#and i dont know if it was him but in that moment i was sure it was him and now im home and huddled in my bathroom

[just-some-random-blogger]

IM CRYING IM CRYING MY BRAIN CHEMISTRY HAS BEEN ALTERED I AM NOT THE SAME PERSON I WAS 1 FIC AGO THIS WAS SOOOOOOOOO INCREDIBLY WELL WRITTEN ITS TERRIBLE WHY COS WTF DO YOU MEAN IM NOT YN I HATE HER SHUT THE FUCK UP THAT SHOULD BE ME LOBOTOMY RIGHT FUCKING NO

I feel like I just watched a movie. I don't smoke I don't want to promote any form of smoking whatsoever but I need a blunt. That's the only way I can describe this feeling. I'm devastated

I fucking hate it here. Except that's a lie I don't BUT I DO COS THAT SHOULD BE MEEEEE.

The way you write is exceptional phenomenal amazing incredible it's so vivid I can taste it my brain will never recover I am marked with insanity the way you describe everything is amazing like THE SMALL DETAILS THE PINING THE YEARNING THE SMUTT 🫦🫦🫦🫦 THE SMUTTTT FUCK SHIT FUCK SHIT I NEED TO BE PUT DOWN

You sighed, ignoring the way the Gryffindor common room fireplace made his brown eyes almost golden, freshly brewed espresso with nutty foam.

Like thiiisssss wHAT DO YOU MEAN ITS SO GOOD I WISH I COULD ABSORB YOUR BRAIN CELLS. ALSO *snaps fingers* EARTH TO YN???? mama hello u good u are in love stfu eat him or move over so *I* CAN YOU STUPID PIECE OF SHIT

But George was your friend, as you often repeated to yourself in moments like these, when that mischievous smirk softened to a smile just for you.

DENIAL IS A RIVER IN EGYPT

You tried to reimmerse yourself in your studies, but can’t seem to fall back into the reading, losing track of each sentence before it’s finished.

🙄✋ be fr

George had been pestering you for weeks to spend a portion of the upcoming holiday break with him at the Weasley household, and up until now, you’d successfully resisted. But then he found out your grandparents were going on a trip to Spain for two weeks and became unbearable.

Like honestly girl be so fucking for real HO IS U BLIND ❓❓❓ HE CLEARLY HAS THE HOTS FOR YOU I MIGHT HAVE TO BREAK A FUCKER HELLO?????

It was unnerving, exhilirating, and by far the most important relationship in your young life. Which is why you squashed any wandering thought about his freckles, his jawline, the way his forearms flexed while he read, or the way his chest heaved after a Quidditch match, his hands spidered with veins after hours of gripping the Beater’s Bat.

She's ravenclaw but the stupidest broom in the closet *walks out*

“Not a date!” You tossed over your shoulder as you stepped through the portrait.

BE SO FUCKING FOR REAL YOU IDJIT UGHHHHHHHH *SHOOTS LASER BEAMS IN UR FUCKING FACE*

“I do,” he murmured, ushering you inside and into his mother’s waiting embrace.

... Bestie I'm not even gonna lie to you I don't remember the context of this but I'm sure the correct response is HES SO UGHHH BARK BARK HAHAAHAH LOL

He coughed something that sounded an awful lot like ‘incendio’ into his elbow, wand hand flicking under the table at the same moment. Percy leapt up, the crotch of his trousers igniting with flame.

RAW. TIL THE SKIN FALL OFF. NO HE WAS SO HOT FOR THIS... BADUM TSS UGH HES SO FUCKKKKINNGGGGG RAAHHH I DONT EVEN KNOW EHAT TO SAY IM JUST BARKING

“Could’ve been a little more subtle,” Fred chastised George with a smirk.

“I wasn’t going for subtlety,” George replied. “I was going for ‘burning his bollocks off’.”

YOUR HONOR I LOVE THEM WHAT I CANNOT

You found yourself searching for his eyes across the room, smiling at silly things he’d said hours prior, ghosting your fingers over the places he’d brushed against you while passing by. You’d even take a whiff of his coat when he’d come in after a walk with Charlie and tossed it onto the banister.

...............I'm eyeing this low IQ bottom of the barrel brains moron NASTY. MY LOOK AT YN IS SO NASTY RIGHT NOW WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN *SLAPS HER* GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS AND EAT HIS ASS I WILL BREAK YOUR FUCKING NECK YOURE SO DOWN BAD BUT SO IS YOUR DEPTH PERCEPTION APPARENTLY IDDDDIOTTTTT

George, that bottomless bundle of fizzing energy, seemed even more lively around his favorite people, his heart on full display. And, if you were honest, it was doing funny things to your head and heart.

I would die for him. Girl PLEASSEEE

He caught your wrist in his soapy hand, turning you back towards him. Your heart leapt into your throat at the intensity of his gaze, his jaw feathering with tension as his eyes searched your face. They were so dark, nearly black from his dilated pupils. His dry hand rose slowly, as if afraid you might startle. He dragged the back of his fingers along your cheek before sliding them into the hair at the nape of your neck.

THE WAY MY STOMACH DROPPED GIRL. GIRL. GIRL. GIRLLLL.

THIS WAS SO FUCKING SATISFYING I CANT EVEN TELL YOU I WAS FOAMING IN THE FUCKKNG MOUTH AND I CANT SAY I EVEN EXAGGERATING I FELT MY SALIVA IN MY MOUTH I need to be put down

“Ahem,” someone cleared their throat and you sprang away from George, grabbing a plate as if they hadn’t seen what you were doing. Bill leaned against the doorway, a knowing smirk on his face.

🧍‍♀️😃👋 HI BILL IF ITS ANY CONSOLATION I ALSO THINK UR HOT *RUNS AWAY* FUCKING HELL

Thanks to your distraction, Percy missed an easy move, giving George the first upper hand of the game. You leaned a bit into Percy’s space, and his hands began to tremble. When you walked away, he compensated for his hesitation with a rash move, exposing his Queen.

Oh damn she playing mind games. Respect

You made your move, but didn’t stop dragging your foot up and along his knee, skimming his inner thigh. He sat up a little straighter, narrowing his eyes at the board, and you expected him to make his move, when you feel a hand clasp around your ankle, his touch a brand even through your thick stockings. His eyes lifted to yours, and the hunger in them stole your breath.

🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️😃😃😃✋✋✋✋✋✋✋✋✋ IN FRONT OF THE WHOLE WEASLEY CLAN UHMMMMMM UHHHHH HUHHHHH🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🛑🛑🛑🛑🛑🛑 HELLO??????? I DONT THIS STUPID ASS BIRD BRAIN LIL SHIT SHE WAS DOWN BAD *smokes a blunt* fuckING WHAT WHY

His family laughed, reminding you that you were, in fact, completely surrounded by his parents and siblings, and you dropped your foot. That fucking trickster, he knew exactly how to get under your skin.

✋✋✋✋✋✋✋✋✋✋✋✋ GIRL IM SAYING UHHH U GOT WAYYYY TOOOO COMFORTABLE WAYYYYY TO QUICKLY HELLO POLICE 🚨🚨🚨🚓🚓🚓🚓

You risked removing one hand to show him what a real bird looks like, and he barked a laugh before banking away from you.

WAIT THE PART WHERE HE WAS TEASING HER ABOUT BEING CALLED FEATHERS WAS SUPER CUTE AND THIS WAS SO WITTY AND CUTE AND AHHH

“George,” you cut him off. “Right now, I need you.”

?????????? THE WAY THIS GOT ME SCROLLING BACK TO SEE THEY WERE IN FACT ON A COUCH WHICH MEANS THEY WERE- ARE IN THE LIVING ROOM???? HUHHHH HMMMMMMM HELLO TALK ABOUT LIVING ON EDGE IDK I COULD BE WRONG BUT ALSO I had to calm myself from the idea that someone could walk in on them with the reassurance you wouldn't hurt me and destroy me so ardently. And you didn't. You a real one for that. UGHHHHH. anyway. All of that + BARKING BARKING SO MUCH.

“Shh, baby. You have to be quiet f’me.” George nudged your shirt up with his fingers, kissing along the purplish bruises marring your stomach. “My poor girl.” His thumbs traced the curves of your stomach softly, almost reverent as he gazed up at you. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. so perfect. I’ve wanted to touch you for so long, to feel you beneath me, fuck, hear the pretty little sounds you make for me.” He was rambling now, lost in the act of worshiping your body, his hands and lips traveling gently over your skin.

IM SO NORMAL THIS IS SO VIVID SO CLEAR SO CRISP SO SOFT AND IM SO NORMAL ABOUT IT. GEORGIE GIVING TUMMY KISSES IS INSANE WORK IMMA NEED IT EVERY DAY FOREVER WHAT IF I CRY

“So fucking good,” he mumbled against you, the vibrations of his low voice making your sensitive clit tingle. You tugged on his hair, encouraging him to pay attention to where you needed him most. “I know, I know.” He pressed a kiss to your clit, teasing you for just a moment longer before wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking hard.

SLAPPING MY HAND IN MY FUCKING FACE SO HARD TALKING YOU THROUGH IT IS INSANE WORK I WOULD SIMPLY DISINTEGRATE ITS FINE I AM A NORMAL WELL ADJUSTED MEMBER OF SOCIETY I HOPE YOU KNOW EACH LINE IM QUOTING ESPECIALLY THE SMUT HITTTSSS IT HITSZSSSSSSSSSS FUCKKKK

You smirked, bracing your hands against the back of the couch to pick up the pace, your thighs and abs burning from the exertion. But he felt so fucking good, stretching you open, the root of his cock dragging along your clit.

rAW???? I MEAN I SAID RAW BUT SHE STILL HAS ME GAGGGEDDD

I DONT EVEN HAVE A MEME GOOD ENOUGH FOR THIS. THIS MEME IS SUCH LIGHT WORK SO L COMPARED TO WHAT I FEEL.

“So, can I call you my girl without being corrected now?” He teased, tickling your ribs.

You can literally call me tuna salad fool whatchu meannnnn what r u onnnnnn rn

The following morning, you descended from your room to find George at the bottom of the stairs, shirtless, twirling his Beater Bat in his right hand. The same hand that brought you the most earth shattering orgasm of your life.

FERAL SHE US CRAZZYYYY FREAKKY DOWN BAD AND SO IS HEEEEE SHE IS ME AND I NEED TO GET A LOBOTOMY

“What on earth are you doing?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his middle and kissing his cheek, admiring the violet mark you left above his clavicle.

HICKEY❓❓❓❓ ABSOLUTEL MENACE ABSOLUTE INSANE WORK WHAT THE FUCK I NEED A WRENCH

“I just want to talk,” George said, gently moving you aside before prowling up the stairs towards his younger brother.

I'm sobbing im so in love with him (he is a bunch of lines)

“I'll let ‘im get a good whack in,” Molly said, smiling at you. “Since you're his girl and all.”

GAGGED. MS MAAM I- MRS WEASLEY MAN I....

BESTIE LET ME MAKE ONE (1) ☝️ THING STRAIGHT IF IT ISNT ABSOLUTELY CRYSTAL CLEAR. I ABSOLUTELY LOVEEED THIS. I know I went off on YN and read her to filth but again let me be clear I don't hate her. I've read some yn's that are like 😬 oof you know like that is not me that's is Y/N no ma'am I am not substituting my name there. This is not that at alllllll. I'm just a hater MSJSJSJS now that I have the space to be one on the reblog HAHAHAH BUT AGAIN I DID NOT HATE HEE AT ALL. I DONT HATE HER except I do cos 🤽‍♀️ THAT 🤽‍♀️SHOULD🤽‍♀️BE🤽‍♀️ME🤽‍♀️

I actually loveeeeeee the way you unfolded everything. It was really beautiful and it made me miss reading so much cos I have spent an awful lot of time writing. Ughhh it's so good I cannot express it enough. Literally changed my brain I am so happy to find such an amazing George fic because I keep seeing more of Fred when I look up fics for the twins.

Ugh I can't stop speaking praises. 1000000000/10 I would give you my kidney if you asked

A Weekend at the Weasley's

| George Weasley x ravenclaw!reader

summary: you and george become best friends after a poorly timed prank. george has been pestering you for weeks to stay with him at the Burrow for a weekend over the holidays, and you finally cave.

cw: smut (MDNI 18+), dead parents, pining, Percy being a weirdo, quidditch injury and bruising, george still has two ears and a twin, lots of dirty talk and petnames, equal parts fluff and smut

an: george and reader are over eighteen in this fic. timeline is def wrong. but who caaaaaaares bc it's not me!

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“C’mon, feathers,” George begged, shifting from his place on the couch to kneeling on the floor in front of you. “I promise you’ll enjoy yourself.”

“George, I don’t—”

“Would I ever put you in harm’s way?”

You scoffed. “Well, there was the time you lit my potions homework on fire, and the time you transfigured my chocolate frog into an actual frog. Or the time you and Fred—”

“Besides that!” He huffed, resting his chin on your knees, blinking up at you with round eyes. “Pleeeeaaasssseee, y/n? Come to the Burrow with me.”

You sighed, ignoring the way the Gryffindor common room fireplace made his brown eyes almost golden, freshly brewed espresso with nutty foam. You couldn’t deny George was handsome, most girls at Hogwarts fawned over him or his twin, or both. But George was your friend, as you often repeated to yourself in moments like these, when that mischievous smirk softened to a smile just for you.

“Bloody hell. Fine!” You shoved him off of you to escape his puppy-eyed trap.

“Yes!” He whooped, jumping to his feet. “It’s about time my mum meets my best girl—shit!”

