#george is getting gray hairs

[navysvettel]

charles: what happens if i press the brake and the accelerator at the same time?

lando: the car takes a screenshot

george: for the last time, that's not how it works

[lonainfield]

i think it only dawns on me how young john was when he was murdered when i see the other beatles in 1980 and think "ah. back when they were young!"

[hanasnx]

“ BUT I’M TOO TIRED TO GO TO SLEEP TONIGHT ” — fred weasley.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: fem reader ノ smoking: cigs ノ romance.

FRED WEASLEY wakes you up real late, you barely see him in the dull light. he’s all bundled up, whispering, “get your coat, c’mon.” groggily, you follow him to some hall you don’t recognize, yawning through your question as to your destination. he grabs your hand, and you sober up a bit. “just trust me.” he tells you. and you do. he takes a shortcut behind a statue, and the cold reaches you before you exit the mouth of the cave and up a ladder. and when you emerge, snow falls into your lashes, and you can see your breath. he pulls you up and out by your arm. “amazing, isn’t it?” he asks, husky from the thinner air.

it’s dark, and the snow crunches under your boots as he takes you to stand aside a little shack. “george was knocked out cold, couldn’t drag him here if i wanted to.” he muses, and a weak scoff emits from your throat, mirroring him as he leans his back against the wood. the ginger ends of his hair lick out from the beanie he wears.

“what are we here to do, exactly?” you question tentatively, wary he’ll chastise you for not trusting him. he glances at you, and you feel small under his gaze. he breaks the trance to rifle around in his pockets.

“ah.” he exclaims as he retrieves it. a little beaten gray box. your brows furrow as your arms wrap around yourself for warmth, shivering in the wind. “here we are.” he flashes the front of it to you, and you tilt your head for a better look. you don’t get it until he opens it up and knocks a familiar stick from it. a white paper tube with a tanned end. he offers it to you, and you swallow, hesitantly reaching to pinch it between your brittle fingers. he takes one himself after you. “had an urge, needed some company. hope you don’t mind.”

you inspect the cigarette, rolling it between the pads of your fingers. his lighter sparks to life, and with the help of his cupping hand it’s able to light the end of his cig. “i didn’t know you smoked. where’d you even get this?” you inquire with a crease of disbelief in your brow.

“dad’s been trying to kick the habit, hides ‘em all around the house.” the crackle of burning paper makes you pivot your head to watch him, his cheeks hollowing as he takes a drag and blows it out in a steady stream of smoke. “his work with muggles took him a little too far into their more dangerous inventions, easy to get wrapped up in it, i suppose.” he speaks from experience, you can hear it in his voice. your questioning gaze alerts him, meeting your eyes to come to his own defense. “i don’t do it all the time. c’mere.”

so as to not seem inexperienced, you recall what he did before with his cigarette, and mimic it in your own actions. you lean in to his cupped hand while his thumb swipes at the lighter, sparks spray in front of your nose a couple times before it enflames. you don’t breathe in, and the light goes out.

“here.” he instructs gently, “cup your hand- like this.” you do as he says, raising your palm to curl as his does, protecting the flame, and brushing your hands together. you nearly jump out of your skin, but he follows your jerk, keeping your hands next to each other while he flicks the zippo. as soon as the fire flickers to life, he adds, “breathe in.” you inhale deeply, sucking in, and it’s hot against the back of your throat, squeezing your eyes shut as you retreat. a feather of smoke spills from the end, but you can’t focus on anything else other than the pain in your lungs, fit to burst. you yank the cig from your mouth, and cough out the smoke, couldn’t hold it in even if you wanted to, but you try to stifle yourself to avoid this humiliating feeling. the back of your hand covers your mouth, and you feel an arm snake around you. “oh, right. s’your first time. forgot that happens.” he draws you into his side, letting you cough it out while he strokes on your back. he reaches around and plucks the cigarette from your grip to get it out of your way, and your hands fly to cup your neck, tears stinging your eyes.

after you calm, you realize where exactly you are right now. and your body temperature rises despite the environment. the paper pinched between his knuckles is offered back to you, bobs in view to signal you to take it. you clear your burning throat, and a shaking hand retrieves it. it frees up his hand so he can pull his own from his mouth to blow out the smoke. suddenly the smell is making you feel a little queasy.

his palm on your upper arm jostles you gently, “you alright there, birdie?” that embarrassment comes back, blooming heat onto your cheeks, fighting the cold. you’re sure your nose is frozen by now.

you nod. “mm-hmm.” he nods back, looking out onto the snow.

“we’ll head back soon.” but you’re not in too much of a rush, instead you give it another go after a few seconds. you take a much smaller sip, and he keeps his arm around you. it’s quiet, and you start shaking for a different reason. it’s rare you’re ever alone with fred, and you always make a fool of yourself when you are. warily, your peer over to the side, following the sight with your pivoting head, and you squeak at the feeling of lips against yours. a warm face pressed against your cold one, confusing you with differing temperatures that your brain can’t separate.

you’re too stunned, too frigid. an inflexible mouth receives a confession of desire. the cigarette drops from your brittle fingers.

on the way back it’s quiet then too, but the cigarette has since calmed your nerves, an artificial kind of serene, following him back like a ghost. you eye his hanging hand, and you gain the courage to lace your fingers with his—he’d just kissed you after all.

[writingdungeon-inactive]

SDV Bachelor domestic headcanons

MDNI

Just some headcanons, not anything nsfw but they are adults, and I hit the zaaaaa so these will be dumb, like dumb dumb

Alex:

He has full-on elbowed you when he woke up a few times. Forgive him he's not used to sleeping with someone and he likes to stretch when he wakes up. 

If you have a dog he’s definitely buying one of those running leashes, the one that goes around the hips. Who will tire who out first?

Usually the dog gives out first, and he carries them back home cooing at them like they are a baby… they are

Modifies your home with Robin's help so George and Evelyn can visit

Evelyn, how did you feed this boi? He’s burning through calories 

Especially after helping pick up the farm work…. Sweaty Alex… Cowboy lookin fine ass… Horny jail….

Elliott:

Journals EVERYWHERE, all of them have different ideas, title workings, and little ideas that just popped into his head.

Sits on the front porch head in hand watching you pick fruit, mumbling something like

From tiny seeds to branches high. With gentle hands, they pluck the prize.

Loves to shower with you, he just holds you helps wash your hair, and scrubs your back. Tell you how pretty/handsome you are.

Bought you both matching bathrobes

Tell me he doesn't sleep with a bonnet, look at that silky hair. 

Matching silk pillowcase as well

I imagine this man is a mover in his sleep, and wakes up lookin like the Peter Griffin dead pose meme

Harvey:

The first night yall are married he cant sleep, he's just watching you. Playing with your hair giggling like he was high, he was high of how happy he was.

Has just as many self-care products if not more then Elliott, his mustache looks sculpted, you don't get that look without gel and a little mustache comb

He has a little pocket mustache comb you bought him as a joke but he loves it

Wears an apron when he cooks. Wait where did his go? Why is there a maid one in its place.... Horny Jail....

Charges you for passing out or almost dying to fund his therapy visits, you caused this farmer, look at the gray hairs.

Silver fox Harvey that's all I'm saying

Sebastian:

Good luck getting out of bed, hes like a fuckin backpack

Wakes up eyes not even open just pawing around for whatever hes trying to find.

Eyes are all bloodshot cus he was up all night working, sitting on the porch with his coffee, smoking, petting your pet

Doesn't fully wake up till about high noon

Helps out on the farm, but still does his own thing.

Stays out late with Sam and Abigail practicing for their upcoming gig, you both usually see each other returning home around one am

Momma Boi still goes to Robins for dinner every now and again

Sam:

Puppy at your heels, you go one way hes there. Forgot something? Turn around and trip over his feet

Loves living on the farm with you because now he can crank the tunes all the way up, and you can hear his speakers while you're in the field

Falls asleep anywhere, the porch, the couch, lying down in the grass with the dog/cat

If you cooked it hes eating it, he does the same for his mom

When Kent is back he babysits Vincent some nights

Speaking of, when he Vincent and Jas all get together good luck on the unsuspecting person about to get pranked.

Shane

Its law you adopt Jas, i said it, it cant be broken

Taking Jas to school, returning and helping you with the farm

He and Jas chant “Pizza,Pizza,Pizza” over and over when you ask what is for dinner

Warm, squishy, cuddly, bear hugs in the morning. Hes another backpack boi

When he's awake though, unless you are at home, light PDA

Works with Haley to learn his video camera more, its another hobby to keep him busy

First time seeing you wearing one of his shirts, the shirt is no longer on you… Horny Jail…

[kedsandtubesocks]

seasons of you (year 1 - spring)

Farmer!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: it’s your very first spring living in the valley & you’re very sure Joel Miller already wants you leave

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, stardew valley AU, reader is a new farmer & has a family but no physical description, mentions of unspecified age gap (reader’s age is not mentioned but Joel is older & in his 50’s) very light use of gendered language, handyman & farmer!Joel, grumpy!Joel, wound tending & blood imagery, discussion of family loss with light navigation of grief, Ellie being Joel’s daughter, secret softie!Joel, alcohol consumption mention, use of nickname, budding romance

word count: 5.4k

a/n: our first ‘Joel’ fic for our stardew AU series! Here’s to starting this new aventure with y’all! I couldn’t have the strength to post this without @swiftispunk @lowlights @ahauntedcowboy @burntheedges @perotovar you angels don’t know how much I appreciate y’all and am so grateful for you babes…and to you, if you read this - I’m so thankful for you too ♡

No one in Pelican Town hates you more than Joel Miller does. George, the crabby older elderly man in town, might be a close second, but Joel has him beat by miles.

For someone so incredibly handsome, almost beautiful in a rugged wilderness way with his misty mountain gray hair and sharp lovely nose, his glare could wither your entire family farm’s field.

“He’s just an ass sometimes.” Your Dad had told you with a sigh over the phone. “Been that way even when your gramps was around.”

At first you didn’t want to fully admit it but yeah, Joel is a prickly cactus of a man.

He owns a farm further down the path from yours. You love walking by it when you take the long way home and getting to spot all the sheep roaming around his fields. He’s also the town’s handyman.

“A jack of all trades, more like it.” Pierre, the main store owner, snickered that to you while Joel was in the store fixing a light fixture.

After that Joel helped you set up your first fencing gate. Then he fixed your sink. And then your water heater.

It’s been a lot and you know it. You feel guilty at how bad you can’t seem to get a hang of this new life yet. Your grandpa did it, thrived even. You can too, or you hope you can.

Until Joel glares at you like you’re a bug ready to squash, then you feel incredibly small.

Once you physically and accidentally ran into him walking out of the blacksmith’s shop when he was heading in. You sputtered out an apology, but without a single word Joel walked past you as if you weren’t even worth his time.

One night you went to the town’s saloon hoping to maybe mingle and get to know everyone better. But simply seeing him sitting inside made you turn on your heels and scramble out.

From that point on you’ve been avoiding him.

But now unfortunately, a few paces away from Joel Miller’s farm, your hand bleeds out a bit aggressively.

“Shit.” You hiss, slipping off your backpack to search for your mini first aid kit.

Yesterday you stubbornly tried fixing your fence and accidentally scrapped your hand pretty bad against the wood. Earlier you believed you wrapped it good enough but now the blood soaking through the bandaid mocks you.

“You alright?!”

The sharp accented drawl rings out loud in the early morning and fear collides into you.

Of course Joel hadn’t left for the morning.

You yell back that you’re fine but scramble frantic now trying to find the damn first aid kit.

“Is that blood?” Joel snaps, sounding closer, as his boots rush against the dirt.

“No, I spilled paint.” You grumble to yourself annoyed.

“M’old but I fuckin’ heard that.” Damn.

He’s much closer now, so close his shadow falls over you but you refuse to look at him.

“What happened!?” He barks confused.

Sighing, you give up hope on finding the poor elusive first aid kit.

“Just cut my hand, that's all. It isn’t deep. I’m fine.” You reassure him.

Joel sighs angrily.

“Come on.”

Now you turn and discover his soil eyes stare at you with such a steeled intensity you almost want to scurry away.

“Fixin’ this up inside.” He doesn’t even ask or let you leave. With one yank Joel Miller pulls you towards his farmhouse.

“I’m fine.” You snap back.

“What? Just wanna let it bleed ‘n get everywhere?” An edge in Joel’s voice silences you.

Any argument you wanted to hiss out immediately floats away the moment you cross the threshold into his house. Your eyes go wide. You never once thought you’d ever see the inside of Joel Miller’s place.

It’s larger than your grandpa's.

Joel deposits you into his kitchen. The lingering smell of breakfast, possibly oatmeal with its warm cinnamon notes, hangs in the air. Yet you feel like a caught feral cat that doesn’t know how to react being inside a house for the first time.

So you let your eyes wander.

