: I know i've been missing but I had to get a piece on this past week and how it felt to see Lewis get the love he deserves.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

“Babe, did I butcher it?” he asked, his voice tinged with self-doubt, and I knew exactly what he meant without needing clarification.

Lewis had dropped his bag by the entryway to our hotel room, the weariness of the day etched into his shoulders. But still, there was a quiet energy to him—a hum beneath the surface. He was turned to me, his brow furrowed in thought, though the corners of his lips quirked upward.

“Butcher what exactly?” I feigned ignorance, crossing my arms and leaning against the back of the couch, watching him closely.

“The italian.” He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “I said ‘grazie mille’ to that grandpa on the lobby, but I think I got the accent all wrong. He looked at me funny.”

A soft laugh escaped me, one I didn’t try to hide.

He was so earnest, so uncharacteristically unsure of himself in this small way. It was adorable.

“You nailed it,” I assured him, stepping closer. “It’s just they don’t really expect you to understand them. That’s what threw him.”

He blinked at me, his lips parting as though he was about to protest, but then his expression shifted. He grinned, that slow, boyish grin I hadn’t seen in what felt like forever, and it nearly took my breath away.

“You sure?” he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly, playful now.

“Positive” I said firmly, reaching up to smooth the warms to his jumper. The fabric soft under my fingers, but his warmth was what I felt most. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. They adore you already… Maybe they always have”

He exhaled deeply, the tension in his shoulders easing a fraction more, and for a moment, he just looked at me. Really looked at me, like he was searching for something and had found it.

“They were chanting” he said quietly, almost to himself. “For me. I never thought…” His voice trailed off, and he shook his head, as if the thought itself was too audacious to complete.

I smiled softly, brushing my hand along his arm. “You’re Lewis Hamilton. They know what you’re capable of.”

He hesitated, and I saw it then—the flicker of doubt that had plagued him for so long. But it was faint, almost extinguished.

“I just… I didn’t think I’d feel this way” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Driving that car, hearing them… it’s been so long…”

“Since what?” I prompted gently, though I thought I already knew the answer.

“Since I got to have fun out there” he said simply, and his gaze met mine again, raw and unguarded.

My chest tightened, and I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

There he was—the man I’d seen struggle and stumble, who’d carried the weight of expectations and doubts, both his own and others’, for far too long.

And here he was now, standing just a little taller, his voice a little steadier, the glint of hope returning to his eyes.

I stepped closer, slipping my arms around his waist, and he pulled me in without hesitation, his forehead resting lightly on mine.

“No matter where —Mclaren, Mercedes, or Ferrari— you’re still you. And you’re still everything they believe you are” I murmured against his lips.

And I felt the way he exhaled, the way his arms tightened around me.

It was enough. So much more than enough.

After a moment, he pulled back slightly, a mischievous glint in his eye now. “Grazie mille, amore” he said, his voice dipping into a mock-Italian accent that was horrendous and endearing all at once.

I laughed, swatting his arm lightly. “That one was terrible.”

“I’ll work on it,” he said, grinning and leaving me to head to the bathroom.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, his smile didn’t look forced.

And his joy was contagious yes, but beneath my own smile, I felt the weight of everything that had brought us here.

To the point of so much relief in a sincere smile.

As Lewis’s steps drifted faintly, I stayed frozen in place, the warmth of his smile lingering like a phantom touch.

I let my eyes close, but all it did was bring back memories. Memories I wished I could bury, ones that still sat heavy in the quiet corners of my mind.

It had started with a shift so small, I almost missed it.

The slight hesitation in his voice. The way he’d press his lips together after team meetings, his jaw tight as if he was physically holding back what he wanted to say. He had always been so composed, so unshakable in public.

But last year, cracks had formed in the armor he’d worn for so long.

I remembered one particular day, not long after he’d made his decision to leave Mercedes. It was a rare evening when he didn’t have an appearance or a debrief. We’d been sitting on the couch, half-watching something on TV, though neither of us was paying attention.

I had asked him how he was feeling—just a simple question.

“I’m tired, Y/n” he had admitted, his voice barely audible. “I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. It’s like… it’s like running in quicksand.”

I had reached for his hand, threading my fingers through his, and squeezed tightly, desperate to anchor him. “You’re not. It’s the car. It’s not you.”

But he had only shaken his head, his gaze distant. “I don’t know if I believe that anymore.”

It had crushed me to hear it, to see the man who had conquered the world so many times over doubt himself like that.

And yet, I couldn’t show him how scared I was, how deeply it hurt to see him lose faith. So I had buried my own fears, locked them away, and poured everything I had into lifting him up.

There were so many moments like that after though.

The time Toto made that offhand comment about drivers and their “expiration date.” Lewis had heard about it from a journalist, of all people. He brushed it to the side, didn’t say a word about it to anyone after, but he didn’t have to.

 I’d seen the tension in his posture, the way he picked at his food that day without eating much of it. He’d gone to bed early that night, and I’d lain awake for hours, rereading that book to find a different meaning, something that would say it was just a misunderstanding.

And then there was that factory visit—the one I could barely bring myself to think about even now. It had been his last as a driver, and I had gone with him, knowing he wouldn’t ask but needing to be there anyway.

He had been quiet that day, too quiet. As we walked through the familiar halls, shaking hands with staff, posing for photos, I watched him closely. His smile was polite, his words gracious, but there was no spark in his eyes. No pride.

When we left, he hadn’t said a word until we were in the car. And even then, it wasn’t much.

“They’ve been good to me,” he had murmured, staring out the window. “I’ll always be grateful for that.”

I had nodded, unsure what to say, because what exactly does anyone say to that? No words could ease the weight of walking away from a team that had been his home for so long.

But the worst moments—the ones that haunted me the most—were the ones no one else saw.

The nights when he’d wake up in the early hours and just sit on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. The nights when he’d stare at himself in the mirror, not with the confidence I’d always known, but with doubt into every line of his face.

I had tried to held him through it all, whispering words of reassurance, even when I wasn’t sure he believed me.

Even when I wasn’t sure I believed myself.

And I couldn’t help but compare to how his eyes had lit up today, how he’d stood a little taller as the tifosi chanted his name.

Because they believe in him.

My mind was still caught in the grip of the past year—those heavy days, the unseen cracks Lewis had fought so hard to mend when a sound broke through the silence: soft, unassuming, yet unmistakable.

A hum.

It started low, barely a whisper, and then grew, wrapping itself around the air in the room.

My heart stuttered, the sound pulling me out of my spiral. I followed it to its source, finding Lewis in the mirror, silhouette highlighted by the towel in his waist.

“What’s that tune?” I asked, my voice cutting gently through the moment. He turned, startled, and then offered a sheepish grin, the kind that reached his eyes and melted years of tension off his face.

“Didn’t realize I was doing it,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes sparkled, the weight they’d carried for so long noticeably lighter. “Guess it’s been a good day.”

I smiled, leaning against the doorframe. “Good day doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

I headed to him and he helped me to sit on the marble counter. My hands resting loosely around his neck as he looked at me. “C’mon, spill. How are you really feeling?”

Lewis hesitated for a moment, his hands drawing lazy patterns on my thighs, his shoulders dropping as he exhaled deeply. The sound was more release than sigh, a letting go of something long held in.

“It’s… hard to put into words,” he began, his voice thoughtful. “I wasn’t sure how it would go. Driving for Ferrari…  What if I didn’t fit? What if they didn’t want me there for my driving?”

I stayed quiet, giving him space to find his rhythm. His fingers fidgeted slightly, betraying the vulnerability beneath his calm exterior.

“But the tifosi…” He shook his head, his expression a mix of wonder and disbelief. “They welcomed me like I’d always been one of theirs. Chanting my name, waving flags, shouting things I barely understood but could feel, you know? That… that was something else.”

“And the car?” I prompted softly.

A smile broke across his face, wide and unguarded. “The car,” he echoed, leaning back when letting a chuckle out. “Gosh I know they hate the SF23, but it felt good. Familiar in the ways that matter and different in the ways that make it exciting. For the first time in so long, I felt like… It reminded me that it wasn’t just me. The struggles, the frustrations… they weren’t just me.”

His voice grew softer, almost reverent. “And I know this is no confirmation of anything, but for the first time in ages, I’m not afraid to hope. I don’t know what’s ahead, but today… it felt like a start.”

My chest tightened, pride and relief in equal measure. I reached out, covering his hand with mine. “You deserved this,” I put simply. “Every bit of it.”

He turned his hand over, intertwining his fingers with mine. The warmth in his gaze was enough to light the room.

He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the back of my hand. “It’s good to feel like myself again” he said quietly, the words carrying the weight of everything left unspoken.

“It’s good to see you like this” I replied, my voice equally soft.

He tilted his head, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. “And the humming? You’re not gonna tease me about that?”

I grinned, leaning closer. “I’m saving that for later. Don’t you worry.”

His laughter echoed again, and in that moment, it felt like the room, the city, the whole world had exhaled along with him.

As he pulled me into his arms, humming that same tune against my ear, I closed my eyes, letting the sound wash over me. For the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt just as it should.

It was real—that lightness he was rediscovering, the hope that the best could still be to come.

_____________________________________________________________

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[hauntedhokage]

Anticipation

Itoshi Rin/F!Reader

rating: explicit

summary: you’re cat sitting for Rin while he’s away, the distance between you encouraging you to ask for help with more intimate matters.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: phone sex

Requested!

“Your cat is an asshole.”

Your comment makes Rin snort, a rare amused sound leaving the stoic striker.

“He likes you more than me.”

“I doubt it.”

This time it’s a thoughtful hum that leaves him, your best friend clearly considering how he would try to convince you that his cat did actually like you. But instead he tells you that the fluffy menace was only your problem for a couple more days, then you were no longer at risk of having your feet swiped at from under various pieces of furniture in his apartment.

“It’ll be nice to have you back for the mid season break,” you comment, making your way to his bedroom to get ready for bed. Time zones had been tricky for his daily check ins, his practices rubbing late had him calling and leaving voicemails while you were asleep. This was the first time in about a week that you’d actually spoken to him, and that was only because you were staying up late to get to do that.

“Yeah, save you from my asshole cat.”

“We can have a movie night or something,” you suggest, getting comfortable in his bed that has become yours while he was gone. The sheets still smelled like him despite his absence, and you weren’t going to deny how nice it was to be surrounded by his scent. “A lot of good ones streaming now.”

“That’d be fine. What are you doing right now, I don’t want to keep you up.”

“I want to talk to you,” you start, settling into the pillows while eyeing the vibrator charging on his nightstand. “Just got into bed, but I’m not tired so don’t hang up unless you have to.”

“I’ve got about an hour. Enjoying my bed?”

“A lot.” He hums at that. “Might just move in and make you take the couch.”

“We can share.”

That wasn’t a standard Rin answer; he should’ve said something along the lines of changing the locks or making you sleep on the floor. Not that you hadn’t shared a bed with him before, you were both mature adults that could do that without things faring awkward, but that was how he teased you.

But speaking of teasing, there was something more delicate on your mind and you were confident that Rin would be able to help - it would just be easier to ask if you didn’t have to look at him when you did. You’d need to be careful, tiptoeing along this line between friend and something else - something more - was a task done delicately. Otherwise the whole friendship could crumble, and Rin was not a person that you wanted to lose.

“Why are you quiet?”

“Wanted to ask you something, but I’m not sure how to ask.”

“Then just ask.”

Easy for him to say, he was great at being blunt (most of the time). This wasn’t something you were sure about, as Rin’s affection came few and far between. But you’d known about a girlfriend or two, affairs that didn’t last long but were long enough that he’d slept with them so he was your only option.

“How do you make a girl cum? Like…what’s your technique?” You feel like you’re in a furnace, your face hot as there’s a pause on the other side of the call. He probably thought you were stupid, figuring out how to cut this tie and ensure his cat was still taken care of from today on.

“Was there a sexual awakening that I missed?”

“Uh…no?” Your voice wobbles, embarrassment having taken over but you know you’re in the fire now. Rin wouldn’t drop this - he sounded too interested to be willing to. “It’s more like a me problem.”

“You need help finishing yourself off.”

“It sounds pathetic when you say it like that!” Your complaint earns a chuckle from him on the other side, and your face is warm with embarrassment. “But basically, yeah. I get so close and then it’s just…gone. Kinda silly, but it’s bugging me.”

“I can see why. Are you in my bed?”

“Yeah.”

“Bring anything with you?”

You hesitate to answer, since the implication of a positive response would be that you were masturbating in his bed while he was away. Not that it mattered, considering that you just told him something deeply personal regarding your sex life - a vibrator in his bed likely would be nothing in comparison.

“Don’t get it yet, first take your shorts off for me.”

It’s easy to follow instructions when it was Rin dishing them out. Usually the mask he wore when out playing soccer slipped, leaving a soft spoken man who just rolled with the punches for you to hang out with in your shared free time. When he maintained that control it always turned you on, the dull tenor of his voice and cold gaze sending shockwaves directly to your core that had you pushing yourself closer to him to absorb more of that energy that radiated off of him.

You’re obedient as he gives you instructions, first to wet your middle finger before sliding it between your folds. It’s only a bit embarrassing to feel just how wet you were hurt from talking to Rin - and you couldn’t even see what he was doing on the other side of the ocean. He sounds amused at the information, telling you to bring some of that wetness up to your clit.

“It’s about building anticipation,” he says, and you open your legs more as you continue to move your finger in tight circles. “Patience is key, don’t rush it.”

It was hard to be patient when you were desperate for that release that had been evading you for weeks. First it was just day by day, believing it was just a mental block or stress keeping you from cumming, but gradually became hour-by-hour that you worried you would never feel that bliss again. Patience would be near impossible when this was something you wanted more than anything else - if anything just to make sure that there wasn’t something irreversibly wrong with you.

“Relax.”

“‘M trying.”

“Not hard enough.” He was such a bastard. “I can’t get off until you do.”

Of course he’d challenge himself, placing a stipulation on his ability to help you reach that peak and actually fall off the edge and onto the other side. Typical Rin, but the labored breathing on the other end tells you something else. This wasn't just him helping you get off, this was full fledged phone sex now, the official crossing of a line previously left untouched. The question of what happens after this is better left unspoken, held back until Rin was in the same room as you and neither of you could dance around the topic. Not that he would, but you wanted to cover all bases.

“Do you need to stretch yourself out a bit or can you take your vibrator without it?”

“I should be okay without it.”

“Get it wet with your mouth, but play with it a little bit like you would if it was me.”

This had to be part of the anticipation. Playing with the toy that would be penetrating you as if trying to get it just as excited as you were. The additional prompt to treat it as if it were him you were sucking has your face hot - as if you were sitting directly in front of a fire.

“D-do you want it to be me stroking your cock?”

“As much as I’m sure you want it to be me rubbing your clit right now.” That had you humming as you brought your vibrator to your lips, setting your phone on your chest while on speaker so you could still hear him but use both your hands. “But we’ll work that out when I get back.”

You wish he could see you nod around the vibrator, since the sound you made at his statement could easily be interpreted as a sound you made at rubbing your clit. This would be so much easier if he was here, but you’d make do with what you had.

“Sounds so messy,” he teases, but you don’t care because you knew he liked it since he bothered to comment on it. “Get it nice and wet?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then push it in slowly. I want you to feel every inch of it.”

You do as he says, eyes falling shut at the feeling of the penetration and trying to picture Rin on top of you. His hair would probably fall in his face, tickling your face as it moved with his head and his thrust.

His name tumbles from your lips in a stuttered gasp, prompting his own groan that has you clenching around your toy as you continue to guide it in. He reminds you to relax and take it slow, and you take a couple deep breaths before continuing until it’s at the hilt.

“Don’t turn it on yet, fuck yourself with it for me. Move slow,” he instructs, voice heavy with his own lust. “But move your fingers slow on your clit. Feel it build a bit.”

You crave the additional stimulation from the vibration but don’t dare to defy Rin’s instructions after you’d asked him for help. He wasn’t above stopping entirely if you went against his suggestion, and for your own sake you push the thought aside as your hands move like he’d instructed.

When he tells you to turn on the toy you don’t hesitate, keeping it on the lowest setting as he’d instructed and keeping the thrusts slow.

“Takin’ it so well,” he mumbles, and you nod your agreement as your hips raise of their own accord. “Feel good?”

“Y-yeah. You?”

“Yeah.” He pauses, and you can hear the wet sound of his hand sliding along his shaft. His breathing was labored, you assumed that he was doing his best to hold off as he’d promised, the sound one of the sexiest noises you'd ever heard in your life and would happily play on loop as the soundtrack to assist in your next solo session.

“Pick up the pace a bit. Not too fast and angle it so it’s pointing upwards a bit.”

He continues to instruct you, an “oh, fuck” or “shit” breaking up his sentences on occasion but making you clench around the toy you fucked yourself with. Being part of the reason why the ever-collected Rin Itoshi was falling apart was a unique position to be in, but a position you were excited to be in. The adjusted angle has you seeing stars, the tightening of your core an indicator of an ending you hoped you achieved.

“R-Rin, I’m gonna cum.” You actually were, and you were so excited that he’d gotten you there. “Oh my god, I’m gonna-“

“Don’t hold it. Cum for me and let me hear you.”

The way you cry out when you finally tip over that edge is unrecognizable. The waves of pleasure that crash through your system have your legs shaking as your thighs clench around your hand, tears pricking at your eyes at the immense pleasure you were finally getting to experience after what felt like a lifetime. On the other end of the line you hear Rin’s stifled groans as you assume he reached his own end. He probably looked so pretty, chest heaving and hair sticking to his forehead since he’d sweat, you couldn’t wait to see it in person when he got back.