You chucked your Potions books at his head. “Not your girl,” you huffed.

“Says you,” he teased, returning the book to you before flopping back down on the red couch, legs draped across your lap.

“Read the damn pages, Weasley.”

You tried to reimmerse yourself in your studies, but can’t seem to fall back into the reading, losing track of each sentence before it’s finished. George had been pestering you for weeks to spend a portion of the upcoming holiday break with him at the Weasley household, and up until now, you’d successfully resisted. But then he found out your grandparents were going on a trip to Spain for two weeks and became unbearable.

When George set his mind to something, he was stubborn as an ox.

And, despite yourself, you wanted to spend a few more days with him. You loved the Weasley siblings you’d met at school, and heard countless tales of Molly Weasley’s unbelievable Sunday roasts. It couldn’t be that bad, could it?

You were reserved by a nature, a studious and creative Ravenclaw from a muggle household. All things that stood at odds with one, ginger-haired George Weasley. But when a prank in fourth year set for Professor Snape backfired on you, his top student, and ruined your robes, the twins felt so awful they’d taken you to the Three Broomsticks for what George dubbed a “Butterbeer of Forgiveness”.

An unexpected friendship bloomed, and you’d been close with the twin’s ever since, George in particular. You loved Fred, and had countless memories with him, but you and George connected on a deeper level. From the moment you’d met, it was as if you’d always known one another. You could read him almost as well as Fred could, and George could read you better than anyone.

It was unnerving, exhilirating, and by far the most important relationship in your young life. Which is why you squashed any wandering thought about his freckles, his jawline, the way his forearms flexed while he read, or the way his chest heaved after a Quidditch match, his hands spidered with veins after hours of gripping the Beater’s Bat.

And when he called you things like his ‘best girl’, it turned your knees to jelly, your mind inside out. There was no way you’d finish your work now.

“I’m going back to the Tower. I have no idea how you Gryffindor’s get any work done with all this gold.” You stuffed your books into you back and stood, adjusting your robes.

“I’ll walk you,” George said, tossing his book aside. It looked like he hadn’t made any progress either.

“No, no. Finish your work. I’ll meet you in the Great Hall for breakfast, bags packed.”

“It’s a date!” He called as you walk away, and you can practically hear the grin on his face.

“Not a date!” You tossed over your shoulder as you stepped through the portrait.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“My darlings!” Molly cooed, collecting her youngest two children into a massive hug at the train station terminal. You hid behind George, hoping somehow that she’d overlook your presence entirely. But of course, George wasn’t having it.

“Mum, this is y/n!” He grabbed you by the shoulders and thrust you out in front.

“George,” you hissed, but Molly was already upon you.

“Oh, y/n! I’ve heard so much about you! It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you. We were absolutely delighted when George’s letter arrived telling us you’d be accompanying him,” she chirped, fussing with your h/c hair and blue and bronze scarf.

“It’s lovely to meet you too, Mrs. Weasley,” you said, smiling at her and her quieter husband, who was busy chatting with Harry and Ron.

George slung an arm over your shoulder, wafting his cinnamon-y cologne over you. “Shall we?”

You scowled up at him as he dragged you along behind his family, oblivious to your hesitation, or willfully ignoring it.

The crowded car ride home was chaotic, with everyone speaking loudly over one another, George and Fred the loudest of all in either ear, and by the time you arrived, you heart was thrumming loudly in your head, your chest tight with anxiety.

All you could think about was throwing yourself out of the car door and running back to Hogwarts on foot.

Everyone poured out of the car, bounding across the lawn and up to the slightly crooked, red-roofed home, smoke buffeting cheerfully from the many chimneys.

“Y/n?” George said, pausing when he realized you weren’t in step beside him. Something in your expression gave you away, and his smile fell. “Hey, what is it?” he asked, jogging back towards you and placing his hands on your arms.

“I, it’s…” words failed you as emotion pinched your throat.

“Too much?” he asked, giving you a sympathetic smile.

You nodded, shame scorching your cheeks as you looked down at your feet. The tips of his boots were touching yours, so much larger, a worn brown leather juxtaposing your shining black.

“It’s going to be alright, love,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down your arms to warm you up. “It means a lot to me that you’re here, even if it’s a bit overwhelming. But, hey—” he tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at his handsome, wind-bitten face. “They love you already.”

“You told them about me?” You asked, your nerves alchemizing from wasps to butterflies.

“Of course I did.” He chuckled like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “They’re probably sick to death of hearing about you, honestly.”

“Like how I’ve been tutoring you in Potions for two years?” you taunted.

“I’m sure they assumed after I told them your were the brightest witch in our year.” His eyes twinkled with mischief, ginger hair falling across his brow, and your heart gave a new sort of thump. One that made you a bit queasy with it’s intensity.

“I don’t know about brightest,” you argued as he tucked you under his arm once again, leading you toward the open front door.

“I do,” he murmured, ushering you inside and into his mother’s waiting embrace.

“C’mere, sweetheart. Help me with these rolls.” She tugged you down the hall, leaving George to be ambushed by his brothers.

“Who’s the eagle?” You heard what you assumed it be the eldest ask before you were whisked into the hearth-like kitchen.

Twenty minutes later and you were back at George’s side, sandwiched between him and Ginny at the dinner table, while everyone fought for a foothold in the conversation.

George’s thigh was warm against your own, familiar and grounding, and you resisted the urge to lean into him fully for shelter. Dutifully, he started filling both of your plates as dishes went by, allowing you to sit and take it all in. He snagged the bowl of garlic potatoes from Ron and added a giant scoop to your plate, knowing they were your favorite.

“Thank you,” you mumbled to him, and he gave your shoulder a light bump in response.

“So, y/n. George mentioned you’re a Potions whiz?” Arthur asked through a mouthful of roll.

Heat crept up your neck as everyone’s attention swiveled to you. “It’s my favorite subject, yes sir,” you answered sheepishly.

“She passed her Potions O.W.L. in fourth year,” George said proudly, beaming down at you. “She’s onto custom lesson plans with Snivelus now.”

“George!” Molly corrected, but he only laughed.

“That’s impressive,” Percy said, nodding at you from across the table. “Brilliant and beautiful.”

“I, uh, thanks,” you stutter, stuffing a forkful of potatoes into your mouth.

George stiffened, but his smile never wavered. “That she is.”

“So, what do your parents do? Were they in Ravenclaw as well?” Arthur asked.

The blood drained from your face. You had so hoped this wouldn’t come up.

George’s hand fell onto your leg, his long fingers looping around your pinky and twining your hand with his. “She lives with her grandparents. Muggles,” George said, the finality in his tone ensuring there would be no further questions.

Arthur stuttered an apology, and the rest of the table looked away nervously. But Molly smiled proudly at her son, a slightly flush to her round cheeks.

Again, your heart gave that brutal pang, and your hand squeezed his a little more tightly.

The meal continued on, and you blessedly fell into the background while the other’s talked about their work and the school year. Or, you at least thought you fell into the background, but every time you glanced up, you found Percy’s gaze lingering on you, hawkish.

You had met the third eldest brother on many occasions, as he often escorted you from the Gryffindor common room to the Tower when curfew struck. But he’d never looked at you like that. And frankly, it made your skin crawl.

You weren’t naive. You knew you were beautiful, intelligent, witty, all of the things that drew a wandering eye. But Percy was far from someone you’d be interested in. And you were here with George, after all, even if it was for purely platonic reasons.

You shifted a little when Percy’s gaze lingered a fraction too long, and accidentally alerted George to your discomfort. He leaned down towards you, his height ensuring your head barely reached his shoulder.

“Okay, feathers?” He murmured, but caught Percy flinching his gaze away at the same moment. “Percy bothering you?” he whispered, and you shook your head no. An obvious lie by the way you shifted marginally closer to George when Percy’s gaze returned. “I’ll handle it.” George straightened, slipping back into his ongoing conversation with Fred and Charlie, but you felt his hand skim past your leg, brushing against your calf as he reached for his wand.

The contact sent a tremor through your muscles, your nerves stretching towards every point of contact with him until it was all you could think about.

“George, what are you—”

He coughed something that sounded an awful lot like ‘incendio’ into his elbow, wand hand flicking under the table at the same moment. Percy leapt up, the crotch of his trousers igniting with flame.

Everyone but you and the twins scrambled up, Molly quickly tossing the cauldron of water at Percy’s pants.

“Could’ve been a little more subtle,” Fred chastised George with a smirk.

“I wasn’t going for subtlety,” George replied. “I was going for ‘burning his bollocks off’.”

You hide your snicker behind your hand, the last of your anxiety unraveling. George was with you, you were safe.

Once the fire was out, dinner was disbanded with the twins being sentenced to dishes duty, since it had to be one of them that set their brother’s trousers on fire. You were whisked off on a house tour by Ginny, who eagerly showed you the in’s and out’s of the Burrow until you were dragging your feet, eyes heavy with exhaustion. But you had to admit that you were feeling more at ease, the Burrow and it’s residents wrapping around you like a favorite blanket.

You collapsed into bed just after midnight, a flickering glow in your chest, and a red-haired trickster in your thoughts.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Two more days passed at the Weasley residence, filled with games, oversized meals, books, and antics. There was never a dull moment with the twins and Charlie around.

But the best part, by far, was watching George’s mischevious walls come down, and seeing the softer, more relaxed version of him step forth. He was a devoted brother and son, often forgoing his own needs to help his mother reach something in the kitchen, or offer Ron a bit of girl advice. He spent many hours in deep conversation with is father and older brothers, speaking to a wide breadth of subjects you had no idea he had any knowledge about.

George, that bottomless bundle of fizzing energy, seemed even more lively around his favorite people, his heart on full display. And, if you were honest, it was doing funny things to your head and heart.

You found yourself searching for his eyes across the room, smiling at silly things he’d said hours prior, ghosting your fingers over the places he’d brushed against you while passing by. You’d even take a whiff of his coat when he’d come in after a walk with Charlie and tossed it onto the banister.

He seemed older somehow, more mature than you’d ever given him credit for, and it was undoing the years of resolve you’d cultivated to preserve your friendship.

It didn’t help that he constantly referred to you as ‘his girl’, and any number of tooth-aching pet names. Could he really mean it? You always assumed it was part of some joke you were the butt of, but now…

“George and y/n!” Molly called across the dinner table, breaking you from your thoughts. “Dishes, please!”

Your heart skipped a beat. You and George hadn’t had a moment alone since you’d arrived, and you were eager to soak up some undivided attention.

“Yes, ma’am,” George said cheerfully, rising to start collecting the plates. You hopped up to join him, and everyone else filtered out of the kitchen, arguing about what game to play that evening.

You scrapped while he scrubbed, and fell into easy conversation about the past few days.

“My mum really loves you, y’know,” he said, dunking a plate under the soapy water. “Dad too. He was raving about your thoughts on electric kettles yesterday.”

“I like them a lot too,” you replied, turning to hide your blush while tossing a half-eaten roll in the bin.

“Yeah?” he asked, glancing down at you. “I really hope you’re enjoying yourself. I know I sort of forced you to come, and then you were so anxious. And I know the house is loud and drafty, and the meals are a bit chaotic, and fucking Percy can’t keep his damn eyes to himself—”

Not knowing how else to soothe his worries, you stood on your toes and pressed a kiss into his cheek, derailing his rant into stunned silence.

“I’m really glad you brought me, Georgie,” you said, holding his wide-eyed expression for a moment before reaching for another dish.

He caught your wrist in his soapy hand, turning you back towards him. Your heart leapt into your throat at the intensity of his gaze, his jaw feathering with tension as his eyes searched your face. They were so dark, nearly black from his dilated pupils. His dry hand rose slowly, as if afraid you might startle. He dragged the back of his fingers along your cheek before sliding them into the hair at the nape of your neck.

“Tell me if I’ve misread this,” he murmured, tilting your head up towards him, his lips close enough that you could feel his warm breath across your skin. “Tell me to stop.”

Your heart galloped away, your mind turning to goo as the full scope of his longing came into focus. Heat unspooled through you at the way he angled your head to accommodate his towering frame, in complete control, but giving you every opportunity to stop him.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you gave a small shake of your head. No, please don’t stop.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his nose brushing against yours as he drew you closer. You pressed your body to his, desperate for his solidity, his warmth, as you trembled with anticipation. He guided your hand to rest around his neck, and you dug your fingers into his hair.

“George,” you breathed, his name a plea, a desperate prayer.

He closed the last millimeter of distance, caressing your lips with his, a delicate, wishful kiss. More cautious than you’d ever seen him. You tightened your grip on his hair, rising onto your toes to kiss him back a bit harder.

You felt the tension in his body unwind and his hand grasped your waist, his tongue sliding along your lower lip, teasing, promising, and your bones turned to mush, your lower belly fluttering with excitement.

“Ahem,” someone cleared their throat and you sprang away from George, grabbing a plate as if they hadn’t seen what you were doing. Bill leaned against the doorway, a knowing smirk on his face. “Father has requested that y/n joins him for a cuppa before the chess tourney begins. Something about doorbells?”

“Oh! Of course!” You replied, dropping the dish into the sink and drying your hands on the towel over the stove. “Thanks, Bill!” You hurry past the eldest Weasley son, cheeks absolutely flaming.

You could barely hold a conversation with Arthur, to fixated on the way your body hummed in the wake of his son’s touch. You were eager to finish what you’d started, but by the time you and Arthur emerged from his study, George was wrapped up in a game of Wizard’s Chess with Ron.

George’s eyes tracked you as you moved into the room, perching on an armchair by the fireplace. Bill shook his head, elbowing Charlie, who chuckled into his whiskey.