Beautiful wood cupboards line the walls. A fridge is covered with various papers held up by sweet colorful cartoonish magnets you never would’ve expected from him. A worn cozy, well loved, couch peeks out from the slight view of the living room you spot being inside the kitchen.

Joel’s house seems knitted together by a rustic weathered comfort. Yet, there’s a hollowness to the house, like it’s waiting for more spirit to fill the halls. You can’t pinpoint or describe the stillness here in this place, but you sense it.

After rustling around a drawer, Joel yanks out a rather impressive medical kit. Largely bulky and intimidating, like him, it’s no surprise a handyman and farmer has such a first aid kit.

“How’d it happen?” Joel asks gruff and quiet as he rummages around the bag.

You tell him and his seasoned face scrunches up frustrated.

“Why didn’t ya call and have me go fix it?”

You thought about that. But you couldn’t handle the thought of asking him to help again, to deal with his frustrated sighs and gruff annoyance. He barely said a word to you last weekend when he went to check your sink again.

“Don’t need you to fix everything.” You tell him composed while Joel pulls out various things to wrap your wound.

“Besides, I can fix things on my own.” You add firm.

“Not all the time.” He replies.

You stay quiet and watch his hands, large and callous, gingerly dab away all the crimson from your cut.

He’s never been this close to you. You catch the faintest smell of wood and of something clean crisp, his laundry detergent maybe. It threatens to fog your senses knowing he smells this lovely.

“Y’dont ask for help and shit like this happens.”

Your face hardens at Joel’s words. You even childishly want to yank away your hand and storm off.

“Look I get it, you barely tolerate me and think I can’t do shit. I know I’m still new, but this was an accident. It happens.” Your words come out harsher than you intended, sharpened scythes that cut through the room, and Joel freezes.

“I don’t think that.” He replies clear as a spring blue sky.

You want to bark a laugh of disbelief, but instead you simply stay silent.

Joel sighs, keeping his eyes on the medic tape he readies.

“And I… tolerate you.” He sputters like he’s trying to muster the words out.

A moment passes. Then Joel sighs, ancient and heavy.

“Don’t mind me. M’just some grumpy old fuck-”

“Hey you’re not old. You’re just grumpy.” You interrupt trying to ease the mood and your heart jumps hearing him snort.

“M’old.” He clarifies. He is older, older than you, and that fact creates a strange flutter in your chest you don’t want to explore just yet.

“And…don’t want ya feelin’ like shit.” He continues with a curt softness.

You never knew his voice could sound this layered, so tough but tender.

“Just tryin’ to look out for ya like your gramps asked me too.”

There’s a strange apology shaded in his words but you manage to catch it. A rush of emotions drown you in their current.

“You were close with my grandpa.” You comment with a curious question lingering below the surface.

“Yeah,” Joel answers low now tenderly moving to wrap your hand. “His ol’ ass used to keep me in place.”

You smirk fondly. That sounds like your gramps.

“Miss seein’ him walk by this place and hearin’ him complain that he likes the sheep more than me.”

Joel’s fond and aching voice digs its hooks into your soul. You miss gramps too, so much.

“Used to fish a lot together out by the lake.” He adds.

This is the most Joel Miller has ever spoken to you and you worry the sun might fall out of the sky soon.

“I bet he out fished you.” You tease soft.

Joel snorts. “Damn right he did.”

You can almost picture it clearly, your gramps and Joel laughing together, having a friendship.

“He’d be proud of ya.” Joel mutters but his words chime clear.

Your attention flickers to Joel. He keeps his focus steady on your hand. However his words crystallize deep in your heart and you blink away tears. You ever expected Joel Miller to almost make you cry like this.

“Thanks…means a lot.” You truthfully tell him while you swallow back the heartache and love threatening to spill over.

“He’d also say you’re a fuckin’ stubborn thing for not askin’ for help.”

You snort at that.

“Well you knew the old guy, it runs in the family.” You reply.

Joel chuckles.

It’s small - like the faint flash of seeing a cardinal in the trees. But you heard it, his amusement, and it’s lovely for a man quietly layered as him.

“Alright, all fixed up.”

The wrap is tight, secure, and speaks of his many times previously doing this before.

“Thank you Joel, appreciate it.” You do.

“Can't be a handyman if I can’t fix up people sometimes.” He shrugs but there’s a deadpan charm to his words you’re slowly catching now.

“Doctor and a handyman, no wonder the town keeps you around.” So you dryly joke back.

This moment isn’t much. Yet it feels like gaining a good step in the direction of something right and solid.

Gathering your things, you decide to head out. Even though curiosity claws at you to take in a few more moments being inside Joel Miller’s home, you have seeds to buy.

“Where ya headin’’ to?” Joel asks.

“Pierre’s.” You huff. “Need more parsnips.”

He hums a noise of acknowledgment.

Back outside the mid morning sun’s warmth soaks you in its gaze. Maybe you could fish for a bit before you head to the store. After all, the weather is so nice.

“Hey.” Joel barks out and before heading back on the road, you turn to him.

He’s a sight on his porch. You think of the typical romance movies of the handsome farmer trying to woo the newcomer in town and how right now he puts them all to shame.

Hands crossed over his chest, his broad shoulders seem like mountains against the doorway, so striking and large taking up the entire focus.

“Don’t hesitate to call y’hear? Don’t fuckin’ care what it is or what it’s for, call me.” Joel’s face is hardened and serious, reflecting the unwavering tone in his voice.

Something heated crawls up your throat and makes you dizzy. You blame it on the blood loss.

“Besides, s’what neighbors are for, right?” He adds a bit awkwardly.

It hits you. He’s the closest homestead to you. You are neighbors with him.

“Alright will do, promise.” You nod and mean your words.

“Thanks again neighbor.” Those words tingle on your lips.

Joel nods and with that you head out.

You’re on such a strange high you simply float straight to the pier and fish. It’s comforting being among the crashing waves, the sea breeze, and the wonderful weather. You also think of your gramps and Joel here.

But by the time the sky starts to turn into a ripe tangerine you realize in horror you forget to buy more seeds.

You almost scream in anguish when you find Pierre’s doors locked. Accepting momentary defeat, you head home.

When you reach your porch, there against the steps a bundle of parsnip seeds and a small pack of bandaids sit waiting for you.

- ☼ -

Your hope to quietly enjoy the egg festival, your true first event here in the valley, is diminished when Mayor Lewis practically drags you into the egg hunt saying it’s a rite of passage.

His deadly polite politician smile said there was no way you could worm your way out of participating. So you simply start the hunt thinking of the strawberry seeds you can’t wait to plant once this is over.

You’re not overly competitive, but these eggs are getting harder to find. You want to finish at least with some dignity.

Besides the area around Stardrop Saloon you scan every inch like a hawk. Someone coughs, clearing their throat, and it catches your attention.

Under the shade of the building, nursing a cold drink, Joel slightly turns towards you.

Now instead of a hawk you feel like a surprised field mouse caught in his gaze.

Without saying anything Joel flickers his eyes a couple of times towards the corner of the building. Is he giving you a hint?

Heading to the spot his eyes vaguely guided you to, you discover a colorful egg.

You almost want to keep it as proof this happened. Joel helped you.

By the time the egg hunt ends everyone already seems to be packing up and the mysterious Mr. Miller has vanished from the commotion.

Abigail wins the egg hunt and you aren’t even upset. In fact you walk home feeling like a champion.

The next morning on the help wanted and errands bulletin board in town you spot Joel’s name. Below it is a request asking for a small pack of wood.

You readily answer it and drop off the bundle eagerly, a way to help pay him back for everything.

The pretty decent payment he gives you is nice but the crooked soft hint of a grin on his face when you arrive to deliver the request is worth iridium.

A few days after that he mails you a recipe. The letter is so simply Joel - a straightforward recipe then a scribbled JM below it. You hang the letter up proudly on your fridge.

Spring blooms more and more before your eyes.

You decide to take advantage of it by foraging for the day.

“Where y’heading?”

You’ve been taking the long way to the forest these past few weeks in hopes of seeing him again. Now that you’re not actively avoiding him, you discover, small town or not, Joel is a surprisingly busy man.

When you catch glimpses of him, instead of glares being thrown your way, Joel Miller simply nods acknowledging you. Comforting as it is to know he doesn’t outright detest, you don’t like how much you hope to run into him more.

Now he’s here sliding on his backpack while moving to lock his gate.

“Just heading to the forest, gonna forage and walk around for the day.” You answer him.

“Works out, hafta head that way myself.” Joel explains falling into step besides you.

Alone with Joel Miller once again.

The small talk comes - asking each other how your days have been, anything new or interesting happening. The heat is starting to pick up announcing summer’s close arrival. Thankfully it’s still not unbearably hot as you and him fully enter the woods.

Cindersap forest is tranquil. A beautiful glimmering evergreen haven you enjoy simply strolling through. You never thought you’d ever be here with Joel.

“No new crops coming in?”

“Nothing exciting.” You shrug. “I’m more upset that I didn't plant any tulips this season.”

“Those your favorite?” Joel asks, surprisingly curious.

“Not mine, my gramps.” Your memories of the farm might be hazy, but you always remembered fresh tulips in the kitchen.

“They’re for the fairies.” Gramps would tell you with a wink.

You were bummed after realizing Pierre had flower seeds and it was too late to see them bloom in your kitchen.

“Damn,” Joel sighs. “Ain't your fault. Pierre’s an ass and hides all the good shit, flower seeds included.”

You’re almost positive Pierre doesn’t do that, but you burst out laughing.

A giddy twinkling glee consumes you and fills you buoyant. He’s trying to comfort you in his own Joel way. And it’s dangerous how fast you’re growing to enjoy the company of this grumpy cactus of a man.

You move to snag a few dandelions and wild horseradishes. You make a face at one that smells a bit ripe and decide to leave it for the forest.

“You can eat those y’know.” Joel comments.

“Yeah so I’ve heard.” You tried your first ever daffodil this month. “A wild horseradish might be a bit too much right now though, but who knows. Maybe one day I’ll try ‘em.”

“My kid used to eat these all the damn time. Never took a likin’ to ‘em myself.” Joel grumbles kicking the disposed horseradish.

Kid.

“You have a kid?” You ask curiously.

Joel blinks to you and there’s a gleam in his earth eyes of something reserved slowly revealing itself.

“Uh… yeah. A daughter. Ellie.”

A daughter. He’s a dad.

It fits him in a way that you never would have expected.

“She doesn’t live here?” You ask but then quickly apologize for pressing the subject. Joel waves you off, casual and unbothered.

“She did, just graduated highschool this year. Wanted to do the whole college deal. She lives out west now.”

So he’s an empty nester.

Delicately, wanting to know more about him and his daughter, you ask about her.

Joel inhales deep then exhales slowly, as if an immovable weight on his shoulders rattles deep to his bones.

“She’s a headache, my Ellie.” Fondness trickles out of Joel a steady stream.

“Stubborn, damn near impossible to argue with cause she’s so fuckin’ smart. Got a good heart. Good head on her shoulders too, wants to be an astronaut.”

“An astronaut?! That’s incredible!” You exclaim in brilliant excitement.

Like the proud dad he is, adoration tugs at Joel’s lips.

“Yeah, been wantin’ to be one for years. That’s why she’s going to school.”

“She sounds incredible, Joel. You must be proud.” You earnestly tell him.

“I am…” His voice is thick, and you don’t miss the way his eyes gloss over distant and misty.

You decide not to press the subject any further. He instead does it for you.

“She loved livin’ here until the damn flower festival rolled around. Then she’d swear up ‘n down about how much she hated this town and was gonna leave the second she could.”

The flower festival is just days away. The town swirls in a controlled chaos for its arrival.

You laugh warm. “I’m guessing she’s not a fan of dancing.”

“Takes after me.” Joel nods.

“Ahh…so guess that means you’re not asking anyone to dance this year.” You comment lightly and Joel snorts.

“Ain’t danced with anyone in a very long time.”

A wistful ace now twists your heart thinking of Joel alone in his home, alone watching the others in town pair off.

“You gonna ask anyone?” Joel turns the question around to you and you almost choke on an inhale.

Not wanting to get flustered or react wildly you focus on the wild springs among the lush forest.

“Uh no. Don’t think anyone wants to dance with the newbie in town. Which is fine.” You answer.

There are lovely and gorgeous people in town. Some have caught your eye. However, you didn’t feel brave or interested enough to ask anyone to dance. And no one seemed intended to ask for your hand in the dance, and you find you’re not too upset about that.

Joel hums low, a sign you’re catching on means he’s listening without having to reply much.

“Hopin’ someone will ask ya to dance?” That question takes you by surprise.

You shrug not wanting to fully answer the question either.

Someone suddenly calls out to Joel from behind. At the edge of the forest leading back into town stands Maria, the town’s legal counsel and assistant mayor.

“Caught playing hooky, busted.” You snicker and Joel scoffs.

Maria yells out Joel’s name again.

