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sunlightmurdock · 7 months ago

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AETERNA | Two

ONE | MASTERLIST

SNYOPSIS: the show begins.

WARNINGS: smoking; the fic takes place in the 70s and so 70s era things will happen; mentions of minor character death; this fic has mature themes and is intended for adults, minors pls dni. spooky stuff. word count: 7.2k

…

On days that Billy works late at the shop, or just can’t find time to entertain your whims, you walk home from the Pines. It’s not too bad of a journey, you’re lucky that Fred and Joan didn’t pick a place too far out.

If you were to cross the creek at the bend, right outside of work, it would shave a good twenty minutes off of your journey. In the interest of keeping your Keds white and your socks dry, you take the longer route and walk down West Avenue.

Past the laundromat and Miss Jessie’s hair salon. Along the grass verge, sticking to the side of the road where there’s no footpath. People drive safer this close to town. Usually.

Early afternoon and you’re thinking about that evening.

Olive was supposed to come along with you tonight, but she blew you off to go fool around behind the old firehouse with this older guy she’s seeing. Twenty-eight, a father-to-be, and he still gets his kicks in the bushes like a teenager. Gnarly.

It’s for the best, though; your mom doesn’t like Olive too much. Joan wasn’t ever too strict with you — she let you scrape your knees and muddy your Sunday Bests, a couple minutes after curfew here and there never hurt. But to her, someone like Olive is someone treading water and bound to go under.

In Olive, you have found the big sister you had always wanted, but you wouldn’t go under with her. You’re too smart for that, your father says.

Without Olive, it’ll just be you and Georgie tonight. You just hope that he doesn’t get the willies and make you leave before it’s over. Fred would probably be pretty upset if you did wind up coming home without his only surviving son.

Wesley’s pictures are still up around the house, and his room remains untouched down the hall from yours, but he’ll have been gone five years in July. He doesn’t come up in conversation much anymore.

In another life, he would be driving tonight. You’d get shotgun and radio privileges, Georgie would get to be a real little brother and be banished to the backseat. You’d get your kicks chasing after gold-skinned West-Coasters and Wes would do what he always had and man the fort.

“You’re back!” Georgie greets you — half scaring you to death — by leaping down from the second stair and onto the runner by the door. You wobble in the direction you had come, the screen door clapping against your backside and deciding for you that you’re staying inside. “I’ve been waiting forever!”

“Yeah? Forever?” You drop your bag by the door and point a finger between the stripes on his t-shirt, right into that ticklish spot against his ribs. When he grins, he looks like your big brother had. He’s not much like Wes, though. It’s better that way.

“Man, and now I have to wait for you to get dressed!” Georgie realises, throwing his head back in complaint. “What time are we leaving?”

“Little after five,” You say and step around him as he spirals to keep with you, glancing down at the chunky brown wristwatch you use primarily to time Mr. Wheelan’s phone conversations with his mother against your smoke breaks. “Hour and a half. If that’s alright with you.”

He lingers at the bottom of the stairs while you hasten for your room. An uncertain frown works its way onto his freckled face as his stomach rumbles under the confines of his Sears’ Best t-shirt. “… Before supper?”

“Fred gave me money — we’ll get something on the way.”

From the downstairs hall, he curls his fist into a ball and celebrates under his breath. You wouldn’t be able to hear him anyway, your fingers already dropping the needle onto your still inky, sexy new Fleetwood Mac record.

After a month and a bit of trying, you had nabbed it at a store a town over. Atwood’s excuse for a record store rarely had the new stuff.

Sharp, fast-guitar strums and Lindsay Buckingham’s wicked vocals. There’s nothing better. Well, not yet. Someday soon, Lindsay Buckingham will be on the guest list to one of the lavish parties you’ll throw. By then, you won’t sing as embarrassingly as you do in your childhood bedroom.

Making your way through buttons and fastenings and stockings and Keds, you hop and dance to lyrics you haven’t quite memorized yet while shedding the candy-striped version of yourself for someone far superior.

Wiggling your hips and nodding your head as you pick through your closet, you’re searching for a safe middle ground in a sea of far from between. You’ll need something that Georgie won’t snake to Joan about, and something California at the same time. That’s where they’re from, you figure. With tans and smiles like that, it just seems like the reasonable guess.

Your skin-tight bell-bottoms are the obvious choice. Georgie can’t nark on you for jeans, but then again, these are so much more than jeans. They’re heaven sent. You’d spent your first Pines paycheck on them, and they were worth every penny.

The record plays on through tracks two, three, four and into “Go Your Own Way” while you’re still making up your mind on how to decorate your top half. Red would be your usual pick to stand out, but you’re going to be surrounded by a sea of red so that’s out. Green would make you stick out like a Christmas tree. Yellow works, you guess, in a McDonalds kind of way.

There’s no need for an alarm clock. By track six, Georgie is trying your doorknob and reminding you promptly that it’s a little after five. Fred installed that bolt lock on your door a little over a year ago. It keeps your brother out in the hallway. Your wristwatch, discarded, confirms that it’s exactly six minutes after five. That means time for make-up is over and you really need to find a shirt.

“We still have time for burgers, right?” Georgie bounds down the stairs ahead of you with reckless abandon and lacking coordination, slipping on the rug and catching himself on the stair rail.

“If you tie your laces in less than ten minutes.” Your answer is purely to tease him. You’re uncertain about the denim waistcoat you were forced to pick, but the jeans save it. Your new leather boots will make it.

As you zip them up your calves, Georgie races past you, almost banging into the front door as he wrestles it open. As he tears outside, you notice his feet halfway jammed into his sneakers, wobbling with each step. “I’ll tie ‘em in the car!”

Joan stops, wincing through her view from the dining room window as her overconfident little boy steps onto his own lace and tumbles into the door of the family station wagon.

“Nice going, Airhead!” You call out, turning your head mid-jibe to find your mother watching you. Her face flattens sternly, but she decides her priorities lie with making sure her airhead son picks himself out of the dirt okay.

The screen door rattles behind you as you jog down the steps and Georgie scrambles to his feet, brushing off his blue jeans.

“Wave bye to Mom.” You remind him, waving sweetly at the dining room window as you unlock the car and slink into the driver’s seat.

He stands straight and grins, cheeks dimpled as he waves toward the window.

The old radio system crackles to a start, and Joan watches from the dining room window as you reverse it down the driveway and pull out onto the main road.

The sky sits between purple and blue, darkening like a bruise as the station wagon follows the winding country roads that stretch out towards the O’Malley farm. It sits between mountain foothills, on the verge of Cole County, almost in Martock County — country club central.

In the late afternoon, your brother is buzzing. He can barely contain his excitement, or his singing voice despite you making him promise to stop exactly six miles back. He shoots a gleaming look up at you, grinning as he holds onto his vanilla shake like it’s a Pulitzer Prize. Fast food, his favorite flavor shake, and a trip to the realm of the unknown all in one night.

He’s going to have a lot to talk about come Miss Lindsay’s class Monday morning.

You plan to have plenty to talk about Monday morning, too. I.e. the dirt on those guys you spotted out by airport road; you saw ‘em first, and Olive is, in some regards, spoken for — so they’re all yours for now. At least one of them must be single. The guy with the mustache had a girl in his passenger seat, after all. But she didn’t seem to want to hit you for drooling all over him, so either she’s a Martian or she says he’s fair game.

“There it is, I see it!” Georgie declares, spotting the glowing Ferris wheel through a break in the trees. Your stomach twists, a giddy excitement toying at your nerve endings. You play it cool, shooting him a knowing smile, tugging the wheel to a slow left.

The O’Malley farm is the biggest in the area, threatening to be the oldest thing around too. Of its acres and acres of land, the circus has been allotted a four acre space at the forefront, just off the road.

You were here once for a Fourth of July fireworks show. You’d spilled mustard on your new white jeans. Your older brother had put you up on his shoulders and you’d forgotten how sad you were, lost in a sea of red, white and blue sparks.

Georgie lights up with the foreground, his jaw going slack as he stares out at the sea of sounds and colours ahead of him. Sure, it’s Saturday night but this place is packed. The designated span of grass is filled with Atwood’s car and truck collection; you do as Fred would want, and leave the station wagon at the end of the row. It’ll be easier to get out later.

It’s all neon around here. Purple lingers in the darkening sky, the dirt and the grass dry and the air brisk. Lights and screams overpower the song playing over the radio. The same one you’d heard out on Airport Road. Electricity fizzles in your stomach the way static feels on your fingertips when you reach for the television screen.

“Can we get cotton candy?”

Your head turns. Your gaze flickers downward. You eyeball the emptied cup, the now missing vanilla shake, and then look back at your brother’s ecstatic face. His feet kick uncontrollably in the footwell. Your lips purse, as if to consider the proposal. Guitar plays on around you, all electric like the feeling in your stomach.

“Yeah… we’ll see,” You cut the ignition and grab your purse from the passenger side footwell. With the engine, the radio dies too, and the song stops abruptly. The familiar guitar riff cuts out before you even remember where you’ve heard it before. “Let’s get our tickets first.”

Though, it might be kind of a fun joke to get him all hopped up on sugar and take him back home to kill Fred’s Saturday Night Movie Marathon. His VHS collection is unrivaled amongst the dads of Atwood.

Georgie is absolutely not, under any circumstances, allowed to get his grubby little paws on a single one of those tapes. Not because they’re dirty, or scary — but because Georgie likes to understand the mechanics of how things come apart and Fred prefers his belongings intact.

Your eyes are drawn to every corner of your peripheral, your boots tracking through dry dirt path. One hand on Georgie’s shoulder, you keep note that he’s still with you as your eyes explore. Dirt spills into grassland and you’re off the path; you just aim for the centre.

The fairground roars around you, hitting the peak of Saturday night excitement, carnival games singing and rattling around you and the carousel singing out dead ahead. Lights and games whir wildly around you, it feels like you’re still hearing that electric riff even now it’s gone.

“Can we go on the Ferris wheel?” Georgie tugs at your forearm, barely audible over the thrum of the whirring generator beside you. A shrieking scream tears your attention from him. To your far right, there’s a Rotor ride — a giant, spinning green cage that sticks you to the wall with one of Newton’s laws. If your eighth grade teacher was hotter, you’d know which one.

“If you’ll ride that one with me.” You point a gel-polished fingertip toward the spinning ride. Georgie shifts a bit, and fiddles with his hands. He’s eleven this year, getting too old to be chickening out of fairground rides.

“Alright.” He agrees without nodding, or really even moving. Your wristwatch is still on your bed at home, but with all the crowds out here, you know you must have time. Your hand presses between his shoulder blades, carrying him with you as you start towards the spinning ride.

Fifty cents later and you’re looking across at him, each of your backs pressed flat against the flimsy, green-painted metal. He reaches out for your hand and squeezes his eyes shut. You turn your head towards the lilac hue and inhale; buttered popcorn and sugar-sweet candy floss filling your senses.

“Smell that?” You ask him, squeezing your fingers around his. He peeks one eye open, his nose wrinkling. He smells it too, the sweet scent in the air. The sky’s coloured like it’s full of it, lighter than usual because of all the sugar. “No one’s ever been afraid while eating candy floss.”

And he stumbles off, feeling like he’s still spinning in circles and regretting that big vanilla shake a little bit, but grinning. The safety of being with a big sister isn’t something you ever grow out of. He looks up at you, your hand on his shoulder.

Your hair whips around you as you follow him off of the ride, still laughing at the way he’d shrieked. Your eyes crinkle at the edges and your knees angle towards each other like you’re laughing so hard you might pee, your laugh is far reaching.