“Y/n, want to play against me?” Fred asked from his spot on the floor, crisscross in front of a chessboard on the coffee table.

“Sure,” you said, happy for the distraction.

“Losers rotate out until the winners from each table play one another,” Fred explained as you sat across from him. “Percy always wins, but he’s sulking in his room.” Fred winked, and you stuck your tongue out at him.

Quickly, you lose yourself in the game, and it doesn’t take long before you have Fred’s Queen cornered, a path to victory clear. In a final move, you take Fred’s Queen and win the game in ten minutes flat.

“Merlin, she kicked your ass!” Ron shouted, and the room bursts into laughter.

You flushed under the praise and start reorganizing the pieces. Despite yourself, your eyes flicked toward George, but found he was already looking at you, a warmth in his dark eyes that made your hands quit working, and you knocked over the piece you just arranged.

“My turn!” Ginny said, shoving Fred out of the way.

“Anyone need anything from the kitchen?” George asked, rising to his feet after swiftly defeating Harry.

A chorus of no’s rang out, but you’re already absorbed into the game, finding that Ginny was much better at chess than Fred. You started to make your third move, finding an opening, when you felt a calloused hand brush along the side of your neck, sliding beneath your hair to rest heavily against your skin.

“Need anything, love?” George whispered in your ear, and the blood rushed from your head, leaving you vaguely dizzy, eyes sparkling when you blinked up at him.

“N-no, I’m fine. Thank you,” you stuttered.

“A tea would be nice, darling brother!” Ginny said, jerking you back to the present, and the move you forgot entirely.

“Coming right up.” George’s hand squeezed your neck lightly before falling away, and he disappeared into the kitchen.

The rest of the night carried on like that, lingering glances and scalding touches, the heat between the two of you bordering on incendiary.

You were taking a small break from kicking Weasley ass when Percy emerged from his room, leveling a challenging glare at George. “I’ll take next round,” he said, fixing Charlie with a look.

“Fine.” George made his final move, knocking over Charlie’s queen. “Have a seat.”

Charlie vacated the spot, muttering something about ‘fucking dorks’, and Percy sat across from his younger brother. The energy shifted in the room, going from jovial and teasing to almost hostile. Weasley’s were competitive by nature, the twins in particular, but the tension heightened considerably beyond that as they sized each other up.

Piece by piece, they started moving around the board, an even match as far as you could tell. But based on the murmurings of the family, Percy was off his game a bit, and you had a feeling it had something to do with the way his eyes kept drifting back towards you.

Interesting, you thought, rising from your place on the couch to circle their table, feigning curiosity in the game. Percy visibly tensed, his eyes darting from you to the board and back again. George, however, relaxed, his typical cocky demeanor easing back into his body language.

Thanks to your distraction, Percy missed an easy move, giving George the first upper hand of the game. You leaned a bit into Percy’s space, and his hands began to tremble. When you walked away, he compensated for his hesitation with a rash move, exposing his Queen.

You knew George noted it but he opted for a subtler move, then leaned back in his chair to watch Percy squirm, a slight smirk on his face. When Percy realized what he’d done, he flushed with irritation, his shoulders squared and tight.

And for my final move…

You leaned down to George, nearly resting your chin on his shoulder. His spiced cologne greeted you, tinged with the cinnamon punch of the firewhiskey he’d been sipping on throughout the games. “I didn’t know you were so good at Wizard’s Chess,” you murmured, close enough that your lips grazed the shell of his ear.

His smirk grew as Percy fidgeted, unable to pick a move, struggling to not stare down your sweater. “I have many talents you’ve yet to experience,” he replied, voice low enough that only you could hear him. A thrill rushed through you, so you bowed out before you took things too far, leaving George to deal the killing blow.

Shortly after, you won your final match against Bill, who you suspected threw the game in your favor, and suddenly it was you sitting across from George, the whole family crowded around the table, watching with bated breath.

“Hello, darling,” George cooed, smiling.

“Weasley,” you clipped, all business.

His eyes flashed at the challenge, and he took a slow sip of whiskey. “Ladies first,” he said, setting the glass down.

You started him off easy, confident that you had this in the bag. George was smart, but most of his skill came from his ability to disarm, not his ability to play chess. You, as it so happened, were skilled at both.

It didn’t take long for George’s cocky smirk to fall, his brow to knit together with focus as you guided him slowly into a trap of your own design.

His brow suddenly quirked up, the corner of his mouth lifting, you knew you’d been caught.

“Clever girl,” he purred, moving his Rook and collapsing the trap you’d spent ten rounds constructing. “Almost had me,” he taunted, leaning back in his chair. His legs reached all the way across to yours in his languid position, his sock feet tapping absently against the legs of your chair.

You only hummed in response, crossing your legs. While searching the board, you stretched your stocking-covered foot towards him, sliding it along the inside of his calf. His muscles tensed for a moment, his eyes widening a fraction, before he settled down, watching you with heavy-lidded eyes.

You made your move, but didn’t stop dragging your foot up and along his knee, skimming his inner thigh. He sat up a little straighter, narrowing his eyes at the board, and you expected him to make his move, when you feel a hand clasp around your ankle, his touch a brand even through your thick stockings. His eyes lifted to yours, and the hunger in them stole your breath.

You’d never seen your sweet, good-natured friend look so menacing.

“I should know better than to play chess with a Ravenclaw,” he said, making a weak play with a pawn. “Starting to feel like I don’t stand a chance.”

His family laughed, reminding you that you were, in fact, completely surrounded by his parents and siblings, and you dropped your foot. That fucking trickster, he knew exactly how to get under your skin.

“I don’t know,” you said, stealing the pawn and trapping his King. “You’re doing better than I expected for a younger twin.”

A chorus off oooh’s met your dig, and George huffed a laugh before freeing his King. “You’ll regret that,” he warned with a devilish smile.

“And you’ll regret that.” George fell right into your trap. You skirted his King, stealing his Queen right out from under him. His jaw dropped, and the family erupted into cheers.

“We have a new champion!” Molly cheered, hauling you up to celebrate.

You grinned, allowing them to parade you around. George smiled up at you, a real, proud smile, and it made your stomach somersault. Then, the grandfather clock chimed midnight, rattling the house on it’s structure.

“Alright, enough excitement! Everyone off to bed!” Molly ordered. George’s eyes locked on you, gauging what you would do next. For the first time, you cursed sharing a room with Ginny, and cursed Fred for being born.

As everyone grabbed their things and scattered off to bed, George managed to catch you at the second stair landing before Ginny’s room, startling you.

“Well played, feathers,” he said, brushing his fingertips over your forearm as he looks up at you.

“You were a formiddable opponent.” You shivered under his touch, the heat from earlier instantly flaring back to life.

He stepped up a stair, bringing himself a head taller than you, close enough that you could smell the fire whiskey on his lips.

Could I taste it too?

“Goodnight, love.” He pressed a quick kiss to your temple before breezing past you and bounding up the next set of steps to his shared room with Fred.

You leaned against the wall to catch your breath, heart pounding in your chest. This was not the turn you expected this trip to take, but you couldn’t pretend that a part of you hadn’t wished for it. That it wasn’t why you tried so hard to avoid the trip all together.

But now that you and George had crossed that line, you couldn’t imagine what you’d been so afraid of. You only wished you’d done it sooner.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The following morning, you’re one of the last to drift down to the kitchen, having spent most of the night tossing and turning, too worked up to sleep properly. You rounded the corner and come to a stop, surprised to find George alone in the kitchen.

“Morning,” he said with a lazy smile.

“Good morning.” You padded towards him, accepting the coffee cup from his outstretched hand. “How’d you sleep?” you asked, blowing gently on the steaming brew.

“Didn’t,” he said, shifting closer to you. His hair was still a little messy from sleep, or lackthereof, his expression soft and voice gravelly.

“Why not?” You asked, taking a tentative sip before setting the mug down on the counter.

“Couldn’t stop thinking...” He dipped his head towards you, his nose brushing your temple.

“About?” The word came out breathless, the coil of want you'd been battling all night tightening with a vengeance.

“What it would feel like to kiss you again,” he murmured, kicking your heart into overdrive.

“And why don’t you?” Your hand creeped along his t-shirt, feeling the muscles along his abdomen sculpted by years of Quiddtich.

“Gotta set up the pitch. We’re playing this afternoon.” His demeanor shifted, all playful and energetic innocence. “See you out there!” He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, then hurried outside, leaving you wet and bewildered in the overheated kitchen.

An hour later, you were perched precariously on an old broom, knuckles white from gripping it so hard. Ginny rocketed past you with ease, nearly throwing you off balance.

“I think you need a new nickname,” George teased, steadying you. “Feathers may not be apt.”

You risked removing one hand to show him what a real bird looks like, and he barked a laugh before banking away from you.

Soon, the game was in full swing, with you, Ron, Fred, and Charlie against George, Ginny, Harry, and Bill. You had only ever ridden a broom in first year, so you were massively out of your depth.

You were given the role of Seeker, opposite Harry, and had no hope of accomplishing a damn thing. Harry was like lightning on his Firebolt, and you bobbed around like a lame pigeon.

Thankfully, none of them seemed to be taking the game very seriously. You were content to float around the property, occasionally remembering that you we're supposed to be looking for something small and golden.

After awhile the boys started to get rowdier, pushing and shoving and bludgeoning.. You tried to steer clear, watching George whack the hell out of any bludger that dare cross his airspace. You would not want to be on the other end of one of those.

“Y/n, watch out!” Ginny cried.

You looked back from where you were staring off into space, just in time to see George barreling towards you, a bludger about five feet in front of him.

You tried to move, to steer the broom literally anywhere, but it wouldn't cooperate. At the last second you managed to pull up, but not far enough. The bludger hit you square in the stomach, knocking the wind from your lungs and nearly forcing up your breakfast with the power of it. Stars danced behind your eyes, your grip began to slip from the handle as darkness raced towards you.

Something else slammed into you, wrapping itself around you—

“Y/n? Baby, are you alright?” George. You could tell you were moving, but couldn't seem to make your eyes focus, keep your body from trembling. Your cheeks were wet, the breeze frigid against your damp skin. Am I crying?

Then you were on the ground, blessed ground, and then you were up again, cradled against George's chest.

He was shouting at someone you couldn't see. “I swear on fucking Dumbledore, I'm going to beat you bloody with that fucking bat—”

“George!”

“Get her some ice,” he barked at someone else. “I'm right here, love, you're okay. Just try and breathe.”

You clung to his dampening shirt, the shock and pain keeping you teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. You could hear other people talking, but your whole world narrowed to two points: George's heartbeat and the blinding pain radiating from your stomach.

“It hurts,” you whimpered, barely recognizing the pitiful sound of your own voice.

“I know, love. I know. I’ve got you, I promise.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, soft and trembling. A moment later, he laid you on the couch, careful not to jostle you more than necessary.

Molly passed something into George's hands. “For the pain,” she whispered.

George crouched down next to you, holding the edge of the cup to your lips. “Take a sip, sweetheart.” You shook your head, your Potions safety training overpowering your reason. “Please, y/n. Let me take the pain away.”

You took a small sip, the tea pungent and floral, but immediately the edges of the pain began to soften. But the relief was short-lived. Exhaustion followed close behind it, dragging you down into a dreamless sleep.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

When you come to, the Weasley house was dark around you. The only light came from the moon spilling through window panes and the smoldering fire across from the couch.

A light snore drew your attention, and you looked up to see George above you, his head lolled onto the back of the couch, sleeping soundly. Your head was resting in his lap, his sweater piled under your head as pillow, and his large hand was stretched across your stomach, fingers splayed from your ribs to your hip bones.

God, your stomach. You moved to sit up, memories of earlier filtering through the fading grogginess of the Potion Molly gave you, but surprisingly, your stomach was only a little sore. More like an overexerted muscle than rearranged organs and cracked ribs.

George stirred, lifting his head to peer at your through half-closed lids.

“What are you doing down here?” you asked, sweeping a strand of red hair from his brow.

He came fully awake then, straightening. “How do you feel?” He asked, caressing your cheek, then running his hands over your arms, your ribs, the swell of your hips.

“The Potion did its job, I feel mostly fine,” you said, catching his hands to stop their exploration, and the buzzy desire they coaxed to life.

“Are you sure?” His features softened with relief, his fingers twining with yours.

“I'm sure. Thank you for saving me.” You leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, ignoring the slight protest in your abdomen muscles.

“Always,” George said, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “I'm sorry I wasn't close enough to stop it from hitting you in the first place. It happened so fast—”

“Love, it wasn't your fault,” you shushed, reaching out to cup his face and stroking your thumb along his cheekbone.

“I just…” he trailed off, leaning into your palm. “I always want to be there to protect you. Or for whatever you else you might need. Do you need anything now? Water, tea? Are you hungry? You missed dinner—”

“George,” you cut him off. “Right now, I need you.”

Desire eclipsed the worry on his face, his eyes shading. “Are you sure you're not in pain? No fogginess or headaches—”

You leaned in and kissed him, a light, floaty peck, silencing his incessant questioning. You appreciated his concern, but there were other parts of you that needed his attention far more. He immediately took charge of the kiss, shifting his weight to lay you back onto the couch. His body rested heavily between your thighs, his mouth devouring yours in fervent, searing kisses.

His tongue lapped at your bottom lip and you opened for him, allowing him to take everything he sought. He kissed you like he didn't know if he'd get another chance, like he'd been waiting his entire life for this moment. It stole your breath, made your toes curl and your pussy pulse with excitement, slick already collecting between your thighs.