“Can you come back to town and help us with something? Thought you’d be at home seeing how it’s your day off today. I’ve been trying to call ya but nothing went through.” She yells.

The service here in the forest was awful compared to the town, a hard lesson you’ve learned quickly.

But you also don’t miss Maria’s comment.

Joel had today off. Yet he decided to stay a bit with you. That thought has teeth and you can’t stop their bite from sinking into your heart.

Joel groans but doesn't hesitate to head towards where the assistant mayor stands. Maria of course spots you and a wonderful grin lights up lovely her face.

“It’s good to see you.” She calls out.

“You too!” You reply back thankful your voice is level.

Joel glances over his shoulder to catch your eye.

“Good luck foragin’. Don’t eat any weird shit.”

You sputter out a squawk at his casual comment.

“Next time I see you, I’m giving you a wild horseradish!” You playfully snap the ridiculous reply before you can even stop yourself, but Joel thankfully rolls his eyes unbothered.

Maria’s eyes however flicker curiously between you and Joel. Too many emotions heat up your skin now. So bidding Joel and Maria a quick goodbye you stomp back into the forest to continue foraging.

Now along in the woods, your thoughts still think of Joel. The bag of parsnip seeds, the bandages, and the recipe, come to mind. You never once discussed any of it with him or him with you. It’s something you keep locked in your heart, just like today will be.

Soon the day melts into early twilight. You snag a couple of dandelions and a few other forageables before deciding to head home.

Joel’s farm house looms quietly still with no lights. You can’t bring yourself to open the gate to his farm and walk up to the house.

So instead you place a few dandelions along with a nice fresh large wild horseradish on top of the mailbox by his gate then head home.

Even when you unwind for the night, you mind still feels like it’s snagged on Joel Miller, still there with him foraging in the forest.

- ☼ -

The flower dance, as strange of a custom as it is, is rather ethereal. So many vivid floral arrangements decorate the space with dynamic colors and the air even smells fresh.

The flower dance honors the legacy of celebrating the final days of spring. But it also is a celebration of love blooming.

“It has roots dating back to fertility rituals.” Demetrius, ever the town scientist, told you while you were chatting with him and his wife.

He was right of course. The flower dance is the opportunity for someone to extend a hand of romantic feelings towards another. Those who hope to participate in the couples dance, or possibly win the crown of Flower Queen, are dressed in glorious attire. Soft light fabrics and flowers woven into crowns create a scene conjured out of a fairy’s kingdom.

Compared to the others in lovely attire with flowers in their hair, you didn’t even dress up or change out of your messy dirt covered jeans. And the only flowers in your hair are actually twigs and leaves from cleaning up more of your property.

With no need to worry about someone asking you to dance, you instead simply enjoy the various foods prepared for the occasion.

“Be careful, the salsa actually has a pretty good kick.” You’re about to go in for a second helping when a gentle accented voice floats out to you.

Besides you is a man with the kindest eyes you’ve seen. Faintly you recognize his face and can recall seeing him around town.

“Tommy Miller.” He reintroduces himself seeing your slight hesitation and your eyes go big.

“Oh, Maria’s husband!” You fully remember her introducing him to you. But now something else clicks.

He’s Joel’s brother.

“Yup.” He grins proud at his wife’s mention.

You apologize profusely for not remembering him sooner and with a kind understanding smile Tommy reassures you it’s fine.

“Been a busy first month for ya, I get it. You’re a tough cookie handlin’ it all.”

Even though his twang mirrors his brother’s, Tommy already radiates a much different energy than Joel. He’s warm in a way that reminds you of a soft summer day welcoming everyone with his vibrant energy.

You thank him earnestly. “The town’s been good to me.”

A part of you wants to add Joel has been good to you. Weeks ago, you would’ve laughed at just the idea of Joel Miller showing you an emotion other than annoyance. But now you and him seem to slowly be warming up to each other.

“Don’t go stealin’ all the good stuff, y’little shit.” Joel arrives with a gruff grumble of a voice and quickly nudges Tommy.

Yet his eyes remained glued on you.

You also seem to notice how striking Joel looks in the crisp light jean button up shirt he wears.

“Speak of the devil… was just about to ask our new farmer here if ya haven’t scared her away yet.” Tommy jokes.

Joel’s face flickers with a scowl fighting to form but he keeps himself surprisingly composed.

Guilt sinks in your gut. You know he’s hard to read and you even feel bad for thinking he’s mean. Because you’re learning fast Joel is earnest in his own way.

“Nah,” you tell Tommy, answering for yourself and Joel almost. “His sheep are actually scarier than he is.”

Tommy busts out laughing and you grin. Your eyes flicker to Joel but see he isn’t grinning. Instead Joel’s handsome aged face stares at you guarded and you can’t read the emotions shimmering in his eyes.

Shit.

You might have overstepped and upset him. So to physically stop yourself from saying anything else you take a bite out of the delicious cornbread on your plate, wave a weak goodbye to the Miller brothers, and scurry away.

Now alone under the shadow of one of the lovely cherry trees, you’re aware of how new you still are, a fresh bud still trying to foster roots in this new ground. You wonder how your gramps dealt with this every year.

Soon enough, the music starts and Mayor Lewis claps excited ready to begin the dance.

At least this will be over soon.

The couples slowly sway to the soft melody then rustling arrives at your side. Gently your eyes turn to the source and you almost collapse seeing Joel move in besides you.

His eyes though stay on the couples dancing among the blooms.

“Could’ve at least picked better music to dance to.” He mumbles bored.

Your lips press hard trying not to smile ridiculous and wide.

“Could you imagine if someone played the wrong song?” You whisper back. “Like, some heavy metal rock song suddenly started screaming out?”

Joel snorts, masks it with a few coughs, but you did it. You made him laugh.

Golden soaked triumph fills you and it feels like the first morning you woke up and found a sprout peeking up from the dark tilled soil.

He’s a complex man and you’re barely even scratching the surface of him. But it’s a tender start you want to continue kindling.

For all the commotion and production given to the festival, the dance only lasts a few moments. It’s over thankfully fast.

“Bit anticlimactic.” You mutter under your breath.

“Yeah it’s dumb.” Joel deadpans.

Your lips fight from letting out a laugh.

Everyone claps joyously at the couples concluding their dance. You wonder, even as silly as this is, if one day maybe you’ll dance with flowers in your hair. But you don’t give that thought too much attention. Just imaging yourself next spring already seems so far away.

“Headin’ home?” Joel asks, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You hum, narrowing your eyes at the gorgeous meadow.

“I’m kind of tempted to maybe see if I can steal some of the leftovers but yeah, I’m heading back.” You reply.

“Tell me which food you’re eyein’ and I’ll grab it. No one will tell me no.” He offers and you laugh.

“Tempting as that is, I’m just gonna go home.” You wish Joel a warm good night.

He continues walking alongside you.

Your heart jumps until you realize he lives in the same direction. The chatter from the festival still lingers in the air even while you walk further away from the meadow.

“How do you deal with that every year?” You ask with a sigh.

“Alcohol.” Joel dully answers and you snicker at his reply.

“Maybe one day you’ll be dancin’ out there.” Joel comments like he’s trying to continue the small talk. But the suggestion makes you skin itch for a reason you can’t pinpoint.

You only reply with a simple ‘maybe’ and a shrug.

“I’d pay a hundred bucks to see you dance though.” You joke, but also quickly imagine Joel a picture of softness with a flower behind his ear resting beautifully among his silver curls and it makes your knees weak.

Joel however rolls his eyes.

“Next year we’ll just sneak in and take over the music. See what happens.” You offer.

“Now that sounds like a plan.” Joel agrees gruffly.

It sounds like a promise.

You bid him good night until his eyebrows crinkle so classily grumpy Joel.

“Whadya doin’? Ain’t lettin’ ya walk home alone, sprout. Now come on.”

He continues walking as if nothing while your mind tries to recover being tilted on its axis for a bit.

Joel is walking you home.

And he called you sprout.

You want to cradle this new nickname so tenderly in your hands.

Joel quietly asks about your plans for the upcoming season, almost as if he’s trying to keep you focused.

To settle your flutter heart, you manage to ramble about the new incoming seeds you’ve heard about. You talk about your hopes of going to the beach more, not just to fish but to simply enjoy the ocean.

Among all that discussion, in a blink you’re back at your farm.

Instead of Joel rushing home, he lingers.

He checks your porch almost like he’s making sure the thing still stands.

“Hope one day to see that dang greenhouse up ‘n runnin.” He points to the broken greenhouse and you can’t help but sigh at the sight. You hope so too.

Then Joel moves to stand next to you on the land.

It feels different seeing him here.

Just a few weeks ago he was shouting every profanity known to man trying to fix your ancient water heater. He also glared at you the entire time.

Now he stands next to you suggesting on what to grow for the upcoming season.

“You could plant the tomatoes over on this side, give ‘em more shade to grow.”

Joel already reminds you of a back alley cat, one that hisses and refuses to let others near until he decides when to warm up to others. And, like a fresh new sprout, you want to soak up this warmth of him up.

“Also… Don’t forget to plant flowers.” He adds with a soft grumble.

“I won’t.” You grin impressed he remembered.

When you bid him goodnight and thank him again, you almost want to promise you’ll stop by with coffee tomorrow morning.

However that feels too much, like you might make the wrong move and spook him. But you do want to know if he makes it home okay. You can’t even bring yourself to ask him for his phone number.

So you watch Joel leave until your thoughts move fast and you blurt them out.

“Wait how will I know you made it back?”

Joel suddenly stops then glances back to you.

A very soft twinkle comes over his face and he gives you a crooked grin. It colors him with such a boyish expression. This new face of Joel feels sacred, special, and it steals your breath away.

“Hang outside for a bit. I’ll give ya sign, don’t worry.” He nods then melts into the darkness.

You stay frozen on the spot, not wanting to miss whatever it is. You wait, hoping he makes it back safe. Then out from the darkness, far down the path, you see it.

A light from Joel’s house blazes alive.

Then it flickers on and off, like someone flipping the switch a few times. The movement of it against the darkness even feels like a wave of some sorts.

You wish so badly to wave back.

Reassured that he’s home, you head back feeling as light as a feather.

Stepping onto your porch, something catches your eye.

Resting on the main railing barrier are a batch of tulips that were not there when you left.

Your heart jumps into your throat. You didn’t even see Joel place them there.

Delicately placed, the tulips so brilliantly colored sit warm and bright for you - the most beautiful end to your spring.

Though, in your heart, these blooms feel like something closer to a beginning.

[dr3adlady]

Sansa as a northern character being so aesthetically pleasing never gets old for me.

In a world of white and gray and black and of course, icy blue, the color auburn shows itself off very well. The way she looks like a weirwood with her porcelain skin and red hair is so cool. And her blue eyes can be a reminder of Others' eyes (and also a nod to Starks having Other ancestry which I root for). She even tolerates cold better than many other characters, spends half a day in snow and doesn't bat an eye.

Generally, storytelling with color and design is so powerful in her arc, with George reflecting her mood and goals through the things she wears, and the same attention has been put through her own colors.

[formulawolff]

ii. eighteen minutes - t.w.

pairing: reserve fem driver!reader x toto wolff

word count: 2.5k

warnings: morally gray individuals, slow burn, sexual content (intercourse), allusions to sexual content, cursing, marijuana use, references to alcohol use, lots of power imbalance, questionable boss x employee dynamics, light toxicity, slight controlling tendencies from toto

a/n: here’s the second chapter of my new baby. i really like the direction of this fic & i hope y’all do too. also, i really wanna clarify and say that the reader, toto, and max are NOT supposed to be good people. they are supposed to be written as people who have flaws + make mistakes. i hope y’all enjoy! <3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆:

“look at you! come on now, do a little spin for me.”

sucking in a breath, you swivel on your heel, turning in a tight circle. lewis nods in approval, his tongue swiping along his lower lip.

“who knew a fire suit could look so good on someone? if you’re not careful, you may have quite a few drivers in your dms later. me included!”

“stop,” you hiss through gritted teeth, “it’s a little tighter than i would like in some areas.”

lewis’ lips purse, the british driver eyeing every inch of the suit, “that’s not necessarily a bad thing–”

“could you stop harassing our sweet girl?” 

george strolls through the entrance of the garage, arms folding over his chest. lewis rolls his eyes, mouth forming a pout as george plucks a strand of hair from your right rib-cage, “how come you get to be that close?”

“because i don’t sexualize her every five seconds,” george mutters, shaking his head, “how are you feeling? nervous?”

“nervous?” a dry laugh erupts from the base of your throat, “i’m clenching my cheeks right now. i’m afraid i’m going to shit myself.”

“it’ll pass,” george shrugs, “soon the adrenaline will kick in and you’ll be fine. don’t stress yourself out too much. it’s only qualifying.”