Your body relaxes back into the mattress, your vibrator turned off but still held in your pussy as you try to steady your breathing as he asks: “Feel better?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m home on Thursday, and I’ll make you cum so many times you’ll forget you ever had issues with it.”

“Threat or promise?”

“Both.”

[capuccinodoll]

The boyfriend act, part 2: "The one with the purring traitor" Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!reader

Chapter summary: You and Frankie hash out the details of your fabricated story, all while enduring the blatant betrayal of your own cat and your brother’s relentless teasing. WC: 8.4K

A/N: Hi everyone! I'm so happy to see how much you enjoyed the first chapter of TBA! Your comments mean the world to me—I absolutely love reading them, and I hope you love this part just as much <3 let me know what u think ;) Don't forget to lmk if u want to be added to the tag list, and follow capuccinodollupdates for notifications <3

Friday, August 9th. One day before the party.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, the sound breaking the quiet of your bedroom. You set your book down, its pages splaying open across the blanket, and rolled onto your side to grab your phone. The screen lit up.

[Unknown number]: Outside.

You exhaled sharply, a breath that sounded louder than it needed to. Your stomach twisted, a faint ripple of nerves spreading through you. 

Five minutes later, Frankie stood in the center of your living room, his hands planted firmly on his hips. His brows were drawn together, his expression impatient as he watched you move around the kitchen. The faint smell of tea leaves and honey filled the air as you poured hot water into your mug.

“You don’t seem to be in much of a rush,” he said finally, his voice carrying the faintest edge of irritation.

You glanced at him briefly, your hand stirring the tea as if to say he could wait.

“What’s the rush? The party isn’t until tomorrow.”

Frankie didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked around the room, his eyes flicking to the books stacked on the coffee table, the blanket draped haphazardly over the arm of the couch, the quiet clutter of a space lived in but not always tidy. He shifted his weight, his boots scuffing lightly against the floor, the impatience practically radiating off him.

You blew on your tea, meeting his gaze over the rim of your mug.

“You look like you’re about to explode. Sit down, you’re making me nervous pacing around like that,” you said as you walked past him, your hand cradling the warm mug. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink?”

Frankie hesitated for a moment, then dropped into the couch across from you. He ran a hand through his already messy hair, making it stick up at odd angles.

“What do you have that isn’t hot?”

You settled into the couch, the mug resting on the coffee table in front of you. The surface was cluttered with your used stickynotes, a few receipts, coasters, and an old pen you didn’t remember leaving there.

“Water, iced tea, a couple of cans of soda.”

Frankie leaned back, only to be interrupted by Mr. Darcy, your perpetually attention-seeking cat. The tabby appeared from the side of the couch, his soft meow high-pitched and delicate as he rubbed himself against Frankie’s leg. You frowned, betrayed.

Frankie leaned down, his hand immediately stroking the cat’s fur, and Mr. Darcy responded with a loud purr.

“What kind of soda?” 

You rolled your eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t know my guest was royalty. Next time, send a list of your preferences in advance, princess.”

He lifted his head and rested his elbows on his knees, leaning closer with an expression that was almost amused. Almost.

“I just asked what fucking flavor. Relax.”

“Coke.”

“I’ll take one.”

You stood with an exaggerated sigh, letting it linger in the air, but refrained from commenting on his lack of manners. The word please seemed allergic to his vocabulary, but you didn’t feel like pointing it out. Not today.

When you returned, you set the can of Coke down on the glass coaster on the table and took your seat again. Frankie reached for the drink, his fingers brushing the cold metal as he popped it open. The hiss of carbonation filled the quiet, mingling with the soft hum of Mr. Darcy’s purring at his feet.

“Okay, tell me about them,” you said, your tone clipped and businesslike, as if the two of you were about to negotiate the terms of a merger. You folded your hands neatly on your lap and fixed your gaze on him. Frankie, meanwhile, was focused on the can of Coke he’d just opened. He tilted it to his lips, taking a long sip. The way his throat moved as he swallowed made you glance away, irritated for no good reason.

When he finally set the can down on the coaster, he looked up at you.

“My mother’s name is Helena. She’s kind, easygoing. And observant. She’ll be watching us like a hawk the entire time. She already has her doubts about... all this.” He gestured vaguely, as if to encompass the entirety of the situation. “So we can’t get sloppy.”

You leaned back, crossing your arms over your chest.

“That’s going to be difficult, don’t you think?”

“Well, you’ll have to cooperate.”

You scoffed, an expression of mock offense crossing your face.

“I have to cooperate?”

“Yes. You.”

“Believe it or not, Francisco,” you said, leaning forward ,“I’m very nice. Easy to get along with. Mothers adore me.”

Frankie raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he was suppressing a laugh.

“That may be,” he said, his tone skeptical. “But I can’t risk even one slip in this... circus. If we let our mutual... our mutual thing show, she’ll catch on immediately. Believe me.”

You mirrored his arched eyebrow, matching his energy.

“Fine. Just be nice to me, and I’ll be nice to you. I promise.” You let the words hang for a moment, watching as he relaxed just slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing. Then you added, sweetly, “I just want you to remember, at all times, that no matter how nice and lovely I am, it’s all a lie.”

Frankie leaned back, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “Noted.”

The he exhaled heavily, rolling his eyes as if to physically expel his frustration. His hand moved to his neck, fingers brushing the skin in an absentminded gesture, like he was trying to ground himself. Mr. Darcy, ever the opportunist, leapt onto the couch beside him, his sleek tail flicking against Frankie’s arm. The cat’s head butted into him in what looked like a gentle plea for attention. You watched the scene for a moment, torn between amusement and suspicion, your lips pressed into a thin line.

“Just get a grip, okay? You can’t react to everything I say like it’s a personal attack.”

You arched an eyebrow, leaning back slightly with your cup in hand.

“And what about you?”

“What about me?” He leaned forward again, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together like he was preparing for some kind of intervention.

“You have to behave yourself too. Sometimes, you don’t even realize how nasty you’re being. Maybe it flies under the radar for most people, but if your mom is as observant as you claim—and she’s your mother, so obviously she knows you well—she’s going to pick up on all those little micro-attitudes. Immediately.”

You delivered the last word like a verdict, your tone carrying the weight of someone speaking to a particularly stubborn child. To your surprise, Frankie didn’t argue. Instead, he nodded slowly, his expression calm, even thoughtful.  

“Yeah. I can do that.”

“Good,” you replied, watching him carefully as you lifted your cup to your mouth, the faint steam curling around your face. You let the warm liquid sit on your tongue, satisfied—for now—that you might have just come to an agreement with the most impossible person you’d ever met.

Frankie began describing his family in broad strokes, filling in the blanks with enough detail that you felt as if you were piecing together a portrait of his life. You listened intently, committing everything to memory like a student preparing for a crucial exam. 

Helena, his mother, was the first to come up. She was fifty-nine, a literature teacher with a reputation for being kind but quietly persuasive. Frankie mentioned that she had a particular way of asking questions that felt more like peeling back layers than making polite conversation. She still lived in Austin, sharing a house with his youngest sister, Maia, ever since his father passed away almost two years ago. That detail hung in the air for a beat longer than the others, but he moved on quickly.

Luna, his oldest sister, was next. She was forty, an interior designer based in Boston, and from Frankie’s tone, it was clear she had a strong presence in the family. “Kind, funny, a little overbearing,” he said, his mouth twitching slightly, as if recalling an incident that perfectly illustrated her character. She was married to Henry, a wealthy architect fifteen years her senior. Frankie made a point to say that Henry was a good man—honest and big-hearted—and seemed to mean it. Together, they had a ten-year-old son named Jamie.

Sofía came next, the middle sister. She was thirty-eight and owned a flower shop. Frankie described her as friendly and warm but also hinted at a guardedness beneath her cheerful exterior. She lived in Austin with her sixteen-year-old daughter, Grace, a name that carried an air of quiet reverence when he said it. You wondered what Grace was like, if she carried more of her mother’s warmth or her uncle’s sharp edges. For the sake of her, you hoped for the first option.

Finally, there was Maia. Twenty-nine, a graphic designer, and still living at home with Helena. Frankie hesitated before speaking about her, his expression shifting slightly. “Of all of them,” he said, almost reluctantly, “she’s the most complicated.” Not because she was difficult or unpleasant—quite the opposite. Maia, he explained, was the kind of person who could see through walls, so perceptive it was almost unnerving. “She’ll figure us out if we’re not careful,” he warned, his tone heavy with certainty. 

By the time he finished, you felt like you’d been handed a dossier. Each name and detail was a thread you knew you’d need to hold tightly. You nodded as he spoke, mentally sorting the names and faces into a map of relationships you’d need to navigate. This was going to be more than a performance—it was going to be a test.

Frankie exhaled, slapping his palm against his thigh with a finality that felt rehearsed, like he was drawing a line under the conversation.

“That��s it, I think,” he said, his tone flat as his eyes lingered on you. 

But you weren’t ready to let him off the hook. Squinting slightly, you folded your arms across your chest and leaned back into the couch.

“And what about you?” you asked, tilting your head as if that might give you a different angle on him. 

He raised an eyebrow.

“You know me,” he replied with unearned confidence. 

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, letting the sound punctuate the silence before glancing away. Amusement tugged at the corners of your lips as you brought your gaze back to him.

“I don’t know anything about you. All I know is what little Santi’s told me, what I’ve overheard here and there... that’s it.”

“That’s something,” Frankie interjected, leaning back slightly as he crossed his arms, lifting his chin with a smugness that made your fingers itch to knock him down a peg. “Go on, then. Tell me what you know.”

His expression dared you, and you met it with a smirk of your own.

“Fine,” you said, sitting up straighter and pressing your lips together in mock seriousness. “You’re in your thirties, you live alone, you’re a pilot, you like beer... Oh, and apparently, you can devour a whole burger and fries in under ten minutes.”

Frankie snorted, like he couldn’t quite decide whether to laugh or call you ridiculous. He held your gaze, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to wait you out. But the smirk stayed on your face, unwavering, and eventually, he sighed. 

“I’m thirty-five,” he said finally, his voice measured and calm, as though reciting facts from a resume. “I live alone, yeah. Used to be in the CAG, but I retired a few years ago. Personal reasons. Now I’m teaching pilots-in-training over at the JPA.”

“Oh, right, I already knew that. That’s where you met Santi, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“And what were you doing there? He never told me much.”

“I’ll tell you some other time,” he said, sounding either annoyed or uncomfortable—it was hard to tell. “Do you know what CAG stands for?”

"Tell me."

“Combat Application Group,” Frankie said, his tone steady, measured. “Do you know what that is?”

You arched an eyebrow, shaking your head. 

His lips curled into a faint, humorless smile.

“Then they’re doing their job right. They change the name every so often. Some people know it as Delta Force.” He paused, his eyes searching yours, as if testing how much you could handle. “I was part of the CAG for most of my military career.”

For the first time, you found yourself leaning forward, your interest genuine, your usual quips momentarily silenced. Frankie seemed to notice, his expression softening slightly, though the seriousness never left his face. 

“Why did you retire? What happened?”

For a fleeting second, his eyebrows twitched.

“Personal issues,” he said again.

You exhaled through your nose, sitting back slightly.

“I’m supposed to be your girlfriend. Shouldn’t I know that?” 

He sighed. Shaking his head just enough to let you know he wasn’t budging, he replied:

“No one in my family is going to ask you about it.”

You studied him, your eyes narrowing slightly, searching for any crack in the armor he wore so carefully. But Frankie didn’t flinch. His shoulders remained squared, his gaze firm, the set of his mouth resolute. Whatever lay behind the personal thing was locked away, and it was clear he wasn’t going to hand you the key. 

After a few more seconds of silence, you nodded, more to yourself than to him.

"Okay, I get it,” you said with a sigh, letting your gaze fall to your hands resting in your lap. For a moment, you traced invisible patterns on your palm, your tone edging toward resignation. “What do you want me to tell you about me?” 

“Nothing. I know enough.”

“Well, that’s reassuring.” 

“I’m not trying to be mean. Santi has told me what’s necessary. I know enough to get by.”

“Oh, really? Enlighten me,” you said, folding your arms across your chest, your tone daring. 

Frankie gave you a slow, confident smile, as if he’d been preparing for this moment.

“You’re twenty-nine years old. Santi’s your only brother. You studied Literature, and you’ve been running your dad’s bookshop for, what, six years now?” He paused briefly, letting the words settle before continuing. “You like cats. Movies—especially horror movies. You love the cold, which is ironic since you’re from Austin, where it’s basically summer all year. And you’re... well, I wouldn’t describe you as outdoorsy or... or adventurous.” 

He glanced at you with a faint smirk just as your expression twisted in a mixture of surprise and mild disgust. His hand dropped to pet Mr. Darcy, who had curled up beside him, purring softly. “Oh, and your cat’s name is Darcy.”

“Mr. Darcy," you corrected him. "Santi told you all that?” 

Frankie shook his head, his focus still on your pet, his hand moving in lazy strokes along Mr. Darcy’s back.

“He didn’t tell me outright. But he let it be known. You just have to listen.” 

There was something about his tone that irked you—a subtle but undeniable air of superiority, as if he’d decoded your entire existence from a handful of anecdotes. You studied him for a moment longer, debating whether to challenge him further, but Mr. Darcy’s contented purring seemed to deflate your frustration. For now. 

“Well, I… Well,” you faltered, unsure of what to say. "Okay, I was thinking, what should I wear to the party?"

“Something nice. Not too fancy. But cute. You know, approachable."

"Sure," you muttered, feeling the weight of his gaze on you as he smoothed a hand over the cat’s fur.

"You have to make a good impression. But not too good. You need to seem... normal. Forgettable, even. Be nice, but don’t go overboard."

"What’s the point, then? I thought my job was to be the awesome girlfriend. Isn’t that what you wanted?"

Frankie leaned back against the couch, stretching his legs out, and gave a slow shake of his head like you’d just said something profoundly silly.

"Yes, but don’t overdo it. I don’t need my family asking me about you for weeks after. Tomorrow’s the first and only time they’ll see you, so what’s the point?"

"What a waste," you whispered to yourself, but loud enough for him to catch. “But fine, your family, your rules. So, what should I bring your mom as a gift?”

Frankie waved his hand dismissively.

"Don’t worry about it. I’ve got that covered."

“So you’ve thought of everything, huh?” you said, letting a touch of mockery creep into your voice. “I didn’t realize this was such a big deal to you.”

Frankie snorted. "If this is what it takes to stop them from setting me up with every woman they know, trust me, I’m going all in. No room for half-measures here."

He scratched his chin thoughtfully, his eyes sweeping over the room, taking in the familiar clutter of your living space, before a long yawn interrupted the silence.

“But why do they even care so much about you having a girlfriend? I mean, I get it—you’re, let’s say, not the easiest person to tolerate, and small talk probably feels like torture for you. But I didn’t have you pegged as the kind of guy who needs his mom to play matchmaker,” you said, voice dripping with just the right mix of sarcasm and curiosity as you tilted your head.

“That’s a bold comment coming from someone who had to invent a fake boyfriend because her ex, who dumped her for someone else, invited her to his wedding.”

Fair. That stung, but you couldn't bring yourself to be genuinely angry. Instead, you let out a small, wry smile, your ego only slightly bruised.

Frankie continued, unfazed by the fact that he had clearly made his point. “And I have no problem getting someone,” he said, stretching his legs out casually. “I just don’t want to. I don’t feel like dating anyone, much less getting romantically involved. But of course, they don’t get that. They think I need to settle down, find a woman, all that ‘commitment’ shit.”

For a brief moment, you let your mind wander, imagining Frankie next to someone. His type, you wondered. What would she look like? Would she resemble you in any way? Definitely not, you thought. You hoped that wouldn’t be a problem.

You cleared your throat, shifting in your seat, and then asked, trying to sound nonchalant, though a part of you was genuinely curious.

“And why don’t you want to date anyone? You’re not one of those guys with an eternal commitment problem, are you?”

Frankie took a moment to think about it. He leaned back, looking almost lost in thought, his eyes distant for a second. Then, in a flash, Mr. Darcy leapt onto his lap, pulling him back into the present moment with his typical disregard for anything that resembled personal space. Frankie shifted a little, adjusting the cat so it was comfortably curled on him.

“My last relationship didn’t end well,” he said suddenly, his voice unexpectedly serious. “We were together for about a year and a half. She broke up with me a little over a year ago. It wasn’t exactly my best moment, but her reason was that I wasn’t what she needed.” He paused, his gaze unfocused for a second, as if reliving the memory. “I tried to tell her I’d make the changes, that I really wanted to, but she didn’t care. So we broke up. And then, like two weeks later, I found out she’d been cheating on me with some guy from work—does that sound good enough for you?”

You blinked, processing it all, and felt a slight pang of sympathy, which you hadn’t expected.

“Well, that sucks,” you said, glancing down at the floor, feeling a bit awkward. You bit your lower lip, then looked back at him, unable to hide the trace of empathy in your voice. “But it makes sense now... I think."

Mr. Darcy, seemingly done with his intrusion, hopped off Frankie’s lap and sprawled on the floor instead, rolling onto his back in that exaggerated, dramatic way cats do when they’re probably overheating. His belly was exposed, a show of complete vulnerability.

"Yeah. Well. I guess," Frankie said, leaning forward as if the weight of his own words had just fully settled in. He rested his elbows on his knees and interlocked his fingers, his hands becoming a tight knot as if trying to physically hold everything together. Then something seemed to click in his mind. He looked up at you, the shift in his expression almost imperceptible. “Have you talked to Santi about this?”

You furrowed your brow, a little thrown off by the question.

"No, I thought you were going to tell him."

Frankie shook his head. "I didn’t tell him anything. I thought you were going to tell him."