You nipped at his lower lip, earning a soft grunt in appreciation. His hips canted forward a fraction, though it seemed he was holding himself back. His lips traveled along your jaw, down the valley of your throat with teasing licks and love bites and you arched into him, a moan spilling from your lips before you could stop it.

“Shh, baby. You have to be quiet f’me.” George nudged your shirt up with his fingers, kissing along the purplish bruises marring your stomach. “My poor girl.” His thumbs traced the curves of your stomach softly, almost reverent as he gazed up at you. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. so perfect. I’ve wanted to touch you for so long, to feel you beneath me, fuck, hear the pretty little sounds you make for me.” He was rambling now, lost in the act of worshiping your body, his hands and lips traveling gently over your skin.

“How long?” you asked, breathless, raking your fingers through his hair while he nursed a mark just under your right tit.

He looked up at you through is lashes, his lips leaving your skin with a pop. “Since that night at the Three Broomsticks,” he said, shifting upwards so he could look you in the eye.

“The ‘Butterbeer of Forgiveness’?” You mouth fell open, shock rocking through you.

He snickered. “Of course, why do you think I kept sending Fred to the bar?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You ran your fingers over his jaw, feeling the rough stubble against your skin.

“I—” his voice caught, his gaze averting from you. “I loved you too much to risk losing you.”

Elation soared through you, and you couldn’t stop the smile that split your face. “George,” you said, bumping your nose against his. His eyes flicked back to you, watery and rimmed with red. “I love you too.”

His smile was like the first sun after an endless winter, and he kissed you like the first torrential rain of spring. The heat of summer came quickly though, and soon you were gasping for him again, your hips pressing against the hard ridge in his pants.

“Need you,” you whined into his mouth.

“I’m here, love.” He kissed down your throat again, pausing for only a moment to nip at your taught nipples through your shirt before continuing his downward decent. “Lift up for me.” You lifted your hips, allowing him to tug down your jeans, exposing your sodden red panties to his greedy eyes. “Gryffindor red, huh?” he teased, and you threw your arms over your face to hide your blush. “All for me?”

You nodded, your heart in your throat.

“It’s a shame I’ll have to ruin them.’

“What—” Riiiip! The cold air lapped against your slick pussy, chased by the heat of George’s tongue as he dragged it through your folds. “Oh, fuck—”

“Shhh,” he warned, before flicking his tongue against your swollen clit.

You bit down on the back of your wrist to keep from crying out when he switched from licking to sucking, the walls of your cunt fluttering around nothing. He moved down, flattening his tongue against your entrance and collecting the wetness that pooled there. He gave a light hum of pleasure that had your eyes crossing, his tongue delving deeper in search of another taste.

“So fucking good,” he mumbled against you, the vibrations of his low voice making your sensitive clit tingle. You tugged on his hair, encouraging him to pay attention to where you needed him most. “I know, I know.” He pressed a kiss to your clit, teasing you for just a moment longer before wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking hard.

You very nearly cried out, having to clap a hand over your mouth to stifle the sound. Pleasure shot through you, singeing your nerves and liquifying your muscles. So quickly you were unraveling for him, going stupid under his ministrations.

A long digit prodded at your entrance, collecting some wetness before easing inside of you. Your cunt welcomed him gladly, clamping down around his finger.

“Merlin, baby. You're so tight,” he panted, shifting to watch you take another one of his fingers, slick already running into his palm. “Relax, love. Shh, “ he soothed, curling his fingers to pet the inside of your walls, making your mind go blank as bliss washed through you. “That's it, darling. Just like that.”

The knot in your stomach began to wind tighter, burning through you as you fought to relax, to be good for him. But your orgasm was so fucking close, just a little more—

His lips found your clit again, sucking in time with your racing heart as his fingers coaxed you open, and the knot severed. Your peak slammed into you, stealing your breath so you couldn't even cry out to warn him, to sing his praises the way he deserved. Your muscles locked, your cunt bearing down as him as pleasure tore through you until you could do nothing but shiver beneath him.

“Shit, y/n. That was fucking beautiful,” he cooed, easing his fingers out of you and lapping up the release coating him to the wrist. “You alright?” He shifted upwards, kissing your bruised abdomen before pecking your lips, your eyes still glassy and unfocused.

“I've never come that hard,” you pant, throwing your arms around his neck and raining kisses over his slick-soaked face. “What the fuck.”

He chuckled, flushing under your attention. “Happy to oblige.”

You caught the last word in your mouth, kissing him deeply, desperately. Your body was already keying itself up again, and by the twitching length against your hip, he was desperate for you too.

He hooked an arm under your back and hauled you up to straddle his lap, his back pressed against the couch. “This okay?” He asked, sliding his rough hands under your shirt to skate along your skin.

You nodded, rolling your hips to drag your bare pussy along the bulge in his jeans, a skitter of pleasure making your breath hitch.

“Fuck, y/n,” he hissed, hips bucking up against you.

“Yes, please fuck me.” You kissed along his jaw and nibbled at his ear lobe, reaching between your bodies to find his zipper.

He did the same, helping you undo the button and tug down the zipper, his cock springing free from his boxers. The head nudged against your clit, hard and heated, and you whimpered.

With an arm wrapped around your waist, he lifted you slightly, guiding the head to your dripping entrance. Slowly, he eased you down into him, your pussy more than ready to accommodate his length. A rough groan resounded from his chest, and you silenced it with another kiss. His cock stretched you open, hitting that spongy, sinful spot before sliding deeper until he bottomed out, the head nudging your cervix.

“So fucking tight, baby. Bloody hell,” he whispered, voice strained.

“Feels so fucking good,” you whine, grinding your hips against his.

George buried his face into your neck, stifling a moan. His grip loosened, allowing you to start lifting and lowering yourself, riding him slowly, savoring every inch of his cock as it dragged through you.

“M’not gonna last long if you keep doing that,” he warned, mouthing at your neck with sloppy kisses.

You smirked, bracing your hands against the back of the couch to pick up the pace, your thighs and abs burning from the exertion. But he felt so fucking good, stretching you open, the root of his cock dragging along your clit.

His lifted up again only to snap his hips against yours, his hands a vice on your waist as he started pounding into you from below.

“Oh, fuck, Georgie—”

“Quiet, love. You don't want the whole house to hear how good I make you feel, do you?”

You nodded, a whine escaping through your teeth. One of his hands came up to cover your mouth, silencing the sound and infringing on your air supply, callouses rubbing against your kiss-swollen skin.

“I’d love nothing more than for Percy to hear you screaming for me, but this is just for us,” he whispered, breathless as he fucked into you. “Gonna come for me again?”

Your fingers dug into the couch, another peak racing towards you. You bounced with his movements, desperately chasing your high, the ache in your abdomen long forgotten.

“That's it, love. Fuck, m’gonna come.” He threw his head back, a strangled groan accompanying the kick of his cock inside you, stretching your further before pumping you full of his release.

The hot surge of his orgasm sent you flying over the edge, ecstasy pulling your under while your cunt milked him dry with vicious pulls. You muffled your cry into his shoulder as he fucked you through it, until you both collapsed onto the couch, thoroughly spent and panting.

His lips found your forehead, your temple, his hands gliding along your spine, over your hips, soothing you as you trembled against him.

“I love you,” he breathed into your hair. “I can't believe you're here with me.”

You grazed the racing pulse under his jaw with your nose. “I love you, too.” It was exhilarating to say, almost as thrilling as the orgasm you just shared, a massive weight was lifted off your shoulders.

“So, can I call you my girl without being corrected now?” He teased, tickling your ribs.

“I suppose.” You giggled, pecking the corner of his smirk.

The following morning, you descended from your room to find George at the bottom of the stairs, shirtless, twirling his Beater Bat in his right hand. The same hand that brought you the most earth shattering orgasm of your life.

“What on earth are you doing?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his middle and kissing his cheek, admiring the violet mark you left above his clavicle.

“Waiting for Ron,” Fred supplied from the kitchen.

“Who’s waiting for me—oh fuck.” Ron stopped dead at the top of the stairs, still dressed in his pajamas, staring wide eyed at George, or more specifically, the bat in his hand.

“I just want to talk,” George said, gently moving you aside before prowling up the stairs towards his younger brother.

Ron took off up the stairs, their steps thundering through the house as George gave chase.

“George! Shit,” you huffed, glancing at the rest of the family who'd come to see what the fuss was about.

“I'll let ‘im get a good whack in,” Molly said, smiling at you. “Since you're his girl and all.”

Your cheeks flamed, but they only met you with warm hugs and laughter, like they'd been expecting this from the beginning.

Crack!

“Ow!”

"That's for hurting my girl, you git."

Fin. 🐦‍⬛

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Thank you so much for reading!

If you enjoyed, you can check out my published work here.

Much love,

Allie

[toorusmu]

Theres a lot of boyfriends out there, which one are they ?

Multi Chara, Haikyuu, Fluff

Best Ever !! Honestly, your friends are tired of hearing about how great he is. When you asked for his phone password out of curiosity, he just have you a strange look. "I dont have a password ?" Every time you split a snack, you got the larger piece. While walking down the streets, hed interlock your fingers and make sure you weren't close to the road. He'd always place his hand over the edges of counters to block your head from hitting it, and he always saved hot water for you.

You met his family early on, and they adore you ! Hes open and accepting about whatever family situation you have, and is comfortable waiting or being unable to meet your family. Your safety and happiness are his top priority when hes with you, and hed do anything to make you feel better.

- Sugawara, Ukai, Ennoshita, Akaashi, Kita, Sachiro, Aran, Yasufumi, Daichi, Iwaizumi, Osamu

Cuteeee !! Hes great, just a little shy and sometimes awkward. Hes on the path to become the best boyfriend, hes just new to all of this. His hands get sweaty easily while holding hands, but he never wants to let go. Under thick blankets during winter, or with a blasting AC in summers wrathful heat, he finds solitude in clinging to you.

Small gifts and pressed flowers, homemade snacks that started out tragic and slowly got more edible. Winking at you during volleyball, "This is for you !" right before his failed serve hit the net. Looks at you like a lost puppy, always following you around.

- Hinata, Inuoka, Takeda, Atsumu, Komori, Bokuto, Lev Haiba, Tadashi, Goshiki, Asahi, Hisashi, Kuroo, Hanamaki, Kindaichi, Konoha

Quite, for sure.. It can be a bit hard to communicate with him, its just too hard to tell what hes thinking ! Unless you directly ask, he'll bottle everything up. Hes not terrible, of course ! You know hes not the type to date someone he doesn't like, he just has trouble showing it. But in his small ways, he does.

Sticky note doodles and letters, getting embarrassed after accidentally ranting about volleyball or any other interest, giving you the first and last bite of everything, driving you or walking with you everywhere. If youve been dating for a while, he often prefers to show his affection through soft, quiet, touches. Petting your hair, tracing your hips, scratching your back, he needs his hands on you.

- Kenma, Kageyama, Ushijima, Sakusa, Suna, Nobuyuki, Aone

Kinda meaaaaan ! Like.. yea.. you guessss you love him (jkkk!!?), so why does he need to tease you so much ! If you're shorter, hes always using you as an armrest or bumping into you on purpose because he 'couldnt see you.' You make one mistake, and suddenly you're a "dumbass" or a "silly idiot." Rarely does he ever actually insult you, but its been an ongoing mission of yours to get his hardass to be a little romantic for once.

And of course, he has his sweet moments, but come the next day. "You look like shit." Whether you bicker back, turning it into a play fight, him never letting you win, enjoying the way he had you pinned down. Or, you could smile at him, you had his shirt on and his favorite pair of shorts, hair freshly conditioned and makeup still light and unsmeared. You knew, as much as he loved to be a bully, all it took was a soft smile for him to melt.

- Tsukishima, Yaku, Mad Dog, Kunimi, Hoshiumi

Um.. hes a little weird !! It probably took a minute for you to introduce him to your friends and family. You never knew what he was about to do or say, he always did something different or odd. Whether it be borderline scary or straight up stupid, it was one of the things you loved about him. All things considered, he was absolutely hilarious.

He eventually became like a son and friend to those close to you. Not a lot of people understood him, and as unserious as he is, he genuinely is thankful you not only stayed with him, but gave him friends and family too.

- Shohei, Tendou, Nishinoya, Tanaka, Oikawa

[strwberri-milk]

a fic where MC gets a promotion and so she prepares a nice candle light or whatever romantic dinner to tell Zayne about her promotion. On the other side, a nurse from the Hospital already told Zayne about mc's promotion and now Zayne thinks mc doesn't find him important, he just starts having sad upset negetive thoughts and even gets angry at her...but when he gets home he finds the romantic dinner setup and MC waiting in a beautiful dress.....angst to fluffy maybe slightly suggestive too

Ty<3

just a heads up i dont really write fics unless i come up w the premise myself! so heres jsut the standard hc format i use! also kinda messy of that nurse ngl but why you going around talking to his coworkers like that [eyes] /lh also i dont acc see him getting angry so ive messed w this a little bit to fit how i see him!

Zayne doesn't react when the nurse gives him the news. He doesn't want to come off as angry or anything but he also is aware that you have a positive relationship with the people he works it from the sheer amount of times you come to visit him.

He does start checking his phone a little more frequently, waiting to see if you'll text him anything that gives him a hint about what that nurse was mentioning. He knows you were gunning for one at work but had no idea what was happening as you'd been silent about it as of late. He did want to ask about but was trying to wait for the perfect moment, not sure when that would be. He tries not to let the notion that you forgot to tell him something that important bother him too much and is...generally successful as long as he's busy with work.