“it’s only my first qualifying in formula one,” you counter, wiping your slick palms on your suit, “it’s only my debut as one of the few female drivers in a male-dominated sport. it’s only the first time the other teams will get to watch me drive and–”

“you just want to look good for red bull,” lewis waves a hand, “don’t act all coy over there. we’ve seen your interviews. we know you have an interest in joining the dark side.”

“the dark side?” you arch a brow, “what does that mean?”

“you’d be under the helm of christian horner if you went over to red bull,” george exhales, his hands settling on his hips, “that’s a no-no in the mercedes handbook. so, we refer to it as the dark side.”

“oh,” a slight wave of shame blazes within you as you sense the subtle scrutiny radiating off the british drivers as they pick you apart, anticipating your response, “i just wanted to showcase my capabilities, that’s all.”

“there’s no harm in that,” lewis whistles, “after all, a lot of seats are up for grabs. several long-term contracts for drivers are going to be up after the season. 2025 is going to be one interesting year. that’s for sure.”

“indeed,” george nods, “not a lot will change around here though. i’ll be sticking around. so will lewis.”

at george’s statement, you notice the way lewis tenses up, almost freezing in place. yet, he loosens up the moment another individual enters the paddock, the driver bearing a meek smile.

“howdy, toto!”

“guten morgen,” the team principal is almost cold, showing no emotion as he approaches the three of you, “i assume the two of you briefed our little hase on our strategy for qualifying this weekend?”

“yep,” lewis dips his head, “she’s chomping at the bit to get a hot lap in!”

“ah!” the team principal’s head turns in your direction, a smug smirk now apparent, “is that so?”

fuck you, lewis hamilton. fuck you big time. 

“yup!” you swallow thickly, shifting in place, “i’m ready!”

in reality, there was nothing more than you wanted in that moment to be in max’s arms, snuggling against his chest as his hands roamed, rubbing gentle circles into your back. 

as much as you shunned those feelings that bubbled to the surface whenever he was near, there was one thing that you could not deny. 

he knew how to make you feel safe. 

and god did you wish he was at your side, your fingers intertwined together. even the sound of his voice was enough to soothe your nerves.

if only he was here right now.

if only.

due to the nature of formula one’s guidelines, in order to replace george, you would have to participate in at least one of the practice sessions on the track. which, since qualifying was considered a practice session, you would be given the okay to compete. however, there was the more petrifying aspect of it all.

qualifying determined the grid.  

if you did not perform, then mercedes would be at the bottom of the grid, fighting their way to the top in order to earn points. if you did not manage to snag a position in the top ten, then you would not earn any points. 

and no team wanted zero points. 

especially at the beginning of the season where a high-caliber team like mercedes wanted to make a statement. 

so, it was up to you to set that tone. 

to prove that you were not only a worthy competitor, but also that you were capable of earning points. 

talk about a pivotal point in your formula one career.

a point which would hopefully last more than eighteen minutes. 

hopefully.

“all right,” toto clears his throat, placing a hand on your shoulder, “come with me. we’re going to go on over to the car. i’m going to have you meet with bono, marcus, and james. they are going to give you a little insight about the new upgrades to the car, along with some adjustments we’ve made since sakhir.”

“sounds good,” letting out a shaky breath, you follow the team principal’s lead, dipping your head to fellow members of the crew as they wave, circling around you like vultures. they appear eager, poised to pounce at any given moment. with every passing second, the tension in the air thickened, a buzz beginning to grow among the garage. 

of course, they were talking about you. 

this was the first time you were going to be behind the wheel of their car. the car that they had worked tirelessly on over the course of weeks, if not months. the car they had poured all of their passion, their energy, and their resources into. the car that required numerous donations and sponsorships to build, craft, and perfect. 

a car that was worth millions. 

and it was up to you to ensure that the car came out unscathed, without a single scratch or dent.

some pressure that was.

and god, was it starting to weigh on your shoulders.

“before you speak to the team, i need to tell you something.”

you pause, cocking your head, “yes?”

toto leans forward, his mouth hovering merely millimeters by your ear. 

“don’t fuck this up, hase. the moment you get behind the wheel of that car you are going to do one of two things for me. one, you manage to qualify in the top ten for tomorrow. or two, you crumble under the pressure and crash the car.

if you crash the car, you’re fucking done. you will never step foot inside brackley ever again. i will release you from your contact the very moment you make it back to the paddock. so don’t fuck this up, yeah? i’m sure you don’t want to lose your cushy little lifestyle in the reserves.”

a shiver courses down your spine, fear bubbling up in the pit of your stomach as he towers over you, wearing a sickeningly smug grin. however, that terror only lasts a second, dissipating as retaliation takes over. it’s fiery and hot, your jaw clenching as your fists form tightly wound balls. 

“fuck you,” you manage to spit out, “fuck you, toto wolff.”

“that’s exactly what i wanted to hear,” he coos, breath hot as it fans against your ear, “good girl.”

“fuck you,” you sneer, “if you utter so much another word to me, i’m crashing the fucking car.”

toto wolff couldn’t help but let the satisfaction course through his veins as you glower, folding your arms tightly against your chest as you make your way over to the huddle of engineers and crew. you were almost stomping, your steps a little louder than usual. 

he had you right where he wanted you.

tensed up, fury filling you to the brim. your brows pinched together with dismay, a frown etched across your features. the toes of your shoe tapping away against the floor, itching to feel the wheel beneath your fingertips. impatient as ever, the fear of loss mixed with the desire to win creating a dangerous yet lethal mix. 

a loaded gun, merely seconds away from firing. 

to toto, this was necessary. 

this was the only way he was going to make you a champion. 

you see, toto wolff made no mistakes.

he was a calculated individual, carefully plotting and carrying out every single move when it came to the decisions made by the team. no detail, no matter how miniscule or trivial was finalized without his permission. no contract was signed without his presence. no calls were made without his knowledge. 

so, the decision to replace george with the reserve driver for the first grand prix was not a decision that was made lightly.

in his eleven years at mercedes, the team principal had witnessed it all. with eight constructors’ championships, seven driver’s championships, and a stake in the team, toto was a dominant force in the world of formula one. he had seen his fair share of controversies, faced backlash from the media, and harbored his secrets. 

although he thought he had seen just about everything there was to see in formula one, that all changed the moment he saw your face. 

that was the exact moment in which toto wolff’s entire world came to a screeching halt. 

that was the moment in which he knew he had to have you. 

he knew he needed you at mercedes. 

no matter the cost. no matter the stakes. no matter the risk.

he had lewis hamilton to thank for that. 

it all happened one race weekend in zandvoort. toto could recall the memory perfectly, down to the exact minute. he could remember the way lewis was toting you around, your arm entwined with his. it was in the garage, as lewis was giving you a tour, showing you around a little bit, introducing you to a few prominent members of the team. 

at first glance, toto was under the impression you were just another fuck for the british driver, another innocent girl that fell victim to the bachelor’s charming ways.

that all changed when lewis introduced you as the prodigy of prema racing, the one who shattered records and obliterated barriers.

the next world champion pf formula two. that was, if you played your cards right.

the next face of the mercedes team, if toto played his cards right. 

as fate would have it, you did earn that title. 

in turn, that achievement ended up changing the trajectory of your life. it opened up numerous doors, more than you ever thought were possible. brands reached out to you through social media, inquiring about sponsorships. fans praised you across social media, stating that you were a trailblazer for the world of motorsports. 

most importantly, it opened the door to formula one. 

you had toto wolff to thank for that. 

with the help of lewis, he was the one who got the ball rolling on your contract. he was the one who took a chance on the hot-headed, bratty driver. he was the one who called you, inquiring if you wanted to sign a two-year deal with mercedes. you would be in the reserves, but you would be on the team, nonetheless. 

although you were not the first or second driver sitting in a seat, toto was well aware of the potential brewing within you. 

which, was partially the reason why you were competing today. 

he wouldn’t have made the call if he did not believe in you. 

as you slip into the car, he lingers at the helm of the control panel, sliding on a pair of headphones. 

“one, two, radio check. hase, can you hear me?”

your voice, so sweet and delicate, floods his ears, “i can hear you, toto.”

“good, good,” he tuts, “okay team, let’s have a good qualifying, yeah?”

as the remainder of the crew finish the check, the team principal’s gaze fixates on the reserve driver. her helmet was a little too big, but he could make out her lashes as they fluttered, her head bobbing along as the team buzzed about, ensuring that everything was in perfect order. 

a member of the crew flashes toto a thumbs up, signaling that it was time.

“all right hase,” with every fiber in his being, the team principal fights a grin as you mimic the wave of a princess, a gloved hand rotating back and forth as the car lurches out of the garage.

“es ist zeit zu gehen.”

the second you sailed on to that track,, your foot pressing on the gas, any doubt or fear dissolved, replaced by nothing but pure, electrifying adrenaline. 

“all right ms. reserves,” marcus’ voice seeps into your right ear, “let’s see what you can do.”

when it came to qualifying, all it took was one lap. 

one singular lap to prove yourself. 

and by god, that’s what you were going to do. 

you were going to prove yourself that you were more than just a body in the reserves. you were going to prove to the world of formula one that you were dominant on the track, just as you were in formula two. you were a world champion. 

the only woman in your sport to ever accomplish that magnificent of a feat. 

one of a kind.

the longer you were on the track, the more you realized how your body longed to be behind the wheel. the bells and whistles of the car came easily to you, really. natural, even. just as you had practiced in the simulator. 

your reflexes were sharp, on point with every turn of the chicane. your feet rotated back and forth between the gas and brake with ease, almost as if they had a mind of their own, like they knew this circuit by heart. 

before you knew it, you were sailing back toward the pits, to the mercedes garage. the chatter of the radio was almost like white noise to you, as you had paid no mind to the voices that filtered in and out of your helmet. part of you felt a sense of guilt for not listening to the engineers or crew. although, at the end of the day, you were the one driving the damn car.

coming to a halt at the garage, you pit, flipping the visor up. members of the crew swarm your car. yet, the only one you really make out is toto. with his broad stature and powerful aura, he was truly hard to miss. 

the team principal leans over, one hand resting against the halo of the car. 

the other taps your helmet, the corners of his lips tugging into a broad smile. 

for the first time, you make note of his dimples. how they soften his chiseled features. 

and for the first time, you can’t help but notice how gorgeous toto wolff is when he smiles. 

“congratulations, hase,” a chuckle rumbles in his chest, his hand lingering on your helmet. 

“with the fastest lap on the track, you’ve made it to the second session of qualifying.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆:

taglist: @sweetjellyfishland @ts1m1kas @bxuzi @racecardilfs @bblouifford @justacornerofmybrain @irishmanwhore @noooway555 @sleutherclaw @okdokeygryssel63 @jeannealicette @marknolee @allyisalright-blog

[whereforarthur]

It's Been Way Too Long

Request: id love a george smut, perhaps one of us have been rlly busy like all summer and barely had any time to see each other so when it gets to september time (ish) we havent realised how much we miss each other

Pairing: George Clarke x Reader

Category: Smut

Word Count: 2.2k

*****

“I think I'd miss you even if we never met.” — The Wedding Date

The London skies were a canvas of soft grays and muted blues, hinting at the promise of rain. The bustling streets below were a blur of umbrellas and rushing footsteps. Amidst the thrum of the city, a solitary figure sat on a bench in a small, overlooked park, a patch of green nestled between concrete giants. George Clarke, known to the internet as "The Clarke Cut", was a man of sharp contrasts. His online persona was vibrant, full of life and humor, but in this quiet moment, he was lost in thought, his eyes reflecting the weight of the world.

For months, George had thrown himself into his work, leaving little room for anything else. His YouTube channel had grown exponentially, the demands of content creation an ever-hungry beast that consumed his days and nights. The price of success had been steep, and he felt the cost keenly as he stared at the empty space next to him, where you, or y/n as he liked to call you, should have been. The vividness of your laughter and the warmth of your smile had been replaced by the cold metal of the bench, and the echoes of the city's cacophony.

The first leaves of autumn began to dance around him, a sad ballet of nature's end and rebirth. The chill in the air seemed to mirror the chill in his heart, a stark reminder of the seasons passing and the time lost. You had been his anchor, a steady presence that kept him grounded amidst the chaos. Without you, the city felt like an alien landscape, one he was navigating for the first time without a map.

George pulled out his phone, thumb hovering over your name in his contacts. The urge to hear your voice washed over him like a wave, but fear held him back. Would you be upset? Would you even have time to talk? With a sigh, he sent a text, keeping it light, hoping it didn't betray the tumult in his soul. "Missing you," it read, with a simple heart emoji. It was all he could manage.

Minutes ticked by, the silence stretching into a symphony of unspoken words. His phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts. It was you. "Miss you too, George," it said, followed by a smiling face with a tear. His heart clenched at the sight. You had felt it too, the distance that had grown between them like an invisible wall.

The rain finally made its appearance, lightly kissing the leaves before turning into a steady rhythm against the pavement. George didn't bother moving, the cool drops a soothing balm on his heated skin. The scent of wet earth and the faint smell of rain-soaked flowers filled the air, a familiar comfort that only heightened his longing for your presence.