You clicked your tongue, trying to shake the odd tension settling in your chest.

"We should tell him, don’t you think?" Your voice was sharper than you intended, but you couldn’t help it. "Although I'm sure he'll think this is a bad idea."

When you opened the door, Santi’s smile appeared instantly, like the sun breaking through clouds. He pulled you into a hug, enveloping you in that unmistakable warmth only a brother could give. It was absurd how much you’d missed him, considering you’d seen him just two days ago. But that was the thing about Santi—he had this way of making you feel like everything was fine, or at least like it could be.

When he let go, his smile lingered. But then his gaze shifted past you, toward the living room, where Frankie stood by the couch, arms awkwardly crossed, caught somewhere between waiting and retreating.

Santi’s expression changed so fast it was almost comical—his smile collapsed into confusion, his eyebrows pulling together, eyes widening like someone had yanked a curtain back too quickly.

“Frankie?” he said, his voice pitching upward in disbelief. “What are you doing here?” His gaze flicked from Frankie to you and back again, his tone laced with the unspoken demand for an explanation. “What happened?” He stepped forward, clapping a hand on Frankie’s shoulder, nudging him as if to make sure he was real.

“Hey, man,” Frankie said, managing a small smile as he accepted Santi’s hug. His voice was casual, but you could feel the tension beneath it, like a thread pulled too tight.

Your stomach knotted, the weight of the moment pressing into you. This was a mistake. You shouldn’t have agreed to Frankie’s deal, not like this, not without more thought. But it was too late to undo it now, wasn’t it? The pieces were already in motion, and there was no way to unring a bell.

Half an hour later, Santiago was sitting in the couch across from the two of you, his arms folded tightly over his chest, his expression shifting between disbelief and reluctant curiosity. He hadn’t spoken in a while, too busy digesting everything you’d just explained. When he finally did, his words cut through the silence like a whip.

“That’s fucking ridiculous. Are you crazy?” he asked, though his incredulous smile suggested he thought maybe you were joking.

You and Frankie were perched on opposite ends of the couch, as if a force field separated you, like your bodies were mutually allergic to the idea of being any closer. Frankie had his arms resting on his knees, his hands clasped together, his gaze fixed somewhere in the middle distance. You sat with your elbow propped on the armrest, your cheek resting against your hand, trying to look nonchalant.

“Do you really think this is going to work?” Santiago asked, shaking his head.

“It’s going to work,” you said, the firmness in your voice at odds with the knot of uncertainty in your stomach. “It’s not that complicated. Harry’s already met Frankie, so that part’s fine. We go to the wedding, stay a little while, and then leave. Tomorrow? Same thing. We show up, I do my forgettable bit, and then we’re out. Easy.”

Santiago raised his eyebrows, unimpressed.

“¿Easy? Your mom knows me, man,” he said, turning to Frankie with an accusatory tilt of his head. “You don’t think it’s going to be complicated if she thinks you’re dating my sister?”

“I’m not planning on telling her she’s your sister,” Frankie said. He sat up straighter, his hands tightening into fists briefly before he relaxed them again. “This is a one-time thing. I promise you, it’s not going to lead to trouble. It’s just a favor. A transaction. Nothing more.”

“And what happens when they run into each other again?” Santiago asked, his voice rising slightly as he gestured between the two of you.

“How likely is that, Santi?” you shot back, your brow furrowing in irritation.

He clicked his tongue, leaning forward like he had you cornered.

“My wedding is in a few months, smartass. Frankie’s mom is invited. What’s your plan then?”

The room fell into a charged silence. Oh.

You hadn’t thought of that. Neither had Frankie, apparently, because when you turned your head, you found him looking at you for the first time since this entire mess had started. For one fleeting moment, your eyes met, a shared look of complicity—and, more importantly, desperation.

“Of course, you didn’t think of that,” Santi said, his voice cutting through the growing tension like a whip. He dragged a hand across his forehead, closing his eyes as if summoning the patience to deal with you both. When he looked up again, his expression was pure exasperation.

“God, you guys seriously make me desperate. Are you two ever going to be normal with each other? First, I have to put up with years of your petty, hateful attitudes, and now this?” He gestured between you and Frankie as if the very sight of you sitting there made him tired. “Do you want to kill me? Is that the plan? Seriously, I’m asking—do you both want me dead?”

The sheer absurdity of his words made you laugh, even though you tried to swallow it.

“Oh my God, Santi, you’re so dramatic,” you said, shaking your head, though you were half-smiling.

“Dramatic?” he repeated, incredulous.

“Hey, man, look,” Frankie cut in, like someone trying to defuse a bomb. He leaned forward slightly, his hands open, his tone edging toward apologetic. “I promise I’ll fix it. I’ll tell them she’s your sister—no big deal. And then I’ll come up with something to explain how we ‘broke up’ on the best possible terms. No drama, no mess, okay? I swear.”

You nodded quickly, eager to latch onto his plan.

“Exactly. This can stay simple, we’ll just say we broke up over something normal. Totally amicable, decided to stay friends. Easy.” Your tone softened as you leaned toward him, more pleading now. “Really, Santi. Please, please don’t get mad.”

Santi let out a heavy, theatrical sigh, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just tipped his head back and closed his eyes like he was praying for patience.

“I’m not mad,” he said finally, though his tone suggested he might not be entirely convinced of that. His eyes opened, and he looked at you with something between disbelief and reluctant amusement. “I’m just surprised. Out of all the people in the world, you and Frankie are the ones pretending to date?” He let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “It’s fucking ridiculous.”

“Well,” you said, rolling your eyes as the irritation bubbled up. “It’s not like we planned this. I never thought I’d run into Harry in the middle of fucking nowhere. Besides, this wouldn’t have even happened if you—” you jabbed a finger in Santi’s direction, “—had gone looking for me in Dallas instead of sending Frankie. Or, I don’t know, if you’d given me a proper warning. I could’ve found another way home.”

Santi’s eyebrows shot up, his hand flying to his chest as if you’d physically shoved him.

“Oh, now this is my fault?” he asked, his voice dripping with incredulity. He pointed to himself for emphasis, his jaw tightening like he was trying not to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the accusation.

Next to you, Frankie snorted, shaking his head in that infuriatingly smug way he did when he thought he was being clever. You turned sharply toward him, glaring.

“Do you have something to say, Francisco?” 

Santiago let out a breathy, humorless laugh, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Frankie, meanwhile, scratched his chin, clearly deliberating how to phrase whatever was on his mind without making things worse. Or maybe he was just stalling, dragging out the moment for the fun of it.

“Yeah. First of all, I don’t understand what you’re trying to prove to this Harry guy. He’s marrying someone else, isn’t he? I doubt he cares whether or not you have a boyfriend.”

“Ah, right, 'cause you’re the paragon of honesty, aren’t you?” you shot back, the heat rising in your chest now threatening to spill out.

“Sure,” Frankie said with an infuriating nod, leaning back slightly as if to make room for whatever you were about to throw at him next.

You leaned toward him, unable to resist. “It’s not like you made up a girlfriend or anything, right? Tell me, Francisco, wouldn’t it have been easier to just act like a real man and tell your mom you don’t want to be with anyone? Instead of, you know, lying like a coward? Or is that too scary for you?”

Frankie laughed then, a low, sarcastic sound that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. He shifted closer, leaning in until his face was just inches from yours, his dark eyes gleaming with something sharp and taunting.

“He’s with someone else. He doesn't care about you. Get over it—”

“No one loves you—"

“Okay, fuckin' stop it!” Santiago shot up from his seat, his hands landing firmly on his hips as he stared at you with an expression that teetered between disbelief and outright despair. He shook his head, exhaling sharply through his nose. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. That’s how you’re going to convince people you’re together? What’s the plan tomorrow, huh? What are you going to do when people actually talk to you? This isn’t even remotely believable.”

“I know how to act,” you shot back, crossing your arms as you leaned into the challenge. You tilted your head, trying for a smug expression, though the heat rising to your cheeks probably undermined it.

Frankie let out a laugh beside you.

“No, you don’t.” 

“Sure I do,” you retorted, fixing him with a defiant look. “You’ll see tomorrow, Francisco. I’ll be super—”

“You almost shit yourself at the diner the other day, what are you even talking about? I saved you—”

“Oh my God, stop!” Santi cut in, throwing his hands up in a desperate plea for silence. He made a horizontal motion with his hands, like a referee calling a foul. “Stand up. Now.”

“Why?” you asked, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“Just. Stand. Up.” Santi said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You hesitated, glancing at Frankie as if he might somehow explain what was going on. He was already on his feet, his movements slow and deliberate, like he didn’t particularly want to comply but knew better than to argue.

With a resigned sigh, you rose from your spot, the tension in your shoulders apparent even in the way you stood. The second you moved, Mr.Darcy wasted no time, sliding into the space you’d just vacated.

Santiago leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest, his expression unnervingly calm. He watched you both like he was observing a particularly amusing experiment, his lips twitching as if he were holding back a smirk.

“Okay,” he said after a moment, his tone almost conversational. “Kiss each other.”

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him correctly. “What?”

Frankie, equally caught off guard, tilted his head toward Santi. “Sorry, what did you just say?”

“Kiss,” Santi repeated, his voice louder this time, like he was explaining something to a particularly dense child. He gestured between the two of you. “Frankie, kiss her.”

“Absolutely not,” you said immediately.

“Are you crazy?” Frankie added, shaking his head vehemently, his face scrunching up like the very idea was offensive.

Santiago raised his eyebrows, his calm demeanor giving way to something more pointed.

“What, you didn’t think this through? How the fuck are you planning to convince anyone you’re dating if you can’t even manage a little kiss?”

You stared at him, dumbfounded, your brain struggling to process the absurdity of what he was suggesting. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Frankie’s jaw tighten, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

Meanwhile, Santi seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. There was an unmistakable glint of amusement in his eyes, his gaze darting between you and Frankie like he was watching the climax of a particularly entertaining play.

He was savoring this—your awkwardness, your obvious discomfort. To him, this wasn’t just funny; it was justice. A kind of poetic payback for the years of chaos and petty feuding you and Frankie had inflicted on him. The sheer satisfaction on his face was infuriating, but also, somehow, undeniably deserved.

“Well?” he prompted, raising his hands in mock encouragement. “Go on, lovebirds. Show me how convincing this great plan of yours is.”

You glanced at Frankie, hoping for some sign he was going to end this absurdity. But he wasn’t looking at you, or at Santiago, or even at the floor like a normal person. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, his teeth dragging over his bottom lip like he was physically restraining himself from speaking. His hands rested on his hips, fingers tapping idly against his belt, while his foot shifted incessantly, a nervous rhythm you couldn’t unhear.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.

“Is this fun for you?” you asked Santi, your voice sharp enough to cut through his amusement.

He barely suppressed a laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching upward as he gave a little shrug.

“Of course it is. Look at you two. You can’t even conceive of the idea of a teeny, tiny, innocent little kiss.” He paused, his expression shifting into something mockingly thoughtful. “You know, Fish,” he added, turning his attention to Frankie, “your mom invited me to her birthday tomorrow.”

That got Frankie’s attention. His head snapped toward Santiago, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“It’s a shame,” Santi continued, raising his eyebrows in exaggerated regret. “But I can’t go. I’d love to see the two of you embarrass yourselves in front of an audience. That would’ve been a real treat.”

Frankie clicked his tongue, clearly irritated. “Come on, man, don’t start.”

But before Santiago could respond, you interrupted.

“Kiss me,” you said, turning to Frankie with a tone that was less a request and more a threat.

Santiago let out a breathy laugh, stifling the full force of his amusement but not entirely succeeding.

Frankie looked at you like you’d just suggested a double homicide, his brows lifting high enough to crease his forehead.

“Come on,” you repeated, stepping closer to him. You let your arms drop to your sides in what you hoped was a disarming gesture, but Frankie didn’t budge. His expression didn’t soften, either—in fact, it somehow got worse. He was looking at you like you’d offered him a plate of raw sewage.

“Come on, Fish,” Santi chimed in, his voice laced with mock encouragement. “One little kiss and that’s it. What’s the big deal?”

You stayed where you were, holding Frankie’s gaze, your jaw tightening as you willed him to just get this over with. But he remained firmly rooted in place, his face still twisted in disgust.

And then something shifted in your chest. It was small at first, but it grew quickly—an anger, sharp and undeniable. What the hell was wrong with him? Was the idea of kissing you that horrifying? It wasn’t like this was real. It wasn’t like it meant anything.

You snorted, shaking your head as determination overtook you. Without giving it another second of thought, you crossed the space between you in a single, decisive motion.

“Wait, what the fuck are you—” Frankie started, but his words cut off as your hands gripped the sides of his face and your lips crashed against his.

The kiss lasted no more than three seconds, but it felt like an eternity. His lips were softer than you’d expected, warm and surprisingly still. Your eyes stayed firmly shut, as if that could somehow make the situation less mortifying.

When you pulled back, it was abrupt, almost violent. You jerked away from him and immediately crossed your arms again, your defenses snapping back into place.

Frankie stood there, completely still, his face frozen in an expression of shock. His eyebrows were furrowed, his mouth slightly open, and his eyes were unfocused, like he couldn’t quite process what had just happened.

“It’s not that hard, Francisco,” you said, your tone clipped as you turned away and sat back down on the couch, this time right next to Mr. Darcy. “I’m a woman, not an alien. It’s not so terrible.”

Your brother was staring at you, his expression a mixture of delight and disbelief. For a moment, he said nothing, just taking in the scene like it was the best entertainment he’d had in years. Then, with a wide grin, he walked over to Frankie and delivered a solid punch to his stomach.

Frankie clicked his tongue in annoyance, snapping out of his daze with a low groan.

"I’m already regretting this," he muttered then, his voice low but sharp, as he turned his back to you and Santi. 

“You can’t regret it now,” you called after him, your tone sharper than you meant. It was enough to stop him. He turned his head slightly, just enough for you to see his face. He didn’t look angry, not exactly. There was no sharpness, no fire. Just this quiet disappointment.

“A deal’s a deal,” you said. "You were the one who insisted. Or have you forgotten that already?”

“No,” he said, a little too quickly, his eyes flicking to the ground. “Of course not. I just—” He paused, rubbed the back of his neck. “We didn’t think it through.”

From his spot against the wall, Santi let out a low whistle, arms crossed as he watched the exchange unfold like it was a show he’d seen before.

“Yeah we did,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “The issue isn’t that. The issue is you chickening out. You were fine until Santi showed up.”

“Oh, now it’s my fault again?” Santi asked.

You shrugged, noncommittal.

“Okay, well,” Santi said, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. “Do what you want. It’s none of my business. Just—” he gestured vaguely, like he was brushing something away, “be a grown-up about it. And don’t screw it up, yeah? Because, honestly, of the three of us, I’m the one who has to deal with your shit.”

“We won’t cause trouble,” Frankie said, his voice quieter now but clear. He glanced at you, then at his best friend. “You have my word. I’ll keep it together. I'll be respectful. No bullshit. I promise.”

Santi nodded, his mouth twitching into the faintest smile. He reached out and clapped Frankie on the shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Sure, man. I trust you. Just—” He laughed lightly, his smile widening. “Don’t be such a child.”

He turned to you then, something knowing in his gaze, before looking back at Frankie. His laugh came deeper this time, warm and unguarded.

“Oh, I know exactly how this is going to end,” he said, shaking his head.

He didn’t stay much longer, mentioning something about dinner plans with Yovanna and promising to call tomorrow. The air felt lighter as he left, like he’d taken the weight of the moment with him, leaving only the two of you standing in its wake.

A few moment later, Frankie was ready to go too, or at least he looked like he was. He sat across from you now, his posture relaxed in a way that felt calculated, like he was trying to project a calm he didn’t entirely feel. Your cat, utterly oblivious to the undercurrent of tension in the room, rubbed insistently up and down his leg, purring loud enough to fill the silence. Frankie absentmindedly ran his fingers along his fur, the gesture soft, almost tender.

From where you sat on the opposite end of the couch, you shifted slightly, trying to tread carefully. Your voice, when it came out, was low, calculated even—an attempt not to poke at the fragile truce that had settled between you.

"You know Santi’s right, don’t you?" you asked, watching as Frankie’s head lifted immediately, his gaze locking onto yours. "I mean, I don’t know how you are with your actual girlfriends—if you’re, like, affectionate, or into, you know, public displays of affection or whatever. But if we’re going to do this, you’ve got to get over it."

"I don’t have anything to get over. We just need to stick to the basics."

"Aha, the basics," you echoed, leaning forward slightly. "Sure, okay. But you couldn’t even kiss me without looking like it was physically painful."

"That’s not fair. You caught me off guard, that’s all. The context was weird. Santi was watching—it threw me off." He shook his head, his discomfort practically radiating off of him.

You leaned back, crossing your arms as you let out a short laugh, the sound more exasperated than amused.

"Your whole family is going to be watching tomorrow."

You stood abruptly, the movement carrying your frustration with it, and crossed the room in a few quick steps. You didn’t look back as you walked into the open kitchen, heading straight for the sink and grabbing a glass from the counter. The sound of water filling the glass was the only noise for a moment, the silence stretching uncomfortably.

Frankie didn’t say anything right away. When you turned around, your glass now empty in your hand, he was still in the living room, his focus firmly on your cat. He scratched behind his ears like he hadn’t just been called out, like he could stay there indefinitely and avoid the conversation entirely.

But then he stood, moving toward you with an unhurried calm that didn’t quite match the unease in his eyes. He stopped a few feet from you, leaning one hip against the kitchen island as if he needed something to ground himself.

"Your mother," you said, setting the glass down on the counter with more force than you intended, "your sisters, your aunts and uncles, your mom’s friends—they’re all going to be watching."