The eyes on you, though amused, turn away as quickly as they’d found you. The feeling lingers anyway and you turn, looking through the crowds, searching for the attention you feel. Your instincts are good, but your eyes catch on the wrong thing. Your admirer has already turned in the other direction.

The sky has darkened sometime since you stepped onto the ride. It verges; safe, summer lilac bloom and tinged toward the color of a fresh bruise. The lights around are so bright that the O’Malley farmland looks like it’s being consumed, fading into the dark around it.

To the right side of the Big Top is a rectangular booth with a helpfully illuminated TICKETS sign hanging above, and a man inside shouting the same word on repeat with different varying offers.

His sights land on you. Something sudden, mechanical, almost. His gaze is stiff and unwavering, eyelids peeled back, irises black. Immediately, you feel watched. Not like before, not something instinctual that had made you turn to look.

It feels like even the sky up above notices, the sky skulking towards that kind of blue named after the darkest point of the night.

Wearing a black button-up shirt with a red waistcoat, he’s the only person around that you can see in a uniform. His face is a grease-paint white and there’s a red smile painted across his lips. They stretch back to reveal straight, white teeth, bared like an animal. Then, they curl at the edges and become something more natural — something closer to a smile.

“Show’s about to start! Sales close in the next five minutes, folks! Get your tickets!” He calls out like he’s looking right through you, even though you’re walking right for him now.

Steadied, no longer spinning, Georgie stares in awe, his neck craned all the way back as he watches the Ferris Wheel carriages rock and wobble. Safe with his big sister, he’s not looking. You curl your fingers into the back of his shirt, losing the sinister, greased-red smile in the crowd for a second as you reach for your purse with your other hand.

The bodies pass by and there he is again, watching you once again, but up closer he’s not so scary at all. You can see the way the paint is brushed onto his skin, and his eyes aren’t really black but more of a deep brown. His lips stretch into a goofy, friendly grin.

His rigid fingers relax against the wooden podium he’s posted behind, nail marks in the wood hidden behind his glove-covered palms.

“Hi, kids,” He’s got the goofy clown voice nailed, too. He almost makes you smile as he looks towards Georgie and plants his hands on his hips from inside the booth. “Are you excited for the show, young man?”

“Yes, sir.” Georgie answers back, suddenly bashful as he hangs off of your forearm.

“Two tickets, please.” You tell him, that awful, cold feeling ebbing away as you dip into your purse and pull five dollars from your wallet. Two dollars for kids, three for adults. Steeper than the movie theater, that’s for sure.

“Here you go! You kids enjoy the show now.” The clown slides the two pink stubs under the plastic for you, tipping his head to the side and grinning real wide once again.

“Thanks.” You turn and plant your hand on Georgie’s back again. Those folks who stick reins on their kids might be onto something. “It’s about to start. We’ll do the wheel later, okay?”

People have already started to filter in ahead and behind you. The tent is quieter, and darker than outside, the screams of excitement seem so much further away. Following the flickering string lights, you venture deeper under the shade of thick, red and white canvas.

Ahead of you is a circle marked by red borders, a round, dirt-bottomed arena for the performers. Rows and rows of bleachers surrounding the space, pushing at the walls of the tent for the audience. It looks bigger inside. They were expecting a big crowd, and they got it.

“Here.” You pat softly at his shoulder and point to the second row of bleachers. Front row might be better for someone his size, but you would just about die of embarrassment if you got called as a volunteer.

“Uh-huh. Do you want a soda?” Georgie asks, planting his butt onto the wooden bench beside you, rocking the soles of his Chucks into the wooden slat below. He’s been waiting to ask, these dimes have been burning a hole in his pocket since Fred handed them over this afternoon.

A gentleman always pays, and that’s what Georgie’ll be someday soon.

You chortle, shaking your head. “I’m alright. Do you need some money?”

People filter in around you with hushed pardons and thank-yous. You set your bag down under the bench and that’s where it remains, forgotten, for the rest of the evening..

“No. I brought mine! — I’ve gotta get you something,” He explains, the freckles on his face disappearing as the lights above you flicker on and off purposefully. He fishes a hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a handful of coins, presenting them to you urgently. “Popcorn?”

Instantly, you recognise this as the workings of your father. Wesley, too. A smile ticks at the corner of your mouth, then catches.

The last person standing takes their seat. The circus tent stirs, buzzing to life with hushed whispers of what’s to come. There’s a constant whir in the background, the sound of generators keeping this place going.

Craning your neck back, you study the support beams. The podiums so far up that you can no longer see the wires, the hooks for silks, the point at the very top of the tent where all of the lights stem from.

A reminder that summer grows nearer by the minute, the tent is already thick with the warm evening air.

Your gaze flickers back to the tall podiums and the bowed ceiling of the canvas as the stage lights flicker and then dim. A thud rings out like a stack of books dropping as a spotlight hits dead center on the red curtain that hangs. Everything settles into an abrupt quiet.

“After. It’s starting.”

Anticipation settles under the canvas, weighing heavier than the early May air. Popcorn crunching and shoes fidgeting against the wooden bleachers, a cough from somewhere to your far left.

Then, with another thud, the tent falls pitch black. Georgie squeezes your wrist. He’s still scared of the dark.

With a rush, a spotlight beams on the center of the arena, revealing at once a man in black slacks and an elaborate red tailcoat. From beneath the brim of his top hat, his mouth twists into a smile, the rest of his face hidden under the cast of a shadow.

His white, gloved hands stretch out from behind his back and lift from his sides in an almost greeting gesture. He spreads his wingspan, addressing the audience as he steps forward and looks swiftly up, his gaze piercing and blue.

It tracks that he’s the one in charge around here. Older, but young in the way his eyes glint with trouble. He looks left to right, following the curve of the audience, captivating his spectators with knife-life sharpness.

The crowd has fallen resoundingly still. Popcorn goops with the threat of cooling, congealing butter. Shoes are unwavering, suddenly stuck. Georgie’s eyes bulge, blinking back at the unblinking Ringmaster.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen.” With a chilling air of calm, his lips peel back into a toothy smile. It’s friendly by nature, but cold to the eye. His head twists slowly, bending thirty degrees to the left, his smile spreading the way water does when puddled. “To the greatest show in the world.”

Ambitious, you think. Some hot guys and some speeding fines and suddenly the rest of the world are out of the running.

You recognise the self-assured leader of it all. He’s the guy from the first van, the big one, with the girl in the passenger seat. Hell on wheels, coming over that hill. Brown hair feathers from under the hat and sits around his jaw, the only part of him that’s not immaculately kept.

The tailed coat he wears is effectively tailored, showing off the gold watch on his right hand and the glimpse of a tattoo from under the sleeve of his left arm. The jacket is especially extravagant, threaded with gold buttons and woven thread down the lapels. He’s a lot more polished-looking than the guy at the ticket booth.

There’s something similar in the way his eyes land on you though. His gaze is gone again as soon as it touches you. His smile keeps on spreading, a puddle seeping through the sand floor at his feet, reaching, tendrilous, for the bleachers.

Music starts behind him, light and bouncy like the kind of sounds a carousel plays. He peeks backwards, and returns his gaze to the audience with a knowing grin.

“Sounds like my friends are excited to meet you all,” He says quietly. Then, he smiles and waves the idea off. The music stops with a beat. “They’ll have their turn. First, I have something to share with you all.”

He’s a hell of a magician. Captivating, really, the way he manages to keep track of the packed room. He’s everywhere, and aware of everything at once. During a trick in which he made a rabbit disappear, not into a hat, but into the very back of the crowd — someone near you began to whisper their theories. You don’t know how he heard what they said, but you know that it wasn’t an accident when that rabbit peed in their lap.

Beneath the awe and wonder of his run-of-the-mill magic routine, there’s something inexplicable. Something in the way he maneuvers; the way he smiles like he’s in on a joke that you aren’t. All magicians are, you guess, but this is different.

The show flows on beyond him, performers emerging from the shadows with knowing looks on their faces. All of them hold onto that punchline through their tricks and trials, their mind-bending illusions and death-defying stunts.

It doesn’t stop with the appearance of the face you had been hoping to see. As he takes the stage, twisting a flaming staff expertly to a drumbeat so loud that it feels like it rattles your brain itself, he too is in on the joke. He throws the burning stick into the air. As it flips and spins, he takes a moment to look out across the crowd.

With the thundering drum beat, the orange glow of the flame, the sweat beading down his chest, the crowd hangs in anticipation as the object hurtles back down towards him. Searching through the sea of faces, a calm smile settles onto his face. He leans back, opens his palm, and catches the burning staff before it strikes him.

As much as his performance strikes an interest in you, you’re concerned that it might spark an interest in Georgie for a different reason.

Once he has returned into the same shadow behind the curtain that they all come from, there’s something that lingers with you. A delusional sense of hope, maybe, that because he looked at you once, he would do it again.

The evening’s entertainment draws to an end with another visit from the Ringmaster. With his unnaturally blue eyes and his stretching, tendriled smile, he bids Atwood goodnight. The last ones in are the first ones out, the Big Top becomes more shadow than human as the sea of faces filter out into the fairground.

“That was awesome!” Your little brother declares, throwing his hands up into the air in balled fists. “Could we come again?”

Oh, you’re planning on it. Golden Boy’s act alone is enough to guarantee you a return spot. Later tonight, when you’re alone and in bed, you’ll be thinking of the way his aptly golden biceps flex as he curls back to nail the tip of the blade into the center of the target from a distance.

Come Monday morning, Olive will be hearing all about how she missed the way sweat beads at his chest when he’s doing that fire show.

“Yeah, maybe,” You shrug. “If Fred’s okay with it.”

Fred’s okay with everything. Georgie grins, and then remembers the condition of him being allowed to go tonight.

“Oh, wait. I have to buy you something.” He remembers, shoving his hand deep into his pocket to confirm he still has his sweaty handful of change.

Fred will check to make sure, otherwise you’d tell him to keep his money for another day. You smile, and shrug once more, looking around.

“I’ll take a Coke.” You tell him. The stand is right in front of you. It’s not that far away and even with the crowds, you shouldn’t have any issues spotting the red and orange stripes on Georgie’s shirt. You were younger than him and venturing further by yourself. You don’t think twice before letting him rush off ahead of you.

He knows exactly where you’ll be waiting for him. Just to the left of the shadowy entrance to the Big Top, you push your fingers into the tight front pockets of your jeans, looking towards the inky-indigo evening sky.

It’s getting colder, now. You’re too old for your mother to remind you to take a jacket these days. Your boots trail in the mud, starting up an even and uniformed route to pace along for warmth. Georgie waits patiently at the back of the concessions line.

An evening breeze bristles at your exposed arms and carries the smell of burning tobacco. You turn your head sharply to the left, and crane your neck. The fields around the fairground are pitch black, like this pasture is the only thing around.

The smell has you wandering just a little further, around the wide bend of the Big Top, you squint through the shadows and light up just like the Ferris Wheel behind you.

Illuminated by the orange glow at the end of his cigarette, lurking in the shadows, he’s already looking at you by the time you spot him. Wearing the same black slacks he had worn for the show, the string lights behind you catch on the gold of his necklace. Your lips twitch as he smiles across at you.

The cigarette sticks between his lips like it just wants to be there as his lips stretch wide. His cheeks hollow a bit as he puffs at it, sweat drying on his skin and prickling the blonde hairs on his arms.

Watching you wander his way, he can’t help but smile back at you. Friendly is kind of his thing when it comes to this place. After all, you came all the way out here to see him, it’s the least he could do.

“Evenin’,” He drawls, Western in more than just the way he’s dressed, as he pushes up from where he was hiding to smoke against the Zoltar machine. He saunters towards you, the light catching his skin and making it glisten like real gold as he steps into the light.