As the drops grew heavier, his thoughts grew clearer. He knew what he had to do. Success meant nothing if he couldn't share it with the one who truly mattered. The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning, illuminating the path ahead. He had to make time for you, to prioritize what truly made him happy. The rain grew into a crescendo, each drop a beat in the rhythm of his newfound resolve.

Standing up, George tucked his phone away and took a deep breath, the rain soaking his clothes and hair. He'd rearrange his schedule, make the calls, and do whatever it took to bridge the gap that had formed. With a renewed sense of purpose, he stepped into the storm, the cold water mixing with the warmth of his determination. The city around him blurred as he set off in the direction of your flat, eager to feel the warmth of your embrace and to apologize for his neglect. The rain washed away the dust of the summer, leaving behind the promise of a fresh start, a chance to rekindle the flame that had been smoldering between them.

By the time he arrived, the rain had become a downpour, turning the streets into rivers and the air into a thick mist. He took the stairs two at a time, his heart racing in anticipation. The door to your flat stood before him, a symbol of the comfort and love that waited within. He took a moment to compose himself, wiping the rain from his face before knocking softly, his breath hitching in his chest.

When the door opened, the sight of you took his breath away. You looked tired, your eyes a bit sad, but the moment they met his, a spark ignited, lighting up the room. The silence stretched between them, filled with the unspoken words of regret and longing. Without a word, George stepped inside, closing the door behind him, the sound echoing through the small space like a declaration of intent.

You stood before him, rain-soaked and beautiful, your hair clinging to your face like a veil. The air was charged with tension, the kind that comes from months of missed moments and unspoken truths. He reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek, the touch sending a jolt through both of you. Your eyes searched his, looking for reassurance, for a sign that he truly meant it. And in that moment, George knew that he had made the right choice. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both desperate and gentle, a silent promise to never let you go again.

The kiss grew in intensity, a conflagration of passion that had been smoldering for too long. Your arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, as if trying to erase the space that had grown between you. The world outside the flat disappeared, leaving only the two of you, entwined in a dance of love and apology. The rain outside was now a mere backdrop to the symphony of your hearts beating in unison, a testament to the fact that no matter how busy life got, you two were destined to find your way back to each other.

Breaking the kiss, George whispered, "I'm sorry. I've been so caught up in work, I forgot what's truly important."

You looked up at him, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It's okay," you murmured, your voice a soft melody that soothed his soul. "I understand. But I missed you. So much."

He cupped your face in his hands, thumbs brushing away the stray teardrops. "I missed you too. And I promise, from now on, I'll make more time for us."

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "I'd like that."

With the storm outside mirroring the tumult in their hearts, George took your hand and led you to the couch. You sat down together, the fabric warm and welcoming against your cold, wet clothes. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into his side, and you rested your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

The sound of the rain grew softer as you talked, sharing stories of the summer's escapades and the moments you'd wished you could have shared. Each word was a thread weaving the fabric of your relationship back together, stronger than before. The warmth of the room began to seep into your bones, chasing away the chill of the rain and the months of separation.

As the conversation lulled, George reached over to the coffee table, picking up a notebook and a pen. He flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning the words and doodles that chronicled your life together. "Look," he said, pointing to a page filled with sketches of the two of you in various stages of laughter and love. "I want to fill this book with more memories. Starting now."

A blush crept up your cheeks as you took the notebook from him. The promise in his eyes was more than you could have hoped for. With a shaky hand, you wrote, "September 15th - The day George realized what truly matters."

Underneath, he scribbled, "And the day I came home to you."

*****

The moment was filled with the quiet understanding that sometimes life gets in the way, but true love always finds a path back. The rain outside had slowed to a gentle patter, as if it too knew that the storm had passed and that now was the time for growth and renewal.

George's hand slid down from your cheek to your neck, his touch sending shivers down your spine. He kissed you again, this time with a hunger that had been building for months. Your bodies pressed closer, the warmth of your skin a stark contrast to the cold fabric that separated you. The rain had made the air thick with desire, and you could feel the heat radiating from George's body, his need for you palpable.

Your hands found their way under his shirt, feeling the dampness of his skin and the tautness of his muscles. The sensation sent waves of electricity through you, and you realized just how much you'd missed the simple act of touching him, of feeling his heart race in response to your touch. His hands roamed your body, exploring the curves and valleys that he knew so well, yet somehow felt new and exciting. The rain outside had become a soft, rhythmic backdrop to your reunion, a natural metronome setting the pace of your passion.

As you kissed, you both began to peel away the layers of clothing that had kept you apart, revealing the warmth and desire that had been trapped beneath. Your skin met with a sigh of relief, like two long-lost friends finally reunited. The couch cushions grew soggy with rainwater, but you didn't care. All that mattered was the connection that surged between you, a current more powerful than any storm.

The smell of damp fabric and the gentle scent of your perfume mixed with the musk of passion as you became lost in each other. The storm outside had brought you back together, and now, you were determined to make the most of every moment. The sound of the rain grew fainter as you became more attuned to the sound of your breaths mingling, the beat of your hearts syncing up as one.

George lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bedroom, his eyes never leaving yours. The floorboards creaked underfoot, a gentle reminder of the history you shared in this space. You knew every inch of this room, every crevice and corner, but it had never felt more intimate than it did in that moment.

Laying you down on the bed, he hovered over you, his gaze intense and filled with love. The soft light from the streetlamp painted shadows on the wall, playing across your bodies as you moved together in a dance of passion. The thunder outside rumbled in the distance, punctuating the silent promises made between kisses and caresses.

Your bodies intertwined, the coldness of the rain forgotten in the warmth of your love. The room was filled with the sound of the rain, the sighs of pleasure, and the whispers of sweet nothings that meant everything. The storm outside mirrored the intensity of your reunion, each flash of lightning illuminating the passion in your eyes, as if the very sky was celebrating your reconciliation.

The rain grew softer, the thunder a gentle reminder of the tempest you had weathered. As your bodies found their rhythm, the storm outside seemed to mimic your own, building to a crescendo before subsiding into a gentle lull. You lay there, tangled in the warmth of each other's arms, the city of London a silent witness to your love.

In the aftermath of your passion, you both lay still, listening to the fading patter of rain and the steady thrum of each other's hearts. The world outside had continued to turn, but for a brief moment, it had stopped for you both. You knew that from now on, no matter how busy life got, you would always find time for each other, because you had just survived the storm, and the calm that followed was more beautiful than any summer's day.

You leaned up to kiss him softly, tasting the salt of the rain and the sweetness of your shared love. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice a mere breath against his skin.

George smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "For what?"

"For reminding me what's important," you said, your eyes searching his. "For coming back to me."

He kissed you again, his arms tightening around you. "Always," he murmured, his voice a solemn vow. "I'll always come back to you."

The room was a cocoon of warmth and love, the storm outside a gentle lullaby, as you both drifted off to sleep, the sound of the rain a soothing serenade. Hours passed, the city's heartbeat growing quieter as the night deepened. When you awoke, the rain had stopped, leaving a freshness in the air that seemed to cleanse the very essence of the world. The scent of wet earth and the faint sound of distant cars washed over you, bringing with it a sense of peace.

******

@gvf23

@xxkatxgracexx

[baronessvonglitter]

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 2 🍒

“Coffee & Garth Brooks”

pre-outbreak! AU!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 1,247

Summary: Joel visits you at work and during some innocent flirting, you reveal something that you probably should have just kept quiet about.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, however this chapter is pretty tame, age gap (reader is 18, Joel is 35), reader is tomboyish but otherwise no race mentioned and will not be throughout the series, until specified this story takes place in the summer of 2003 and is AU with no outbreak, flirting, reader has mild fantasies about Joel, no use of y/n

Series Masterlist

Mondays at the cafe are hectic. So as eager as you are to see if Joel will show up, you're also swamped with orders. It's not until the crowd begins to clear that you see him. He's smiling at you and you can't ignore the way your heart does a little backflip.

"Hey!" You greet him with a smile.

He approaches the counter. Today he's wearing a heather-gray t shirt and jeans. His hair is tousled, beard neatly trimmed, and you catch a whiff of clean-scented shower gel coming off him. "I remember you," he says, a playful glint in his dark eyes.

"I remember you too. . and I remember I owe you a coffee for helping me yesterday."

"Hang on there. Where's that ring I labored so arduously to free from your kitchen drain?"

You smile at his wordiness. "Why, it's right here." You extend your left hand to show off the ring, a lot cleaner and shinier than the last time he saw it.

He surprises you by taking your hand with a delicate touch. "It would've been a shame to lose somethin' so pretty." His eyes move up to yours, as if to gauge your reaction. "That offer still on the table?"

This small yet meaningful gesture mesmerizes you. "The… offer?" you mumble. "Oh! The coffee." Crimson, you fix his coffee, giving him a bigger size than you're supposed to. "Are you on your way to a site?" You ask as you hand him his drink.

"Thank you. Yeah, I've gotta check in on a site before noon." He sips his coffee, leaning against the counter. You try not to stare but you give a quick glance - his body, even when at rest, seems powerful.

"What's it like, being a contractor? Do you like it?" Before the words come out of your mouth you realize how immature you sound. Of course he likes it. He wouldn't be in that business if he didn't.

You feel a little relief when he smiles. "It depends on the day. You get plenty of sun, and you have to deal with a lot of bullshit, deadlines.. but it pays. So I don't mind it all that much. What about you? You enjoy bein' a barista?" Joel smirks and you wonder if he's enjoying your exchange as much as you are.

"It's thrilling," you say in a deadpan voice. "Wanna trade places for a day?"

"I'll pass," he laughs. "Sounds like you're tryin' to get out of work right now," he teases you, leaning over the counter. He places his elbows down and rests his chin on his clasped palms.

"Can you blame me? At least you get your choice of music in your truck, not whatever this is," you roll your eyes at the indie jazz playing over the speakers.

"I'm in charge of the radio in my truck. Just the way I like it."

"What do you listen to?" You also lean against the counter, subconsciously angling yourself towards him. You're only vaguely aware of the cafe, of your surroundings. As you talk with him it just feels good.

"I'll listen to almost anything: rock, oldies, anything really. I guess I don't like anything too artsy and pretentious-soundin'," he answers.

"You strike me as a country music lover," you give him a little bit of teasing.

He tilts his head to the side. "You got a read on me already, huh? Well I won't lie, I listen to some country, but only the old stuff. Not this new, pop-py, overproduced stuff."

"Do you like Garth Brooks? George Strait? They're the greats. You have to like them."

"Girl, you're too young to tell me who the greats are," he grins. "George is the king of country music. Garth's a given. He's kinda cheesy sometimes, but his songwriting is great, no denyin' that."

"When I was a kid I used to go around singing his songs to anyone who would listen. I would put on a show, sing at the top of my lungs.. I was a pretty rambunctious kid," you laugh at the memory.

"Bet you're just as rambunctious as an adult too," he says playfully.

You smirk. Joel's flirting with you, there's nothing more obvious. "I'm a college girl. I'm supposed to be rambunctious."

He gives a low chuckle and an intrusive thought slides into your brain: you want to know what that low rumble in his chest sounds like, with your ear pressed against him… When you come back to your senses you catch his eyes scanning your face. "Fair enough. I'm sure you've got all the boys chasin' ya, huh?"

There it is: the question you thought was only ever asked in books, in movies, and Joel is the one to ask it about you. "Oh.. not really.."

"I find that hard to believe."

You look away a moment, wiping an invisible spot on the counter with a cloth. "Truth is, I kind of have someone.. back home in Houston." You dare a peek at him only to see something like relief cross his face.

"That's great," he says, maintaining a smile.

You regret saying something like that. Trevor isn't someone worth bringing up to Joel, yet you have used him almost as a shield, and you don't know why. "It's, uh.. kind of uh.. ambiguous," you add. "He's going to university there. I guess we're still figuring things out."

Joel nodded slowly. "So.. it's complicated, is what you're sayin'?"

"A little.. I don't really, you know, want to talk about it." You smile and shrug as if it's a minor thing.

"Of course." He puts his hands up, then he looks like he wants to say something but he stays quiet. Looking at his watch he says, "I gotta get to the site."

"Yeah.. I should also get back to work." You turn your back for a moment then turn again to say something else to him but he's already outside going to his truck.

The rest of your shift goes by smoothly and you pocket your tips and start home. Once you're comfortable in the house you allow yourself to think about your interaction with Joel. Of course the first friend you make in Austin would be the ruggedly handsome, middle-aged man next door. A man with a daughter only a few years younger than yourself.

You've never really been in this position before. You don't really recognize your own feelings. You've had crushes on older guys before: teachers, coaches.. so why is this time different? And why are you struggling with it?