Frankie sighed. "It’s different." 

"Different how?"

"Because Santi’s my best friend. And you’re his sister. It was weird."

"And this is all fake, Francisco," you said, gesturing vaguely with your hand, like you were pointing out something so glaringly obvious it hardly needed to be said. "How old are you again? Forty?"

"Thirty-five," he replied, deadpan.

"Right. Almost forty. And you can’t do something as simple as kiss a woman. Yes, I’m your best friend’s sister. Yes, you clearly dislike me. And yes, I clearly dislike you too. But it’s just a kiss," you said, your tone sharp, cutting. Like you were explaining basic arithmetic to a particularly slow child. "A fucking—"

The word caught in your throat mid-sentence, stolen by the sudden, startling pressure of Frankie’s hands on your face.

Before you could react—before you could even think—he was there. Close, impossibly close, his fingers firm but steady as they cupped your jaw, his palms warm against your skin. His eyes barely met yours before his mouth was on yours, and for a moment, the world narrowed to that one unexpected point of contact.

His lips moved against yours with a precision that felt calculated, like he wasn’t rushing, but he wasn’t holding back either. They parted yours gently, and his breath mingled with yours, each second stretching into something that felt far longer.

Three seconds. Four, maybe five. It was enough for you to notice, to feel how his thumb brushed against the side of your face, to register the faint scent of his cologne. Enough for it to completely throw you.

Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it was over.

He released you, stepping back without ceremony. For a moment, he just stood there, looking down at you from his full height, his expression unreadable. Then he clicked his tongue, a sound so small but so maddeningly smug it made your blood simmer.

You didn’t move. You couldn’t. You were rooted to the spot, your thoughts a scrambled mess as you tried to catch up with what had just happened. Your breathing was uneven now, a shallow rhythm you couldn’t quite control.

Frankie turned away, shaking his head slowly as if he were frustrated—with you, with himself, with the entire situation. His hands flexed at his sides, his gaze fixed on the floor.

When he finally looked back up at you, his scowl was sharp enough to cut. There was something accusatory in the way his eyes narrowed, as if he were blaming you for... what? Letting him kiss you? Letting him prove a point?

“I can do that, no problem,” Frankie said, his voice dripping with confidence, his expression so self-assured it almost felt rehearsed. He stood tall, chest slightly puffed, radiating an air of someone entirely too pleased with himself. “Stop being so fucking insufferable all the time, and maybe this whole thing would be easier.”

The words stung more than you cared to admit. You wanted to hit back, to say something sharp and cutting that would wipe that smug look off his face. Insult him, rattle him—anything to remind him that if this situation was unbearable, it wasn’t because of you alone.

But no words came.

Your throat tightened, and you couldn’t force yourself to speak. It wasn’t just that you were angry—though you were. It was that he was watching you now, not with his usual indifference but with something sharper, something closer to scrutiny. Like he was waiting for your reaction, ready to pounce on it, to use it against you.

Frankie leaned back against the kitchen island, crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze dropped to the floor, and for a moment, it felt like the room itself had shrunk, like the air had turned heavy and suffocating. The silence between you was uncomfortable in a way it had never been before.

You swallowed hard, the sound loud in the stillness, and forced yourself to meet his eyes.

"Thank God you’re not my real boyfriend," you said finally, your voice breaking the tension. You tilted your head, letting a sly smile curve your lips as you arched a single eyebrow. "I’d rather kiss a toad."

The corner of Frankie’s mouth twitched, and for a second, you thought he was going to brush off your jab entirely. But then he let out a quiet laugh, one he didn’t even try to hide, his expression softening into something teasing.

"You’ve got a lot of experience with those, don’t you?" 

You rolled your eyes, letting out a soft, incredulous snort. Your gaze drifted to the empty glass of water sitting on the counter, the condensation forming a faint ring beneath it. You should’ve said something else, something sharp to cut through the tension still lingering in the air, but you didn’t.

Frankie straightened up, peeling himself away from where he’d been leaning against the kitchen island. He stretched slightly, his movements unhurried, one hand brushing absently over his stomach like he was just waking up from a nap. Then he reached into his pocket, his fingers curling around something—his keys, you realized—as if confirming they were still there.

He turned without a word and walked over to the couch, where Mr. Darcy had curled up in his usual spot. Frankie gave the cat a quick pat on the head, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary, then straightened again. When he turned back to you, there was something almost playful in his expression, a teasing glint in his eyes that made your stomach twist in a way you didn’t want to acknowledge.

"I’ll pick you up at six tomorrow," he said, his voice casual but firm, like it was already decided. "Don’t keep me waiting."

You blinked at him, disbelief washing over your face. From your spot leaning against the counter, you tilted your head slightly, trying to gauge if he was serious—or if he was just trying to get a rise out of you.

"Or what?" you shot back, your voice dripping with mockery. "You’re going to leave without me?"

Frankie paused at your door, his hand hovering over the handle. He turned his head, his eyes locking onto yours.

"I’ll come up and get you," he said, his tone low and almost threatening.

Before you could reply, he pulled the door open, stepping out into the hallway and closing the door with a gesture that felt vaguely theatrical.

You stood there for a moment, motionless, your eyes drifting aimlessly around the room. It was quiet now, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the corner.

Then a sharp, high-pitched meow broke through your thoughts.

You glanced down to see Mr. Darcy padding toward you, his tail held high like a little banner, the picture of feline confidence. He stopped just short of your feet, looking up at you with wide, expectant eyes. The kind of look that demanded attention.

“Oh, so now you’re coming back to me?” you asked, crouching down to run your fingers over the soft fur on his head. He tilted his chin upward, leaning into the touch like he hadn’t just spent the last hour fawning over Frankie.

"Of course, you traitor," you muttered, scratching behind his ears. "Now that he’s gone, you’ve suddenly remembered I exist."

Mr. Darcy purred in response, his tail curling slightly as he rubbed against your hand, but you snorted softly, the sound carrying a faint edge of betrayal.

"You’re lucky I love you," you said, your voice low, almost conspiratorial. "But don’t think I’ve forgotten how easily you switched sides. I don’t know if I’m ready to forgive you just yet."

He blinked at you, unbothered, and you couldn’t help but laugh under your breath. Still crouched, you rested your elbow on your knee, glancing toward the closed door where Frankie had disappeared. 

Mr. Darcy meowed again, drawing your attention back, as if reminding you of where your loyalty should lie. For now, you decided, he was forgiven. Just barely.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Taglis: @paleidiot @gothcsz @everyth1ngfan @katw474 @mellymbee @pedritosgirl2000 @tsunamistorm123 @jokesonthem @sunnytuliptime @greenwitchfromthewoods @ashleyfilm @darkheartgatita @joelmillerisapunk @nandan11 @whirlwindrider29 @onlythehobi @diabaroxa @yellowbrickyeti (some tags aren't working apparently sorry!)

[pinkslipxox]

Hey! I have a goofy one for you. Bilie x reader. Reader is on her period, and her emotions are all over the place, and one thing you need to know is that she can sometimes get a bit emotional while on her period. Billie says something silly that upsets the reader making her cry. And of course billie didn't mean to at all. She felt so bad for making her girl upset, she's feels a little stupid because she completely forgot how sensitive the reader became while on her period. But billie makes up for it by giving reader plenty of cuddles and kisses but not without reader refusing them at first being stubborn 🥹

hey my love! Ugh yes ofc! Hope you like it 🥰❤️

——————————————————————————

You're curled up on the couch, wrapped in a soft blanket, your body curled into a tight ball. The cramps hit harder this month, and despite your best efforts to hide it, the discomfort creeps into your mood. You can feel the tears welling up, and it isn't long before you start to feel overwhelmed by a wave of emotion that seems to come out of nowhere.

Billie enters the room, her hair cascading around her shoulders, a gentle smile on her lips as she carries a mug of steaming tea. She notices the frown etched on your face, and immediately her brows furrow with concern.

“Hey, pretty girl,” she calls softly, her voice like a balm against the chaos in your head. “What’s going on?”

You sigh deeply, trying to muster a smile for her. “Just cramps,” you whisper, your voice small.

In true Billie fashion, she tries to lighten the mood. “You know what they say about periods?” she begins, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “They’re just your body’s way of saying, ‘I’m not pregnant!’”

You can’t help but chuckle at her classic dry humor, but the laughter is short-lived. As you try to hold back a snort, a wave of emotion crashes over you, and you suddenly feel the well of tears spilling over. You don’t even understand why you’re feeling this way, but the laughter only amplifies the ache in your chest.

Billie’s playful demeanor drops in an instant; her heart sinks as she sees the tears streaming down your face. “Oh no, Y/N, I’m so sorry,” she rushes over, dropping the mug on the table and wrapping her arms around you. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s okay,” you mumble through your tears, sniffling. “It wasn’t you. I just… it’s just a lot right now.”

She cradles you tighter, her fingers gently brushing back your hair. “You’re so strong, mama. I know this time of month can be really tough. Just let it all out; I’m here for you.”

You feel her soft kisses peppering your forehead, your cheeks, your eyelids. Each one is full of love, full of understanding, and slowly the warmth of her affection begins to soothe you. You giggle shyly, even as tears mix with laughter. “Billie, stop it! You’re too sweet.”

“I can’t help it,” she replies, her voice teasing yet tender. “I just want to make you smile.”

Pulling back slightly, she holds your face in her hands, looking deep into your eyes. “You’re beautiful, even when you’re feeling like this. I love you, Y/N.”

You see the sincerity in her eyes, and your heart swells with affection. “I love you too, Billie.”

“Okay, how about we binge-watch that show you love? I’ll grab some snacks and keep you cozy,” she says cheerfully, getting up to fetch the remote.

As she moves, you feel lighter, the dark clouds of your emotions slowly parting with each passing moment. When she returns and settles you against her side, enveloped in her warmth, you relax fully.

Billie nudges you playfully. “And next time I’ll save my jokes for another time, promise.”

You snuggle deeper into her embrace, her gentle fingers tracing patterns on your back, melting the last bits of tension away. In this little cocoon of comfort, you know you’ll be okay. With Billie by your side, you feel safe, cherished, and loved.

[mywhisperingwords]

still here | fred g. weasley

summary: an old friend starts showing up every time you need him word count: 5.6k masterlist

The corridors of St. Mungo’s were quieter than usual, but there was still a hum of urgency in the air.

Since the war had ended, the hospital had been inundated with patients—some still recovering from physical wounds, others battling the mental scars left behind. You’d been working there for weeks now, throwing yourself into the chaos as a way to avoid the memories.

The war was over.

That was what everyone said.

But it didn’t feel like it. Not to you.

You rubbed the back of your neck as you turned the corner, the exhaustion of the day dragging at your heels. Healing was rewarding, but it was unrelenting too. Your own grief, your own loss, had been shoved to the side so you could focus on fixing others. It was easier that way.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

The familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Well, well. Fancy seeing you here.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest as you turned toward the sound.

Fred Weasley was leaning casually against the wall, hands stuffed into his pockets, his hair messy but bright as ever. His smile stretched across his face like it always did, a bit crooked, a bit mischievous.

“Fred?” Your voice cracked, disbelief threading through it.

“In the flesh,” he said with a grin. “You weren’t expecting me, were you?”

You stared at him, your mind fumbling to piece together what was happening. He was here. Alive. Whole. Standing in front of you as though nothing had changed.

It had been too long since you’ve last seen him.

“I—no,” you said finally, your hand gripping the strap of your bag so tightly it hurt. “What are you… what are you doing here?”

“Visiting,” he said easily, jerking his chin toward one of the nearby rooms. “Someone needed cheering up, and you know me—I’m the best man for the job.”

You laughed, a soft, disbelieving sound. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“And you have,” Fred said, his eyes sweeping over you. There was something softer in his tone, something unspoken. “You look tired.”

“I’ve been busy,” you said, shrugging.

“I can see that,” he replied, the smile tugging at his lips dimming just slightly. “But don’t let it wear you down too much, alright? You’ve always been better at taking care of everyone else than yourself.”

You swallowed, his words hitting somewhere deeper than you wanted to admit. “It’s… good to see you.”

Fred grinned again, bright and wide. “Good to see you too, love. It’s been too long. Let’s change that, yeah? You know where to find me.”

Before you could respond, he gave you a wink and strolled away down the corridor, disappearing around the corner.

You stood there for a moment, frozen. It had felt so normal, so effortless. Just like before.

“Who were you talking to?”

The voice startled you, and you turned to see Elena, a fellow Healer, approaching with a curious look.

“Oh,” you said quickly, your pulse still racing. “Just… an old friend.”

Elena smiled, tilting her head. “Nice to see familiar faces, isn’t it? Especially after everything.”

You nodded faintly, but something about her tone didn’t sit right.

The exhaustion in her eyes was clear, and you felt it too. Sometimes it was hard to be kind to yourself when you put it all on another person.

“You should take a break, let me take over some of your patients,” you told her, a warm smile on your face.

Elena watched you closely, before shaking her head. “Don’t throw yourself into more work, you need to rest too.”

The rest of the day passed in a haze. You went through the motions, treating patients, mixing potions, and doing your best to avoid lingering too long on the morning’s encounter.

But the more you thought about it, the harder it became to focus. Seeing Fred again had felt like coming up for air after being underwater for too long. It had stirred something in you—hope, relief, a flicker of happiness you hadn’t felt in ages.

&

You sank into the couch the moment you walked through the door to your flat, kicking off your shoes with a groan. Another day of potions, poultices, and endless rounds of patients, each one a stark reminder of what had been lost in the war.

St. Mungo’s was a lifeline, sure. It gave you purpose. But it also drained you, leaving little room to process everything you’d been through.

You leaned your head back and closed your eyes, savoring the quiet.

The knock on your door startled you.

Frowning, you dragged yourself to your feet, wondering who it could be at this hour.

When you opened the door, Fred Weasley was standing there, hands shoved into his jacket pockets and that familiar smirk tugging at his lips.

“Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

“Fred?” you said, blinking at him. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t come find me,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Your brows furrowed. “I’ve been busy.”

“And I’ve been bored,” he replied, throwing himself onto your couch like he owned the place. “What’s a bloke got to do to get a little attention around here?”

Despite yourself, you felt the corner of your mouth twitch. Fred had always been like this—effortless, larger than life. He had a way of making everything else fade into the background.

“I didn’t know you were keeping tabs on me,” you said, heading to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

“Well, someone’s got to,” he called after you.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto your face.

A few minutes later, you brought two steaming mugs of tea into the living room, handing one to Fred before sitting down across from him.

He didn’t reach for the mug right away, instead leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His gaze was intent, but not unkind.

“How are you holding up?” he asked.

You hesitated, caught off guard by the question. Fred rarely veered into serious territory—he was the king of deflection, the master of keeping things light.

“I’m fine,” you said automatically.

He raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

You sighed, sinking back into the cushions. “What do you want me to say, Fred? That I’m tired? That I’m still trying to figure out how to keep going when it feels like everything’s fallen apart? Because I am. But what’s the point of talking about it? It doesn’t change anything.”

Fred leaned back, his expression softening. “Maybe not. But bottling it up doesn’t help either. Trust me.”

You looked at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice.

“I just…” He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away for a moment. “I hate seeing you like this. You used to light up every room you walked into, you know? Now it’s like… you’re barely there.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, holding up his hands. “I didn’t mean to make it heavy. I just… I miss you, that’s all.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing a smile. “I miss you too.”

For the next hour, Fred did what he did best: distracting you. He told you ridiculous stories about the shop, about George’s questionable taste in merchandise and the chaotic customers who made running a joke shop anything but boring. He had you laughing until your sides hurt, the weight on your chest lifting just a little.

By the time he stood to leave, it was late, and you were feeling more at ease than you had in weeks.

“You should come by the shop sometime,” he said, pausing in the doorway.

“Maybe I will,” you replied, leaning against the doorframe.

He grinned, his eyes twinkling in that way they always did. “Goodnight, love.”

“Goodnight, Fred.”

You closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a long breath. For the first time in a long while, you felt… lighter.

It wasn’t until you were cleaning up the living room that you noticed Fred’s untouched mug of tea sitting on the coffee table.

You frowned, picking it up. It was still full, the liquid cold to the touch.

“He must’ve been too busy talking to drink it,” you murmured to yourself, shaking your head. You poured the tea down the sink and put the mug in the dishwasher, before heading to bed.

&

The shop was eerily quiet as you stepped inside, the familiar jingle of the bell sounding oddly out of place in the stillness. You glanced around at the dimly lit aisles, the shelves a kaleidoscope of colors even in the low light. It was strange seeing the shop like this, so empty, so lifeless.

You had worked late again, but something about the thought of going straight home made your skin itch. You needed to be somewhere, anywhere, that wasn’t the sterile white walls of St. Mungo’s.

Your feet carried you to the back office without much thought, and you paused at the slightly open door.

Fred was there, hunched over the desk, his fingers toying with a quill as he stared down at a piece of parchment.

“Fred,” you said softly, pushing the door open further.

He looked up, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Finally off work, then?”

You nodded, stepping inside and leaning against the doorframe. “Barely. Thought I’d stop by, but it looks like I missed the fun.”

“Yeah, George closed up a while ago. You’ve got terrible timing,” he teased, his tone light.

Your gaze flicked to the desk where a photo caught your eye. It was the three of you—Fred, George, and yourself—arms slung over each other, laughing like you didn’t have a care in the world. You picked it up, your fingers brushing over the glass.

“I remember this,” you murmured, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Good times, weren’t they?” Fred said, leaning back in his chair. “You and George couldn’t stop arguing that day. Think you were fighting over who’d get the last treacle tart.”

Your smile widened despite the ache in your chest. “He cheated, though.”