“Evening.” You greet right back, lips catching on a grin. You straighten up like he’s somebody important and that makes him smile right back at you, the bridge of his straight nose wrinkling with enjoyment.

Taking his cigarette from his lips, it settles between his index and middle fingers, then lowers to hang around his waist. His inky-black, dress-pant adorned waist. The same as he was wearing during the show. Those things don’t fit like the kind of suits you usually see — the ones you’re familiar with end just above the belly button. His sit so slow on his waist that you can see the black band of his underwear.

He doesn’t seem to mind that you can.

He hasn’t changed yet, he always sneaks out back for a smoke before he heads out to make himself known around the fair. Tips come rolling in if he makes himself friendly. That’s not why he’s here, hiding in the shadows, with you.

“So, how’d you like the show?” He asks. His cigarette wobbles between his lips in a real Clint Eastwood kind of way. The gold crucifix on his necklace slips on the chain as he moves, revealing a dark ink etched into his skin below. A cross, tattooed onto his skin, just between his collarbones at the base of his throat. The same as is on his necklace.

You tear your eyes away from his chest and look him in the eye. Georgie would pitch a fit if you asked to bum a cigarette. Really, you only smoke with Olive, anyway. “It was cool. My brother loved it.”

“And you?” He prompts, placing the cigarette back between his lips and inhaling deeply. Like he finds oxygen in the smoke, as if he’d been holding his breath since the last hit. He quirks an eyebrow at you as he lets the breath sit on his chest.

He knows he’s good looking, clearly — you can see that in the way he juts his hips out before he walks like a cowboy does. But, you can play too. You shrug at him, suddenly coy.

“It was alright.”

A breathy chuckle slips his lips.

“Yeah?” He beams at you, all intrigue and amusement, green eyes glinting as the neon lights of the fairground rides illuminate his face. “You’ve seen better?”

Oh, you like the way he plays. You trail towards him, slipping into the shadows of the Big Top. Close enough now that you can smell him; sweat, smoke and an equally smoky cologne. It smells expensive, for a carnie.

Your shrug is a balance between ditsy and daring that particularly seems to strike a chord of interest within him. “Still holdin’ out for the best, is all.”

Smirking around the growingly short cigarette, he puffs at it once more and plucks it from his lips again. Tall, broad and muscled all over — he must have served before. A bit older than you, he’d probably be the right age for it. He carries himself calmer than the other Vets you’ve seen. He doesn’t have that look in his eyes.

He’s what they should all look like, if they’d gotten to age like normal.

“Smart girl.” He decides, rolling it between his fingertips for a second. You watch as he drops it into the dirt and stubs it out with his boot. Green eyes on you once again, a flash of neon crosses his face as the ride roars into action once more. “I’ll see you.”

He says it like he knows it to be a certainty, taking a step back. His usual after- show ritual will continue with or without you. Next comes an outfit change and a spritz of cologne, then some Front of House showboating.

“Don’t you have a name?” You prompt him, brows drawing together as he wanders backwards.

He grins. “Jake.”

Jake. He even says his own name like he likes the sound of it. Like he thinks you’ll like the sound of it. Backwards, his boots fall into line behind each other; you don’t even realise you’re following him until his footprints are the only ones in the mud anymore.

Jake’ll be seeing you. You’ll be seeing Jake. It seems set already.

“Excuse me.” You turn and look over your shoulder, a muscle in your neck catching as you do a wide-eyed double take and spin.

One hand on a red and orange striped t-shirt, is the man of mystery himself. Standing tall, especially tall, taller than he had looked driving along the road that day, is Mr. Movie Star, stone-faced. Wearing a white vest with an unbuttoned blue overshirt and rolled blue jeans, he looks even better than before.

When he hadn’t turned up in the show, you’d started to think that you had imagined him. Speeding along that country-road with his sunglasses low on the bridge of his nose and the prettiest smile you’d ever seen.

Well, here he is. He doesn’t look half as happy to see you.

Your brows furrow as your gaze falls down to where his hand sits. Georgie’s shoulders heave with a shuddering, relieved sigh, tears burning in his eyes as he stares back at you with a glass Coke bottle trembling in his hand.

“I think you lost something.” The man of your dreams tells you, stone-faced, cold.

“Shit.” You whisper, and Georgie doesn’t even consider scolding you. He looks up at the man who had helped him find you, and heads for you instantly. “You okay? What happened?”

“I turned around and I couldn’t see you.” Even though he’s older now, right on the verge of being grown, his voice trembles and you remember he’s not like you were. He’s scared of the dark and he sleeps with a stuffed tiger and night; he’s sweeter than you’ve ever been.

He goes to wrap his arms around your middle and you welcome him with a one-armed embrace.

The guy from the road is still watching you. His hair is tousled and his shoulders are stretching out that overshirt, his cheeks are warm and pink. Eyes dark, he eyeballs you from boots to earrings.

“Thanks,” You can’t help but take a look behind you. Jake is long gone already. You smile softly in polite gratitude. “Sorry, I just — took my eye off him for a second.”

His eyes linger on your face, a silent second too long. The wait almost makes you squirm on the spot, wondering if he recognises you, if he’s mad at you. Finally, he meets Georgie’s gaze and shoots him a cool shrug. “It’s all gravy.”

Georgie unravels himself from you and pushes the Coke bottle into your hand, and you hold off on pushing him away by his face to get to know his knight in shining armour.

“Have a good night, little buddy.” With another nod of acknowledgement, the handsome man makes no effort to sugarcoat the bluntness of his tone. He drops one boot backwards and moves to turn away.

Now, you haven’t been jealous of Georgie too many times in his life so far, and not many older siblings can say that. But on this occasion, you’ve barely been graced with two sentences and Georgie’s all of a sudden been awarded a nickname? — Not gravy.

“Thanks, again.” You call out in a moment of panic. It happens before you have a chance to develop something as cool as your exchange with Jake. Then again, Jake had seemed to want to speak to you. The Movie Star turns and looks at you over his shoulder, barely giving you a second of eye contact as acknowledgement as he plucks his cigarettes from his pocket.

They sure do smoke a lot for people surrounded by canvas and gas-guzzling generators.

“I really appreciate it.” You continue, cursing yourself, curling one hand into Georgie’s shirt as you follow after him. He closes his eyes, rolling them into the back of his skull as he hears you hurrying behind him. “He’s always wandering off.”

“No, I—“ Georgie struggles as your arm wraps around his scrawny shoulders, hugging him to your side and covering his mouth.

“Really, it was no sweat.” His lighter clicks open and ignites, then flips shut and disappears back into his pocket. Not so much as a look in your direction at this point.

You really should cut your losses and take Jake as your win — you can’t have them both anyway. The Movie Star’s lips almost twitch. Cut your losses and take Jake— he likes that.

“I didn’t see you in the show,” You continue anyway, something unnatural in the way you’re itching for him to so much as look in your direction. It’s been a while since you last saw action. “So, you like… work here?”

Idiot. You cringe, and even Georgie looks up at you in unimpressed wonder.

“You could call me security.” Smoke curls around him, leaving you five paces of dirt road behind. You make a face at him from behind. He’s not as friendly as the others, who have now emerged from the shadows to greet their fans. Instead, he walks ahead, skulking under the string lights like he’s silently hating them for illuminating him at all.

You cut your losses at once, stopping in his tracks, pursing your lips. Jerk.

Georgie struggles at your side and you’re reminded to let him go from the pseudo-headlock you’ve squeezed him into. The man of your dreams, the perfect movie star to fit into your Napa Valley retirement plans, disappears into the crowds of people.

You’re stuck on that day by the road. He had seemed into you then, grinning across at you like you were the bee’s knees, shooting you that easy-breezy peace sign. Maybe it was the halter top he liked.

“Can we go on the Ferris Wheel now?” Your younger brother reminds you of the real reason you’re supposed to be there, standing in the O’Malley’s south pasture past his bedtime. Flattening out your frown and sticking your fingers into his hair, you nod your head.

“Yeah. Come on, just don’t pee your pants.”

So, your Saturday night didn’t go exactly how you had pictured it. You’re not too sure what you were really expecting of the two guys you’d seen just once. But, your little brother is still grinning and talking a hundred miles a minute when you get back home that night, and that counts for something.

You’re perched on the kitchen counter, kicking your legs and snacking on a slice of sugar-sweet clementine. The waning light overhead almost makes you forget how dark it had been beside that Big Top — how you’d found Jake all alone.

“The I-75 thing didn’t work out?” Fred whispers to you, pressing a soft kiss to your hair as he pats your shoulder and passes by to drop his last beer bottle for the night into the recycling. You look back at him and smile while Georgie whittles on and on and on.

“Alright, alright,” Joan hushes, tucking her reading glasses into her hairline and giving up on her magazine to devote her attention to her youngest. “You can tell us all about it in the morning. I think you’d better head on up to bed for now.”

He closes his mouth and looks around the lemon yellow kitchen. Fred’s no help, and neither are you. He huffs and gives in to the idea of bedtime.

Dutifully, he hugs both of your parents tonight and heads for the hallway. He doesn’t head to bed before he has peered back around the doorframe and smiled back, thanking you for taking him.

The stairs groan, the hallway creeks and Georgie’s door wheezes shut. Everything about this house talks.

“Oh, I’m going to need my bag back for work on Monday, sweetheart.” Joan remembers, packing up her Cosmopolitan and dirty Martini set up from the kitchen table. Rollers in and green, mint-smelling face-mask smeared around her features, your mother has Saturday night rituals of her own.

And, you don’t have a bag.

You had one. You had taken your mother’s brown shoulder bag that she takes to work even though it fits a little more than a wallet and some keys on a good day. Shit, your wallet too.

“Sure.” You answer tightly. “Let me clear my stuff, you can have it tomorrow.”

The curiosities of a mother cross her mind, but a girl’s gotta have her secrets. She smiles and gives your bicep an affectionate squeeze as she heads for the stairs. “Okie dokie. Don’t be up too late.”

You wince at the thought of her bag being somewhere in that South pasture unattended, or gone by now. Probably rifled through. You hope there weren’t any receipts in there — she gets awfully protective about her receipts.

“Tell me the bag’s in the car.” Fred says from behind you as the groan of the stairs grows faint and the creeks of the hallway ready to start. You pivot cautiously towards him, still grimacing. He presses his lips into a line and shakes his head. “You’d best get out there and find it before she finds out, kiddo.”

“Mhm. Planning on it.” You answer with a sigh.

Really, it’s not such a bad thing, you think to yourself. You could go back there tomorrow without all those crowds, without Georgie. Maybe do the whole damsel in distress thing and see which one of them comes running with your misplaced bag.

Closing your eyes and twisting onto your side, you spot the pointed, red canvas top of the tent from your window. All of the neons are gone now, powered down for the night. They’re over there, just beyond the stretch of those woods. Jake, and the one who hates you.

…

NEXT CHAPTER

TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT

tags: @sunflowercharlie13 @spinning-away @eloquentdreamer-blog1 @a-reader-and-a-writer @breezyweazybeezy @mel119g @hersuitisbanana @one-sweet-gubler @atarmychick007 @ximehs @nnatel @topherwrites @seitmai @yepyeahuhhuh @cherrycola27 @ohtobeleah @roosterbruiser

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #jake seresin #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #jake hangman seresin #jake Seresin x reader #jake Seresin au #bradley bradshaw au #bradley bradshaw x reader #Aeterna

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nottswitch · 10 days ago

Note

PLS GEORGE WEASLEY 7 WHEEL SPIN did I request right PRETTY PLEASE

hi, finally getting to your request, sorry for the wait!! but i’m glad you’re so excited :) couldn’t not have gone with angst for this one. your aesthetic is…

— anemoiacore

(revolves around a feeling of intense longing for a time/event that never happened)

» navigation ; masterlist ; george m.list ; how to request ; 1k celebration

mentions of death

the air was chilly, the early winter frost biting at your cheeks as you stood next to george, the back of his hand softly brushing against yours. you never failed to notice and still be surprised at how warm it was despite the state of the weather, but you were far from complaining – it was a small sense of comfort for both of you on this solemn day.

fred gideon weasley. 01/04/1978 – 02/05/1998

the words and numbers etched onto the gravestone cut through your vision again, bringing another wave of prickling tears behind your eyelids. you tried to stay strong for george, but it was so damn hard.