Joel, meanwhile, feels himself in almost the same predicament. He doesn't want to admit it to himself but he really likes you. The age difference is too much for him to even consider, but your presence.. it's getting to him. He likes talking to you, wants to be close to you.. but he can't. He doesn't want to mess up his life, and it will only cause problems if he doesn't keep his distance. He worries he won't be able to fully shake you off his mind.

A few days later he spots a paper on his truck windshield. It's a handwritten note from you:

pool party at our place this Saturday @ 2 pm

and your name signed underneath. Joel smiles and gets a pen from inside his truck to write a reply.

We'll be there, he writes beneath your message and he leaves the paper on your car windshield.

<- prev chapter

next chapter ->

divider by @saradika-graphics 👑

[bettysupremacy]

hi! no sure if you do fred weasley requests so feel free to change to one of the marauders if not :)

i was thinking of a girl in her 6th year transferring from ilvermorny to hogwarts and getting sorted into ravenclaw. and it’s kind of a love at first sight when fred sees her. and go from wherever from there!! love ur work :)

I’ve never written for Fred, but I loved this idea. I hope u like!!<3 I don’t know how I feel

“Don’t be nervous.” Fred smiles, all twinkle.

George chimes in, your head turning quickly to acknowledge him. “It’s not all scary.”

“The hat doesn’t bite.”

“Sometimes.”

Fred elbows George quickly. “He’s twisting your arm.”

“Oh.” You smile politely, anxiety turning your gut. Fred’s ears perk at your accent.

“What’s America like?” He asks nosily.

“And why’d you transfer?” George finishes.

You shrug, polite smile still aching your lips. “Mom got a job at the ministry.”

“Mom.” George mimics. It falls to deaf ears.

“I thought only British born wizards could work there?” Fred pries.

You nod. “She is.”

“Interesting.” George’s mouth is stuffed with potato.

Fred laughs loudly. “Try to sound less like a dick. Please.”

“I didn‘t think he sounded like a dick.” You prod the food in front of you, eyes down.

Fred smiles, pushing his empty plate away. “You nervous?”

“No.”

“You look it.”

This gets you to smile. A genuine smile. “Maybe a little.”

You’re pretty, he thinks. It was the first thing he noticed about you. New girl, pretty girl. The aura around you practically glows to him. He wonders if Trelawney would see what he saw.

“Ha!” He points like he’s caught you. “I’m sure you won’t be Slytherin.”

George shakes in disgust, mock, but not really mock, revolted. “Probably Hufflepuff.”

“Or maybe Gryffindor,” Fred adds. “Then you’d be able to sit with us. The cool kids.”

“Yeah, right.” George laughs.

“I cant sit here if I’m not Gryffindor?” Your eyes flit between Fred and George. They’re twins. Obviously. But Fred draws your eye, and they can tell.

“I’m afraid not, pretty.” Fred laments dramatically.

“Not during dinner.” George shrugs, with a Oh Well! Sort of expression.

“They don’t really care during breakfast and lunch.” Fred nods.

“Or snack time.”

Hermoine pops her head out from behind Ginny. “What do you mean, George? There is no snack time.”

“For you.” He and Fred grin.

Loudly, Dumbledore calls for respect, the hush of silence deafening the hall. He has an air about him, the title of headmaster sitting on his shoulders nicely. You flinch as he introduces you. Dozens of prying eyes flitting towards you.

It startles you, so many heads turning as Fred pats your knee, helping you up. The teachers table looms over you as you sit in the rickety chair consciously.

The hats barely touched your head before a loud voice booms across the hall.

“Ravenclaw!” The hat announces.

A table erupts in cheer, notably blue. You frown. That isn’t Gryffindor red. Fred laments from the corner of your eye. For real this time.

A hand touches your back, soft and guiding. “That way, dear.” Mcgonagal ushers.

You stand. Lead in your feet. That’s not what you wanted, and the hat seemed to have known that.

“Go on.” She pushes softly.

You walk down the cold steps, more morose than you’d like. Down, step, down step, until you reach the gray flooring of the great hall. Hands reach for you as you draw nearer, claps on the back as you smile wearily.

A girl makes space for you near Fred, patting the bench quickly. Dark hair, dark eyes, she’s pretty you think.

“I’m Cho.” The girl smiles at you.

“Hi.” Your nose scrunches, holding back a nervous smile as you sit.

“Luna.” Another girl reaches out for your hand. You give it, taking in her dazed expression, and odd looking glasses. “No Wrackspurts.” She grins appreciatively.

You startle. “What?”

“Don’t mind her.” Cho eases. You ignore her, smiling at Luna.

It’s a large table, lots of friendly faces. You hold back the guilt gnawing at you for your quick judgment.

“Hi.” You mouth, cheeks aching from the polite smile you throw at a girl down the table. She waves excitedly, and you wave back.

“Psst.” Is whispered behind you. “Pssssst.”

You turn, vaguely expecting Fred’s face. Or George’s. Theirs. So confusing.

He looks happy.

“You’ll love it there.” Fred (you think) smiles, genuinely.

It gnaws in you. Doesn’t he wish you were Gryffindor? You feel silly, you only just met.

“You’re not upset I’m here?” You frown. Like you wanted him to care, he notices.

He shrugs breezily. “Blue looks good on you.”

Yeah. Fred.

[xxzlushiez]

My American dream

“You’re so Art Deco out on the floor, shining like gunmetal, cold and unsure”

Bill Kaulitz x f!reader

Synopsis: I’m in such a mood right now I just want to write everything that comes to mind. Basically, bill takes a liking to a teen singer that came from America to Germany

Tags: 18+, implied smut, Name is from America, Tom being Tom, kissing, bill is a tease but means well, making fun of American accents, language barrier (this is based before the members spoke fluent English), confusion, reader smokes weed

German in bold

English in italics

- it started with your tour manager saying you should consider going to another country to gain more popularity

- you believed it was a good idea and could benefit your career so you agreed, easy enough right?

- you were wrong…so so wrong😭

- Communication was ROUGH

- Your team had to rent out a whole car because talking with transportation workers was too difficult for everyone without a translator

- Your managers were definitely getting gray hairs because of you

- When the day of the interview came, your manager surprised you last minute saying you would be collaborating with a popular German band in the interview

- It was a good idea essentially

- Rising teen artists from two different countries hanging out would cause some attention

- But both parties couldn’t even speak to each other so it was a wreck for everyone up until the interview finally started

- you rambled about how excited you were to your makeup artist and you swear he pressed down on your eye extra hard while applying the makeup just to get you to shut up

- When the interview started and you settled into your seat you took time to look at all 4 of the members

- You looked for who your manager had described as the main vocalist of the group and he easily caught your eye

- The same could be said about you

- Bill noticed when you walked out that your styles were similar and he was mesmerized

- you saw the way he was eyeing you up and down while the other band members were answering questions

- “he’s definitely judging me rn”

- In a way…but he was just checking you out don't worry

- the interviewer decided you should all play a game of charades between languages and see who wins

- And with his luck he had gotten partnered up with you

- While you were so excited to be partnered up with another lead singer, he was shaking in his skinny jeans💀

- he was also very happy he just got a little nervous because he had to speak English which he wasn’t completely confident in

- He sat with you on the cramped sofa and tried to introduce himself to you

- “I'm Bill, it’s nice to finally meet you! I’ve heard some of your songs”

- You stared at him with the stupidest look of your face

- Bill:😊 you:😁

- “Oh I didn’t know the game started already”

- It was so awkward for the first few minutes that the translator had to come help you guys out out of her own secondhand embarrassment

- But once you properly introduced yourselves you were able to “talk” with each other so easily

- the convos flowed so naturally between you two that fans started to get jealous🤭

- half way through the game he was trying to help you understand a German word and saw you had gotten extremely close to him

- When he noticed he went dead silent and went as still as a statue, fans swore he turned into concrete and you were just 3 inches away from his face like-

- “Why’d you stop? I almost had it.☹️”

- there was so many urges he was holding back on when he was near you

- was staring at your lips the whole time but played it off as learning the pronunciation of the word you were saying when you asked him

- everyone noticed how he was looking at you, and how he touched you even when there was no need

- You guys both had undeniable chemistry with one another

- the band teased bill on how quick he cozied up next to you during the game

- Tom dry humping the air and George pretending to make out with Gustav to embarrass Bill and he’s just there like…

- 🧍”and that’s why I’m leaving”

- He would go off to find you and complain abt how annoying they were as you both munched on some snacks until the break ended

- He would always giggle when you spoke and you thought he was making fun of you

- He kinda was in his mind but he mostly just loved the way you sounded and when you tried to speak German it made him all giddy for some reason

- couldn’t contain himself around you he was always laughing at your jokes and smiling so hard when you talked to him and he himself didn’t even know why

- wouldn’t stop complimenting you because he loved how happy you got when he did

- always positioned himself so he was touching you in someway be it your thighs being smushed against his when sitting down or his arm slung over the sofa to play with you hair

- sat with you even after the game was over not caring how his band mates were snickering at him

- he loves your accent it’s his new favorite thing

- you always caught him staring into your soul while you were speaking with the interviewer (he doesn’t know how mean he looks pls forgive him)

- fans got butterflies on how he would just randomly stare at you for a few minutes before looking back at whoever was talking

- Tom said you looked like a tomato the whole time and wouldn’t stop making fun of you and bill had to smack some sense into him (literally) to get him to stop

- during the middle of the interview some random questions were asked and he saw how quick you got weirded out

- was annoyed the rest of the time, he was sitting there giving the interviewer the biggest stank eye ever while talking to you

- He’s good at making ppl look stupid I just know it

- The interviewer would ask him something and he’d be like “Idk, what do you think?😐”

- his manager had to tell him to get his act together bc ppl were starting to notice💀

- when the interview ended you made your way out to the balcony to relax before you had to leave to the hotel

- You didn’t notice Bill had rushed off to follow you until you heard the emergency exit door being pushed open

- he looked around the small balcony until he spotted you

- His face lit up when he saw you 😕 to -> 😃

- he waved as he jogged over to you

- he tried to apologize for the questions but it came out more in German than English but you understood

- You smiled and looked up at him with heavy eyes before puffing some smoke out of your nose and telling him it was “whatever”

- He was practically drooling over you he thought you looked so pretty

- the way your eyes looked with that lazy smile on your face was doing something for him

- But he just smiled like he understood what you said before grabbing the blunt from you and taking a drag

- He coughed

- so much

- it was nighttime and dark so he thought it was a cigarette and quickly found out it wasn’t

- “you, okay?”

- “Ja! 😊” (He’s not okay)

- it was fine though you both laughed and made fun of the incident after

- he was basically caging you between the chain fence with his body (I’m going crazy) without noticing

- When he finally did the blunt was dying down and you were gazing at the stars while he gazed down at you

- “I wanna kiss you so bad right now”

- you just stared at him with the sweetest smile he’s ever seen because you didn’t understand what he was saying

- if you knew the things you did to him oh my god

- before you put out the joint you shot gunned some smoke into his lips and that seemed to finally pushed him over the edge

- when he kissed you he tried to be slow n soft but it escalated quickly bc he has no self control with you

- he’s a lightweight and was so out of it, eyes droopy and everything

- so noisy with it to, gasping into your lips the whole time when your fingers even slightly grazed his skin

- had his hands tangled in the fence and his knee pushed up inbetween your legs to rub against you

- rutting himself into your thigh while making out (dude’s starved)

- since he was so much taller he was basically hunching over to reach you

- everywhere you touched all you could feel was him and it made you so dizzy

- whined into you neck the whole time, he couldn’t get enough of you, wanted all his senses to be filled up with you

- “Want you, need…need you. Need to feel all of you”

“Name please- need you now, please I’ll be good”

- makes his brain all fuzzy and he can’t think when you kiss him

- gets out of breath so fast bc he’s so overstimulated but doesn’t wanna stop so it leads to him panting like a dog in heat

- he’s never had it so bad for someone like he had it for you

- grins into the kiss when you notice his tongue piercing

- you had your arms around his neck to bring him down to your level and played with a hair for a second and his eyes rolled back and he let out the most pornographic moan you’ve ever heard and had no shame abt it

- kept doing it when he noticed how heated you got from it

- forgets how to function when making out w/ you

- got a little to frisky and you had to stop him before you went to far and risked being caught

- your manager was so frustrated with you both when he found out but you both just giggled and ran off to go do it again

- if you googled ‘dumb teens in love’ you two would show up as the definition

- you hung out with him and the other three the rest of the time you were in Germany

- you and Tom scare him all the time and he’s so extra abt it

- Screams, then gasps for air, and then pats down his body to make sure he didn’t ascend before glaring at you both and throwing whatever’s nearest to him at you

- the media loves you guys together

- some thought the relationship was fake because you guys were just that couple

- He helps you learn German and you help him learn English

- literally started bawling into your neck when you had to leave a few weeks later

- whined abt how you should “just move in with him bc it’d be easier”

- travels to America lots but mostly pays for you to come out to Germany because he thinks it’s easier

- always calling and texting each other when your both free

- go to each others concerts to support one another (so cute!)