The drive home has him trying to figure out how to broach the topic, so distracted he almost breezes right past you in the kitchen. You stare at him, confused by the focused look on his face until he meets your gaze, raising a brow at your attire and the dinner you have set up. You immediately tell him the great news, any sour emotions he might have felt dissipating.

In bed after celebrating, Zayne finally asks why you told his colleagues before telling him. It takes you a second to register what he's talking about. You finally put the pieces together, telling him that you didn't mean to - you were just waiting for him one evening and were so excited so when you recognised the nurse you couldn't help but spill the beans. You'd thought you'd sworn them to secrecy but clearly not, making a mental note to be more careful next time to avoid any future misunderstandings. Zayne's just happy to have cleared it up, knowing all along it wasn't intentional but glad to hear you say it anyway.

[chlefnikkl]

The brain worms are flowing thru my mind rn, thinking abt toji giving aftercare after one of your roughest nights with him...

"Fuck baby, you okay?" Toji asks, he already knows that you're in pain and everything that has happened tonight will leave you bedridden for the foreseeable future.

When you dont answer him, he leans down to your ear and gives it a butterfly kiss, "its ok if you cant answer right now, just wanna make sure my pretty girl is alright..." he trails off.

"T-toji" you whimper out, your voice hoarse from using it so much.

"Hey mama, how you feeling?" Hes getting worried that he might have gone a bit overboard.

"Water" you whisper to him and hes immediately going to the kitchen to fetch you some. While he's gone, you take in your surroundings and figure out what exactly hurts and what you need to help with the ache.

You feel like your body got hit with a train when you turn to lay on your back. Theres pain blossoming in your neck and chest regin, you figure it must be the hickeys that toji left.

"Hey, got you some water and a couple of painkillers, you probably gonna nee-" he cuts off when he sees your chest, all the marks that he left, all the marks on your neck that he made. Its looks painful, but a sinister side of him loves it.

"Mama, you look really marked up, heh." He chuckles awkwardly, which he didnt know he could do. "You should take a shower with me mama, would make you a lot less sore." He suggests.

"Medssss, hurtsss." You groan out, you just want to sleep. He hands you the cup of water and the painkillers. "Shower tomorrowwww" you whine once you drink and swallow the meds.

"Nuh uh, you are coming with me to the shower, baby, no excuses." He lifts you up and walks towards the shower. Your head laying on his chest as he walks.

Toji finally reaches the bathroom and sets you down on your wobbly legs, "toji, cant standdd" you whine out.

"Just lean on me, mama." He suggests, which you gladly take up his offer. He turns on the warm water in the tub and starts adding the soap. "Listen i know you cant stand so im gonna give you a bath instead, ok mama?"

You nod and see continue to do his thing. You start to space out and think of how you ended up like this.

Maybe if you hadn't of worn that dress when you out, you wouldn't be in this situation. Toji was always jealous, but you didnt know it could be this bad, you'll just have to tell him to take an easy on you next time.

"Alright baths all filled up, just waitin for its princess to hop in." He smirks and you giggle at the way he says it.

"Can you help me toji?" You ask, still unsure if you want to test you legs out.

"Of course baby." He leans down and grabs your waist with both hands and sets you gently down in the water. The warmth immediately cooling your tight muscles.

He starts washing at you chest with a warm cloth. Your eyes close, you love the sweet moments with toji, especially after sex. He gets all mushy and lovey and you just want to bask in the feeling forever.

"Hey mama," you peek your eyes open at him, "you sure i didn't go to rough on you t'night?"

"Im fine, honey, once the bath is done and the meds kick in, I'll be fine." You smile at him

"Just didnt want to hurt my sweet girl, thats all." You kisses your lips softly.

"Im perfectly content right now toji, love the bath that you made for me and the fact that you're here." You say genuinely.

Toji just smiles and kisses your palm.

After a few more minutes of just washing up and brushing teeth, you finally head to bed and get the rest you so desperately desire.

"You all good mama? Ready for bed?" Toji asks as he holds out his arm for you to crawl into.

"Yeah, ready for bed..." you yawn. "Love you toji"

"Love you too mama"

--------------‐

A/n: omg two fics in a day 🤯 you're lucky my college classes havent started yet and i get burnt out immediately 😭😭

[chrisweetheart]

sturniolos ‘25 predictions ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𐙚

warnings some of this was in my predictions too so i’m gonna share a couple of mine, don’t take this serious ! i know it’s probably all fake LMAO.

group predictions ౨ৎ

— one of them will have “beef” with an influencer, like making subtle sneaks at eachother not really beef.

— 9 million, this is pretty doable so not really a surprise if they do, they’ve done it before so.

— possibly a europe/uk tour, they didn’t do a ‘24 one so this year possibly ! and nick said if they do a tour again it will be in the uk.

— something to do with alahna or madi (them becoming friends again, getting exposed, i have no fuckin clue) praying they come back i miss my girls.

— one of them will get caught drinking, not really surprising if they do i mean this is more aimed at chris he would defo get caught doing this shit LMFAO

— do something crazy controversial and it becomes like a big thing and people who aren’t even fans of them know about it. like how ksi did that song and loads of people obviously knew about it even if they weren’t fans of him.

— they get turned into a meme, i would laugh tbh, like a BIG meme like that feeling when knee surgery is tomorrow, or like an audio of theirs gets turned into a popular tiktok audio.

— fan will accuse them of something, like call them out i’m not sure what on.

matt predictions ౨ৎ

— matt will get a girlfriend, also wouldn’t be surprising i mean he’s a 21 year old, i hope he does tbh he needs some action.

— matt gets a cat, this probably wont happen since they go back and forth to la and boston so no one to look after it but it would be so cute pls.

— will get involved in a relationship scandal again, i mean who’s surprised it happens every 2 business days.

chris predictions ౨ৎ

— chris gets his first tattoo, this but then again i feel like he wants to be different so he wont.

— will feature on a lil skies song, who’s surprised.

— same with matt, he gets a girlfriend, also he needs this.

nick predictions ౨ৎ

— space camp sells skincare, i would buy instantly that lip balm is a life saver not even glazing.

— nick meets someone famous, like a singer, idk who.

— nick learns how to drive, this is a 100%

madison bonus ౨ৎ

— gets her well-deserved sabrina carpenter moment.

that’s all! once again dont take this seriously PLEASE, istg if i see this on sturnsnark reddit i’ll flip, i’m just being silly stop being over dramatic.

my predictions for the triplets next year(as someone who’s slightly pyschic….but don’t take it serious):

matt will get a girlfriend

i feel like chris will collab with someone that’s potentially controversial

madi will return

nick will get shipped with another youtuber after collabing

matt will become more himself on camera since the gift video

a fan will come forward and accuse them of something

they’ll finally film with the kalogeras but it won’t be anything how we imagined

for some reason i feel like a fight video will get leaked of one of them

chris will take a break from social media

i honestly feel like matt will cry on camera about something

nick becomes more quiet to not draw attention to anything

chris will be spotted at a party with a cup of alcohol

alahna will go live exposing them(thanks hivi for this)

[plaidcowboy]

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ⊹ law breakers

content: you know rafe tends to do ‘bad’ things, so wanting to be like him, you prompt for you guys to ‘break a law’

author stamp: such a rebel

you anxiously chewed on your lip while staring at rafe. was it his arms? his personality? what made him so good at being bad? you could be bad. maybe not steal-a-cross or get-into-fights bad, but definitely bad. you had no problem with the differences between you and rafe. he’d get into aggressive interactions. you’d rather slowly walk away while pretending no one can see you. he’d push around someone who teased you. you’d throw a rock to the ground with a huff in frustration. then tell rafe of course.

“and what’d you say?”

“um.. i dont think i did”

“‘s okay, i know it made you upset. ‘m glad you told me”

but never mind that, rafe was never upset with you when you told him, and that doesn’t even matter right now, you could totally be bad. you once stayed up past your mental bedtime by five whole minutes. granted, you were waiting for rafe’s goodnight text, but still. you even once put the wrong thing into recycling. well it was because you were too busy staring at the store in front of you while shopping and were too excited to get there while tugging rafe’s arm with your opposite hand. it was an accident and after leaving the store and realizing what you did, you felt bad about it for three days. but you still did it..? you’re not sure if that counts.

“what’s troubling you, baby?”

blinking from your stare at the floor absentmindedly, you glanced up to rafe, not realizing he had noticed your daze and your eyes had wandered from him.

“we should break a law” you blurted. rafe’s brow tilted while his mouth slowly lifted into a grin in the corner. “a law, huh?” he asked with slight amusement to his tone, but you paid no mind, rushing to get out your thought, scared rafe might not like your idea.

“yes, like jaywalking. that’s super bad, i’ve seen people do it” you shook your head in a nod, making yourself confident about your idea. rafe stood from his chair behind his desk, coming around it to lean on the front, crossing his arms and legs. his tongue poked the inside of his mouth in thought, his brow now tilted in a way that signified he was intrigued by what you were prompting you guys to badly do.

“huh” his chest rose slightly with his laughing scoff. was he laughing at you? your possibly terrible idea by how scary it started to sound to your ears? you began to redact the prompt the same moment rafe pushed off the desk and walked towards your chair in his office where you sometimes sat while rafe worked, either watching him, or doing your own thing while enjoying his usual silent and very focused company.

he kneeled to your height in the chair and grabbed the sides of your face, staring intensely into your eyes. “are you sure? this could be a little dangerous” your eyes widened in trepidation at his sudden serious demeanor. of course you knew jaywalking included cars and the street. you’d watched people do it enough without getting hurt. you wouldn’t get hurt either.

you nodded in rafe’s grasp. “yes. yes, i think so” you were determined now. rafe was okay with the idea and if you had a moment to hesitate, you probably wouldn’t do it. rafe nodded along with you. “alright, let’s get going” he stood and began walking towards the door.

you stood as well, turning to rafe. “wait! do we need anything?” rafe spun to look at you, the tilted eyebrow and tongue poke back. “need anything? what d’you think we’re doing, robbing a bank?” he quietly chuckled. robbing a bank. that was a good idea, you should’ve thought of that one. “no, we don’t need anything. now come on, let’s be quick so we don’t get caught.”

right. harry’s code. you got it. you sped walked to his outstretched hand, taking it in yours. rafe took off in a jog, treading down the stairs, out the door of his house, on the grass, past his parked car, then out the gate. you giggled at his speed and unpredicted excitement to jaywalk with you. this idea of yours was so good. your guy’s feet skidded to a stop at the side walk. rafe looked back and forth to make sure the street was clear, then back to you who lightly gripped his hand and peaked at the street over his shoulder.

“you ready?” you quickly nodded, a smile blooming on your face, matching rafe’s. then you two were off. running across the street where no cars were passing by or were even near.

making it across, you both stopped with slight huffs. rafe’s more faked, wanting you to think the run had took a lot out of him. it didn’t. yours real from exhaust from the run and adrenaline. “woah!” you exclaimed. “that was exhilarating!”

rafe laughed at your reaction, grabbing your face again, still fake panting. “we did it, we just broke the law” he smiled down at you.

you gasped in fear, suddenly remembering what you just made you two do. “oh my gosh, rafe, we broke the law.”

[feinyan]

DATING HEADCANON featuring. damon maitsu, kai monteago, wolfgang akire, desmond hall, mark berskii, jean delamer, jett dawson, eva tsunama, diana venicia, wenona, grace madison, cassidy amber and toshiko kayura. (platonic)

hi hi happy new years :] some of these characters i dont understand very well so please be patient with me … one dating / scenario for every character! (excluding three. i gave up. im sorry) toshiko is platonic!

# damon maitsu

infatuated with you. something damon had always struggled with was strong feelings. interest in people, the concept of love. things like those never crossed his mind, feeling like he had greater priorities. but that’d long since gone away, being replaced by such an overwhelming feeling of what he’d once lacked. at the thought of you, your gleaming smile and humming whenever you’re excited, he grows flustered. a strong, warm feeling in his chest. a feeling so overbearing that he feels like he’ll overheat at any moment. but he wants to explore this with you. slowly, but surely. he wants to open up with you, unwind. he wants to be able to understand the way he feels.

# kai monteago

the way he conveys himself around you is something that is shown to nobody. his facade taken off, a true him in which only you can uncover. a boy of so many emotions, his vulnerability, his happiness, his sorrow. everything. he trusts you with everything he has, the whole of him, as if you were fumbling his life within your fingers. he wouldn’t mind that. he knows you wouldn’t fuck it up.

# wolfgang akire

oh so careful with you. only daring to touch you in the most delicate way, his touch against your skin gentle, soft enough that it seems he’d think you’d break if he even applied a smaller amount of pressure. caring for you in such a warm way. dressing you in warm clothes when you’re sick. wrapping a scarf around your neck in the cold. sliding a blanket over your sleeping body. you’re something he couldn’t bare losing, and to him, that delicacy he holds toward you will always be worth it.

# desmond hall

morning walks, always. burying his fingers beneath your shirt, letting out a husky laugh as you mumble for more time sleeping. but eventually, you cave, and like always, you set out on a walk. beneath the sunrise where its quiet. when not many people are out, and you two are alone. basking in the fresh sunlight raining down on you, enjoying eachothers laughs, hands pressed together.

# mark berskii

needy. a boy who wants more and more from you, who feels himself drained by any contact other than your own. he treats you as if you were a charger, clinging to you awaiting your restoration to his social battery. hes not big on words, preferring to show his affection with actions. laying his head against your lap quietly, leaning against your shoulder, hugging you from behind. small yet romantic gestures in which he finds healing. a safe haven where he can unwind in a most vulnerable way.