"you know…" he suddenly spoke, breaking the silence established in the air between you. "he’s probably standing right here, laughing his ass off right now." george looks up the the space on the other side of the grave, where a patch of snow was missing. you let a small smile grace your lips as you followed his gaze, noticing how it really looked like it was left by someone’s feet.

"that sounds like him," you said softly, glancing at george for a moment, the bittersweet smile on his own face making your heart clench in your chest.

"he’d make a great ghost." george chuckled, closing his eyes and shaking his head a bit in amusement that couldn’t escape him whenever he talked about his brother.

"yeah," you agreed with a quiet laugh of your own, momentarily imagining fred as a translucent ghost, speeding through the air high above the ground. "he’d rival peeves for sure."

george nodded in agreement. "he’d have that good ole geezer in a chokehold."

another minute of silence passed between the two of you as you watched the first faint snowflakes of the day starting to fall onto the frozen ground, covering the grave with a fresh layer of cold whiteness. it felt peaceful, in a way – the nature making something beautiful out of something so grim.

"i always wonder…"

george’s voice cracked a bit when he spoke, his voice hoarse, as if he hadn’t used it for ages, when in reality it had only been a little while. you tilted your head towards him, ready to listen.

"what would happen if he was… here."

you let out a quiet sigh and took his hand in yours, gently intertwining your fingers together. your thumb soothingly traced circles on his skin – you knew it was hard for him to talk about this, especially standing right here, in front of fred’s grave.

"he’s happy wherever he is," you murmured, your voice as reassuring as it could possibly get. it was the best way to go about this – to make sure george knew his twin was at peace. that was the only thing he wanted.

the corner of george’s mouth curled up ever so slightly. "i hope you’re right, love. i really, really do."

playlist

❥ pistol by cigarettes after sex

❥ fallingforyou by the 1975

❥ epiphany by taylor swift

❥ san siro by angelina mango

#— witch’s works ☾#— 1k celebration ☾#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george weasley angst #george weasley imagine #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fic #the weasley twins #the weasley twins angst #the weasley twins imagine #the weasley twins fanfiction #the weasley twins fic

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httpiastri · 9 months ago

Text

PERFECTLY FINE – 2023 SEASON SOCIAL MEDIA RECAP

author's note: dropping this off for yall ahead of the weekend bcs i have important sports stuff these next two days and likely won't be on here at all (i won't even have time to watch the races 🙃). just a little cute thingy before the first chapter hehe! the twt pics are unevenly cropped so pls open them to read all 😚 also this is my first social media au so go easy on me <3

author's note #2: you may not notice this if i don't say it but i'll say it anyway… i actually edited out zak from like four pics so that i could post this 😭 lol

series masterlist

MELBOURNE, APRIL 2023

yourusername amazing weekend here down under!! so thankful for my fantastic team for all of the hard work, the car is a pleasure to drive. and shoutout to my lovely teammates, i love being annoyed and pushed around by you all ❤️

show all 86 comments

user icon!!!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

frederikvestiofficial i would never annoy you 🥲

→ yourusername oh fred no, i didn't mean you 💔

→ olliebearman did you mean me?

→ yourusername nooo teddy bear, never 😢

→ dinobeganovic_ did you mean me??

→ yourusername take a guess 😐

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user not her calling ollie TEDDY BEAR ??? im out

→ user right in front of my salad 😪

→ user right in front of paul too

→ user chill 😭 she's allowed to have a nickname for her FRIEND

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

paularon_ ❤️🏆

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

dinobeganovic_ time for a haircut? paularon_

→ yourusername don't hate on the curls, they're cute 🐑

→ paularon_ i can defend myself

→ yourusername do it then?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user great drive today!! u really deserved that win 💙

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

saacha_fqt thank you for the champagne! 🥳

→ yourusername merci merci 🍾

???, MAY 2023

SPA-FRANCORCHAMPS, JULY 2023

paularon_ p3 in spa. thanks to the team for the good work

show all 98 comments

user good job paul!! still not sure why prema thought the slicks were a good idea but 🫶

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user why is he looking so upset 😭 mate you just got a podium, celebrate a little

→ user rumor has it he and y/n broke up… so i would understand if he isn't too happy

→ user omg you're kidding

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user that first lap was mega 🔥

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

mercedesamgf1 great job all weekend paul. good points to head into the break with. 👏

yourusername had a pretty good time in spa 🤭

show all 72 comments

user sprint race win and then 4th in the feature? queen behavior

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

jakcrawford_ dino and ollie looking great

→ dinobeganovic_ 😎😎

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

redbulljuniorteam amazing work!! 💪

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user y/n rlly is red bull personified omg, she truly loves her team

→ user and they love her back 🥺 always commenting on her posts, aww

ZANDVOORT, AUGUST 2023

yourusername look how happy jackie is for his podium <3 thanks zandvoort!!

show all 61 comments

user i love to see ollie being bullied on his bike

→ yourusername me too

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

olliebearman adorable jakcrawford_

→ jakcrawford_ 👍😀

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user love to see y/n happy even after what happened with paul 💓

→ user yes yes! she was hanging out in the prema paddock all weekend, joking around with ollie and fred. and then she even went out for dinner with jak and clem 🥺

→ user i didn't know she's friends with clem?

→ user she probably isn't lol but she follows jak anywhere like a puppy 😭

MONZA, SEPTEMBER 2023

yourusername the best season ever 😭 where do i even start? massive massive thanks to the entire team. all of the engineers, mechanics, workers back home at the factory, and everyone else involved, i'm so thankful for you all. and big thanks to my family and friends for supporting me all the way, i couldn't have done any of this without you all. and to my dear, lovely teammates: you're the best, i'll see you all again soon. ❤️ (and congrats gabrielbortoleto_ for the championship! 🏆)

show all 132 comments

user why does it sound like she won't stay with prema 😭

→ user tbh it seems unlikely since kimi will probably move up to f2... and ollie will stay with prema too, so idk where she would go

→ user please :( let me stay delusional

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

gabrielbortoleto_ congrats on p2! see you again next year

→ yourusername 😉🤩

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user congrats on a great season!! can't wait to keep following you in the future <33

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

redbulljuniorteam you made us proud this season 🫡 let's keep pushing!

→ yourusername thank you!! can't wait to see where 2024 takes us 💙❤️

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user had so much fun meeting you in zandvoort 🥺 hope you have another amazing season 2024!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user is that her and paul in the fourth pic?

→ user no, it's her and dino from when they both ended up on the podium in hungary!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user she went from posting several pics of paul in her dumps to posting none… 💔

→ user i can't handle being a divorce child 😭

CAMBRIDGE, DECEMBER 2023

yourusername happy holidays 🤍🤶❄️🎄

show all 295 comments

user is that OLLIE in the last slide??

→ user byeeee i've never felt more single

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

dinobeganovic_ send me the gingerbread cookies, won't you?

→ yourusername oh we will, don't worry 🥰

→ user WE will ?!??!! 😭

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user kinda icky how she moved on from paul in like a week

→ user it's been months. get over yourself.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user bearman with a bear plushie 🥺 i'm so soft

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user the matching pjs.... when is it my turn???

???, FEBRUARY 2024

#perfectly fine!#f1 #f2 #paul aron #ollie bearman #formula two #formula 2 #series #fluff #angst #x reader #x you #x yn #x y/n #imagine #scenario #x oc #fic #fanfic #ferrari driver academy

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unconventional-lawnchair · 1 month ago

Text

Random fic ideas

These are just random xreader ideas that I haven't started yet. If this interests anyone you can use the prompts/stories or just voice your opinions about them! Really just need them out of my head. (If you do use them pls tag me I'd love to read em 🥺)

Time travel scenarios:

- Lightning Era Reader goes back in time for a year, only to come back to a shattered timeline. Finding out that Barty Crouch Junior has broken everything to be with her again. (Hurtless by Dean Lewis)

-Marauders Era Muggleborn!reader goes back in time to Tom Riddles Era, where he finds out about her blood status. He tries to get a hold of this oddly powerful wix, only to find she's actively sabotaging his plans. (This isn't a Tom x reader fic, but it will center their relationship from rivals to friends, only for her to go forward in time once more and unleash a new wave of abandonment charged rage against the wizarding world) - (Hunter by Paris Paloma)

-Given the choice, Remus Lupin would go back in time and never involve himself with the Muggle!Reader he lost. Only in his plan to stray away his younger self, he meets her again. Truly to convince himself to walk away from the woman he loves all over again. (LOML by Taylor Swift)

-After James dies, the reader discovers a way to travel back in time to see him one last time, but she’s warned it can only be for one brief encounter. (You Said You'd Grow Old with Me by Michael Schultz)

Memory Loss ideas:

-Remus helps the reader Obliviate herself during the war, but before he does everyone gets together at the Maurader's one last time. They reminisce on their old memories and share their favorite times with the reader. Remus and the reader reminisce on what could and should have been between them; none of them noticing how much this all seems to be affecting James- who has been in love with the reader for years.

Normal scenarios :

- Poly!Wolfstar x Reader fic, after the events of Halloween 1981 Sirius is jailed- Remus and the reader have a falling out that results in him leaving. 12 years later they are forced to reunite for Harry. (Clean - Taylor Swift)

- James Potter will stop at nothing to stop Fred Weasley from coming around his daughter. The only reason he can give; 'he reminds me of myself.' (Magic! By rude)

- Barty x Tattoo Artist!Reader who can't stay out of his lap (I wanna be your Slave by måneskin)

-Slytherin wins the Quidditch cup for once, but what everyone is really paying attention to is how Regulus Black of all people, ran to Potter!Reader before anyone else. (Alchemy by Taylor swift)

-During the peak of the wizarding war, the reader is a Muggle who inadvertently befriends Remus and the others- learns about the magical world. She becomes one of Remus's closest confidants and helps him through some of his darkest moments. But after the Potters are killed and Sirius is imprisoned, Remus obliviates her to keep her safe from everything he had told her. This leads to complications, where she believes she is having flashes of a 'past life,' when the spell begins to fade. (All Too Well by Taylor Swift)

-During the First Wizarding War, the reader and James are are separated as he’s rises the ranks of the order, getting more missions and having to keep more and more secrets from her. To cope with her fear, the reader writes him letters every night, pouring out her love and worries letters she never intends for him to read. (What a time by Julia Michaels)

-Loving James Potter was knowing he'd give you up to save the world. Loving Barty Crouch Jr. was knowing he'd end the world rather then lose you.

-Fred Weasley fic about a Slytherin reader who never entertained Fred's advances. After the war, George sends her a post with one of Fred's old ideas books. Fred kept filled with jokes, pranks, and ideas for future products he never got the chance to share. Each page is filled with his personality, and she can almost hear him laughing with her. The book signed "for her, always."

-Sirius and the reader have always clashed, unable to see eye-to-eye on anything. But when he accidentally ruins her notebook in a prank gone wrong, she storms out feeling humiliated and hurt. Sirius, surprisingly, follows her to apologize.