Fred snorted. “He’s a Weasley. Comes with the territory.”

Setting the photo down, you slid into the chair across from him. “Feels like it was forever ago.”

Fred’s expression softened, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to settle on his features. “It wasn’t that long ago. We’re just… different now.”

You studied him, a lump forming in your throat. He looked the same as he always had—bright eyes, a smirk that never quite left his lips—but there was something in his voice, something in the way he looked at you, that felt heavier.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “Things change.”

Fred gave a small nod, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk. “So, how’s it really going? With the hospital, I mean.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “It’s… a lot. I thought I was ready for it, but some days it feels like I’m drowning.”

“You’re not, though,” he said, his tone firm. “You’re stronger than you think.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t start.”

“I’m serious,” he said, his gaze locking onto yours. “You’ve been through hell, and you’re still here. That counts for something.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the sincerity in his voice made the words stick in your throat.

“Thanks,” you said instead, the word barely above a whisper.

Fred gave you a small smile, leaning back in his chair. “Anyway, I’ve got to run. Things to do.”

“Like what?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He smirked. “You don’t get to know all my secrets.”

“Right,” you said, rolling your eyes as you stood. “Well, don’t let me keep you.”

“Don’t work too hard,” he said as he stood, heading for the door. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah,” you said, watching as he left.

You lingered in the office for a moment before shaking your head and making your way toward the exit.

As you reached the front door, someone stepped inside.

“George?” you said, startled.

He looked at you, his expression tight and guarded. “Thought I’d locked up.”

“I—uh—yeah. I was just… stopping by,” you said vaguely, clutching your bag.

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. His face was drawn, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion.

“You look terrible,” you said before you could stop yourself.

George gave a dry laugh. “Thanks. Just what I needed to hear.”

“Sorry,” you muttered, shifting on your feet.

He stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “You weren’t at the —”

Before he could say what he wanted to say, the picture of the three of you slid from your hands. You hadn’t realized that you were still holding it.

The shards of glass were everywhere, you immediately went to pick them up, but George grabbed your hand before you could hurt yourself.

“I do that too, you know?”

The question caught you off guard, your chest tightening. “What do you mean?”

George shrugged, his gaze flickering toward the back office. “Feels real, you know?”

You frowned, unsure how to respond.

“Right,” George said, his tone unreadable.

An awkward silence stretched between you before he cleared his throat. “If you ever want to talk, you know where to find me.”

“Thanks,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended.

As you stepped out into the night, the cool air prickling your skin, his words lingered in your mind.

You shook your head, trying to brush off the strange feeling settling in your chest. The conversation with George left you feeling unsettled.

You told yourself it was just George grieving. Everyone was grieving. That’s all it was.

&

The air outside St. Mungo’s was brisk, carrying the crisp bite of autumn. You tugged your coat tighter around yourself, grateful for the rare quiet moment on your break. The day had been chaotic—healers rushing from patient to patient, the hum of spells and the faint scent of antiseptic filling the halls. It wasn’t exactly the type of environment that allowed for deep breaths or calm thoughts.

You wandered down a quiet path near the hospital, letting the cool breeze soothe your frazzled nerves. Your eyes scanned the rows of trees, their branches shedding golden and crimson leaves onto the cobblestone.

“Mind if I join?”

The voice was unmistakable, and you whipped around to see Fred grinning at you, his hands stuffed casually into the pockets of his jacket.

“Fred!” you exclaimed, relief washing over you like a balm. “What are you doing here?”

“Just thought I’d check in,” he said, falling into step beside you. “You’re impossible to track down these days, you know that?”

“I’ve been busy,” you said with a shrug. “Work’s been… a lot.”

“Still haven’t figured out how to clone yourself yet, then?” he teased, bumping your shoulder lightly with his own.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Not quite. Maybe I’ll work on that next.”

The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a moment, the leaves crunching underfoot. Fred was always like this, effortlessly pulling you out of your spiraling thoughts, making the world feel lighter somehow.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence, “what do you do to unwind after a day of saving lives?”

“Sleep, mostly,” you admitted. “If I’m lucky, maybe eat something that doesn’t taste like parchment.”

Fred gave a mock gasp. “Blasphemy! This is why I should’ve brought you something from the shop. Maybe a bag of Canary Creams to keep things interesting.”

You rolled your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips. “Pretty sure my coworkers would kill me if I turned anyone into a bird on hospital grounds.”

“Sounds like they could use a laugh,” Fred said, smirking. “You’re too serious these days.”

You looked at him, the warmth of his presence easing the tension that had been knotting your chest all day. “Maybe. It’s hard not to be, though. Things… aren’t how they used to be.”

Fred’s expression softened, and for a moment, the playful glint in his eyes dimmed. “No, they’re not. But that doesn’t mean you’ve lost who you are. You’re still you, even if it feels different now.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat.

Fred gave you a crooked smile. “Anyway, I should get going. Don’t want to keep you from your heroics.”

“Right,” you said, watching as he turned and walked away, his figure disappearing down the path.

When you returned to the hospital, you spotted Elena near the staff break room. She was leaning against the wall, her arms crossed, and her expression almost concerned when she saw you.

“Hey,” she said. “You alright? You looked… I don’t know, distracted earlier.”

“Distracted?” you echoed, frowning.

“Yeah,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “You seemed… off. Just wanted to say, if you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

Her words gave you pause, confusion prickling at the back of your mind. “I’m fine,” you said quickly, managing a small smile.

“Of course,” Elena said, her tone warm but cautious. “Just remember, you’re not alone, okay?”

You nodded, though her words lingered uneasily in your mind as you made your way back to your duties.

Why did Elena think something was wrong?

You pushed the thought away, chalking it up to exhaustion. But as you dove back into your work, you couldn’t shake the strange feeling in your chest—the faint but growing sense that something wasn’t quite right.

&

Your flat was dimly lit, the faint glow of a single lamp casting soft shadows across the walls. You had collapsed onto the sofa after a long day, still wearing your healer robes, too tired to change. The weight of exhaustion pressed heavily against your chest, but your mind refused to quiet.

A knock at the door startled you, your heart leaping in surprise. It was late—too late for visitors—but you dragged yourself up to answer it.

When you opened the door, Fred stood there, leaning casually against the frame with a lopsided grin.

“Hope I’m not interrupting your riveting evening plans,” he said, his voice light but warm.

“Fred,” you said, your fatigue melting into a mix of relief and surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Came to check on you,” he said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. He glanced around your flat, his eyes landing on the cluttered coffee table and the half-empty mug of tea. “Looks like I got here just in time. You’re living the dream, aren’t you?”

You rolled your eyes, shutting the door behind him. “Not all of us get to play with fireworks and sweets all day.”

Fred laughed, a sound that filled the room and wrapped around you like a blanket. He plopped down onto the armchair across from you, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

“You look awful,” he said cheerfully.

“Thanks,” you muttered, sinking back onto the sofa.

There was a comfortable silence between you for a moment, the kind you only shared with someone who had known you forever. You tilted your head to look at him, the familiar lines of his face, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled—it was all so painfully Fred.

“It’s been a while,” you said softly. “Since we sat like this.”

“Yeah,” Fred said, his voice quieter now. “Feels like a lifetime ago, doesn’t it?”

You nodded, your chest tightening. “Do you ever think about it? About how everyone just assumed we were—”

“A couple?” Fred interrupted, smirking. “All the time. George used to place bets on when we’d finally ‘admit it.’”

You laughed, though it felt hollow. “They weren’t wrong, though, were they? We were close.”

Fred’s expression softened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. “We were. Still are.”

You hesitated, your heart pounding. The question had been buried deep in your mind for years, but now it rose to the surface, demanding to be spoken. “Fred… why didn’t it ever happen? Why didn’t we ever—?”

He looked at you then, his gaze steady but distant, as if he were searching for the right words. “You know,” he said after a moment, his voice low, “sometimes you don’t get closure. Sometimes things just… are.”

The answer left you reeling, the weight of it settling heavily in your chest.

Fred stood abruptly, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Anyway, I should go. You need sleep, and I need to—” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely toward the door.

“Right,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

As he left, the silence in your flat felt deafening. You stared at the spot where he had been sitting, your thoughts a chaotic tangle of emotions.

Fred’s words echoed in your mind, and for the first time, you wondered if you were chasing something that could never truly be found.

&

The bell above the door of the tea shop jingled softly as you stepped inside. The warm scent of cinnamon and chamomile washed over you, momentarily easing the tension that had weighed heavily on your shoulders since the previous night. It was your first day off in weeks, and after losing a patient yesterday, you had needed this—a quiet space to think, or perhaps, to not think at all.

Your eyes scanned the room, landing on Fred sitting by the window, a steaming cup in front of him. His head was tilted slightly, gazing out at the bustling street outside.

You hesitated for a moment before walking over to him. His face lit up when he noticed you, and he gestured to the empty seat across from him.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

“Fred,” you said, sliding into the seat. “You’ve got a habit of turning up exactly when I need someone to talk to.”

“Call it a gift,” he said, shrugging. “What’s got you looking like you just ran headfirst into a Hippogriff?”

You sighed, wrapping your hands around the warm ceramic of your cup after ordering a simple black tea. “Rough day yesterday. Lost someone.”

Fred’s teasing expression softened immediately. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice gentler now.

You shrugged, your throat tightening. “It happens. Doesn’t make it easier, though.”

Fred leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “You ever think about doing something else? Something less… heavy?”

“Sometimes,” you admitted. “But it’s not that simple, is it? I like helping people.”

“And who’s helping you?” he asked, his tone pointed but kind.

You looked away, his words cutting deeper than you cared to admit. “I’m fine,” you said quietly. “Really.”

Fred didn’t press further, instead leaning back in his chair and letting the conversation shift to lighter topics. He told you a ridiculous story about George’s latest experiment at the shop, complete with exaggerated hand gestures and dramatic pauses. You laughed in spite of yourself, grateful for the distraction.

The two of you sat there for what felt like hours, reminiscing about old times and trading jokes. For a moment, it felt like the world outside the tea shop didn’t exist.

Eventually, Fred glanced at the clock on the wall and stood up. “I should get going,” he said, his tone reluctant. “George will have my head if I’m late again.”

You nodded, watching as he turned toward the door. “Fred,” you called after him.

He paused, looking over his shoulder.

“Thanks,” you said simply.

His smile was soft, genuine. “Anytime.”

And then he was gone, leaving the air around you feeling oddly still.

You stayed a few minutes longer, finishing your tea in silence. When you finally stood to leave, you noticed something strange—people were staring at you.

Their gazes weren’t hostile, but curious, as if you’d done something out of the ordinary. You met a few of their eyes, but no one said anything. A couple seated near the door exchanged whispers, their eyes flicking toward your table.

Frowning, you pulled your cloak tighter around yourself and stepped out into the chilly air. The feeling of being watched clung to you as you made your way home, an unease settling in your chest.

When you reached your flat, you locked the door behind you and leaned against it, trying to shake the strange sensation.

“Just tired,” you muttered to yourself. “That’s all it is.”

But the memory of their stares lingered, gnawing at the edges of your mind.

&

It was late when you heard the knock at your door. You weren’t expecting anyone, and for a moment, you considered ignoring it. But when the knock came again, heavier this time, you reluctantly got up and opened the door.

George stood there, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat, his face pale and drawn.

“George,” you said, blinking at him in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

He hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. “Mum’s been asking about you,” he said, his voice careful. “She says she hasn’t seen you in ages.”

You frowned, closing the door behind him. “I’ve been… busy.”

“You’re always busy,” he said, looking around your flat as though trying to make sense of the chaos. His gaze lingered on a pile of unopened letters on the table, a half-empty cup of tea on the counter. “You’ve been avoiding us.”

“That’s not true,” you said defensively.

“Isn’t it?” he said, raising an eyebrow. He looked at you closely, his sharp eyes narrowing. “You’re not okay, are you?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat. George had always been perceptive, too perceptive, and you suddenly felt stripped bare under his scrutiny.

“I’m fine,” you said quietly, looking away.

He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “You know,” he said, his voice softer now, “we’re all trying to figure out how to move forward. It’s hard, isn’t it? Finding a way to keep going without—”

He stopped himself abruptly, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“Without what?” you asked, your chest tightening.

George shook his head. “Never mind,” he muttered. “Forget I said anything.”

You frowned, confused and slightly unnerved by the way he was looking at you, like he was trying to tell you something without actually saying it.

“Come with me,” he said suddenly.

“What?”

“Just… come with me,” he repeated, already heading toward the door.

“George, it’s late—”

“I know,” he said, turning to face you. “But this is important. Please.”

Something in his tone made you hesitate. Reluctantly, you grabbed your coat and followed him out into the chilly night.

He didn’t say much as you walked, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his shoulders hunched against the cold. You tried to make sense of his sudden appearance, the strange tension in his voice, but the silence between you felt too fragile to break.

Finally, he led you to a quiet, secluded area, the air around you growing heavier with each step. You glanced around, the faint outlines of headstones barely visible in the moonlight.

“George,” you said, your voice catching. “What is this?”

He stopped in front of a particular spot, his back to you. For a long moment, he didn’t move, his shoulders rising and falling with a deep, shaky breath.

When he finally turned to face you, his expression was unreadable. “I just thought… maybe this would help,” he said quietly.

You didn’t understand what he meant, not fully, but something in his eyes—something raw and achingly familiar—made your chest tighten.

“I’m not sure what you’re trying to say,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

George didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stepped closer and pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping tightly around you. The unexpected gesture caught you off guard, and for a moment, you froze.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly. “It’s okay to miss him.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, and you felt the air leave your lungs in a sharp gasp.

You clung to him, your mind reeling, the weight of his words pressing down on you.

For a moment, it felt like something inside you was unraveling, pieces of a puzzle you hadn’t realized you were trying to solve falling into place.

But the full picture remained just out of reach, the truth lingering at the edges of your mind like a shadow.

George pulled back slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders. “You don’t have to go through this alone,” he said, his voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes.

You nodded silently, unable to find the words to respond.

&

George left after a while, a long time that was filled with silence. But you couldn’t go yet, you were still standing in the middle of the graveyard.

That’s when Fred walked up next to you, looking down at the grave in front of you.

“You’re not real,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Fred tilted his head, a soft smile playing at his lips. “No,” he said simply, “I’m not.”

The weight of those words hit you like a tidal wave.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched thin, taut with everything you hadn’t said and everything you now understood.

“Why?” you finally asked, your voice barely audible.

Fred’s gaze softened, but there was something unshakably sad in his eyes. “You needed me,” he said. “So I was here.”

You swallowed hard, your hands shaking. “But you’re gone,” you said, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

“I am,” he said, his voice steady but quiet.

The world felt impossibly still, the air heavy with unspoken grief.

“I don’t—” you started, your voice cracking. “I don’t know how to do this, Fred. I don’t know how to let you go.”

Fred turned to you. “You don’t have to,” he said gently. “Not really. I’m always going to be here, just not like this.”

Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision. “It’s not fair,” you whispered. “You were supposed to have so much more time. We were supposed to have more time.”

Fred’s smile wavered, and for the first time, you saw the cracks in his façade. “Life’s not fair,” he said, his voice tinged with a bitterness you rarely heard from him. “But you know that already, don’t you?”

You nodded, the tears spilling over now. “I love you, Fred,” you said, your voice breaking. “I loved you, and I never even told you. I never got the chance to—”

“You didn’t have to tell me,” Fred interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. “I knew.”

You looked up at him, your breath catching. “How?”

He smiled, a bittersweet curve of his lips. “You think I didn’t notice the way you looked at me? Or how you always laughed at my terrible jokes, even when no one else did? Or how you always saved me a seat, even when it meant you had to stand?”

You let out a shaky laugh, wiping at your tears.

���I knew,” he said again, his tone softer now. “And you know, deep down, that I loved you too.”

Your chest ached, the pain so sharp and overwhelming that it felt like you might break under the weight of it. “I just wanted more time,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Another chance.”

Fred’s expression grew serious, his gaze locking with yours. “I know you do,” he said quietly. “But if you had it, would it ever be enough?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat.

Fred leaned back, his eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “You would always want more,” he said, his voice steady but filled with a quiet sorrow. “Because that’s how it is with love. It’s never enough time. Not really.”

Your hands trembled as you struggled to process his words.

“I don’t want to say goodbye,” you said, your voice breaking again.

“You don’t have to,” he said, his voice impossibly gentle. “I’ll always be a part of you. I’ll always be in your memories, in the things that make you laugh, in the things that remind you of me.”

Tears streamed down your face, your chest heaving with the force of your sobs. “But it’s not the same,” you choked out. “It’s not the same as having you here.”

Fred’s expression softened, his gaze filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache even more. “I know,” he said. “But you have to keep living, love. You have to keep going, even if it hurts.”

You looked at him, your vision blurred with tears. You reached out your hand, close enough to touch his face, but you didn’t, too scared of what might happen if you tried.

Fred’s smile was soft, tinged with sadness. “It’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to.”

You clenched your fists, the ache in your chest almost unbearable.

“I don’t know how to say goodbye,” you whispered.

Fred looked down at you, his gaze filled with a love that you could feel in every fiber of your being.

“You don’t have to say it,” he said. “Just… let me go.”

You sobbed, the sound raw and broken, as you watched him turn around.

“Fred,” you called, your voice cracking.

He paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“I love you,” you said, the words tumbling out of you like a confession, like a plea.

Fred smiled, his eyes glistening. “I know,” he said. “I love you too.”

And then he was gone.

You turned around again, staring yet again at the grave in front of you.

You stood there for a long time, the silence deafening. Until you took a step forward, your fingers tracing the engraved letters.