- so many pictures of one of you at the others concerts cheering for them in the crowd

[pasukiyo]

𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | cedric diggory

cedric diggory x f!reader 2,733 words warnings; nothing except for fluff<3 summary; cedric diggory had an idea. that was never a good sign.

 He was staring again. 

 Out from the corner of her eye, she could see the bluish-gray of his irises, a rosy cheek squished against the heel of his palm where it rested, the fingers of his other hand drumming against the top of his desk. She shifted in her seat, color growing in her cheeks as she tried to focus on what Professor Trelawney was saying. Alas, between Cedric’s eyes boring into the side of her skull and the tedious Divination lesson, her attempts were aimless. 

 Her fingers curled around the edge of her parchment, her fists tightening with the paper balled inside them, her face so hot she was certain her skin would break out in a layer of sweat any moment. He was planning something. She could feel it. The only problem was, she had no idea what could possibly be going on inside that head of his. 

 The realm of possibilities were endless, and she found herself tapping her own fingers against the top of her desk, her opposite hand absentmindedly scribbling notes onto her piece of parchment in an attempt to ignore him. From the corner of her eye, she could see a blur of black and yellow as Cedric moved, and she blinked up to where Professor Trelawney stood at the front of the class, her back now turned. Cedric was leaning over the aisle now, his Hufflepuff scarf dangling in front of his chest, ignoring the looks he was getting from Fred and George where they sat behind them.

 She pouted. There was no way in hell the Weasley twins would let her live this down. 

 “Meet me in the South Wing at nine?” Cedric whispered in her ear and she narrowed her eyes, turning to eye his features. His lips were curved into a soft yet mischievous grin, a knowing glint in his eyes. Somehow, she had a strange feeling about this. “Nine o’clock?” She scoffed beneath her breath. “You are crazy, Cedric Diggory,” she shook her head. “You realize that I am not a prefect? I’ll be in trouble if I’m seen.”

 Cedric tittered and leaned in even closer, his breath a whisper against the shell of her ear and creeping shivers down the coil of her spine. “You know I’ll take care of you,” he murmured, her cheeks flooding with warmth. “Don’t you trust me?”

 It was then that the bells from outside began to chime, indicating that the period has ended, therefore finally, Divination was over. She practically sprung from her seat, nearly butting heads with Cedric as she pulled the strap of her bag over her shoulder, making haste towards the exit. 

 She began her descent down the ladder leading to the hallway outside the Divination classroom and as soon as her feet hit the ground, Cedric was calling her name. She picked up her pace, her robes flying behind her as she dashed down the corridor, making it as far as the top step of the staircase before his hand was latching around her wrist, tugging her back into him. 

 “Cedric,” she whined, turning to peer over her shoulder at him. He chuckled, “you’re awfully fast.” She huffed, blowing a strand of hair away from her face. “And somehow, not fast enough,” she muttered. Cedric’s grin widened and his hands rose between them, a few rolls of parchment spilling over his knuckles. “You forgot your notes.”

 Her chest heaved when she sighed and snatched the parchment from his hands, stuffing them into the knapsack at her hip. “So… you’re meeting me in the South Wing at nine, yes?” He said, hopeful as he swiped his tongue between his lips, eyeing the way she gleaned down to her shoes. She exhaled again, leaning her shoulder against the wall as students passed by and Cedric, too, leaned into the wall, stuffing his hands in his trouser pockets, awaiting her answer. Unfortunately for her, she was a sucker for Cedric Diggory.

 “Do I really have a choice?” She finally asked, pinching her bottom lip between her teeth as she looked back up at him, to which Cedric’s lips peeled to unveil his pearly whites, and he chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m afraid not,” he replied. “So, I take it I’ll see you then? Say… in the courtyard?”

 Her shoulders droop in defeat, but when Cedric draws in closer to her body until his toes were teasing the top of hers, she knew she couldn’t stay upset for long. She gazed up at the Hufflepuff boy, and it was then that she realized just how close he was, his breath looming over her skin. Her cheeks burned and finally, she tore herself away, taking steps backwards down the staircase. 

 “I’ll see you tonight,” she confirmed. “But if I’m caught, I’ll never let you live it down, do you hear me, Diggory?” 

 Cedric rolled his eyes as he watched her venture further down the stairs, “you shouldn’t worry so much. You’re in good hands!”

 Sneaking to the South Wing after curfew proved to be a lot more difficult than she had initially anticipated. She wondered if Cedric chose tonight on purpose, if he somehow knew that Snape and Filch and Mrs Norris would be around almost every single corner. She huffed as she pressed herself further into the wall, hoping the shadows were doing enough to conceal her as Mrs Norris pranced by, thankfully not looking her way. She exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding in as she turned into the– hopefully– empty corridor, looking around for Cedric.

 Where was that boy?

 She stopped in front of the door leading to the Clock Tower Courtyard to turn and peer over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes as she searched the end of the corridor to make sure the course was clear. She pushed open the doors as carefully as she could to avoid making noise, hoping that Cedric would be somewhere on the other side, waiting for her. She guided the doors closed behind her, wincing as they latched closed, hoping she had been cautious enough to not attract any attention. 

 She turned and blinked around the dark, empty courtyard, the boy in question still nowhere in sight. Her chest heaved when she huffed, crossing her arms as frustration swelled inside of her. It wasn’t like him to be late, but it was likely he could be messing with her. Cedric always loved playing games, but it was late and the wind had a chill to it, and the idea that she could be caught by Professor Snape had her on the very edge. 

 She turned around on her heels and was so close to slipping back inside the castle, but before she could even get her hands on the doors, a pair of arms slithered around her waist and her feet were lifted from the ground, the hairs on her body standing erect. Her lips parted and she nearly screeched, and she would’ve if she hadn’t realized who it was holding her close, her eyebrows knitted together when she turned to face Cedric, balling up her fist to give him a not-so-kind knock against the chest. 

 “Merlin’s beard, Cedric, don’t sneak up on me like that!” She whined, narrowing her eyes when he laughed. “It’s not funny. You know you happened to choose the night where nearly the entire teaching staff is on the prowl?” Cedric only rolled his eyes as he pressed her back closer into his chest, swaying them back and forth as he buried his lips in her hair. “You underestimate Cedric,” he murmurs into the top of her head, “Cedric is a lot more than a pretty face, you know.”

 She rolled her eyes and turned in his arms to face him and even in the dark of the night, she was still able to make out the gleam in his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re thinking,” she whispered, eyes surging into his, her lips twisting into a scowl. “But I already think I’m not going to like whatever it is.” 

 Cedric’s bottom lip jut out into a pout as she began to slip from her arms and he caught her hands before she could detach completely. “You’re no fun,” he groaned, squeezing her hands even tighter when she whined, trying to pull away. “But I’m going to prove you wrong.”

 She pursed her lips, giving up her attempts to tug her hands away from his to once again gaze up into the slate grayness of his irises, illuminated with mischief. Despite his claims that she should feel otherwise, she had a terrible feeling about this. 

 “Cedric…” she trailed off as he began to tug her forward by the hand, leading her through the moonlit courtyard, dread creeping down her spine and making her insides churn. “...where are you taking me?” She asked, her glare like a dagger against the back of his head. 

 If he could feel her gaze, he paid it no mind. 

 He led her outside of the courtyard and past the walls surrounding the castle, leading her further into the black of the night. “Cedric,” she whined, shaking his arm until his stride fell to her pace, glancing to where she walked beside him. “It’s cold. You couldn’t have chosen somewhere indoors?” She asked as he led her further down the hill until he came to a stop and she turned to gaze at the moonlit water ahead of them.

 And it was then that she realized where he had taken her. 

 “Cedric…” she murmured his name in a warning tone, eyeing him as wiggled his hand out of her grasp and knelt down to work at his shoes, tossing them off somewhere behind him. Her lips fell agape, “Cedric!” She shook her head. “You cannot be serious!”

 Cedric’s lips only curved into a crescent, beaming at her as he rolled his socks off his feet and began to shoulder his robe off of him. “What’s wrong?” He tittered, cocking an eyebrow to his hairline. “Scared?”

 She pressed her lips together in a firm line and crossed her arms over her chest, scoffing at the Black Lake, the moonlight rippling in its waving waters. “It’s freezing out here, Cedric,” she hissed between her teeth. “And there’s… there’s things in there.”

 Cedric chuckled, “I should know. I had to swim it to rescue you for the task last month, remember?”

 She scoffed again and rolled her eyes as Cedric finally stripped down to nothing but his undergarments, backpedaling towards the shore. “So? Are you coming?” He questioned, the water rolling around his ankles. She raised her eyebrows and scoffed, “you’re insane, Cedric Diggory,” she said, disbelieving the scene as it unraveled before her. She could still make out Cedric’s grin even as he waded further into the water until the lake swallowed his shoulders, leaving everything except for his head submerged. “Crazy! And there is no way that I am swimming in that freezing, creature-infested water!”

 Cedric rolled his eyes and leaned his head back against the surface, somehow reveling in the icy cold lake as if it were a warm bath. She shivered, chills littering her skin with goosebumps partly due to the breeze but also from just watching him. “You needn’t worry,” Cedric said as he rose to his feet, droplets of water dripping from his arms and chest as he gave her a little salute. “Your knight in shining armor is he–!”

 Her eyes widened in their sockets and her lips fell apart in a gasp as Cedric tumbled backwards as if something had grabbed ahold of him, tugging him below the surface. She stepped closer to the water, searching the surface for any sign of him, her search coming to no avail. 

 A string of panicked curses tumbled from her lips as she made quick work of ripping her shoes from her feet, quickly stripping her body of her clothes until she, too, was down to her underwear. Pursing her lips and puffing out her cheeks, she willed herself to wade into the water– which was just as cold as she had anticipated it to be. But Cedric still had not reappeared to the surface and she knew that if something had really grabbed him, it was only a matter of time until it was too late. 

 “Cedric!” She called his name, shivering as the water rose to her shoulders, ice frosting her limbs and making her muscles numb, every move she made harder than the last. “Cedric!” She called again, her feet no longer able to touch the sand below, her arms swinging as hard as they could to keep her head above the surface. Her heart began to drum against her chest– how long had it been since Cedric had been dragged down under? Was he alright? Was he still able to breathe?

 She squeezed her eyelids shut, trying to muster up all the courage she had to will herself below the surface despite her fears of whatever lurked beneath, despite how cold she was. Just as she had begun to take a deep breath, something latched around her ankle and dragged her down below the water, completely submerging her. Her mouth parted to release her scream as she snapped her eyelids open, still somehow to make out Cedric’s grin even below the surface of the dark lake. 

 She furrowed her brows as he circled his arms around her waist, trying to sneak his lips onto hers as she kicked and flailed, bringing them both back up to the surface. She gasped as air filled her lungs, her cheeks warm with anger as she watched Cedric brush his hair back away from his face, laughing as she pushed water into his face. 

 “You are such an arse!” She shrieked, her body trembling as the breeze hit her wet skin. “I thought something had you! I thought… I thought you were… ugh!” She kicked her way to an area where her feet could touch the ground, crossing her arms back over her chest as she turned away from him, glaring up at the castle. Cedric chuckled as he made his way over to where she stood, slithering his arms around her waist and dropping his chin to her shoulder, giving the wet flesh of her neck a few playful kisses.

 “Awe, are you mad at me?” He cooed close to her ear and she pressed her lips together tighter, yet, allowing herself to fall back into his warmth. Cedric pouted, planting more kisses along the curve of her shoulder. “Please don’t be mad at Cedric,” he said, knocking the pitch of his voice up a few octaves. “Cedric isn’t a bad boy. Cedric loves you very much.”

 She rolled her eyes again but couldn’t suppress the smile creeping up on her lips, breathing out a laugh. “You’re such an idiot, Cedric Diggory,” she tittered, twisting in his arms, his interlocked hands now pressing against the small of her back. She rested the sides of her fists against the slick skin of his chest as his forehead dropped against hers, scrunching his nose at her. “But because of my brilliant plan, you got in the water,” he muttered, shrugging his shoulders as he gently swayed their bodies back and forth. “So, you know, I’m not a total idiot.”

 She scoffed, but it came out as more of a laugh as he nuzzled his nose against hers, breathing in her scent, drawing her body closer to his. “This is nice,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss beneath her eye. She shrugged, “I could do without the ‘freezing my arse off’ part.”

 Cedric chuckled and the tip of his nose dragged down along her cheek until his lips were against hers, gentle as they captured them in a soft, chaste kiss, the pad of his thumb soothing over the skin at the small of her back. Her heart stuttered in her chest as they pulled away, and she blinked up at him, reveling in the reassurance that she was in her boy’s arms, and he wasn’t going to let her go. 