-James and the reader are fierce rivals in the dueling club, always challenging each other to duels that usually end in both bruised egos and bruised bodies. But one night, after a particularly intense duel, James notices the reader is hurt and insists on helping her. (Much to no one but the reader's surprise)

-As captains of rival Quidditch teams, James and the reader have always been fiercely competitive, constantly taunting each other and getting into shouting matches on the pitch. When she beats him in a close match, he becomes noticeably sour and can’t hide his jealousy when other players congratulate her. "Why do you like everyone but me?"

- Sirius doesn't know what he hates more, your attitude or you going to the winter formal with Evan Rosier and not him.

- James Potter has always been a thorn in your side, with his constant flirting and his annoying cocky attitude. But when he starts to flirt and playfully banter with Lily Potter you can't stand it, but James just loves your reaction

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #sirius black #james potter #sirius orion black #remus lupin fic #james fleamont potter #lily Evans #hermione granger #ron weasley #peter pettigrew #fred wealsey fic #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #sirius black x reader #sirius x reader #remus lupin

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sophsicle · 7 months ago

Note

oliver wood?????? soph youve just stolen my heart hes my baby hes my best friend hes That Guy!!! pls what are your thoughts and hcs about himmm

Here are my scribbled oliver wood notes from my notes app for your viewing pleasure:

ive played around with it being Percy who starts to check up on Oliver but like, tbh they're too similar, i think one of the twins makes more sense, especially cause they're on the team and i am always obsessed with the interaction in chamber of secrets where fred and george are like "oliver don't you fucking send harry back out there with that bludger" and oliver does it anyway, like i just love protective older brother weasley twins and i wanna see them lay into him about that after Harry gets hurt

and i just see oliver as being so stuck in his head, like his brain latches on to quidditch cause it's like routine, it's skill, it's strategy, it's something he can control, but i see hims struggling in school and social situations for those reasons (like on the outside i think he appears kind of confident but on the inside i see him just like continuously picking himself apart, obsessing, obsessing, obsessing)

#soph rambles #i love him #oliver wood

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vicsbasement · 9 months ago

Text

So, @azealiax asked for an explanation about the Monza incident (and then Singapore) in Charlos lore. I'm trying to rack my brain with all of it, and I'll just bullet point the important parts of it. If anyone needs to add anything feel free to reblog this and correct me if I'm wrong. I'm going to be talking about how the press took that Monza podium but I can't recall where the bad press came from (I think it was british) so if anyone else needs to add anything, you're free to do so!

Carlos did pole. It was amazing and the Tifosi were roaring with excitement.

During the race, Carlos' car ate the tyres because he was defending from Checo. (Who ended up passing him and he got stuck with P3) (Max P1, Checo P2, Carlos P3, Charles P4)

Ferrari pitted Charles near the end of the race, giving him priority over the pole-sitter (Carlos) which rubbed many people the wrong way (at least Carlos' fans were miffed about it)

Since Charles had better and newer rubber, he took the fight to Carlos near the end of the race.

The fighting on track was on the limit, and they almost collided a few times, but, to be honest, it was an amazing fight and at least Charles sounded like he was having a lot of fun fighting Carlos.

Carlos defended beautifully but his tyres were gone by the middle point of the fight. So he asked for team orders, which Ferrari ignored and just said "fight but no risk" (basically don't take each other out pls but let's give tifosi a show)

Carlos kept defending until the end and remained on P3, so basically he earned that podium bc he fought for it really hard.

Some announcers (and some press) said that Ferrari put the wrong car on that podium. (Implying Carlos didn't deserve it but Charles did)

Some fans (Carlos') took that fight really badly. And so did Carlos' mother, who liked a tweet about Charles having no honor.

Charles cheekily responded liking a tweet from a fan that posted a picture of his win at Monza 2019 with the caption "honor"

Still, when he got out of the car, Charles looked elated. Like, he'd never behaved like that. He was so happy, playing around, teasing Fred, answering questions about the fight and saying he had done it for the tifosi to give them a little bit of a show.

Carlos was rattled, of course, but he seemed to be fine by the end of the race and happy to had fought Charles on the limit. They both gave similar replies to the press, that it was a fun fight, on the limit, and they were never at any point near collision (which didn't seem like it from the espectator point of view but you do you, boo)

Monza is basically a Ferrari ground, so to see a Ferrari driver on the podium was mayhem. They chanted Carlos' name the entire time and were pretty damn happy about Carlos' P3 (even though some Charles-solo-stans made it seem like they weren't happy about Carlos getting that P3, but we have video proof that they were damn near about to drown out everything from the podium that didn't have anything to do with Carlos with their screams and their chants. They even chanted Carlos' name during the national anthems and drowned them out so much that the TV people had to mute the microphones to keep that from feeding into the streams)

As an add-on, Carlos' birthday was around this weekend.

The thing is that well, the whole bad press-Carlos' mom-fans reaction thing kind of rubed off on the drivers. There was some unmistakeable tension between them the week after this race. So much so, that, during the fan forum the week after (Singapore), someone had asked about liking your teammate (with the mortal enemies Esteban and Pierre right next to them) and Carlos replied that he really did like his teammate, with Charles looking visibly relieved. Of course this is mere speculation on their body language, but it was... iffy. To say the least.

Then comes Singapore. And this is the run-down of what happened:

Carlos gets pole position again

Charles decides to help defend him from Russell who was P2 (it was his own idea, nothing to do with Ferrari strategy at all) and he starts the race on soft tyres. Charles was P3, and he overtook George, getting P2 early on the race.

Max starts the race along the back because he got screwed over during Q2 I think, but the fact is, he started the race P11.

Checo started P13 and had contact with Yuki.

There was a yellow flag in which the Red Bulls didn't pit, so they had older hard tyres which made them vulnerable to the Mercedes.

The Red Bulls were able to reclaim P5 (Max) and P8 (Checo) during the race.

Charles had a fumble in the pits and was passed by the Mercedes (he was P3 and dropped to P5 because of it)

Lando managed to pass everyone and he found himself in P2

At the end of the race, Carlos decided to use a DRS strategy to keep Lando on his tail to defend himself from the Mercedes drivers, who had newer tyres. This way, Lando had to defend his position thus defending Carlos' P1 in the process.

Whenever he'd get too far ahead Lando he'd drop a few seconds time and got closer again.

Final lap: Russell clips the wall and crashes so Hamilton overtakes him.

Carlos led the entirety of the race and showed a brilliant mind and strategy defending with Norris.

It was his second ever win after the British GP in 2022

This was the only race not won by Red Bull the whole year

Fan speculation (based on a very ridiculous comment from Russell, I'm guessing after he saw Charles was on soft tyres) led everyone to believe that "Ferrari had sacrificed Leclerc". The fact is, he had a fumble in the pits and lost his P2 to Norris at some point, so he stayed behind. In any case, he seemed okay with Carlos' win, they even hugged after the race and it was actually a very cute interaction. He was, understandibly, angry that the pit timing had cost him a P2, so people were just talking about him being angry after losing to his teammate two races in a row.

You just have to take into account that some fans like to pit them against each other constantly, but they've never had any public falling out or anything that could lead anyone to believe there's bad blood between them.

In any case, this was Monza and Singapore 2023. As I said if anyone needs to add anything else from the charlos lore archives, feel free to do so.

#charlos #carlos sainz jr #not tagging charles because i don't want to revive old grudges #azealiax #vic talks #singapore gp 2023 #monza gp 2023

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jrooc · 2 months ago

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✨ it's random weekly tag wednesday✨

Thanks @spookygingerr (+ for the game), @energievie, @kiennilove @ms-moonlight-inn for the taggggssss

it's that time again...

what weather would you use to describe you current mood?

A confused weather day where it's cloudy but not cold. There's a rainbow 'cause it rained a little but there's bright moments.

have you ever had braces?

yes! For forever and I still have bad teeth

do you celebrate halloween?

Halloween is the actual best 👻🎃

best halloween/fancy dress costume you've worn

I always had good intentions and terrible execution. Mostly cause i was cheap/broke. Best costume was probably Robin Sparkles from HIMYM but no one got it lmao. Or Paperbag Princess but I couldn't find a adult size paper bag so I used a Canadian Tire (Canadian home hardware store lmao) leaf bag which had huge logo's on it which really ruined the effect 😂

last song you listened to

Kyle - Fred again.. (why is the line 'our shoulderblades kissed' so fucking lovely)

last thing you googled

How to write capitalized titles correctly in grammar 😆

dream car

I love an Audi cause they're soooo fun to drive

what's your favourite type of cheese?

Jesus why would you even ask me to choose? Dutch Gouda. Asiago? Swiss. *Panics and runs to eat cheese*

what colour are your socks today?

Grey Canadian Roots socks with the red line. IYKYK

what was your favourite subject in school?

Russian Studies

has your mood weather changed after answering these random questions?

Yes they brought me joy AND I took a short break from work for the first time in days so there's more sun peaking out.

Tags below the cut. Or have some halloween candy and a hug 🍬 If you are seeing this and want to join in pls do! Consider this a tag.

Tagging @deedala @gallapiech @michellemisfit @mickeysgaymom @guinguin1984

@doshiart @such-a-barbarian @creepkinginc @transmurderbug @ian-galagher

@heymacy @heymrspatel @crestfallercanyon @stocious @too-schoolforcool

@thepupperino @sleepyheadgallavich @callivich @captainjowl @roryonic

@suzy-queued @palepinkgoat @look-i-love-u @spoonfulstar @ifallonblackdays

@its-a-queer-thing @ardent-fox @rereadanon @andthatisnotfake @darlingian

@deathclassic @annarowyn @samantitheos @sam-loves-seb @burninface @runawaybrainsc

@vintagelacerosette @mmmichyyy @pookiebearmick @transmickey

#weekly tag wednesday #gallavich community

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allthesmutl0vers · 3 months ago

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Managing Mischief: Weasley Twins x F! Reader (Part Four)

TW: Nicknames like 'little one,' 'baby,' 'darling,' anxiety, fluff, sexual references, Fred and George x F! Reader, Y/N (Don't judge me pls, I love it, but I will try to start using less) (I'm trying to get better at listing TWs) *Smut is coming I promise, we're just building up to it*

Requests Open

Chapter Four

Y/n

No parents around and a house full of horny teens? Yeah, this will end well.

“Why are the three of you soaking wet?” Ginny asks us as we walk into the living room and see everyone sitting around the fire.

“And where did you guys go? We looked for you,” Ron asks, his confused expression matching everyone else’s.

“I pushed them in the lake after they threatened to throw me in,” I shrug with a smirk at Fred and George.

“Nice,” Harry laughs.

“Seems like they got what they deserved, nice going, y/n,” Ginny smiles and laughs.

“Damn, is everyone on your side?” Fred asks me, rolling his eyes with a chuckle.

“No kidding,” George adds.

“Now, now. Simmer down, boys,” I tease them, patting their arms.

“Should we play a drinking game? Since Mum and Dad are out for the night?” George asks, draping his arm around me.

“Where are we going to get alcohol?” Hermione asks, much to my surprise.

“Hermione Jean Granger, drinking?” I fake a gasp with a smile.

Hermione rolls her eyes and giggles. “Hey, I did all of my summer reading and then some. Besides, this is the last year that we’ll all be able to celebrate going to school together,” she explains.

“Where are we going to get alcohol?” Ron asks curiously.

“Don’t you worry about that, little brother,” Fred winks and runs upstairs with George following behind him.

“I’m going to go change,” I tell everyone before I go up the stairs to Ginny’s room. I close the door behind me, change out of my wet clothes, and put on a clean pair of red and gold flannel pajama shorts, a new shirt, and a dry pair of socks, putting my wet sneakers on the heater to dry.