# jean delamer

attentive in every way. it’s as if he had a third eye, constantly lingering over you. monitoring you. noticing your every action, if your eyes have faltered slightly, or your eye twitches at someone in dismay. he’s notice it, and taken note of it. his read on your body is incredible, the ability to aid you in escape from an uncomforting situation without even a word from you is a special little skill he claims to have learned from time spent with his crew.

# jett dawson

shows you off like you’re the biggest prize hes ever won. to him, you’re worth more than any trophy! the amount of times your name has slipped off his tongue without him noticing might break a record. his eagerness to ramble about you is endearing.

# eva tsunaka

a place where she belongs. somewhere she feels shes truly appreciated, truly cared for within someones presence. she’d struggled so much with being left out, mocked for what she thought was impressive. but to you? its different. the difference in your attitude toward her ultimate and identity allows her to display her upmost honest self with you. her nerdy comments, her attitude, her vulnerability. who allows herself to become lost within your presence, long enjoying the safety and sense of security you’ve given her. there couldn’t be anything she could ever thank you with.

# diana venicia

sweetest girl ever, though thats a given. worships your body with praise, kisses your everywhere. places you’re insecure about, places you think are odd, places you think are unique. she’ll kiss them until you love them the way she loves you. she appreciates every part of you, from the inside to the outside. if you’re insecure, she cheers you on. she helps you build a good view on yourself. if you’re confident, she feeds into it. she’s your number one supporter. nobody is perfect, yet to her, you’re the closest thing there is.

# wenona

spoils you. shes worked so hard, so why wouldn’t she? to her, any money put toward you is worth spending. expensive stuff, fancy dates. though she doesn’t enjoy throwing around cash for the sake of it, maybe you’re an exception. someone like you who indulges in her interests, who is willing to listen to her ramble about future business opportunities and handle her busy nature whilst still loving her all the same. your patience is rewarding, as long as everything is put to use.

# grace madison

confidently defends you. puts her word in for you no matter the discussion, because nobody talks to her partner like that. regardless of the situation; backhanded comments, obviously bitter words, straight insults. she can’t help it, it comes naturally. the willingness to argue with and fight anyone who dare make even a singular ill comment toward you comes with dating her. she isn’t scared of anyone when it comes to defending you.

# cassidy amber

despite her outgoing, overwhelming spunk, chill days have become a frequency with her. days where you two take time to indulge in each others presence, enjoy games and shows, simply being together. not that its any less chaotic, of course shes still energetic as ever, yet off camera within the walls of your home, it allows her to be a more clingy version of herself. one that allows herself to bury herself within her partners embrace, paying less attention to games, and more attention to the person in front of her.

# toshiko kayura

a darling who wants to learn from you, someone who represents the figure of an older sibling to her, someone who means so much to her. she clings to you. she takes after your actions, your thinking style, your way of speaking. taking words and forming them within her own speech, following you around like a curious puppy eager to learn the things you’ve been indulging in. she enjoys your time, and wants to be like you, wholeheartedly.

@ feinyan

[theonottsbxtch]

ALL I NEED | CS55

an: i dont know if ive done this correctly seen as i dont listen to radiohead but this was a request and i hope ive done it justice let me know por favor. also my bum hurts so much guys. ALSO THIS IS NOT PROOF READ GIVE ME A BREAK PLS

wc: 2.6k

THE CRASH OF GLASS AND LAUGHTER spilled out onto the damp Monaco streets, but he barely noticed. Carlos Sainz tugged his cap lower, keeping his face in shadow as he slipped past another group of revellers. The race was done, the podium champagne still sticky on his skin, but the thrill that usually hummed in his chest had long since faded. Victory felt hollow now—a shiny bauble he’d collected too many times to care for.

He didn’t know what he was looking for as he wandered the city, only that he needed to get away—from the cameras, the sycophants, the unrelenting machine of Formula One that consumed him day after day. His feet carried him down a narrow alley, past flickering signs and shuttered windows, until the low, mournful sound of a cello stopped him in his tracks.

The music bled out of a small, dimly lit bar, curling through the cool night air like smoke. Without thinking, Carlos pushed the door open, stepping inside.

She was there, on a small stage in the corner, cradling the cello as if it were a part of her. The light caught on her hair, her bowed head, and the slight furrow of her brow as she lost herself in the music. The melody was achingly beautiful, but there was something raw about it too—something fractured and unfinished.

Carlos didn’t sit. He stood in the shadows, transfixed, watching as she played. He thought about the way his car felt when it was right on the edge, how the world blurred and narrowed until only the next turn existed. That’s what she looked like now: completely untouchable, a force of her own.

When the final note lingered in the air, she lifted her gaze, scanning the room. Her eyes found him, sharp and searching. Carlos felt exposed, as though she could see through the carefully constructed armour of charm and bravado he wore.

But then, just as quickly, she looked away, tucking her hair behind her ear and retreating backstage. Carlos stood there for a moment, caught between the urge to follow and the sudden weight in his chest.

For once, he didn’t know what to do.

Carlos hesitated before finally taking a seat at the bar, his eyes still flickering to the empty stage. The bartender, a wiry man with a worn cloth slung over his shoulder, raised an eyebrow.

“You here for the music or the whiskey?”

“Music,” Carlos said, though it came out quieter than he’d intended. He tapped his fingers on the counter, the adrenaline from the race still buzzing faintly under his skin. “She—does she play here often?”

The bartender snorted. “Depends on her mood. Some nights she’s here until closing. Other times she vanishes for weeks. Why? She leave you breathless too?”

Carlos didn’t answer, just reached for the glass of water the bartender set in front of him. He wasn’t sure what had left him so rattled—her music or the way she’d looked at him, as if he were just another face in the crowd. He wasn’t used to that.

By the time he left the bar, she was gone.

The next night, he found himself back in the same place. The race afterparty roared on in the background, teammates and sponsors undoubtedly wondering where he’d disappeared to. But he couldn’t shake the memory of her playing, the way the notes seemed to carry pieces of her with them.

This time, when she stepped onto the stage, he felt the same pull as before. Her music wove through the room like a thread, binding everything together. Carlos barely noticed the other patrons, the clinking glasses, the low hum of conversation. He was pinned in place by her presence.

When she finished, she didn’t look his way. Instead, she slipped off the stage and into the back, the cello case slung over her shoulder. Carlos didn’t think—he followed.

He caught up with her just outside, where the alley was quieter, lit only by the flickering glow of a streetlamp. She was packing her cello into a battered case, her movements brisk and precise.

“You’re amazing,” he said, his voice breaking the silence.

She glanced up, startled. Her eyes, darker now in the dim light, narrowed slightly. “Thanks,” she said, but the word sounded flat, cautious. She turned back to her cello.

“I mean it,” he pressed, stepping closer. “Your music—it’s…” He trailed off, unsure how to put it into words.

She straightened, looking at him properly now. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere else?”

It was the same question she’d asked the first night, and it stung more than it should have.

“Maybe,” he said, forcing a smile. “But I’m here.”

Her lips twitched—just barely—but the wall between them stayed firmly in place.

“You’re not the first man with too much money and too much time who’s wandered in here,” she said, slinging the cello case over her shoulder.

“I’m not here to waste your time,” Carlos said. “I just… wanted to hear you play.”

Something flickered in her expression then—surprise, maybe, or disbelief. “Well, you’ve heard me. Now you can move on.”

But she didn’t walk away. Not yet.

Carlos tilted his head. “What’s your name?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “Names don’t matter.”

“They do to me,” he said softly.

For a moment, she just looked at him, as if trying to decide whether he was worth her time. Then she let out a breath, almost a laugh, but without any joy.

“Go home, Carlos Sainz,” she said, her voice laced with something he couldn’t quite place.

His heart kicked in his chest. She knew who he was.

And with that, she turned and disappeared into the night, leaving Carlos alone under the streetlamp, more certain than ever that he wasn’t ready to let her go.

Carlos spent the following week bouncing between press events, team debriefs, and endless sponsor obligations, but his mind remained elsewhere. The memory of her—of her music, her sharp gaze, her dismissal—clung to him like the smell of burnt tyres after a race. He returned to the bar three times, hoping to find her again, but the stage remained empty.

It wasn’t until the night before he was due to fly out to Silverstone that he found her again. She was seated at the bar this time, a glass of red wine in her hand, her cello case leaning against the stool beside her. Carlos stopped in the doorway, thrown by the sight of her outside the sanctuary of the stage.

She looked up as if she could feel his hesitation, her brows lifting in faint amusement. “Lost, Sainz?”

Carlos grinned despite himself and slid into the seat beside her. “Not this time.”

Her expression didn’t soften, but she didn’t tell him to leave either. For a moment, they sat in silence, the hum of conversation and clinking glasses filling the space between them.

“Why do you keep coming back?” she asked eventually, not looking at him.

He hesitated. “Because I can’t stop thinking about your music.”

She let out a low laugh, her eyes meeting his. “Flattering. But I don’t think that’s the whole truth.”

Carlos opened his mouth to argue, but the words caught in his throat. She was right, of course. It wasn’t just the music. It was the way she carried herself, the way she seemed to exist entirely outside the world he knew—a world that felt more hollow with each passing day.

“I’m not here to waste your time,” he said finally.

“Then what are you here for?”

The question hung in the air, and for once, Carlos didn’t have an answer. He was used to knowing exactly what he wanted, exactly how to get it. But with her, everything felt uncertain, unsteady—like the moment before a corner, when the car teetered on the edge of control.

“I don’t know yet,” he admitted, his voice quiet.

That seemed to catch her off guard. She studied him for a moment, as if trying to find the lie in his words. Then she sighed, taking a sip of her wine.

“Well, that’s honest, at least,” she said, setting her glass down.

“Stay,” Carlos blurted before he could stop himself. “Let me buy you another drink. Or talk. Or…” He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly self-conscious. “Just… stay.”

She tilted her head, a faint smile playing on her lips. It wasn’t unkind, but it wasn’t hopeful either.

“You think I’m the kind of person who sticks around?”

He leaned closer, his voice low. “I think you’re the kind of person who surprises people.”

That caught her off guard again, and for a moment, he thought she might actually laugh. Instead, she downed the rest of her wine and picked up her cello case.

“Goodnight, Sainz,” she said, her voice softer this time, almost gentle.

And just like that, she was gone again.

The weeks that followed were a blur of races, podiums, and media appearances. Carlos kept telling himself to let it go. To focus on the championship, to push the memory of her into the background where it belonged.

But no matter how fast he drove, how tightly he gripped the wheel, he couldn’t shake the thought of her.

It was after a particularly gruelling race in Silverstone, where a mechanical failure had left him crawling to the finish line in seventh place, that he found himself staring at his phone. Without thinking, he searched the bar’s name. An event listing popped up.

She was playing again.

Carlos booked the first flight to Monaco.

The bar was quieter than he remembered when he walked in that night. She was already on stage, her eyes closed as her fingers moved across the strings of her cello. The melody was different this time—softer, slower, but just as heart-wrenching.

She saw him as soon as she finished, her gaze locking on him through the low light. She didn’t smile, didn’t nod, but she didn’t look away either.

This time, when he approached her after the set, she didn’t brush him off.

“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that,” she said as he slid into the seat across from her.

“And you’re impossible,” Carlos countered, leaning forward. “But I think I’m okay with that.”

She studied him, her expression unreadable. Then, for the first time, she smiled—a small, fleeting thing, but it made something in his chest tighten.

���Alright, Sainz,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “You’ve got my attention. Let’s see what you do with it.”

At first, their connection was tentative, like a melody slowly finding its rhythm. Carlos started flying to Monaco every chance he got, slipping away from the chaos of the circuit to find her. She never told him to come, never invited him into her life, but she stopped pushing him away.

They spent hours in quiet corners of the city—sharing stolen moments by the harbour, wandering narrow streets where no one recognised him, and sitting in her small apartment while she played for him. She told him stories about the pieces she chose, about the composers who lived and died with their genius unrecognised.

“Why cello?” he asked one evening, as she leaned over the instrument, her fingers gliding across the strings.

She glanced at him, her lips twitching into a faint smile. “It’s the only thing that made sense to me. I grew up in chaos, and the cello—” she tapped the curve of its body, “—felt like a way out. Or maybe just a way through.”

Her honesty stunned him. Carlos realised how little he’d told her in return—how carefully he’d avoided letting her see his own chaos.

“What about you?” she asked, leaning back and meeting his gaze. “Why Formula One?”

He hesitated. “Because it’s all I’ve ever known.”

“That’s not an answer,” she said, her voice soft but insistent.

“It’s the truth,” he admitted. “I started karting when I was four. My dad built my first car in our garage. After he died… it was all I had left of him.”

She didn’t say anything, but her eyes softened, the sharp edges of her usual reserve smoothing for just a moment. Carlos reached for her hand, and for the first time, she didn’t pull away.

For weeks, they existed in their own fragile bubble. Carlos began weaving her into his world—bringing her to quiet dinners with the team, introducing her to the mechanics who knew him better than anyone. But she stayed cautious, always keeping one foot outside the door.

It wasn’t until the Monaco Grand Prix that the cracks began to show.

She agreed to come to the race, though she made it clear she wasn’t there for the spectacle. “I just want to see what you’re running from,” she said, her words cutting more deeply than she realised.

On race day, she stood in the paddock, surrounded by the chaos of photographers, team members, and fans. Carlos was in his element—smiling for the cameras, joking with his crew, the golden boy of the circuit.

But when their eyes met, she looked out of place, as though she’d been dropped into a world that didn’t belong to her.

Later, when the race was over and Carlos stood on the podium, champagne dripping down his face, he scanned the crowd for her. She was gone.