Fred Gideon Weasley

1st April 1978 - 2nd May 1998

[spiicii]

the og bloodline / bloodline property (snapshots)

jey uso / jimmy uso / roman reigns / solo sikoa / sami zayn x fem!reader   word count → 7.0k summary → you belong to the bloodline, but life with the family isn’t without its shenanigans. between prank wars and arguments over movie night, the boys certainly know how to keep you on your toes.  notes → this fic is meant to be a fun look at the character dynamics! i get a lot of questions about how the reader interacts with the family outside of the steamy scenes and i thought this would be a fun way to explore it. that being said, there’s still plenty of smut at the end where jimmy finally gets the reader all to himself ;) links → masterlist / taglist tags → daddy kink, dom/sub lifestyle, unprotected piv sex, degradation, dirty talk, begging, spanking, hair pulling, crying, possessive behavior, jealousy, cuddling, and fluff, jimmy likes to be called sir (change my mind)

Movie Night 

The living room was in an uproar. The three brothers were arguing, all of them standing off in front of the TV as they continued to talk over each other. It didn’t help that they all spoke with their hands, gesticulating wildly as they continued to bicker. You could hardly make out the words amidst the chatter, each sentence louder than the last. 

“I done told you we ain’t watchin’ that shit, uce! I hate that fucking series.” 

“What’s wrong with Halloween, man? You nothin’ but a hater!” 

“You picked last time anyway! Why don’t you sit yo’ ass down and shut the fuck up for once!” 

“At least I got some taste! What ‘bout you? Always pickin’ the longest fucking movie ever and then complainin’ when everyone falls asleep. I should snatch that damn remote out yo’ hand!” 

You rolled your eyes, moving back to the microwave to check on the popcorn. You were the only one in the house who wouldn’t burn it. You watched with an amused expression as Sami moved to your side, his eyes still glued to the conflict in the living room. 

“Are they always like this?” 

You chuckled. “Just for movie night. They take it very seriously.” 

Sami made a sound of agreement, watching as Jey grabbed a blanket from one of the couches and hurled it at his twin’s head, who dodged it with ease. 

“Ha! I see yo’ aim ain’t improved since college!” 

“Aye, you better watch yo’ mouth!” 

Sami’s eyes moved to where Roman sat near the balcony door, his hand covering his face in annoyance as the boys continued to yell. 

“And Roman just…let’s it happen?” 

You shrugged. “If he gets involved they just yell louder. But don’t worry, they just need to get it out of their system. Once the popcorn is done they’ll calm down.” 

Sami didn’t seem convinced, frowning as Solo snatched the remote from Jimmy’s unsuspecting hand. 

“Hey! You ain’t slick - give that back!” 

“Don’t nobody wanna watch that shit, uce. Your picks always suck!” 

“Oh you one to talk! Whatchu wanna watch tonight? The Notebook?” 

The bickering continued, Roman leaning his head back against the chair to stare at the ceiling in exasperation. You couldn’t hide a smile as you pulled the popcorn from the microwave, motioning for Sami to hand you a bowl. 

“How on earth do they ever decide on a movie?” Sami asked, his eyes flickering back to the living room in concern as Jimmy tackled Solo to the couch, both of them fighting for control of the remote. 

“They don’t.” You replied.

Sami still seemed confused. “Then how-?”

“Just watch.” 

You turned off the kitchen lights, handing the bowl of popcorn to Sami, before moving into the living room. 

The boys were still wrestling on the couch, Jey now getting involved as he placed his younger brother in a headlock. The yelling was so loud you knew you’d get a noise complaint from the neighbors. Again. 

With a practiced ease, you approached the couch, avoiding the flurry of limbs, and deftly plucked the TV remote from Solo’s hands. They didn’t even notice, Solo now using his feet to fend off Jimmy. Now irritated at his younger twin’s intrusion, Jimmy decided to lunge for Jey who let out a creative string of expletives as his brother tackled him off the back of the couch and onto the floor. 

Roman let out a long-suffering sigh, watching with a growing irritation as the twins knocked over a lamp in their tussle. 

You threw a cheeky wink to Sami who was watching the scene unfold with horror. “Watch this.” You cleared your throat, speaking loudly over the yelling. “Oh no! Who am I going to sit with for the movie?” 

You watched with amusement as the yelling instantly stopped, the three brothers scrambling to return back to their seats. You raised an eyebrow as Jimmy kicked his younger twin to the side in an effort to make it to his seat first, his eyes innocent as he looked back at you. 

“You can sit here, baby.” Jimmy cooed, patting his lap. “It’s right here waitin’ for you.” 

“Man, shut up!” Jey snapped, taking his seat beside his twin. You were impressed at how quickly he switched from irritated to begging as he gave you his best puppy-dog eyes. “You can sit wit’ me, sweetheart. Come on, you know you want to.” 

You glanced over at Solo who had taken a chair of his own, now glowering at his older brothers with his arms across his chest. 

You turned back to Sami who was staring at you. “See?"

You took the popcorn bowl from a still surprised looking Sami, popping a few pieces in your mouth as you turned back to the brothers. “I don’t even know why you’re arguing. You know we’re still watching the Scream movies in order, right? Aren’t we on the third one now?” 

The brothers frowned, looking at each other. Clearly they’d forgotten. 

You sighed. “Well, you’d better get comfortable. I’m about to start it.” 

Jimmy and Jey scrambled to pick up the blankets and pillows from the floor, still looking at you expectantly in the hopes that you would choose them as your designated seat for the night. Solo, ever the wise one, didn’t even try, knowing full well what your intentions were as he settled into his chair. 

You couldn’t help but press a kiss to Solo’s forehead, watching as the irritation melted from his face, his eyes now sparkling with fondness as he looked up at you. 

You turned to Sami. “Sit wherever you want, hon. But don’t engage in the arguments about horror movie tropes. It only encourages them.” 

“Horror movie tropes…” Sami seemed bewildered. 

You waved a finger at the twins. “You got a lot of nerve. Making a mess of this house and expecting me to sit with you. And in front of Sami too? He’s gonna think we’re animals or something.” 

The twins at least had the decency to look embarrassed, both of them fidgeting under the mountain of blankets they’d accumulated. You made a pointed look to the lamp they’d knocked on the floor and Jey quickly returned it to the table, offering you a sheepish grin. 

You rolled your eyes, making your way over to Roman’s chair who had been watching you with unconcealed pride. You were the only ones who could wrangle the brothers without making a scene and he made a pleased sound as you climbed into his lap, offering him some popcorn as you curled up against him.

The twins began to protest, still staring at you with pleading puppy eyes, but a sharp glance from the Tribal Chief quickly silenced them. You chuckled, pressing a kiss against Roman’s neck just to watch the twins stare in jealousy. 

You held out the bowl to them. “Popcorn?” 

Prank Wars

Monday

It started with Jimmy. Of course, it started with Jimmy. He’d decided to hide behind the shower curtain to scare Jey one afternoon after a workout. 

You hadn’t known about it in advance, but you were sure that was calculated. Jimmy knew you would have stopped him.

It wasn’t because you hated fun (although you knew Jimmy would disagree). You loved a good prank as much as the next person. The problem was that pranks were never just pranks with the Samoans. They always escalated and once it started it was difficult to stop. The last time the brothers got into a prank war it had taken months to finally come to a truce. 

You’d been in the living room with Solo, curled up in his lap as you both read the newest Stephen King book.

“Are you ready to turn the page?” You asked, already reaching up to do so before he snatched the book away. 

“No, I’m not ready to turn the page!” Solo grumbled with a frown. “You read too damn fast.” 

You chuckled, a clever retort already on your tongue before you heard Jey’s bellow of alarm, followed by Jimmy’s maniacal laughter. 

You and Solo were quick to abandon the book, making haste to the twins’ shared bathroom to see what all the commotion was about. 

“What the actual fuck, man?!” Jey’s tone was indignant, completely naked as he fumbled with the towel he’d dropped in surprise. 

Jimmy was too busy cackling, pointing childishly to his brother’s naked form. 

“You should have seen your face!” He crowed, doubling over with laughter. 

Jey already looked pissed, but once he saw you and Solo in the doorway his face went crimson. You let out a sigh, Jimmy’s loud laughter still echoing against the tile of the bathroom. There was a glint in Jey’s eye and you knew that this was just the beginning. 

He was already plotting his revenge. 

Tuesday 

You didn’t think Jey would retaliate so quickly, but you couldn’t say you were surprised. Once the prank war started, things always got out of hand. 

Roman and Paul were out, but the rest of you were in the living room eating dinner. Sami was sitting next to you on the couch, his leg pressed against yours as he showed you a video on his phone while Solo and Jimmy were talking. Meanwhile, Jey was leaning back in his chair, apparently scrolling on his phone. 

Things seemed normal. Calm. 

Jey eventually put his phone down and returned to his salad, easily joining the conversation with his brothers. 

Nothing out of the ordinary. 

Eventually Jimmy’s phone started to ding. You didn’t think anything about it at first, but the notifications kept coming, his phone continuing to light up and vibrate as more and more messages came in. 

Jimmy noticed, setting down his bowl to pull his phone from his pocket. “The fuck?” He muttered, his fingers tapping on the screen to see what all the commotion was about. 

“What is it, uce?” Jey’s voice held a teasing note and you were immediately suspicious. 

Sami’s phone started to vibrate as well and you saw a few notifications pop up at the top of his screen, all of them from Twitter. 

@CodyRhodes Looks like someone played too hard last night! 

@AustinCreedWins Posting this online is diabolical 

You watched as Sami clicked on them, pulling up a photo of Jimmy in bed asleep, a spoon hanging from his mouth and a cup of chocolate pudding in his hand. The caption read ‘Big bro caught lacking again’ and already had 800 likes, despite only being posted 3 minutes ago. 

“Are you fucking serious?” Jimmy’s voice was scathing, his eyes narrowed as he looked up at his brother. 

Jey’s smile was smug. “Hope it was worth it, uce.” 

It was taking all of your willpower to avoid laughing, but Sami wasn’t helping, already covering his mouth to hide his giggles. 

Jimmy sucked his teeth. “That’s cute.” He said, his eyes fiery. “But weak. You can’t do better than that?” 

Jey shrugged, taking an innocent bite of his salad while you and Sami watched more notifications come in. 

@RandyOrton 😴🍫

@FightOwensFight So this is why he’s slow as hell in the ring

Jimmy was typing furiously on his phone, still scowling. You saw Sami’s finger hover temptingly over the retweet button, casting you a conspiratorial glance.

“I’m not sure you want to get involved.” You whispered.

“Oh, come on.” Sami whispered back. “It can’t be that bad.” 

“Did you change the fucking password to our Twitter account?” Jimmy’s voice was outraged and Sami quickly turned off his phone, the temptation gone. 

Meanwhile Jey just sat there and smirked. 

Wednesday 

Soft sunlight filtered through the bedroom window, warming your cheek and slowly rousing you from slumber. You could feel Jey’s strong arms wrapped around you, his breath tickling the back of your neck as he kept you pulled close to his chest. You let out a contented sigh, snuggling closer to him and smiling as you felt him lean up to kiss your temple. 

It wasn’t uncommon to wake up in someone else’s bed. You weren’t picky about where you slept and you tried to be fair, giving each of the brothers an equal amount of attention. Jey made it hard though. He was quick to whisk you away to his bedroom, often doing his best to monopolize your time whenever the Tribal Chief was gone or busy.

“Mornin’,” He rumbled, his voice still heavy with sleep. 

“Morning.” You echoed, twisting around to face him. He always looked so beautiful like this, his brown eyes half-lidded and sleepy as he offered you a lazy smile. 

“Sleep good?” He murmured and you nodded, smiling as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. 

You quickly shied away, covering your mouth. “I don’t think you want all this. I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.” 

Jey’s smile was a burst of sunshine. “I’ll survive.” 

You relaxed as he kissed you again, his lips impossibly soft. You let out a hum of contentment and he pulled you closer, his hands warm against your bare skin. But when he moved his leg up to wrap around yours he immediately stopped, breaking away from the kiss to frown. 

You stared at him. “What is it?” 

Jey moved his leg around underneath the sheets, his brow furrowed. “This bed feel wet to you?” 

Now it was your turn to frown, moving your legs around beneath the sheets to feel for yourself. The sheets did feel damp, especially near your feet. 

You both leaned up at the same time to look and you couldn’t suppress a scream when you saw what was at the end of the bed. 

It was a lobster. 

A living, moving, wet lobster. The fucker was huge, rubber bands around his claws and his beady eyes staring at you. You continued to scream, pulling your legs up to your chest and pressing yourself against the headboard. Jey was so startled, both by the lobster and your screams that he jerked back, sitting up so quickly that he lost his balance. He fell off the bed, pulling the sheets, and the lobster, with him, where they landed on the floor with a loud thump!

You had enough courage to lean over the side of the bed and stare at Jey who was now sprawled out on the floor, his eyes wild. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” He swore, yanking at the tangled mess of sheets and blankets to look for the lobster, who was now drowning in a sea of cotton. 

You heard the source of the laughter before you saw it, Jimmy’s guffaws giving away his position in the bathroom. He was crouched in the doorway like a gremlin, a shit-eating grin on his face as he continued to point and laugh at his brother. 

“Oh my god, that was fucking priceless!” Jimmy could hardly get the words out, his smile so wide you could see all of his teeth. “I should have gotten that on video!” 

Solo and Sami were quickly in the room, summoned by your screams and Jey’s cursing. Solo looked worried, though the worry quickly shifted to annoyance at the sight of his older brother laughing hysterically. Sami just looked confused. 

“What happened?” He asked, his eyebrow raised at Jey. “What are you doing on the floor?” 

Jey hurled a pillow at him. “You think I’m just chillin’ here, uce?” He snapped and Sami looked like he was trying not to laugh. 

“Where is it?” You asked meekly. 

“Where’s what?” asked Sami. He took a step forward and you raised your hand in a panic.  

“No! Not another step!” You shrieked. “There’s a lobster in here!” 

Sami immediately jumped back, staring at the jumbled sheets on the floor in confusion. There was a beat of silence before he finally said, “There’s a what in here?” 

“Got it at the store this morning!” Jimmy sounded far too pleased with himself. “And if she hadn’t been in here,” He pointed at you. “I would have put it next to your face!” 

Jey quickly stood, uncaring that he was naked or that there was a lobster somewhere lost in the room. He launched himself at his twin, the two of them tumbling to the ground, while Solo stared up at the ceiling in exasperation.  

Thursday 

Roman had insisted they take you out somewhere nice tonight. They had a big show tomorrow and you knew it would be some time before all of you could spend time together again. You were thrilled by the suggestion, smacking a huge kiss onto Roman’s cheek in your excitement when he’d told you the news. 

It was the nicest restaurant in town, though you weren’t surprised. The Tribal Chief only took you to the finest places - nothing but the best for his girl. Roman had ensured that the seven of you had a private room, far away from the press and fans who seemed to follow them everywhere. 

You sat beside Roman and Jimmy, watching with a smile as Paul told a particularly entertaining story about his ECW days. 

You noticed Jimmy shift next to you, as if he were uncomfortable, reaching a hand up to tug at the collar of his shirt. 

You leaned into his side. “Hey, you alright?” 

Jimmy met your gaze with a distant smile. “Hm? Oh, yeah. It’s nothing.” 

But clearly it wasn’t nothing. Jimmy continued to fidget uncomfortably, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. He seemed unsure of what to do with his hands, often tugging on his shirt or pants while trying to be discreet. You leaned over, about to question him again, but he quickly got up and excused himself before you could, hardly tossing a backwards glance your way as he made a beeline for the bathroom. 

You furrowed your brow in confusion, though the confusion was quickly cleared up when you met Jey’s triumphant gaze. He’d done something to his brother, that much was obvious, but you weren’t sure what. 

You felt Roman’s hand on your thigh and you were reminded that the Tribal Chief knew nothing about the pranks going on between the twins. He hated them even more than you did and you knew that he would disapprove of the shenanigans, especially since he knew how quickly they escalated. 

“Did Jimmy get lost?” Sami finally asked when Jimmy failed to return to the table. You were the only one to notice Jey’s smirk, though he quickly hid it by taking a sip of his drink. 

“This is supposed to be a family outing.” Roman grumbled, his hand tightening against your thigh. You were quick to reassure him. 

“I’m sure he’s fine,” You cooed, taking Roman’s hand in yours and rubbing your thumb across his knuckles. “Maybe he’s just feeling a little under the weather.” 

Jimmy didn’t return to the table until well after the food arrived, his copper cheeks flushed red. You noticed that his forehead was still shining with sweat as he continued to fidget uncomfortably in his chair. 

You reached out to take his hand and give it a squeeze, but he only offered you a weak smile in return. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You whispered and Jimmy nodded quickly, focusing on his food to avoid your concerned gaze. 

Eventually Jimmy’s fidgeting caught Roman’s attention. “What’s your problem?” The Tribal Chief demanded, causing Jimmy to drop his fork in surprise. The entire table went silent, everyone staring. Jimmy seemed flustered. 

“Uh…nothing, uce. Whatchu mean?” Jimmy tried to play it off with a weak chuckle but was failing epically. 

“Why can’t you sit still?” Roman’s tone was scathing. “We’re supposed to be out enjoying ourselves and you’re acting like it’s torture for you. Is going out really that big of a problem?” 

“What? No!” Jimmy seemed alarmed. “No, I’m good, uce. I just think I might be allergic to our laundry detergent or something.” 

Jey snorted in amusement but he quickly returned to his food when Roman looked at him. 

You pressed a sweet kiss to Roman’s cheek. “It’s fine, baby,” You murmured, hoping to distract him from his growing irritation. “I’m having a good time. Did you enjoy your food?” 