Everyone is already back when I get downstairs. Fred and George have changed, too. Both wear white tank tops, grey sweatpants, and socks. Fuck, they look so hot like this. I jump over the back of the couch, landing between them. “So, truth or dare?” I ask everyone.

“Sounds fun,” Harry says with a smile. Fred pours us all a shot of fire whiskey, and Hermione starts off the game.

“Umm,” she looks around and lands on Harry. “Harry, Truth or dare?” She asks.

Harry thinks for a moment before answering. “Truth.”

Hermione smiles. “Do you like anyone in our year?” I smile, knowing she asked because he’s been not so discreetly crushing on Ginny forever.

Harry blushes and nods. “In our year?” Hermione nods. “Yeah,” Harry smiles and looks over at Ginny, who is smiling too. Now that it’s Harry’s turn, he turns to Fred. “Fred, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Fred smirks and takes another shot.

“Okay,” Harry thinks for a moment. “I dare you to take three shots. Back to back with no chaser,” Harry challenges him. I can’t help but smirk, knowing that’s lightweight for Fred.

“Psh, easy,” Fred chuckles and lines up three shot glasses, filling them and taking them without missing a beat. He sucks in a breath after he takes the last one and sighs contently before turning to me. “Y/n, love. Truth or dare?”

“Fuck, um, truth,” I answer, leaning back against George’s arm draped behind me on the couch.

“Do you like anyone besides Draco?” Fred asks, biting his lower lip. Everyone stops laughing at the mention of his name, like somebody fucking died.

I sigh and lean toward Fred with a smirk. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I have my eyes on a couple of people,” I tease before looking at everyone else. “And listen, guys, you don’t need to feel weird saying his name. He’s fucking dead to us now. Fuck him, well, not literally because he sucks in b-” I cut myself off and purse my lips for a moment. “Just because he sucks.”

George laughs and leans forward. “Wait, wait, say that again?” He laughs. “Was Draco bad in bed?” He taunts.

I put my hands up and laugh. “Hey, I already answered my truth,” I laugh.

“Oh, that is brilliant,” Fred laughs hard as I take another shot.

I turn to Ron. “Ron, truth or dare?” I ask with a smirk.

“Uh, truth,” he answers.

I smile and lean forward. “Is it true that you’ve been crushing on Miss. Granger for over a year?” I ask. I know they both like each other and if I’m not getting laid, at least someone should.

“Yes,” Ron answers, looking at Hermione who is bright red with a blush, and puts his arm around her. He then turns to Ginny. “Ginny, truth or dare?”

“Hit me with a dare,” Ginny says confidently.

“I dare you to kiss Harry,” he challenges.

Ginny smiles and turns to Harry. She cups his face and kisses him deeply. We all cheer, clap, and laugh as Harry turns bright red when Ginny pulls back. He smiles and pulls Ginny into his lap as she looks over at George. “Truth or dare, Georgie?”

“Truth,” he answers with a smirk.

Ginny smiles deviously at me before looking at George again. “Is it true that you and Fred are still pining after y/n?” Now, it’s my turn to blush.

George’s eyes land on mine as he looks down at my lips and back up at my eyes again. “Yup, since fourth year.” My eyes widen as I look over at Fred to confirm. They’ve liked me ever since then?

Fred nods and leans in close, our noses almost touching. “Don’t look so surprised, little one.”

George tips my head back to his and looks into my eyes. “Y/n, darling, truth or dare?” He asks smoothly.

“Um, d-” the house phone ringing cuts me off before I can finish my answer, and I stand up to answer it. “One sec,” I wink at George before picking up the phone and placing it to my ear. “Weasley residence, y/n speaking.”

“Y/n?! Are you there?!” Molly asks in a loud panic.

“Yes, Molly, it’s me, what’s wrong?” I ask, giving everyone behind me a weird look. Fred and George stand up and walk over to me, trying to listen in.

“Y/n, you need to come to King Henry’s Hospital in London now,” she says in a hurry.

“What? Why? What happened?” I ask, worrying something happened to Arthur. Then it hit me: she didn’t ask for her kids. She asked for me. “Molly?” I ask quietly as I look at Fred and George. “Are my parents okay?” I ask nervously.

I hear Molly sniffle on the other line. “We’ll talk when you get here. Do you know how to disapperate? If not, have Fred or George bring you. But get here quickly; everyone else can stay behind if they wish,” she answers.

“I’m on my way,” I hang up without saying goodbye and look around for my shoes in a panic.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” Fred asks me.

“My shoes, I can’t find my shoes!” I start to panic as my mind swirls.

Fred stops me and holds me in place with hands on my arms, leaning down to my height as I breathe heavily. “Darling, stop for a minute. Take a breath,” I do my best to take a deep breath before Fred continues. “Good. Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

Tears threaten to spill from my eyes as I begin to shake. “My parents are in the hospital, and Molly said I need to come right away. I can’t find my shoes,” I sniffle.

“I got your shoes,” George says, kneeling in front of me and sliding my slip-on Vans on my feet before standing up. George cups my face and looks into my eyes, brushing away my tears. “We’re coming with you.”

“We’re coming too,” Harry says behind them, standing with Ginny, Ron, and Hermione. I nod as we all slip on coats and shoes.

“It’s King Henry’s Hospital in London,” I tell them as we step outside and start to disapperate. Harry with Ginny, Ron with Hermione, and Fred and George with me.

The hospital lights shine bright in the night as we land across the street. I let out a shuddering breath and Fred and George take my hands in theirs. “It’ll be alright, little one,” he promises softly.

“Don’t think the worst until we know what’s happening,” George reminds me as we cross the street. I nod as we walk into the emergency room.

We all run over to Molly, my hands slipping from theirs as we reach her and I hug her tightly as Arthur pulls everyone else away. I don’t see any blood, so that’s a good sign. Right? “What happened?” I ask Molly frantically as I pull back, and she leads me over to the seating area.

“There was an accident,” Molly says softly. “Your parents were in the car in front of us, and a big truck came out of nowhere and crashed into the side of their car. The paramedics got there as quick as they could, and they were taken here in an ambulance,” Molly explains.

“Are, are they alive?” I ask, tears filling my eyes again as my voice shakes.

Molly strokes my hair and sniffles. “The paramedics got them out, and they were alive. They were rushed here. We got here as quickly as we could, but they had already been taken into surgery,” Molly looks at me as I wipe away my tears. “I’m sure they’ll be alright.”

I can’t lose them,” my voice cracks as more tears begin to fall.

Molly shushes me and pulls me in for a hug. “Now, now. Let’s not think that way, dearie. They’re doing everything they can,” Molly says, trying to soothe me.

George

“Dad? What happened?” I ask as he pulls us away from Mum and y/n. I look back and see Mum holding her and y/n crying.

“Her parents were in a car accident. It was bad,” Dad says softly as the other four gasp behind us. “They’re in surgery now.”

“Are they going to live?” Fred asks quietly. The look on his face tells me he’s just as worried as I am.

Dad sighs. “Honestly, son, I don’t know,” This is bad, so fucking bad. The others go to get coffee and snacks, leaving me and Fred with Dad.

Dad looks at both of us. “Have you guys been drinking?” he asks seriously.

There’s no point trying to lie or hide it. “Yes,” I answer truthfully. “But nobody drank that much. We’d only just started when y/n got the call from Mum.”

Dad sighs and shakes his head. “Given the circumstances, I’ll let it slide. And I won’t bring your mother into this,” Dad says to both of us. “But I seriously suggest you all get some coffee in you and sober up. And since when are Harry and Ginny together? And Ron and Hermione?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

I look over at Fred, who looks back at me before answering. “Well, I guess during a game of truth or dare,” Fred clears his throat. “Everybody kind of told each other how they feel.”

Dad narrows his eyes and tilts his head as he looks at both of us intently. “Everybody?”

“Um,” I look over at y/n before looking back at Dad again. “Yeah.”

Dad nods and chuckles once. “Well, I’d say it’s about time,” he says, shaking his head before pointing at us. “But I expect you two to be perfect gentlemen. And don’t go forcing her into something she isn’t ready for,” he says, placing a hand on each of our shoulders. “She’s been through so much in the last two days. And the last thing we need is to lose her because you two couldn’t be patient with her. Do I make myself clear?”

“We will,” we promise simultaneously.

Dad nods as the others all bring back cups of coffee for everyone. “Good. Now, bring her a coffee and try to keep her calm. Your Mother and and I will go see if there is any update.”

Y/n

“Here comes everyone else,” Molly says, standing up. “You stay here, and Arthur and I will go see if there is any news,” I nod as she walks away, and Fred and George sit down on either side of me.

“Here, darling. Drink some coffee, it’ll help,” George says, handing me a cup as he and Fred wrap an arm around me. My boys.

“It’ll be okay, y/n,” Hermione tells me as she sits down across from me.

“I hope so,” I sniffle. “I can’t lose my parents.”

Harry squats down in front of me and takes my hands. “You won’t lose them, y/n,” he says, looking into my eyes. “And if Merlin forbid, fate should step in. I lost mine, too. I know that feels, and I will help you in any way I can. But I truly, truly believe that they will be okay,” Harry reassures me.

“Thanks, Harry,” I say softly. He nods and moves to sit by Ginny. I let out a sigh and lean against George’s shoulder as he strokes my hair and Fred rubs my back.

We all sit together, silently praying for good news as Molly and Arthur come back. “There’s no word yet. They’re still in surgery. Which is good news,” Arthur reminds me before turning back to everyone else. “Does anyone want to go home and sleep and come back? I can drive you.”

Everyone shakes their heads, and he and Molly sit down. “You guys can go home and sleep. It might be hours. I won’t be mad,” I tell Fred and George.

“As long as you’re here, we’re here too, little one,” Fred says, holding one of my hands and intertwining his fingers with mine.

“Exactly. We’re not going anywhere, darling,” George says softly, kissing the top of my head. I catch Molly looking at us and half-expect her to be upset. But instead, she smiles softly and nods before leaning her head on Arthur’s shoulder.

Hours pass, and Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione have all fallen asleep sitting up in their chairs. Finally, a doctor comes out. “Hunt family?” He announces to the waiting room.

“Here!” I stand up quickly and raise my hand. The doctor motions for me to follow, and the twins, Molly and Arthur, follow, too, as I walk up to him.

“And your name?” The doctor asks.

“Y/n, Hunt. I’m their daughter,” I answer as he writes something down and looks at the twins and their parents.

“Mhm. And your guests?” He asks curiously.

I look at Fred and George. “Um, these are, um. My boyfriends, Fred and George,” I point to Molly and Arthur. “And these are their parents, Molly and Arthur.”

The doctor looks stunned for a moment before he clears his throat. “Oh, I see. Well, it’s typically hospital policy that-”

I cut him off in a hurry. “Anything you have to say, they can hear. Now, where are my parents?” I ask in a panic. Fred and George each hold one of my hands, trying to calm me down.

The doctor sighs and leads us all into a private waiting room. “Please, have a seat.”

“Oh, God,” I mutter softly as we all sit down around the table in the center of the room.

The doctor takes a seat across from me and pulls out his chart. “Your parents have both received very serious injuries. Your mother fractured her skull, which resulted in a brain bleed,” I put my hand to my mouth as my legs begin to shake. Fred and George each put a hand on my thighs. “She also got a fractured pelvis and both legs.”

I sniffle as the doctor describes my father’s injuries next. “Your father took the brunt of the damage. His spinal cord was fractured, and we are unsure if he will walk again. We will have to wait until he wakes up, but we are being optimistic. His scans showed no breaks, although he did fracture his skull as well, but we found no evidence of a bleed. He’ll have a nasty concussion when he wakes up.”