He found her that night in her apartment, packing her cello into its case.

“You left,” he said, still in his race suit, his voice raw with disbelief.

“I stayed longer than I should have,” she replied without looking at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means this,” she said, gesturing between them, “doesn’t fit. Your world—it’s suffocating. And I…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “I can’t be part of it.”

Carlos stepped closer, his frustration boiling over. “You don’t even want to try. Every time I get close, you pull back. Why?”

“Because I’ve been here before!” she snapped, her voice breaking. “I’ve been the girl who gets left behind when the real world calls. I know how this story ends, Carlos.”

“This isn’t just a story,” he said, his voice low, desperate. “It’s us. You and me.”

She closed her eyes, her shoulders sagging under the weight of his words. “I don’t know how to be part of your world. And I don’t think you know how to stop running from it long enough to be part of mine.”

Her words cut deeper than any crash ever had. Carlos stood there, silent, as she picked up her cello and walked out the door.

In the weeks that followed, Carlos threw himself back into racing, driving harder and faster than ever. The headlines celebrated his victories, his unrelenting determination. But inside, he was hollow.

He tried to reach her, but she didn’t answer his calls. He showed up at the bar, but she wasn’t there. She had vanished, leaving behind only the memory of her music and the ache she’d carved into his chest.

It wasn’t until he saw the programme for a symphony performance in Vienna—her name listed among the musicians—that he realised where she’d gone. But by then, it was too late.

The story ends with Carlos on the track, his car hurtling through the final lap of the championship race. The roar of the crowd, the flash of cameras—all of it blurred into nothingness. He crossed the finish line, victorious once again, but instead of relief, all he felt was loss.

Somewhere, she was playing, her music reaching places he couldn’t follow.

And for the first time, Carlos wondered if the chase had cost him the only thing that truly mattered.

the end.

taglist: @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby

[hurlingdown]

hello

you know, it's not surprising to say i would like to impregnate toji. truthfully, he's perfect if he was pregnant with bursting milk.

would he like more than one kid? im sure in a universe where he isnt subjected to the abuse, he would like more than one child, maybe a village if he requests?

itd be funnier if his lover, so to speak, was a pussy. always cowardly and waiting on his heels for his command. it would be funny if you were rich, too, unreasonably so through hardworking means but you're more than just dedicated to him, even in the moments where you dont have to.

but when sex and pregnancy comes to discussion, you're flustered, near stiffened in shock, even after you've given him so many children, like you're still the same virgin he met in his years scowering for a sugar daddy, not the father of near 6

"im bored i want another baby" cue stutters and flustering, oh god how could he say that so casually! and your children just sigh in the other room, readying their bags to leave you guys alone

not so freaky, but very sweet

i also feel katakuri, my sweet muse, would have this character development as well.

- oath anon

oath anon you truly never miss.

just when i was in the middle of writing toji’s drabble on breeding jjk men as well… you’ve definitely given me a new perspective of him and good lord am i grateful. (will definitely be switching up some things tonight this is so inspiring)

father of six and one more on the way. goddamn toji you are one greedy man. getting pregnant out of boredom is so him core btw

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Warm Snow (Jon Snow)

Summary: Jon has always cared for you and isnt afraid to admit it any longer.

WC: 518

Warnings: fluff, confessions

A/N: I've been desperate to expand my fandoms lately and as we arrive into 2025, i plan on doing just that! I'm willing to write for a few more GOT/HOTD characters as well. There are a few ships i want to write for soon so let me know your opinion? Just dont know who for as of yet! Please let me know!

Read on Ao3!

--

The cold wind nipped at your cheeks as you trudged through the snow-laden grounds of Castle Black. You tugged the furs closer to your frame, ignoring the frost that seemed to settle in your very bones. Winter had come, but so had something else—a strange warmth that burned beneath your layers whenever Jon Snow was near.

“Y/N,” Jon called, his deep voice cutting through the evening quiet.

You turned to find him standing a few feet away, Ghost at his side. The direwolf’s red eyes glowed like embers, but the sight of Jon smiling—however faintly—was enough to melt the cold away for just a moment.

“I thought you’d still be on watch,” you said, your voice catching in the frigid air.

Jon took a step closer, his expression thoughtful. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you. I just didn’t know when the time would be right.”

The way his gaze flitted downward, how his fingers fidgeted with the hilt of Longclaw, sent your heart fluttering. “What about?”

He hesitated, glancing around before lowering his voice. “I—” He broke off, shaking his head. “You’ve been a loyal friend. More than I deserved.”

You furrowed your brow. “You always speak like you owe everyone something, Jon. You don’t. Least of all, to me.”

“But I do,” he said firmly, stepping even closer. He towered over you now, the smell of pine and leather unmistakable. “You’ve been here, always… even when I felt I couldn’t bear this life anymore.”

Your cheeks burned, but you weren’t sure if it was from the cold or his sudden candor. “And you’d do the same for me.”

“I would.” Jon nodded slowly, then met your eyes with an intensity that made you feel as if the whole world had fallen away. “And that’s why I need you to know. You’re the reason I get through each day. You’re more than a friend to me.”

The weight of his words settled between you like freshly fallen snow—light, but impossible to ignore. You let the silence stretch, unsure if you were dreaming or if Jon Snow, the brooding Commander, had just confessed something that sounded suspiciously like love.

“Jon,” you said softly, your breath puffing in the space between you. “You don’t have to—”

“I do,” he cut you off, his tone earnest. “Because if I didn’t say it now, I’d regret it for the rest of my life.” He reached out, his gloved hand brushing against yours. The touch was enough to send shivers racing through your skin.

You looked up at him, the unyielding man of the Night’s Watch who now stood before you, vulnerable and waiting. Slowly, you slid your hand into his.

“I’ve cared for you, too,” you admitted, your voice almost lost to the wind. “I just… never thought you’d feel the same.”

Jon exhaled sharply, relief washing over his face. He squeezed your hand gently and leaned in just enough that you could feel his breath.

“We have little to give in this world,” he murmured. “But if I can, I’d give you all of me.”

--

kind reminder that reblogs & comments mean the absolute world to me.

[alicewritingstories]

The art-based angst I promised, based on @kikker-oma's amazing art!

Sky stood slightly apart as the others read their letters, talking about what they were missing at home, comparing notes about loved ones. He tried not to feel the empty space that had been left in his hand after he'd handed over the last one. Nothing for him.

He knew it didn't mean anything, but it did.

He took a couple of steps away, running his fingertips over the soft cloth of his sailcloth, smelling the perfume woven into the fabric and remembering Zelda handing it to him. He could still see her smile, could still hear her voice and feel her hand in his, but at moments like this melancholy seeped out of his bones. He missed her desperately, more with every day that went by.

But at moments like this, he also wondered if Zelda loved him or if the Goddess Hylia loved her Chosen Hero.

He took a breath, once again focusing on the perfume and the softness of the cloth. She did love him as he loved her. She loved him as he loved her. They, themselves as they had always believed themselves to be, not the Goddess and her Chosen.

He took another deep breath, but as he turned to return to the others he saw Time also standing aside, reading a letter he guessed was from Malon.

Once again, he was aware of his own empty hand.

He ducked around a corner, intending to just take a moment to pull himself together. Nobody seemed to notice.

Something dark deep inside him wondered if they would notice if he never went back. If anyone would. If that was why, now that he was out of sight, none of those he loved on Skyloft had written to him.

He shook his head, dismissing the thought. There was a good reason for him to have had no letters from Zelda or even Groose. They had a lot to do with organizing the move to the Surface, after all, and for all he knew the postman hadn't even been to his era recently. There was no need to worry.

No need to think that now that he was out of sight he was also out of mind.

That now the Goddess had no need for her Chosen.

He scrubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. He had to stop thinking like that and get back to where the others were probably waiting.

He was sure they were waiting. Someone would be along to look for him soon. He shouldn't worry them.

He knew this was an overreaction to simply not receiving a letter. They didn't know how the postman travelled; perhaps he couldn't even go to Sky's era for some reason; he didn't know.

But he thought of the light in Wind's eyes as he read a letter from his sister and Four laughing ruefully over something his grandfather had said and he felt absolutely alone, in his corner out of the way where he had gone without anyone apparently noticing he'd left.

Perversely, he almost wanted to stay here and see if anyone did come to look for him. Just to silence the part of him that thought they wouldn't. That expected them to write him off as slow and lazy and leave him behind, no longer a burden on them.

After all, that had been Hyrule and Legend's first guess for why he hadn't caught up with the postman this morning: that his heart and lungs had gotten the best of him yet again and he'd been too slow. That he'd failed in his own self-appointed mission because he couldn't run.

He could. Not for as long as some and not even as fast as he could before, but he could.

But what did that matter when he could be the butt of a joke?

He knew they hadn't meant to be cruel, but it had been a tiny jab into something that always hurt somewhere deep inside him and he didn't think that had ever occurred to them. That maybe it would hurt him to have his poor stamina mocked like that. He'd brushed it off as he always did and he knew he couldn't expect anyone to notice something he made an effort to hide, but it was there.

Slowly, it bore down on him harder and harder.

No letters from home.

The doubt that Zelda truly loved him.

The fear that he would be forgotten as soon as he was out of sight.

Failure.

Too slow.

Too weak.

Too cowardly.

Mocking laughter.

Silence and solitude and…

The sob came out before he could stop it and he clapped a hand over his mouth to keep himself quiet. There was no reason to give even more of an impression that he was weak, that he couldn't even cope with just not receiving a letter.

Another sob, ripping out of him. He clenched his eyes shut and wrapped an arm around his waist, trying to steady himself. He couldn't break down like this. He couldn't break down just because he was alone and lonely and homesick and nobody had come to look for him and…

Again, he could hear laughter ringing in his ears. Weak and slow and broken and maybe better out of sight and out of mind and uncared for and…

"Sky? Sky!"

His eyes shot open as a hissed voice in his ear and a hand on his back broke into his whirling thoughts.

Legend leaned into his field of vision, eyes wide. "Hey, can you hear me?"

He took a shuddering breath, choking on more aching, wracking sobs, but managed a nod. Desperately, he tried to stop crying, but it somehow made it worse.

"Wow, OK, uh…" Legend actually sounded lost for a moment. "Look, please don't cry, I…" He started rubbing at Sky's back. "It's OK, I didn't get a letter either, I'm sure everything's fine, what's wrong?" His words tripped over themselves as he spoke.

Sky, meanwhile, was torn between being glad someone had come to check on him and wanting to die on the spot to escape his embarrassment.

Legend had evidently realized his audience wasn't really there and just started saying "It's OK" over and over, still rubbing circles on Sky's back.

"S-Sorry," managed Sky, hugging himself.

"What happened? You're really… shall I get Warriors?"

Sky shook his head, making the world spin disorientingly. Chills were running up and down his spine as if he had a fever. "Just… stay?"

Legend blinked, but caught his elbow as he staggered and helped him sit down, leaning on the wall behind him. He knelt next to him, still rubbing his back, as Sky finally managed to start to calm down, reassured by having someone with him who, even after that humiliating display, was still willing to stay with him and comfort him.

"What… happened?" asked Legend.

As Sky sat on the dusty ground, trying to keep his breathing steady and swallow the occasional hiccupping sobs and still the shivers, he didn't know how to answer that.

He hadn't got a letter from home.

That was all, and it had somehow hurled him into the kind of spiral he hadn't experienced for ages.

"I… don't know," he whispered.

Legend stared at him for a moment, then said, "Well… something must have happened. Did someone say something?"

Well, yes, but teasing from Hyrule and Legend was nothing especially new either. It hurt sometimes, but not enough for this.

Legend was still rubbing his back and he sighed, trying to wipe the tears from his cheeks.

"I really… don't know."

Legend looked skeptical, but didn't press further. "Well, if you want to talk, I'm here anytime," he said. "For now, we should get back to the others as soon as you're feeling up to it. They're all still reading their mail, but as soon as that's done someone less inclined to take no for an answer will come looking."

"You think so?"

Legend blinked. "Well… Yeah, I think so. Why not? It's not like we'd just leave without you."

Sky chuckled, knowing it sounded a little hysterical. There was something surreal about that casual remark after everything. "Yeah… well… just give me a minute."

"OK. Do you still want me to stay?"

"Would you rather not?"

Legend shrugged.

"Please stay."

When his brother agreed easily and with no trace of regret, Sky relaxed a little, rubbing his eyes to try again to dry the tears. "Thank you."

"Of course."

"Also for coming to look for me. And listening."

Legend nodded again.

"It was… a silly thing to get so upset about."

That got a shrug. "That doesn't mean you weren't really upset."

"No, I… suppose not." Sky wiped his eyes one more time. "How obvious is it that I've been crying?"

Legend looked critically at him. "I might not notice normally," he said carefully, "But some of the others probably still will. Give it a moment longer."

"Do you really think they'll want to know what happened?"

"You've spent as long as I have with this lot. For a start, Wind will worry, the captain will want to know if there's a problem he should be aware of, and Wild will try to help without really knowing what the problem is."

Sky chuckled again. It sounded better this time and lifted a weight off his chest. "Thanks," he said again.

"Anytime. Ready? Not to rush you, but there wasn't that much mail."

Sky wiped his eyes and cheeks one more time. "Ready."

[halitis]

I… need to know if you have more HalbarryOllie thoughts? Please and thank you!