Roman gave one more annoyed look to Jimmy before he turned back to you, his gaze softening as he answered your question. 

Jimmy slouched in his seat, relieved to no longer be under the Tribal Chief’s scrutiny, though he threw his twin a dirty look. Jey ignored him, resuming his conversation with Paul and Solo while Sami looked on with interest. 

Eventually the dinner concluded, the seven of you walking back out to the parking lot. You stayed by the Tribal Chief’s side, though you didn’t miss Jimmy grabbing his brother’s arm, hissing into his ear, “What the fuck did you do to me?” 

Jey’s grin was devious. “Did you know you could buy itching powder online? Me neither. Glad to see it worked so well.” 

Jimmy was seething. “I’m gonna fucking kill you.” 

But Jey just laughed. 

Friday 

The twins were in the living room, both of them lounging exhaustedly after a particularly brutal workout. They wanted to be sharp for the show tonight, especially since they were defending their tag team titles. You watched appreciatively as Jey leaned back in his chair, his crop top riding up to reveal his toned stomach and his long legs stretched out in front of him as he leaned back to close his eyes. Jimmy looked equally delicious, manspreading on the couch with his phone in hand, his long hair tied up in a bun. 

You stopped in front of them, clutching your back with a bit more drama than you usually did. 

“Oh, god,” you moaned, rubbing your lower back as if you were in pain. “What the hell have I done to it?” 

The twins materialized at your side, their hands immediately on you. 

“You alright, pretty girl?” Jimmy seemed concerned, his hands warm as he reached under your shirt to feel the muscles of your back. You hissed dramatically as he touched you and Jey took a step back. 

“What is it?” Jey asked, his tone worried. He was reaching for his phone. “Do I need to call one of the trainers up here?” 

“No, no.” You waved your hand dismissively. “No, I think I just need you to pop my back.” 

The twins had done it a million times before, their strong arms able to lift you with ease to pop your back whenever you had pain. 

Jimmy’s arms were around you instantly, pulling you backwards against him so he could lift you. 

“Ready?” he asked and you nodded. 

He lifted and your feet left the ground. That’s when you did it. You’d hidden two pieces of uncooked pasta in your teeth and you quickly bit down on them as Jimmy lifted you up, simulating the sound of bones cracking. 

You immediately went limp, closing your eyes as you allowed your body to collapse. 

“What the fuck?!” Jey’s voice was panicked, someone’s hands on you to keep you from falling to the floor. You felt a warm hand cradling your neck, someone’s breath against your cheek. 

“Oh my fucking god!” Jimmy’s voice was equally panicked, his hands roaming you. “I didn’t…I didn’t think I-” 

“What the hell did you do?” Jey bellowed, more hands on you as the two shuffled above your limp body. 

“Babe, open your eyes!” Jimmy sounded distressed. “Oh my god, what the fuck…” 

You didn’t actually want to torture them so you quickly opened your eyes with a wide grin. The twins were kneeling over you, both of them staring down at you in a weird mixture of shock and panic. 

“Surprise!” You garbled, spitting out the uncooked pasta just to watch the twins’ eyes widen in realization. “I’m not dead!” 

Jimmy’s mouth fell open. “You…”

“What the actual fuck?” Jey demanded, still angry and running high on adrenaline. “Why’d you do that?” 

You sat up, trying to suppress your laughter. “To prove that pranks are stupid.” You told them, giving them a knowing look. “And to beg both of you to stop with the prank war before someone really does get hurt.” 

Jimmy closed his mouth, his pupils still dilated from the near heart attack you’d almost given him. Meanwhile, his twin was still huffing and puffing, his brow furrowed as he looked down at you. 

There was a beat of silence and you stood up, the twins quickly following in suit.

“I mean it.” You told them, your gaze at them now serious. “The last time you got involved in a prank war you almost burned down a hotel and wasted hundreds of dollars on a cement truck. Hell, I don’t even know what the cement truck was for. All I know is that we don’t need to go in that direction again. You're both even now. 2 for 2. So let’s agree to just end it here. Okay?” 

There was a long silence. The twins looked at each other, then back at you. You could tell they didn’t want to, but you refused to give in, raising an eyebrow at them. 

“Okay?” 

The twins finally nodded, though they still refused to look at each other. You frowned. 

“Good. Now hug it out.” 

The twins stared at you incredulously, already beginning to protest. 

“Come on…we agreed to stop, ain’t that enough?” 

“I ain’t gonna hug Mr. Ugly, are you crazy?” 

You held up your hand. “Hug it out or no blowjobs for a week.” 

The twins’ arms were around each other so fast you couldn’t help but laugh.

Game Night

I ain’t ever playing wit yo’ cheatin’ ass again! 

Cheating? Just admit you suck, uce. 

You one to talk. Didn’t Solo take half of yo’ last paycheck? 

Oh, you got jokes now, huh? Rich comin’ from you after Roman done took every penny to your name. 

How ‘bout I come over there and knock that disrespect out yo’ mouth? 

That was how poker night had ended last time. Had the Tribal Chief not intervened, the twins would have come to blows right there in the living room. After pulling them apart, Roman had sworn up and down that poker was officially banned and that they would not be doing this again. 

Unfortunately, Roman was full of shit. 

It didn’t matter how horrible the last poker night ended, they would still somehow always end up back here: gathered around the dining room table, beers in hand, and loud music in the background. No matter how strict Roman pretended to be he was just as weak as his cousins when it came to gambling. You couldn’t be sure exactly why, though you suspected that it might be because he was actually good at it. He almost always won, no matter how hard his younger cousins worked to take his money. 

Even now as he kept you perched in his lap, his hand curled possessively on your thigh, you could see him holding the winning hand. You couldn’t help but smile, leaning back to pepper his neck with kisses. You heard his chuckle rumble in the large expanse of his chest, his lips soft as he kissed your cheek. 

“Come on, y’all. We ain’t doin’ dinner and a show.” Jimmy’s words were annoyed, but his tone was playful as he eyed you in his Chief’s lap. You saw the way his eyes traveled down to your exposed breasts, his eyes filled with want. He was waiting for you to give up Roman’s lap for his. Which you had considered. But for now you were more than happy to stay in the Tribal Chief’s lap, his hands warm against your bare skin. 

“What do you think, pretty girl?” Roman asked, his tone knowing. “Should I raise?” 

You grinned up at him, nuzzling against his soft beard. “Mm hm. I think so, Daddy.”

“Well, you heard her, boys.” The Tribal Chief said, pushing his chips to the middle of the table. 

You watched as Jey frowned, his eyes scanning his own cards. You’d told him a million times to work on his poker face but nothing ever changed. He still wore his heart on his sleeve, every thought still on his face no matter how hard he tried to hide it. It was one of the things you loved about him, even if it did cause him to lose every hand of poker he ever played. 

Solo, on the other hand, was a professional. His stoic nature was both his weapon and his shield. In all their years of playing poker together, Solo was the only one to ever take any serious cash from his older cousin, much to Roman’s chagrin. Perhaps he’d win again tonight, his stony face giving nothing away. 

While Jimmy was certainly better than his twin at hiding his emotions, he had tics - dead giveaways that you were quick to learn. His cocky attitude wasn’t nearly as effective as his younger brother’s stoicism and you could always read his eyes, no matter how much bravado he put on. 

Sami was a bit more difficult to read. He was new to the game and he had been timid so far, folding every chance he got without taking any real risks. You wondered what Roman thought about it, though you didn’t get a chance to ask, his hand slapping your ass to urge you up. 

“Grab me another beer, will ya, baby?” 

The Tribal Chief’s words were commanding and you were eager to obey. “Yes, Daddy.” You murmured, pressing another kiss to his cheek before heading to the kitchen. 

You tried to suppress a smile as the entire table leaned forward to watch you walk away. Roman really thought he was slick, but you knew him too well. He’d used you as a distraction. And his family had fallen for the bait. 

You weren’t sure exactly what happened while your back was turned, but you heard a loud cacophony of groans and yells, no doubt indicating that the Tribal Chief had won. Again. 

“Man, this some bullshit!” 

“Jesus, we can’t catch a single break.” 

“Damn, Sami, you gonna do somethin’ tonight, or what?” 

“Hey! I’ve been dealt nothing but crappy cards!” 

You returned with the Tribal Chief’s beer, smiling as he kissed your knuckles in gratitude. He didn’t urge you to sit back down in his lap, which you took as a sign that he was comfortable with you offering your attention elsewhere. 

You looked up and immediately met Jimmy’s hungry gaze again. He’d been waiting for you for a while now and you knew you couldn’t deny him, making your way to his side and allowing him to pull you into his lap. 

His arms were wrapped around you instantly, his lips attached to your neck as he pressed kisses there. You couldn’t help but giggle, your laughter causing him to smile against you. 

“Sweet girl,” he murmured. It was his favorite thing to call you. “Love it when you sit with me.” 

You leaned back against him, pulling your legs up to curl contently in his lap like a lazy housecat. “Love it when you hold me.” You returned, nuzzling into his beard as he leaned forward to grab the cards that Solo had dealt. 

You didn’t miss the way Jey’s eyes flashed over to you, his emotions once again written all over his face. He was jealous, despite the fact that he had bent you over the kitchen counter no more than an hour ago. The man was insatiable. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the younger twin, throwing him a cheeky wink just to watch him squirm. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” Jimmy’s voice was smug. He’d noticed his twin’s jealousy too. “Got the prettiest girl in the world in my lap, don’t I? Too bad she don’t wanna sit with you.” 

A splotch of color dotted Jey’s cheeks. “She only sittin’ with you ‘cause you need a handicap.” He grumbled, causing Jimmy to throw back his head and laugh. 

“Don’t be mean,” You chided Jimmy, your fingers curling in the soft fabric of his shirt. “Or else I’ll get up.” 

Jimmy’s grip tightened against you. “Oh, you ain’t goin’ anywhere, babygirl.” His words sent a shiver down your spine. 

He held up his cards to you but you didn’t care much about them, opting instead to press your face to his chest and close your eyes. 

You heard the others talking amongst themselves, but you felt lost in Jimmy’s touch, practically purring as he stroked your soft skin. You felt him slide his hand down your thigh, his hand resting dangerously close to your already leaking pussy. You felt your breath stutter, instinctively opening your legs just a little further to grant him access. 

To the table, Jimmy announced, “Call!” and threw some of his chips into the pot. Meanwhile, his hand continued to creep further between your legs, your eyelids fluttering at the feeling. And when he found the wetness between your legs it took all of your willpower not to moan lest you distract from the game. 

“Still soaked, baby?” Jimmy had been the one to catch Jey fucking you in the kitchen. “Or is it just me that you all wet for?” 

You reached out and grabbed his wrist, holding it like a lifeline. “Just…just you.” You stuttered, your hips instinctively pushing back to find the erection Jimmy was hiding in his sweatpants. 

Jimmy chuckled, still completely in control as he dipped his fingers in between your folds, playing with you. 

“Call.” Solo said gruffly, his eyes meeting yours across the table. He was always so difficult to read, but you could have sworn you saw the barest twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he looked on, knowing exactly what his older brother was doing to you under the table. 

“Five.” Roman put in his bet. Sami folded. Jey raised. You leaned further into Jimmy’s touch, forcing yourself to keep still as one of his long fingers reached further down to tease at your empty hole. 

“What do you think, sweetheart?” Jimmy asked you, but you were playing a different game, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his neck as he kept his movements slow between your legs. Jimmy chuckled darkly, his lips brushing across your forehead. 

“Guess I’ll call then.” 

He leaned up to place his bet and you felt his erection dig deeper into your backside, your pussy spasming at the feeling. Jimmy smirked against your shoulder as he pressed a kiss there, his breath warm against your ear. 

“Such a needy little thing,” he cooed, keeping his voice low as his brothers began to argue. “Need me to take care of you, baby?” 

You nodded into his neck, your cheeks flushed as you met the Tribal Chief’s amused gaze. He seemed entertained watching you try to sit still in Jimmy’s lap, his eyes traveling down to where Jimmy was keeping a possessive grip between your legs. He smirked at the sight and you wondered exactly what he was thinking. 

The final card came out and you glanced at Jimmy’s hand. He had nothing. 

Still, the older twin’s face gave nothing away, his fingers continuing to glide through your soaked folds as he kept you close. You could feel warmth pooling at the base of your spine, goosebumps exploding across your skin as Jimmy’s beard brushed against the back of your neck. 

There was a silence around the table and you realized that someone had asked Jimmy a question. They wanted to know if he was still in. 

Jimmy chuckled against your ear. “I’ll let our pretty girl decide.” His finger dipped into your leaking hole and you couldn’t take it anymore. 

“He folds.” 

You heard laughter from the rest of the table as you grabbed Jimmy by his shirt and dragged him to the closest bedroom, though you didn’t miss the way Jey’s eyes followed the two of you, his expression hungry. 

Jimmy kicked the door shut behind you, still chuckling as your frenzied hands tugged his clothes from him. 

“Need me that bad, honey?” He sounded smug and it would have annoyed you if it didn’t turn you on so fucking much. 

“I do,” You were too horny to be embarrassed about how desperate you sounded. “Need you so bad.” 

Jimmy’s eyes darkened at your words and before you realized what was happening he was picking you up with ease, throwing you onto the bed. 

His body was on yours in an instant, his lips latched onto your neck with such ferocity that you felt your back arch at the feeling, the pain and pleasure sending more warmth between your legs. 

You felt his cock nudge against your entrance and your legs parted easily for him, soft whimpers falling from your lips. 

“Such a slut for me, ain’t you, baby?” 

You nodded, willing to agree to anything if he would just fuck you right now. Jimmy leaned up to look at you, his chain dangling above your nose. 

“Beg me to fuck you.” He commanded, ignoring your gasp of surprise as he flipped you onto your stomach with ease. “Beg me to fuck you and if you sound pathetic enough maybe I’ll consider it.” 

He was so full of shit. He was just as desperate as you, his cock rock-hard as he pressed against. Still, you didn’t hesitate to obey, every thought in your brain focused on him. 

“Please, sir, please.” You begged, the honorific rolling off your tongue with ease. You knew it drove him crazy. “Please fuck me, sir. I need it. I need you.” 

Jimmy chuckled darkly, landing a harsh swat against your ass just to watch you jump. 

“Keep going. I want to hear more.” 

You wriggled your hips pathetically beneath his strong hands and he smacked your ass again. “Don’t be greedy,” he admonished, his voice rough. “Keep talkin’, slut. Let me hear it.” 

You looked over your shoulder at him, desperate tears forming in your eyes. His eyes were dark, looking far too close to a predator surveying his prey, and you shivered. 

“Please, sir. I need you to fuck me.” You sniffled, arching your back to present yourself to him. “I need you to claim me. Make me yours. Please, sir, I need it so bad.” 

The tears started falling and Jimmy seemed pleased. 

“Good girl,” he cooed, his cock beginning to push through your soaked folds. “It’s alright, baby. I’ll give you what you need. And you need it bad, don’t you, honey?” 

You nodded, letting out a hiss as he pushed deeper into you, your body struggling to adjust to his size. 

“Jesus, you stranglin’ my cock, little girl.” Jimmy groaned, placing his hand between your shoulder blades to push you down into the mattress. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips and you knew it would leave bruises. “So fucking tight. Practically sucking me in.” 

You whined beneath him, your body beginning to tremble with need as he filled you so perfectly. 

He bottomed out and you almost sobbed from pleasure. You could feel him brushing against that sweet spot inside of you, this angle keeping him lodged so deep that you felt it in the back of your throat. 

“Sir, please-”

You could hardly get the sentence out before Jimmy pulled out and slammed back into you, the movement so rough that you felt yourself being shoved back into the mattress. 

“Yeah, that’s it, slut,” Jimmy moaned, his hips picking up speed as he thrust into you. He reached out and tangled his fingers into your hair, yanking at it so that your back could arch even more against him. “Take it all. You can do it, baby. I gotchu.” 

His sweet words, so at odds with the brutal way he was fucking you, sent you into a haze, pleasure spreading across your body like wildfire. 

Jimmy slapped your ass again and the sharp pain had you moaning, your pussy spasming around his massive length. 

“Oh, you like that shit, huh?” Jimmy’s words were scalding you from the inside out, your cheeks burning as he continued to tug on your hair. “Like it when I rough you up?” 

You tried to nod but Jimmy’s grip on your hair made it impossible. Jimmy laughed and the sound was mean. 

“That’s okay, baby. I can give you whatchu want.” 

He shifted the angle of his hips and you let out a strangled scream, his cock now hitting your g-spot with devastating accuracy. A few more slaps against your ass had you crying, the pleasure so good that it was threatening to overwhelm you. 

“Please, sir.” You sobbed, barely able to keep your eyes open as he continued to hammer into you. “Please, can I come?” 

“Come on this dick, slut.” 

You lost all control of yourself, your muscles tensing as the powerful orgasm wracked your body. Jimmy’s tight grip on your hair kept you from fully collapsing on the bed, your pussy continuing to spasm and convulse around Jimmy’s massive cock.

“That’s it, baby,” he gasped, his hips stuttering against yours. “Such a good girl.”

He pulled out so suddenly that you choked on a sob, your body shivering at the sudden feeling of emptiness. Jimmy smacked your ass one final time before he came, thick ropes of come painting your ass and thighs. 

Jimmy let out a contented sigh, slowly releasing his tight grip on your hair to allow you to collapse onto the bed.

"Shhh, it's alright, honey," Jimmy cooed, moving to your side so he could kiss your forehead. "You did so good, baby."

You felt goosebumps prickle at your exposed skin, shivering again as your body came down from its high.

Jimmy noticed, quickly wiping you down with his discarded shirt so he could cover with you a blanket, crawling beneath the covers to join you.