“So, they’re alive?” I ask quietly.

The doctor nods. “Yes, Miss. Hunt. They are both alive and out of surgery.”

“Oh, thank Merlin,” Molly sniffles as she stands behind me and puts an arm on my shoulder.

“And the driver that hit them? I am prepared to testify if need be,” Arthur says seriously.

“The driver who caused the accident received no injuries, although he did have a blood alcohol level of 1.9. Over twice the legal limit. He has been released into police custody. As far as I know, he has been arrested for a DUI, reckless driving, and two counts of attempted vehicular manslaughter,” the doctor explains.

“Can I see them?” I ask quietly.

The doctor nods. “If you will all follow me, I will take you to them.”

“Son of a bitch should be in Azkaban if you ask me,” Arthur mutters behind me and the twins.

“Arthur, not in front of the muggles, and watch your language!” Molly quietly chastises him.

We get to my parents’ room, and I gasp softly, seeing them both hooked up to ventilators. “I know it looks scary,” the doctor says, checking their vitals. “But it’s just to help them breathe until they wake up,” he says, walking back to the door. “I’ll leave you guys. Press the call button if you need anything,” he says, closing the door behind him.

I let go of the twins’s hands and make my way to my parents. “Mum? Dad?” I ask quietly. “Please don't leave me,” I plead quietly and sit next to my dad. Nearly three hours pass, and I feel my dad’s fingers twitch in my hand. “Dad?!” I exclaim, and he groans. I look back at Molly, Arthur, and the twins.

“I’ll go get the doctor!” Molly says as she hurries out of the room.

“Dad, it’s me!” I tell him as his eyes flutter open, and he coughs around the tube in his throat.

“Welcome back, Phil!” the doctor says joyfully as I step back and smile at Fred and George, who beam with a smile. “Give us just one moment, and we’ll get that tube out,” he says.

The doctor removes the tube from my dad’s throat, and he heaves and coughs. “My,” he coughs. “My wife, Shiela.”

“Give me just a moment to check you over, Phil. Can you lift your arms for me?” My dad lifts his arms and drops them on the bed. “Great! And Can you wiggle your toes?” The doctor pulls back the blanket, and my dad's toes wiggle. “Excellent! Very excellent!” The doctor turns back to us with a smile. “I’d like to run a few more tests, but he should be just fine.”

I breathe a huge sigh of relief. My dad coughs again. “What happened? Where’s my wife?” My dad asks. The doctor tells him everything that happened as I hold my dad’s hand. “And the bastard will be charged?” He asks.

“He already has been, Phil,” Molly answers, walking up to his bed with Arthur and the twins.

The doctor nods and grabs his chart. “I’ll be back to check on you, Phil. But you’re very lucky. You’re daughter here has two very doting boyfriends. Haven’t left her side this whole time,” he beams as he exits the room. Oh, shit.

My dad looks at me, stunned, blinking a few times. “Um, what did he say?” My dad asks me, and I feel my face heat up. Before I can respond, my dad chuckles and shakes his head, turning to Arthur. “Suppose I owe you two galleons,” he jokes.

Me and the twins look at each other, confused before I turn back to my dad. “What?”

My dad takes my hand in his and chuckles. “Honeybee, a father knows when his daughter is truly in love,” he says to me with a smile before looking at Fred and George. “And he especially knows when two young lads are both pining for her heart.”

“You’re not mad?” I ask, confused.

My dad shakes his head. “No, not at all, honeybee,” my dad chuckles. “I mean, did I see you ending up with both of them? No, what father would? But I do know that they both have your best interests at heart. And I also know,” he says, turning to look at Fred and George. “That they know to keep it in their pants,” he says, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh my Gosh, Dad!” I exclaim, embarrassed. Fred and George chuckle behind me.

“Absolutely, sir,” They answer in sync.

“We only have the highest respect for her honor,” Fred says, laying it on thick and making me wish the Earth would open me up and swallow me whole.

“And we shall guard it with our lives,” George adds on.

“Mhm. I should certainly hope so,” my dad says in a serious tone that contradicts the smirk on his face. “But I do wonder what happened with that Malfoy boy. Don’t get me wrong, he was odd. And his father is cold enough to make a ghost shiver, but I thought you liked him?” My father asks me.

“He broke up with me. He’s with someone else now. Apparently, they’ve had feelings for each other for a while. He broke up with me in a letter,” I answer briefly.

“I’ll kill that boy with my bare hands,” My father says gruffly.

“We’ll bring the shovels,” Fred says with a smirk.

“Trust us, we feel the same way. He was too much of a pussy to say it to her face,” George adds.

“Probably knew we’d kill him then and there,” Fred finishes.

My dad chuckles and winks. “I knew I liked you boys.”

“It’s so good to see you awake, Phil,” Arthur says with a smile.

My dad nods and looks over at my mum, who still hasn’t woken up. “Now, only if Sheila would wake.”

“Well, I do have good news on that front,” Arthur smiles and looks at my dad. “I spoke to the minister of magic, and we are having you and Sheila transferred to St. Mungo’s. It’s a wizarding world hospital. I think you’ll find it a better place to heal. Their ‘medications’ tend to have a faster healing effect than muggle hospitals.”

“What?” My dad asks, bewildered. “Oh, Arthur. How could I ever thank you?”

Arthur claps a hand on my dad’s shoulder and smiles. “No need to thank me, Phil. Anything for family,” he smiles. “They’ll transfer you both at eight o’clock. Which is in,” he looks at his watch. “Merlin’s beard! Two hours.”

My father nods and turns to me. “Go back with them and get some sleep, honeybee. You can come to see us before you leave for Hogwarts. But I don’t want to see you until then,” he holds up a finger when I go to argue. “Until then, I want you to relax, rest, and enjoy the rest of your summer. Your Mum and I will be just fine.”

“But dad,” I go to argue, and he cuts me off and turns to Fred and George.

“Keep her away from the hospital, you hear me, boys?” He asks them.

“Yes, sir,” they answer at the same time.

“Good men,” he says, turning back to me. “I love you, honeybee. Go rest. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“I love you too, Dad,” I say, kissing his cheek and turning around to kiss my Mum’s as well. “I love you, Mum.”

When we get back to the burrow, Molly makes a quick breakfast and sends us to bed. No chores today, given all of last night’s worry. Fred and George sneakily clean up the alcohol without getting caught, and after breakfast, she sends us up to bed. Boys still with boys and girls still with girls ‘as much as she is happy that everyone found their person,’ as she so lovingly and strictly put it.

Fred and George walk me up to Ginny’s door. “So, ‘boyfriends,’ huh?” George smiles.

“I’m sorry if that made you guys uncomfortable or weird. I just didn’t know what to say,” I hug myself. “And honestly, I don’t think I could ever choose between you t-”

George cuts me off by cupping my face and pressing his lips to mine, and my heart soars. My hands find his waist and he pulls me closer, deepening the kiss for a moment before he pulls back. Before I can blink, Fred pulls me to his chest and holds the back of my neck as he presses his lips to mine. I melt into his lips just as I did with George as he deepens it and holds me close.

“You don’t have to choose, little one,” he says softly against my lips as he breaks the kiss.

“What?” I ask, still reeling from their kisses as Fred pulls back, and they each take my hands.

“You don’t have to choose,” George repeats Fred’s words, and he runs his free hand through my hair. “We both care deeply about you, and we never want to put you in a position where you need to choose one or the other. As long as you want it, we want it too, darling,” George says, lifting my hand to his lips and softly kissing the back of it.

“You guys aren’t mad that I want you both?” I ask them.

“How can we be mad when it’s exactly what we want? Silly girl,” Fred chuckles and bites his lip as their hands move to my waist and pull me to their chests.

“We wouldn’t want it any other way. As long as it’s what you want,” George says, kissing me softly.

I break the kiss and look at them both. “There’s nothing I want more.”

Fred kisses me and bites my lower lip, making me moan softly in his mouth before he pulls back. “Good. Now go get some sleep, little one.”

“We’ll be here when you wake up,” George promises, coming behind me and brushing my hair off of my neck and kissing it softly, making me hum in pleasure.

Part Five

#fred weasley smut #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x reader #fred weasley #george weasley smut #george weasley

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pappydaddy · 2 years ago

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sorry about the shirt (f.w.)

a/n: now that i named this fic this, now i have an idea for another fic with this as a prompt.... ugh my mind, curse my cognition! also, i have deleted this and reformatted this like six times and the title is still not saving as a god-damn title anymore. ugh. tumblr (pls don't shadowban me again)

tv show/movie: harry potter | pairing: fred weasley x fem!hufflepuff!reader

requested by the lovely @readingfan (hope you enjoy it💛!) | my little pea-sized, fred-lane brain made this a fred x reader without me realizing it until seconds before posting this

synopsis: fred and george getting a summer job in a coffee shop where a pretty girl frequents. said pretty girl seems to have fred in a trance. what could possibly go wrong? well, fred knows what could now that an innocent shirt has been ruined.

warnings: reader is described to wear sundresses | mentioned of negative thoughts about oneself (reader has negative thoughts about herself) | fred and george being teens (aged to be 18, idc if it's not canonically plausible) working in retail).

navigation | masterlist | taglist sign-up

- not my gif -

GIF by fgweasley

Summer was supposed to be a time of freedom, long nights, and recklessness and there was nobody else who knew this more than Fred and George. Unfortunately for them, it appears that their summer was going to be nothing but seeing the inside of that damn coffee shop. Fred and George rarely ever regretted a prank, but right now, they were starting to think that perhaps slipping Malfoy that candy that made his skin turn Gryffindor red and his hair a golden snitch gold wasn’t worth this. It also taught them that when Malfoy said his father would hear about this, he actually means it - sometimes.

However, no matter how funny the prank was and how much it was worth all the time they spent planning and agonizing to create the final product, it was not worth this. Not worth the wrinkled fingers that lost all feeling after wiping down every single table and counter in the cafe. Not worth the skin of the heat from the coffee machines. Not worth the horrible experience of dealing with customers. Not to mention uncomfortable uniforms. Forced to wear black jeans, black dress shirts, and a ratty old apron ten other people wore before them.

While George grumbled everyday, hoping and wishing for their return to Hogwarts (something nobody expected to hear), Fred’s summer was not a complete waste. He did not realize this when they applied for their job, but this coffee shop tucked into a hidden alleyway of Diagon Alley was often frequented by a rather pretty girl. In her flowing sundresses, her hair cascading down over her shoulders in soft waves. When he first saw her his knees nearly gave out. Then when she turned to leave (lemonade in hand - it was a hot day) and he caught a glimpse of the white ribbon tying her hair into a half-up, half-down style, George had to catch him because his knees did give out. She looked vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn’t exactly place her.

“She’s in our year, a Hufflepuff,” Hermione had told him one day when she and Ron had visited them. They were out gathering ideas for a present for Harry. “She’s quiet, likes to stick to her routine but doesn’t shy away from new opportunities. She’s in my book club and study club. She has such a beautiful voice but she thinks it's horrible - that’s why she is so quiet.” She revealed after Fred pressed her for more information.

Unfortunately for Fred, he has yet to hear that beautiful voice since he never seems to be on the cash when she comes in or someone beats him to it - usually George as a form of twisted amusement. “Hermione was right. She does have a beautiful voice.” George blinked after the first time he took her order. It was later discovered that the reason she hates her voice was because some Slytherins had poked fun at her in First Year, leaving her with an ugly taste in her mouth and horrible self-confidence. Fred could wring their necks, every last one of them.