HI OP. tysm for asking because i am actually Always filled with thoughts. they rotate in my mind like a microwave 24/7 :3

this is a mix of headcannons and observations, so i hope that's what you were looking for! sorry it's a billion long i got Invested...

hal and barry for some reason, love to carry each other. they will pick each other up just whenever, barry usually carrying hal in a bridal grasp or hal carrying barry either like a potato sack or creating s construct to carry him. ollie judges them heavily, what freaks. (the first and last time barry tries to carry ollie when it's not necessary, it ends with him taking a solid hit to the crotch. hal will not stop laughing.)

ollie and hal both have leftover habits and trauma from poverty. when one of them sees the other with negative food behaviour, or accidental hoarding they don't say anything because they know they behave the exact same way. another holdover they have, is the stubborn pride that you HAVE to do it yourself. a pipe bursts or something: cue hal and ollie covered in water, apartment flooded, water damage everywhere but Fuck if they aren't going to figure out how to do this! they are outraged when they realised barry called a plumber.

i don't think they will ever get married in anyway, gonna be honest. hal and his commitment issues go brrr and ollie i think just Doesn't like marriage (roy had to get this opinion from somewhere, see below). the only way i ever see them getting married, is because barry wants to (fucking midwesterner), but even then i don't think he actually would want it that badly. i think that paired with the fact that not all of 3 of them can be married, that they just dont bother. paper is not needed to make your love anymore real.

[continued beneath the read more]

ollie and barry at first, just get along for hal. like he is a child of divorce. i think they would start getting really close after a long mission. you know when you are just so bone tired you lose the will to fight? they are just lazing about, and someone says something that usually would start an argument and instead the other just laughs and it's history from there on. they still bicker and argue sure, but they both know it's playful.

another reason they might have to start getting along, is their kids! wally and roy are good friends and at the beginning, some of the only sidekicks. i think their initial dislike manifests in passive-agressive one upping each other. ollie buys the boys a full spread for dinner, barry takes them to europe to try authentic food. barry takes them out to a water park, ollie rents out a themepark for them. the boys probably encourage it, especially wally.

im not gonna start spewing roywally propaganda in this post, but just know that the parallels between them and ollie x barry have me in a deathgrip.

ollie is the Only cis person in this relationship. i hc barry as transmasc, and hal as either gnc or genderfluid. ollie's the diversity hire guys <3 (if you include dinah in this, she is also trans! its cannon dont @ me)

the first time there is ever a Proper Fight in the polycule, it's between hal and ollie. ollie's habit of calling people nazis and facists usually don't bother hal (he was in the army, he had to get over letting dumb insults bother him). but just at some point, he's having a Bad Day and he just loses it at ollie. logically he knows it's not targeted but calling the jewish guy a nazi just set him off. they are both too stubborn to break the silence after the fight, it takes barry dragging ollie like a misbehaving cat to hal's to apologise before they get over it. ollie is now very careful to censor himself like that around hal.

honestly if anyone wants me to expand on my thoughts on jewish hal, or transgender halbarryollie PLEASE ask. im a hairtrigger away at any given moment.

ollie and hal both LOVE boxing, they love going to matches and watching. at some point, they start trying to include barry and take him along to the fights. barry for the life of him Cannot enjoy this shit. somehow, at some point, they end up at a wwe match and they all become avid fans. date nights now include lazing on the couch with takeout and watching playbacks on tv.

barry runs so fucking hot, and ollie runs cold. leaving hal to fucking Despise sharing a bed with them. genuinely his worst nightmare. even the army was better than this. it is not uncommon to find hal on the floor asleep.

after hal's death, ollie doesn't cope with it very well. killing his bf fucks him up so greatly, he ends up really clinging to barry. barry also isn't handling well but he can't let himself fall apart, he needs to be there for ollie. they start living together basically full time, until one day barry's grief just builds up too much and he ends up saying something he regrets in the heat of an argument (probably something along the lines of blaming ollie for hal's death or he's only staying with ollie because of hal). ollie storms off and barry is just... Gutted. before they have time to reconcile, ollie dies. (if im getting my timelines wrong don't look at me, i will sob)

not a single one of these men have fashion taste. they all dress like the loser middle aged men they are. fucking fashion crimes against humanity! hal steals their clothes quite frequently, which is controversial considering he is the largest person out of the three of them and their shirts and stuff are definitely Too tight. (ollie and barry aren't complaining though, except for when they get their clothes back and they are so fucking stretched)

i love picturing them as cheerleaders. not like, in the actual getup, but just as them being the PROUDEST boyfriends. hal and barry bragging about how ollie is the best shot in the world (hes not but its fine :3), green arrow and lantern standing to the side on a mission and just watching flash adoringly because they know he doesn't need their help, ollie and barry smugly parading around hal like "yeah. this is my bf. hes so hot i know. he's so smart as well." none of them have any idea they are doing it though. they are gag worthy.

ollie's love language is gifts but not always monetary. more like making them food, taking them out places and stuff like that. its the thought and effort that goes into it, that's why does it. barry's is touch, this man LOVES hugs and draping himself over his bfs. hals is acts of service! he wants to help and just do whatever he can for them whenever possible. you could see that hal bases his selfworth off of how much he can do for others, which is so horrible and sad. so yknow. brainworms.

ollie's house accidentally becomes their usual meeting place, but only because he fucking HATES the zeta tubes. whenever he meets them anywhere, he will always whine about how they make him sick. barry does offer to pick him up, but it's a point of pride to him at this point, he can't just admit defeat to the zeta. barry and hal make a silent agreement to just meet him instead. (this was based off an actual comic panel, but i cannot for the Life of me remember which one).

none of them show up on time to dates. it actually becomes so incredibly common that when they miss them, no one takes offence anymore. cue one time where they all missed a date, and are sheepish around the others and keep trying to make it up to them. it takes 3 days before they realise that none of them were there.

and that's it for now! thanks for reading mwah maah

[stars-n-kites]

really an inexplicable train of thought but i feel like taako is the kind of person who in a modren era au would just decide to go to a shooting range and learn how to shoot a pistol for funsies, but would consider learning to spin the pistol all cool like they do in cowboy movies to be his first and foremost priority. like hes already bought a holster and the moment he is given a gun he immediately starts trying to twirl it. the instructor has to tell him to stop or theyll take the gun away from him. he keeps trying to lead the conversation back to it anyway because he really feels like theyre putting the cart before the horse here if hes learning how to shoot the gun before even knowing how to dramatically reholster it if he were to get in some sort of cowboy duel. hes actually really good at the shooting part but he gets kicked out of the class after his eighth guntwirling attempt in which he accidentally flicks the safety off mid twirl and shoots one of their light fixtures

[smolcuriouskitten]

Rockelle got up to deadbolt the door, making sure they cant get in with a key anymore. She laid back down, turning the tv off and closed her eyes to rest. The woman couldnt fully rest after the day shes had so far. Not only did her team completely breach the security protocols, make her responsible for a kid, and now she doesnt know what to do with them.

She knew she did a good deed, given the kid had no support if he was seeking refuge to sleep in a warm place...but he seen her in such a vulnerable state. What if he was tricking her? Taking her kindness for weakness? She was talking with Onyx via their auras and the kid seemed snarky...but who wouldn't in this situation? Maybe he hasnt had someone care for him in awhile.

Dean could tell something was up given how quiet she was, so he silently wraps his arms around her and presses a few kisses to her back. She cuddled back, happy that he was here to silence the thoughts briefly but she knew tomorrow morning was coming fast...and she needed to talk with him.

Rockelle knocked on the door of the Derwards hotel room, having some breakfast for him from the buffet her team catered. She was now showered and fully awake, ready to face this head on. She hoped he stuck around and didnt feel as if he was a burden. He wasnt, in fact it was a blessing he came by to show her how lax her team was with security...

"My love! I have some food for you! I wanted to talk with you when you have a moment." She chirps, Onyx popping her head out of her hotel room. Rockelle does motion for her to come and Onyx steps beside her. "Hey kid, come on out, we dont have all day." Onyx dryly said and Rockelle nudges her, more of a shove rather with a sigh. "Take your time dear, pay no attention to her." Rockelle replies, giving Onyx a side eye.

Onyx stayed silent on the god comment. Not because she didnt agree, more so because she didnt give god time to even give out the karma they deserved. Made her wonder if she was playing god for killing them but the fuckers deserved it.

The amount of scars Onyx had was endless. Just like her cousin, Rockelle, she endured abuse but at the hands of different men. Some she covered with tattoos, some she kept as a grim reminder of why she would never go back into the sex work industry. She wanted to laugh at her mask joke but she didnt feel right letting it go quite yet, didnt trust Derward. Damn you assassian school.

“Welcome.” She responds then raises a brow at him defending Rockelle. Again she stayed silent, letting out a soft sigh. She understood how people viewed celebrities and often considered them as friends even if they didnt know the person. It made her skin crawl but she kept her unemoted face still, to think he was defending a woman he barely knew. Oh how his opinion would change when she was mad at Onyx playing one of her tricks and subsequently having a glass thrown at her.

Roxie on the other hand didnt pay attention to his mumbles, grabbing a bellman who quickly helped Derward and his things by getting into the room. Once Derward was out of sight, her facade dropped like a hot potato. “Fuck me, I hate that shit rainbows bullshit. How long is this fucker staying with us? Where did you find him, the fucking pound?” Roxie fusses in Korean, Onyx letting rip a snicker before she hits Roxie on the arm. Brians jaw dropped and the blue guy tapped Brian’s chin with his ‘tail’ for waking him up again.

Rockelle damn near collapsed when she made it to her room, exhausted from the day and dealing with her (incompetent) team. This thing with Derward made her head hurt and the team got an earful for it. Despite how pleasant and nice he was, she had a rule that NO ONE come into her dressing room in order to decompress and prepare for the show. Not only could he have caused her harm, he also seen her in a vulnerable state and that alone made her livid.

Calling Onyx to confirm he made it, she lets out a soft sigh when she laid on her bed. Her feet were so sore and her mind was swirling, ears ringing from the venue’s shitty speakers and she just wanted to be alone. “Hey fuck face!” Oh no.

“Whats up with you making us babysit? Like I only came to keep my sister sane but YOU had us running favors for you! Dammit what if I had a dick appointment or I had gotten the bellmans number?! You made me, MADE ME use the sugar sweet facade and it never fails to make my ass itch. Oh cushion the child, he will fear me if I let my dick hang out, well EXCUSE ME-” Roxie burst in the room, swearing and cursing in a mix of French and Korean.

Onyx was trying to hold her back but Roxie strong armed her. “ROXIE SHUT THE FUCK UP.” Onyx yells and it makes both Rockelle and Roxie flinch, hell Brian even ran in to see what the commotion was about. “I get that you are angry but dammit Im sick of you whining! Shut up! You act like you can just push everyone away and be a bitch to anyone who MILDLY inconveniences you! For fucks sake SHUT UP!” Onyx yells and Roxie looks offended but remains silent.

“Can you two get out of my room and argue? Im getting a migrane..” Rockelle softly responds, Onyx looking over at her. Grabbing Roxie by the ear tightly, yanking her out of the room. “We will talk later. Sorry about this.” She said, the trio leaving out of the room as Rockelle turns over and falls asleep.

[kingleedo]

Hongjoong || Work [240531]

[dykedvonte]

One of my mutuals opinions is the "bro code" thing, that Curly is one of those guys who wouldn't care about the victim because the perpetrator is his friend and I'm really banging my head on the wall like that other anon. I've only played through the game once but Curly's behaviour/reactions etc read completely different from the "bro code" thing and I have to wonder if my mutual and I even played the same game.. like the constant digs at him from Jimmy, his body language in his face reveal and so on like you mentioned in your post. While this game is a little different obviously, it kind of reminded of a point in Alice Madness Returns that makes it very clear that Alice's pain blinded her to the abuse of the other children and her failure to act earlier because of it. Curly is guilty of a similar inaction but it doesn't change the fact he was a victim of Jimmy too. I don't think I can look at it any other way because both of these games have really stuck with me.

I genuinely think it really is the idea that people want a simple easy to blame problem and the idea that the only relatable victims of abuse are those that "surpass" it or do a lot to help others. When it comes to victims, especially those that don't fit the typical demographics, who either accidently perpetuate it, enable it or aren't ideal in some way shape or form, people jump to ignore what they went through as it's easier than dealing with those conflicting sentiments.

The bro-code conversation in Mouthwashing stems from a concept I generally dislike that there had to be something about Curly that made him meet or keep being friends with someone like Jimmy. I think people genuinely underestimate how many like decent and good people just know an asshole or are friends with someone who is really bad outside of their view/established dynamics. The game makes it clear none of the inaction against Jimmy is because of a lack of care, it is a lack of understanding from the privaleged postions they have as men to not have to worry about what Anya does/went through and the type of extremes men like Jimmy will go through to cover it up. They are all too preoccupied in their own strifes.

Another thing I see being oversaturated the idea that you have to be a freak, misanthrope or have a disorder to do the thing Jimmy does. The game is an escalation, it's a spiral that I don't see people comment on that Jimmy was not likely having the mood swings and episodes of rage/frustration we were seeing in the game. This is after they all start experiencing the worst moments in their lives that he got THAT openly bad. Of course, this is just my interpretation but much like in real life, people that go to extremes like that usually live mundane lives. It's a pressure cooker affect to where the stress made them pop. It's self inflicted but still the case.

I really think people need to be more willing to acknowledge that not everything needs to be an extreme or in black and white or easy to understand. It doesn't need to be happy or have an answer or solution, especially in the cases where the abused sadly helps perpetuate what they experience. It's not he should've known better from experience or shouldn't he have known what could've happened because victims tend to not like to think in matters of the worst. Not to mention, especially in cases of abuse where it feels so personally directed that you don't expect to happen to someone else.