You let out a sigh of your own as Jimmy pulled you close, the feeling of his strong body beneath you keeping you grounded. Jimmy continued to whisper sweet praises in your ear as he stroked your hair, his lips soft as he kissed your tear-streaked face.

Jimmy suddenly looked around, as if he were just now figuring out his surroundings. "Ain't we in Jey's room?"

You looked around too, letting out a small huff laughter at the realization. "Looks like it."

"Hm. He ain't gonna be happy about that."

You smiled, pressing adoring kisses beneath Jimmy's jaw. "He'll get over it."

_____________

besties: @mindairy @amandairene88 @askullasunflower @acute-crashout-jeyuso @partypoison00 @brianochka @femdisa @luvrsluxe @zephyrazzz @scorpiochaos @gardencottage

[harrywavycurly]

The Almost Bumble Fumble: Roses and Petnames

Part 1: Here

CW: none

A/N: I’m so glad yall wanted more of this, I do enjoy these two they are fun so just let me know if you’d like to see more of them✨

Tag List: @georgiarose94 @maiajadestyles @fandomfreak404 @likea-silhouette @obsessiveenthusiast @thegr8estpuff @triski73 @amarenonamari @cloudyluun

Summary: You have a new Friday night routine and as fate would have it you also get a Saturday morning surprise✨

“Are these your only options?” You don’t mean for your voice to sound so teasing as you ask the simple question but Harry doesn’t seem bothered by it as he holds up two hangers that have his shirt options for his dinner later in the evening.

Now if anyone had asked what you do on your Friday nights after work you know they’d think you were a bit off your rocker if you explained how you spend most of your Friday evening cuddled in the corner of your couch with a bottle of wine while on FaceTime with Harry Styles. But it’s the truth and it’s been your Friday routine for about three weeks now ever since you scrolled upon his profile on a certain dating app. Friday nights being your chosen night to spend with each other through phone screens since that seems to be the day when both of you have the most down time. Minus tonight because Harry reluctantly agreed to going to dinner with a few friends but you still get a few hours of his time which he made sure to clear his schedule for. Something that of course you weren’t aware of, you just assume that he calls you at the usual time of five in the evening because he needed some advice on his outfit and didn’t feel like bothering anyone else.

“Uh well I could go back in the closet and pick something else but-you really don’t like the red?” He asks as he looks down at the silky red long sleeved shirt and then back to you with a quirked brow. You rub your lips together as you shake your head making him let out a huff.

“I’m sorry it’s just a lot of red very close to your face.”

“So if I changed my face it would be a winner then?”

“Harry honestly when is the last time you wore that much red?”

“I wear red all the time.” He argues as he tosses the hanger holding the red shirt onto his bed before holding the other shirt option up to his chest as he looks at himself in his mirror.

“No you wear red as an accent color like red with giant white hearts or a floral print on top of it not just solid red.” You explain as you reach over for your glass of wine that’s sitting on your coffee table. Harry rolls his eyes as he moves around his bedroom so he can grab the pants he plans on wearing.

“I just think the blue is boring.” He states as he holds up the pants and the shirt in front of his iPad that he has perched on top of his nightstand, opting for his iPad so he has a bigger screen to see you on but you did tease him about it when he first used it last week because it reminded you of you grandpa using his iPad to take photos during the holidays.

“Blue makes your eyes pop.” You tell him making a small smile appear on his face as he eyes the blue short sleeved shirt one more time. “Besides it has white and pink stripes on it so I’d hardly call it boring.” You add before taking a sip of your wine.

“I wear blue a lot though so shouldn’t-”

“I’ve never seen you in blue.” Harry makes a face that lets you know he isn’t sure if you’re joking or not. You let out a chuckle as you lean over to place your glass back on the coffee table.

“You saw me get tattooed on television wearing a blue and white shirt love.”

“Yeah but that wasn’t in the flesh like in person or even over a phone screen.”

“So if you don’t see it with your own eyes in person then it doesn’t count? Is that what I’m learning tonight?” Harry can’t help but laugh and shake his head when you nod in response, he doesn’t know why but it’s little conversations like this that have him feeling all warm and fuzzy inside and deep down he wonders if it’s because it just feels like a conversation between two people who like each other.

“Exactly now go put the whole outfit on and I’ll tell you if it’s acceptable or not.” You smile at the way Harry doesn’t even hesitate to walk off to his bathroom so he can change. “Oh and remind me again who all is going to be at this dinner?” You only raise your voice the slightest amount since you know he can hear you.

“A few people from the label as well as Jeff and I think Mitch and Sarah but I’m not completely sure if they’ll come or not.” He answers as he walks out of the bathroom messing with the buttons of his shirt. He stands a little bit away from the camera so you can get the full picture of his outfit. “So? What do we think?” He asks as he holds his arms out and does a slow spin making you laugh as you bring your phone closer to your face so you can see the details of his black trousers better.

“Is that a gold belt?” Harry looks down at the belt he picked and immediately starts to undo it so he can slide it off while shaking his head and giving you a shrug.

“Gold belt? No why-why would I pick a gold belt with cool toned colors? That’s absurd.” You just roll your eyes as he mindlessly tosses the belt towards his closet door and gives you a playful grin. “Obviously I’ll wear a silver one.”

“Do you need a belt or is it just an accessory?”

“Uh no I don’t-”

“I like it better without the belt.”

“You know it’s sort of odd I’m taking fashion advice from someone I’ve only ever seen in pajamas or workout clothes.” Harry watches your face as he teases you because neither of you can manage to go long without a playful jab at the other and you find it’s something you enjoy about talking to Harry, he doesn’t take himself too seriously.

“You’re literally the one who called me and asked for my opinion and besides you said my smiley face pajamas were cute.” You remind him as you stand up from your couch and head into the kitchen while Harry walks over to where he keeps his jewelry so he can begin to pick out his rings.

“They are very cute.” You smile when you look at your phone screen and see him concentrating on finding a certain ring, the statement about your pajamas being cute falling out of his mouth without even having to think about it. “What are your thoughts on pearls?”

“Oh I only have inappropriate thoughts about pearls. What about you?” Harry lifts his eyes away from his jewelry case so he can send you a playful glare while the corner of his mouth goes upward into a small smile.

“Are you drinking red wine?” You laugh as you place your phone on the counter making Harry get a decent view of your kitchen ceiling. “You get a bit cheeky on red wine.” He adds as he goes back to picking out a few rings.

“I think pearls would look nice.” You answer his original question, ignoring the one about what kind of wine you’re drinking.

“What are you doing? Why am I still looking at the light fixture above the sink?” Harry doesn’t mean to sound whiney but he also doesn’t have much time left before his driver will be arriving and he would much rather be looking at your face than your ceiling.

“I’m putting a pizza in the oven you’ll get my face back in a few minutes you drama queen.”

“What kind of pizza?” He feels as if he already knows the answer because wine and pizza seem to be your usual Friday evening routine and he’s only ever seen you make one type.

“I’ll give you three guesses and if you get it wrong then I’m hanging up and unmatching with you.” You threaten as you grab your phone allowing him to see your face again after what was really only a few minutes but to Harry felt like half an hour.

“Three cheese on one of those flatbread crusts?” Harry guesses and when he sees you smile he knows he’s right making him grin in return.

“Wow a man who pays attention. You’re a rare gem Harry Styles let me tell ya.” Harry laughs as he clasps his dainty pearl necklace closed, ignoring the way his cheeks feel a bit warm at your compliment.

“I like learning new things about you so of course I’m paying attention to you love.”

“Stop it.” You place a hand over your face as your cheeks turn a light shade of pink making Harry smile. “You aren’t allowed to say things like that to me Harry it’s rude.”

“Rude? It’s just the truth.”

“Because what am I supposed to say to that?”

“You don’t have to say anything.” He reassures as you finally lower your hand allowing him to see your face again. He gives you a soft smile as the two of you just stare at one another for a moment. Harry can practically see his words sinking in, him admitting that he likes learning things about you and he doesn’t really have time to get nervous that maybe he overshared or said something wrong as he watches as you slowly start to smile and look away from him.

The two of you have casually flirted with each other but it normally is in the middle of random conversations and most of the time it’s been over texts exchanged during the week, so hearing him make a comment like that to your face is something you aren’t quite used to. But you don’t hate how it makes you feel, all the butterflies it causes to erupt in your tummy and how pink your cheeks get. And you know it’s not because it’s Harry Styles saying it, it’s because someone you’ve found yourself developing a rather large crush on is saying it as his way of dropping little hints of how he’s feeling about you.

“I like the pearls.” You motion to your neck and Harry just smiles as he takes a small step backwards so he can show you his hands letting you see which rings he went with. “Oh no initials?”

“Eh everyone at this dinner knows my name so there’s no need for them.” You laugh as he shoots you a playful wink.

“That isn’t why you wear them Harry and you know it.” Harry just shrugs as you grab the phone and carry it with you as you head back into the living room to grab your wine glass.

“No I wear them because I’m a narcissist right? That’s what the rumor is?” He questions as he watches you take a sip of your wine that is in fact red making him smile to himself.

“I have no clue? Are there rumors about your rings?” You ask with a raised brow as you place your glass down on your counter before leaning your phone against your coffee maker so you can check on your pizza that’s in the oven.

“I don’t really know actually. I know people think I’m like a hand guy and-”

“Well yeah you’re totally a hand guy.”

“What? I am no-”

“You have a song about choking someone and you have that cross tattoo and all the rings.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m-I’m a hand guy? That just means I like rings and uhm the choking thing isn’t like-”

“Harry.” He stops his rambling and looks at you the moment his name slips out of your mouth making him let out a huff as you just stare at him with an oven mitt on one hand and the other resting on your hip. “We listen and we don’t judge okay? It’s fine. Besides you have nice hands.”

“Thank you.” Harry feels like his cheeks are going to be permanently flushed a light shade of pink with the amount of blushing you have him doing. You hear a light dinging sound come from your phone as you put your oven mitt on the counter.

“Was that you or me?” You ask as the corners of Harry’s mouth start to droop a bit.

“It was me. My driver is here.” You want to roll your eyes at how he lets out a sigh as if going to dinner with his friends and a few label people is the absolute worst thing he could be doing with his Friday night.

“Well have fun and I’ll talk to you later okay?” Harry just gives you a smile as he nods and runs a hand through his hair.

“Don’t worry I’ll be sure to fill you in on any hot gossip I hear.” You laugh as you grab your wine glass so you can take a sip. “Enjoy your pizza and your wine. I’ll talk to you later love.” You smile as he gives you a small wave that you return with your free hand and before he ends the call he quickly blows you a kiss that makes your face get hot just as the screen goes black.

What are you doing right now?

You smile as you read Harry’s text, having spent most of the morning chatting with him about how his dinner went last night you’re not shocked at his sudden subject change. You quickly type out a reply before grabbing your sunglasses and your water bottle and walking out your front door.

About to go on a little walk. What about you?

Harry chews on his bottom lip as he reads over your text, he doesn’t know why he feels a sense of nervousness begin to overtake him for simply wanting to hit the FaceTime button near your contact name in his phone. Now that he knows he wouldn’t really be interrupting anything serious, not that walks aren’t important because he knows you enjoy your “hot girl mental health walks” as you call them and go on a few a week but surely you could walk and talk to him at the same time.

“Oh just do it already Harry don’t be a ninny.” He mumbles to himself as he uses his thumb and presses the FaceTime icon.

“Well hello there.” You smile as you answer after just two rings. “Miss my face already huh?” Harry has to laugh to keep himself from just openly admitting that yes, he did miss you a bit because he didn’t get his usual amount of time with you last night due to his dinner plans.

“How’s the walk going? Are you doing your usual route of going around your neighborhood?” He asks as he notices some trees and bushes in the background as you continue walking down the street near your house.

“Sort of but I’m going left instead of right at the stop sign up ahead.” You inform him as you hold your phone up and flip the camera so Harry can see the stop sign just a few feet in front of you. “See where that leads me.”

“Sounds like an adventure.”

“What’s the pop star got on his agenda today? Anything fun?” Harry just shrugs as he sits down on his couch and runs a hand through his hair.

“No plans today actually.” He answers as you flip the camera back around so he can see your face. “I am feeling a bit restless though so I might go to the gym later-”

“The gym in your house or the gym you do your little boxing stuff at?” You ask before you take a quick sip of water while Harry silently deals with the fact you managed to remember him briefly telling you about his boxing class the other day that he takes at a gym not too far from his house. “What? You thought you were the only one who pays attention?” You joke as a grin takes over Harry’s face as he shakes his head and lets out a chuckle.

“No I just-I don’t know? It feels nice.” He clears his throat before he continues trying to explain how he’s feeling. “I don’t always feel like people are actually hearing what I’m saying. Sometimes I think people sort of get caught up in who I am so they kinda can’t focus on what I’m saying so it’s just a nice feeling to know you’re listening.” You can’t help but feel your heart drop the tiniest bit at Harry’s honesty, having no clue what it must feel like for him to not know if what he’s saying is even registering with whoever he’s talking with or if it’s just going in one ear and out the other because they let the fact he’s Harry Styles get in the way of really hearing him.

“Well you do talk a lot but don’t worry I’m always listening even if sometimes I look like I’m not.”

“Oh yeah? Like that time you were asleep? Were you listening then love?”

“I wasn’t asleep I was just resting my eyelids. Blinking all day is hard work.”

“Last time I checked sweetheart that’s just called sleeping.” He doesn’t mean to let the petname slip out but he also isn’t mad that it did because in his mind he’s been talking and getting to know you for three weeks now so calling you something other than love isn’t that bad, or at least he hopes you don’t take it badly.

“Okay and when was the last time you checked? Because I wasn’t asleep. I responded to your question and everything.” You can’t help the smile that takes over your face as you try to keep the conversation going without letting Harry know how his little petname has you feeling like you’re back in high school talking to a crush. But of course Harry notices right away how your cheeks get pink and your smile seems to stretch extra wide as you continue on your walk, finally reaching the stop sign and heading left.

The two of you continue talking as you enjoy your walk through a new part of your neighborhood. You notice once you’re about five minutes away from where you turned left that the houses in this part of the neighborhood are mostly gated and a bit on the bigger side than the ones in the part you live in. Harry is in the middle of telling you a story from his One Direction days when he notices you stopped walking.

“Everything okay?” His voice is only mildly filled with concern as he can clearly see you’re not hurt and for the most part he can see you’re still alone on the sidewalk you’re currently walking on.

“Oh yes sorry I just got distracted by these flowers.” You say with a laugh as you turn the camera around once again so Harry can see the flowers that had you stopping in your tracks.

Now Harry could argue that he’s quite used to being sort of caught off guard, having been stopped at random and sometimes inconvenient times by people asking for a photo or just wanting to say hi. But being actually shocked isn’t something he’s used to, so when you turn your camera around to show him some flowers he isn’t at all prepared to see his own flower bed appear on your screen. The reason he knows it’s his flower bed that he has right outside his front gate is because of the roses, something his mother planted there during one of her visits and he makes sure to take excellent care of them.

“Uhm those-those are very pretty.” He answers as he quickly gets up from his comfortable spot on the couch and heads for his kitchen where he keeps the tablet that shows the cameras he has around the outside of his house.

“Right? I love roses they are simple but so pretty.” You explain as you flip the camera back just as Harry is taking a little look at the camera he has on his front gate and sure enough on the screen he sees you standing there holding your phone up while slightly bent over so you can smell his roses.

“What color roses are your favorite? I quite like the classic red ones if I’m being honest.” He asks in an attempt to get you to stay where you’re at for as long as it takes him to find and put on his shoes.

“Oh the reds are lovely but the pink-” You stop talking when you hear a sound coming from behind you that sounds an awful lot like a door opening and then shutting.

“Pink huh? I don’t know why I had you pegged for yellow or maybe orange.” Harry watches your shoulders go tense as he stands behind you, right outside his gate. You look down at your phone and see Harry has turned his camera around so all you’re seeing is your back letting you know you’re in fact not dreaming and his voice is really coming from directly behind you.

“Oh my god.” You mumble as Harry ends the FaceTime call so he can slide his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. You slowly turn around and slide your sunglasses up so you can see him better. He gives you a smile and a small wave as you put your phone in the side pocket of your leggings.

“You’re real.” Harry laughs at your comment as you take a small step towards him as if you’re worried he might disappear if you get too close.

“I am.” He answers with a smile as he also takes a step towards you but unlike you he’s not worried about you disappearing he is more so worried you don’t think he’s actually standing here.

“It’s nice to finally meet-” Before he can finish his sentence you’re dropping your water bottle on the ground causing a metallic clanging sound to be heard as it lands, then you’re wrapping your arms around him in a hug that he immediately returns.

“You smell good.” Your voice is muffled a bit as your face is pressed against Harry’s chest but you know he heard you because you feel his chest vibrate as he lets out a low chuckle.

“Would you uhm mind some company on the rest of your walk?” He asks nervously once the two of you pull away. You give him a small nod before you turn to grab your water bottle off the ground.

“I’d love some.” Harry smiles as you slide your sunglasses back down and turn so you’re facing him. He takes a step towards his flower bed and you watch him bend down and reach out for one of the roses.

“Since you like them so much.” He explains as he stands up and hands you one of his roses, you let out a sigh as you take it from him with a smile.

“That was smooth Harry real smooth.”

“Yeah that’s probably the smoothest I’ve ever been.”

“So it’s all downhill from here then?” You tease as you bring the rose up to your nose and give it a sniff. Harry laughs as he takes a step to the side so he can stand next to you on the sidewalk.

“Exactly.” Is all he says as the two of you begin walking down the street, you keep the rose in your hand while Harry has to shove his in his pocket so he doesn’t try to reach over and grab yours.

“Looking forward to it.”