Anytime Fred had any downtime, he found himself thinking of her. He knew nothing of her but, yet, she consumed every thought and every dream of his. Such as today. It was a horribly humid and dreadful day. Every door to the coffee shop was open, a cooling spell was placed on the shop but it was barely fighting against the stickiness, and the owner even found some muggle fans and set them up. It was slow, barely anyone wanted to leave their houses and if they did, they surely couldn’t even think about sipping on a coffee - even one of their iced ones since the ice would probably melt before they even took their first sip.

But here was Fred, elbows digging into the counter as he hogged one of the fans. His back was facing the entrance as he moved with the fan which was oscillating. George was in the back, doing work back there but Fred was sure he was just sitting in front of that fan. “Bloody hell.” He groaned, pinching his shirt and pulling it away from him. This was torture.

“Excuse me,” A soft, hesitant voice called to him over the rattling of the fan, startling him. Turning around, his eyes widened when she saw who stood at the counter. Hair pulled up into a high ponytail, bangs hanging around her face from where the shorter strands fell out of the ponytail. Even looking right at her, he saw the ribbon she usually wore in her hair. Today’s was a pretty yellow shade, matching the sundress she wore. It was a pale yellow, nothing that jumped right out at you. “Could I get a large lemonade?” She asked him, blinking sweetly as she rolled up to the balls of her white converse. That voice. He was blown away. He was never going to be the same after hearing that beautiful sound. How could he go on with his life knowing that that voice exists and he isn’t hearing it every second of everyday.

“Yes, of course,” He nodded, rushing to the counter, nearly tripping over himself. “George, can you make a large lemonade?” He yelled out back as he typed away on the till. Instantly, George emerged, a large lemonade in hand.

“Here ya go, Y/N. I knew you would be wanting one of these today. Made it once I heard your voice.” He winked at her and Fred contemplated murdering him right there. He actually considered it when she giggled at his twin, but the sound made him stop. Everybody said her voice was the most beautiful sound, which he could agree with all his heart on now that he heard it, but her giggle. Just thinking about making her laugh made him want to lay on his stomach on his bed and kick his feet like Ginny does whenever Harry says hi to her.

“Thank you, George,” She smiled thankfully, holding out her hand. Almost as if under a spell, Fred reached his hand out, palm facing up. With her sweet smile turning to Fred, she dropped a handful of sickles in his palm. Her fingers brushed against the palm of his hand, sending shivers and sparks running through his nerves. “That’s enough for the lemonade and ten sickles for you guys to split for a tip. Thank you, Fred.”

The shock sent to Fred’s system was immense when she said his name. She knew his name. She knew his name. He opened and closed his mouth as she turned on her heel, her skirt flaring up adorably, her ponytail and ribbon flaring up as well and off she went into the dreadful heat, making Fred’s day so much better.

____

It was a rush. Possibly the biggest rush Fred and George have ever experienced at the shop. The queue was running out of the door. Perhaps everyone just now realized that summer was coming to a close and just now decided to emerge from their lazy, hazy, summer daze to enjoy the days. This, of course, made Fred miserable.

Instead of enjoying their time, patrons were making their lives a living hell. And for what? Amusement? What was the reason he had to get yelled at by a man because his coffee was too hot to drink? He questioned if it was possible that these people got some sort of happiness from throwing adult hissyfits and yelling at underpaid, overworked employees. Did they have some sort of odd kink? Did it fill a missing void? Whatever it was, Fred quite frankly did not want to be part of it.

However, when he saw that shining face in the queue, her nose buried in her book as she read so intently. She wore her hair down aside from two locks of hair tied back into a braid, secured by a light blue ribbon today. When he saw her, he froze for a moment. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. The way the sun burned through the dirty windows (that seemed to have fingerprint smudged permanently tattooed on it) and hit her like a golden spotlight. The way her finger absentmindedly stroked the cover of her book as she read.

“Excuse me,” The customer in front of him barked. He jolted back to reality. Frankly, he already was in reality since Y/N was completely gorgeous. There was no fantasy about that. She was perfect. The fantasy was that she had feelings for him or at least thought he was cute. “Did you get my order?” The man, a short, plump man with an angry red nose despite the beautiful summer day they were having, grumbled.

“One medium coffee. Would you like that iced or with anything in it?” Fred asked the normal questions, bracing himself for the normal response he usually received from people with certain mannerisms.

The man’s nose seemed to get even more red. “Of course I don’t. If I wanted it another way, I would have ordered it another way. What do I look like? An idiot? Rowena, you kids these days, needing to have things iced and sweetened. Whatever happened to the good British taste? Black coffee. That is what I want-”

“That will be 3 sickles, Sir.” Fred read the total off, noticing how Y/N glanced up, rolling onto her tiptoes to take note of what was taking so long. He wanted to get this nasty old man out of his line so that she could get on with her day. Her day shouldn’t be wasted in this shop waiting in line.

“Here, keep the change.” The man basically tossed the sickles at Fred. Four sickles.

“Some change,” Fred whispered under his breath, putting three sickles in the till and dropping one in the communal tip jar. That naked a total of five sickles in tips. “Have a nice day, sir,” Fred faked a smile as the man waddled off to the pick-up area, barking at George to hurry up. “I can help whoever is next.” “Two people until her.” Fred thought.

“Hi, could we get two lemonades? Mediums please,” The teen girl giggled, eyes staring up at Fred sweetly. Fred nodded, writing the order down and sliding it along the counter. Harrison, the manager, grabbed it to start making it. “So, we’ll be seeing you at Hogwarts in a couple of weeks, right, George?” She asked with a bat of her eyelashes, still getting his name wrong despite his name tag being basically eye level with her. He could see Y/N look up from her book, snickering slightly behind her book.

“I’m actually Fred. And yes. That will be seven sickles today.” Fred read off their total, holding his hand out for their money.

“Oh, sorry. You both are so handsome, it’s hard to tell you apart.” She flirted with a wink, dropping exactly seven sickles in his hand.

“Have a nice day,” He nodded to them as they wandered off with linked arms to bother George. “Next please!” He just needed to take care of this one customer and then she would be at his cash. Evidently, she noticed this as she was tucking her book into her bag and pulling out her coin wallet. He watched her intently, somehow managing to take the customer’s order and recite the amount of money he needed.

He watched as she counted the sickles she had pulled out before pulling out two more coins before doing some math in her head. He could tell since her eyes flicked around and she used her free hand to wiggle her fingers as if counting on them. “Have a nice day.” He wasn’t even sure what that customer ordered, but he must have done it right.

And up stepped the person he was waiting for. Y/N stepped up with a bounce, smiling brightly at him. He wanted to faint right there. There she was, standing there and it overwhelmed him so much that his nervous system was going haywire on him. “Hi, Freddie!” She seemed to have gotten much more comfortable. She was more bubbly and talkative with him and his brother. She even started to call them by nicknames. It warmed Fred’s heart to the point it might burst.

“Hi, Y/N, what can I get for you today?” He asked, trying to calm his racing heart and malfunctioning nervous system. He was in fight-or-flight with the secret third option: faint.

“Just a large iced coffee. I am trying to finish off the last book on my book club’s summer reading list and I decided I might as well change up the scenery.” She explained, her voice much more even and comfortable. Not the same reluctant, soft voice she had when she first talked to him. And if he thought that voice was beautiful, then this voice was perfect. Alluring. Charming. Cute. Marvelous. Dazzling. Delicate. Stunning. Splendid. Gorgeous. Lovely. Any synonym there was for beautiful because this voice was so much better.

Before he could even tell her the total, she handed him the sickles she had counted out prior to the interaction. She always did it. “Three sickles for the iced coffee and how many for the tip?” He asked, knowing exactly how she worked things.

“Fifteen. Five for everyone who worked today,” She smiled as she rolled up to the balls of her feet - something he found that she did often. The line was gone aside from her and part of Fred wished it would stay away so she could stand there talking to him, but unfortunately someone walked in. “I’ll leave you to it, Fred.” She smiled at him. It appeared sad and part of him hoped that she felt upset about having to part from him.

He watched her walk over to George who held her coffee out to her. Sharing pleasantries, she headed off to one of the many tables. Taking her normal table by the window. “Alright boys. I am heading out, I’ll be back in two hours to close it down.” Harrison told them. That was most likely the last rush of the day. People didn’t tend to frequent the coffee shop near close. They gave him nods as he left.

Thirty minutes and they hadn’t stopped. Anytime they saw a lull coming, once they served one customer, two more would come. Just as Fred turned his back, taking a deep breath as the attack stopped, he heard the approaching footsteps of someone. He wanted to roll his eyes and outwardly show the resentment he had felt, but he didn’t feel the same hostility he had felt with the last few customers. Part of him should have known why before he turned around, but sometimes he isn’t always on the ball.

As he turned around, he was pleasantly shocked to see Y/N standing there at the counter again, her head down as she inspected the wet patch on her blue sundress. After a few seconds of silence, she looked up, hand hovering over the patch on the center of her torso. “Hey, Fred, again,” She smiled, a bit awkwardly as she didn’t usually come up after she got her order unless it was to say bye to the boys (something rather new after she got comfortable with them). “Do you think I could get a napkin? That last customer who left kind of knocked into me a bit and I got the last bit of iced coffee on me-” She cut herself off as Fred reacted without thinking, grabbing the back of his brother’s black shirt and ripping it off of him.

“Here you go, Y/N.” He handed it to her. Shocked, she took it from him. George just stood there, blinking at his brother as if he had gone completely mad. Fred considered this a sign that perhaps, working nearly every single day of the summer had made him cracked in the head. Slowly, looking at the face Y/N was making, he came back into his body. It was as if seeing Y/N in need made him go into autopilot, doing whatever he needed to to resolve the issue Y/N was facing.

“Fred, what in Godric's name?” George questioned, still a bit shocked that his brother completely ripped the back of his shirt off, leaving just his sleeves and the front. It was silent as the three of them all looked at each other, trying to make sense of the situation. Fred couldn’t even remember his brain telling him to do that, let alone any thought of ripping his brother’s shirt.

The silence was broken by the sweet giggles of Y/N. Fred nearly gave himself whiplash turning his head to look at her. There she stood, on the other side of the counter, one hand holding the tattered shreds of George’s shirt, the other one hovering over her mouth as her giggled turned into laughter, eyes crinkling closed. “Oh my Helga,” She pressed her lips together, her purely magnetic eyes opening and meeting Fred’s with a zing being sent through Fred’s body like electricity (which this summer, he discovered was pretty dangerous). “I needed that, Freddie. That guy who bumped my arm as a complete arse-” Fred blinked, that might have been the most foul he had ever heard her talk, though Hermione had told him she had said much worse about some of the guys in their year. “You know exactly what to do to make people laugh, it’s an amazing gift,” She nodded at him, a large smile hanging off her lips. “Thank you, see you at Hogwarts if I am not in next week.” She whispered as she rolled onto the balls of her feet.

Before Fred could react, she was pressing her lips against his cheek. Her sweet looking lips felt even sweeter against the now burning flesh of his freckled cheeks. He knew that now he felt her lips, he wasn’t going to be able to stop thinking about how they would feel against his own lips, but right now his brain was empty. He couldn’t function as she pulled away, heels crashing to the ground. A bashful smile stayed on her lips as she waved to the pair of them, Fred so far gone he barely even registered the fact that her lips were no longer touching him - probably due to the fact that the tingling he felt was still there. When he finally came back into his body again, Y/N and her bashfulness had left with her book tucked under her arm for almost five minutes. Blinking around, Fred saw the basically empty shop, the only person lingering being someone who had been there for two hours now. Looking to his side, he felt George’s “what the hell” look before he saw it. Winching, nervous about his brother’s wrath. “Sorry about the shirt, George.”

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