 With her still in his arms, he kicked back off the ground, leading her further into the lake. “It’s a beautiful night,” he whispered, brushing wet strands of hair away from her face and behind her ear. “Let’s enjoy it.”

a/n; OMG I FINALLY FINISHED AN IMAGINE! so sorry this one took so long to write up and post, i went to disney world and universal studios at the beginning of may for my birthday so i didn't have any time to write and then when i got back home, i just didn't feel like writing lol but! it's been awhile since i've written for the best hufflepuff boy and there's definitely not enough fics out there on this platform for him so here you go<3

[dramioneasks]

Christmas Fics (2024) (Part 5):

Keep Calm and Merry On by Melliehart - not rated, WIP - A short flash fiction. It's time for Harry Potter's annual Christmas party, and Hermione arrives with an unexpected guest.

The Science of Choosing a Christmas Tree by aether_dreams - T, one-shot - Draco and Hermione go the the Christmas tree farm to pick out their first Christmas tree together. Draco is very cold and not being brave about it.

Christmas (Cracker) Chemistry by ambpersand - E, one-shot - “Christmas Crackers?” Malfoy asks, holding one up, then looks at her with a surprisingly warm expression. “Cute.” Hermione fights a blush. They’re no ordinary Christmas Crackers. She had George and the staff at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes whip up a special surprise for the Ministry—except she explicitly requested they be red and green, not gold and silver. It’s not that big of a deal. She’ll get over it. Tomorrow. Malfoy busies himself by helping to distribute several tubes on each table without request. It’s easy, working with him in a silent tandem. They’ve done it a few times on shared projects, holing up in her office or his, and quickly fall into an easy rhythm. Every time she sneaks a glance, he’s conveniently looking elsewhere. At the final table, he shakes one close to his ear. “So what’s inside? They’re light.” She hurries over to him. There’s few enough people around that the surprise won't be ruined if she gives him a peek, and the prototypes were perfect. “We’ll have to be quick.” A sly smile pulls at his lips, and he holds one end towards her. “On three?”

A Muggle Christmas Custom by 1sailorjupiter - M, one-shot - Hermione grasped his dress robes, rose up onto her tiptoes, and pressed her lips against his.  It was only a brief peck to his lips, but she had never done anything like it before, and his thoughts were suddenly reeling. When she pulled away and released him, there was no hiding the shock he felt.  He dropped the books in his arm—the noise making Crookshanks jump up from his spot on the couch—and Draco stared at her with his wide, unblinking gray eyes. “W-w-what was that?” Draco stammered. Hermione pointed up at the mistletoe.  “That’s what muggles do when two of them are under the mistletoe at the same time.” “They kiss?” he questioned, glancing back up at the plant. When Hermione Granger decorates their shared Head Boy/Head Girl dorm for Christmas, she decides to demonstrate to Draco Malfoy what mistletoe is when he admits that he doesn't know what the muggle custom involves. Since they are navigating an obvious new change in their relationship, they begin to kiss every time they end up under it together--something that the portraits hanging in the dorm find very entertaining--but will Professors Snape and Dumbledore be more of a help or a hinderance?

Hermione's Crabby Christmas by EllieByrrdWrites (CSKasem) - M, one-shot - Hermione spends every winter observing the peculiar mating habits of a rare, magical species of crab somewhere in Mexico.

Draco Malfoy is not in love by TheStarCounter - E, WIP - Draco Malfoy has a perfectly organized life—sharp, composed, and absolutely free of distractions. Especially the bushy-haired, know-it-all kind. But when Hermione Granger starts showing up in his life more than he’d like—and occupying his thoughts even more—he begins to notice things he absolutely shouldn’t. He’s not in love. Obviously. That would be absurd. But if he were (which he isn’t), it would most definitely be her fault.

May I Interest You by Morethanhistory - T, one-shot - Hermione Granger is a shop girl at Scrivenshaft’s. Year after year, Draco Malfoy visits on Christmas Eve in search of a gift.

12 Days of Kinkmas by Ada_P_Rix, allofthelights11 - E - 12 chapters of smutty one-shots gift-wrapped and delivered right to your inbox.

A Gingerbread House, Crookshanks & Other Challenges by Franzi945 - T, one-shot - Draco wants to surprise Hermione by baking a gingerbread house, a tradition she lost after her parents were obliviated. Draco is sure, "This can't be that hard." But he doesn't count on Crookshanks, who is doing his best to disrupt him...

Almost, Always, and at Christmastime by Molivier - M, one-shot - It’s Christmastime, and everyone just wants Draco Malfoy to tell the truth.

Santa, baby. by emotionalsupporthufflepuff - E, WIP - Draco and Hermione find themselves pushed together on Christmas eve, through a combination of drama with their exes and their scheming pre-teens. What could possibly go wrong?

Scarves, Scars and Second Chances by Elinie - G, 10 chapters - When Hermione Granger receives an unexpected invitation to Malfoy Manor for Christmas, she’s hesitant but curious. As Head of the Auror Department, she’s used to handling crises, but spending the holiday with her enigmatic partner Draco Malfoy feels like an entirely different challenge. With snow softly falling and the warmth of Christmas magic in the air, both begin to confront their shared scars from the war, their newfound roles in rebuilding the wizarding world, and the fragile hope of forgiveness. Through enchanted ornaments, mischievous banter, and a few too many knitted scarves, they discover that healing sometimes comes in the most unexpected ways.

[msmk11]

mk’s mad dash

All of August, one x reader fic a day.

A/n: School is coming up faster than I'd like, so I want to do a little mini end of summer writing extravaganza before September hits. I'll be posting one short fic a day, and by the end of the month I will have at least one fic written for EVERY character I write for! Happy reading!

8/1 - Johanna Mason- ‘A Moment For Yourself’

You show Johanna a kindness she hasn’t felt in

weeks.

8/2- Tangerine- ‘Not a Lady’

Tangerine meets his match in cursing.

8/3- Natasha Romanoff- ‘A Way to Relax’

Natasha’s been stressed lately, so you come up

with a way to help her relax.

8/4- Remus Lupin- ‘Aftercare’

Aftercare with Remus.

8/5- Lucy Gray Baird- ‘Wrapped Up In a Bow’

You buy Lucy Gray a present.

8/6- Mary MacDonald- ‘Distraction’

You don’t want to watch a movie with Mary.

8/7- Fred Weasley- ‘Sixth Love Language’

You prank Fred for the first time.

8/8- Coriolanus Snow- ‘Maybe’

The death and birth of hope.

8/9- Peeta Mellark- ‘I Made You A Pie’

You and Peeta get into your first fight.

8/10- Hermione Granger- ‘Whatever You Say, Dear’

You hate airports. Thank God for your girlfriend.

8/11- George Weasley- ‘Serenity’

A peaceful summer afternoon at the Burrow.

8/12- Regulus Black- ‘Trou Noir’

Mourning your husband, Regulus Black.

8/13- Katniss Everdeen- ‘A Tiny Favor’

You ask Katniss to braid your hair.

8/14- Dorcas Meadowes- ‘The Barista’

The most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen is a

barista at your local coffee shop.

8/15- Haymitch Abernathy- ‘Wish You Were Sober’

We don’t always get what we want.

8/16- Finnick Odair- ‘Five More Minutes’

“Five more minutes.” A phrase you’ve said many

times but only now really mean.

8/17- Ron Weasley- ‘I Love You First’

Ron’s used to being second.

8/18- Sirius Black- ‘The Infamous Wings’

You catch Sirius trying on your eyeliner.

8/19- Ginny Weasley- ‘What The Flying Fuck’

Your girlfriend tries to teach you how to fly.

8/20- Tigris Snow- ‘Don’t Call Me Baby’

Tigris has been taught to assume the worst.

8/21- Harry Potter- ‘Pretty Boy’

You love to make your boyfriend blush.

8/22- Marlene McKinnon- ‘Oblivious’

You never notice when boys flirt with you.

8/23- Poly!Marauders- ‘This Is Fucking Stupid’

In which you all try and share a bed for the first

time.

8/24- James Potter- ‘Rumor Has It’

There’s a rumor going around that you and

costar!James are dating.

8/25- Lily Evans- ‘Rounds’

You are assigned Prefect rounds with your rival.

8/26- Peter Parker- ‘Its Not A Costume’

You mess around in Peter’s suit.

8/27- Wanda Maximoff- ‘Are They Gone?’

You and Wanda on a mission together.

8/28- Tony Stark- ‘Never Ever’

CEO!Tony Stark doesn’t take people out to lunch.

8/29- Sejanus Plinth- ‘I Know’

Your boyfriend is a walking, bleeding heart.

8/30- Peter Pettigrew- ‘Say It’

Peter is nervous to ask you out.

8/31- Yelena Belova- ‘This Thing Called A Date’

You take Yelena on her first ever date.

[dreamings-free]

Move over George Clooney. From Paul Mescal to Jeremy Allen White, there’s a new gang of pin-ups with salt-and-pepper hair and they’re under 40

Tuesday August 13 2024, 9.00am BST, The Sunday Times by Richard Gray

—

With the first wisps of silver comes wisdom, they say, but while many men of a certain age choose to turn back the clock by reaching for a box of dye, a new wave of younger men are simply refusing to colour theirs in. The truth is that grey hair has never been so cool — just look at the red carpet. “There’s a handful of relatively young actors who just don’t care if we see them with grey hair or not,” says Paul Toner, deputy editor of 10 magazine. “Look at somebody as successful as Paul Mescal: when he’s not dying his hair for a new role, he lets his grey grow through and doesn’t mind one bit.”

He’s a silver fox? “More a silver fox in training. Let’s call him a silver fox cub instead,” Toner says. At 28, the Normal People star is one of several celebrities who, according to Toner, are “reframing” what it means to be a man approaching his thirties.

“We’ve had ‘zaddies’, those older, strapping sugar daddies with wallets to match — and we all know a silver fox when we see one — but these men, up to and around that 35 mark, understand that with salt and pepper hair comes a certain authority, a sort of superpower,” he says. As one of the four horsemen of the middle-age apocalypse (see also the pierced ear, the leather blouson and a sudden interest in cycling Lycra) the first sight of grey hair is no longer considered the over-the-hill omen of old age it once was.

At 33, arguably the world’s hottest chef who’s not actually a chef, The Bear’s Jeremy Allen White has a cut that cleverly blends his greys (on the temples and at the front) with his medium-length fair and wavy hair. At 30, the Quiet Place actor Joseph Quinn isn’t afraid to let his buzz-cut greys grow out. And at 36, the actors Jonathan Bailey (Bridgerton) — with his Mallen streak — and Nick Sagar (Shadowhunters) — with his all-over grey, natural curls — have cuts that emphasise rather than disguise their salt and pepper hair. A little grey — and its associated characteristics of wisdom, experience, authority and “been about a bit but you still definitely would” — represents, for these men at least, a chance to redefine themselves as they gear up for middle age.

Not that everybody is on board with grey hair. When Louis Tomlinson, of One Direction, turned up at Glastonbury (he’s 32) with — brace yourselves — more than a few wisps of white in the front and sides, social media went into meltdown. From a disapproving “[he’s] making me feel 500 years old”, to “my man is getting more SEXY!”, his natural, dye-free hair caused quite the stir.

“Louis’s hair hovers around the 20 per cent salt to about 80 per cent pepper, mark,” says Mads-Sune Lund Christensen, a colourist at Josh Wood Salon in London. “I have men, and these are successful men, who come in for a colour and ask specifically for some grey to be left in — and that’s a new thing,” he says. “In the past, clients always wanted full coverage to remove it.” So now they want to look their age? “They want the salt and the pepper to show — and its authority.”

“It’s everywhere you look,” Toner adds. “You only have to watch something as hugely popular with men as Match of the Day.” Older chaps, yes, but Alan Shearer, Roy Keane and Gary Lineker — three of the most watched and, certainly, admired men on British television — all have grey hair or grey in their beards. Keane’s salt and pepper Grizzly Adams number is an absolute belter. Forget Succession, it’s these men (see also Graeme Souness and Jamie Carragher, the list goes on) who are influencing how younger millennial males wear their hair and, indeed, how they dress.

A quick walk down the men’s aisle in Boots confirms that products for salt and pepper hair have never been so effective, or popular: Control GX Grey Reducing Shampoo (which sounds as if it should be on Top Gear), for example, maintains that all-important seasoning mix. Meanwhile, what’s surely the best bit of man-kit since the reclining chair, Just For Men Moustache & Beard Brush-In Colour Gel will tone down any of those comedy pirate beards in bingo-marker black.

[pjsk-headcanons]

the white day trio frequently gets on voice calls to play roblox games together to take a break (mizuki's the initiator)

the dress to impress games get very passionate during voting time (reminiscent of that time where half of the people thought that the JESTER theme meant regina george)

they get the popstar theme and decide to all go as miku. i'd like to imagine the shock as akito and tsukasa are arguing green vs blue hair when mizuki shows up on the runway with GRAY

anyway yeah. the white day trio playing dress to impress

.